[glazpuffis]

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron, Outer Banks

Burning Tides: Jealousy, friendship, and chaos collide in a toxic relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Trigger: Y/N faces Rafe Cameron’s dark obsession.

Jacob Elordi

Unsaid Things: Two famous co-stars spark chemistry, rumors split them.

Never Denied: co-stars spark chemistry, until everything fell apart.

Alex, Tell me lies

Unravel: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Only One: A lonely girl gets trapped in a toxic love she can’t walk away from.

Dark Romance, AUs based on books

Captive: Nixon Cooper x Reader

[glazpuffis]

Never Denied

Jacob Elordi x Famous Reader

Summary: Two famous co-stars spark chemistry, until everything fell apart.

The rumors had started long before either of them had a chance to address them.

When the first trailer for The Last Summer dropped, social media became obsessed with the chemistry between Jacob Elordi and Y/N. It wasn’t just the movie itself that people were talking about—it was every glance during interviews, every shared laugh behind the scenes, every frame where they stood a little too close.

Y/N had been relatively unknown in Hollywood before landing the role, but she had already built an enormous online following. Millions of people watched her every move, and after the film premiered, her life changed almost overnight.

Critics praised her performance relentlessly. Headlines called her “the breakout star of the year.” Directors suddenly wanted meetings. Luxury brands wanted campaigns. Casting directors who had ignored her emails months ago were now competing for her schedule. Her name was everywhere.

Fans were convinced they were together. Neither of them confirmed it. That silence only made people more interested.

For months, the speculation continued. Every public appearance became evidence. Every interaction was analyzed frame by frame. Some people rooted for them. Others insisted it was all a publicity stunt.

Then, four months later, everything shifted. Anonymous posts began appearing online.

Blind items. Industry gossip.

Stories about explosive arguments behind closed doors. About manipulation, a toxic dynamic between the film’s two stars.

Nobody knew what was true, but that hardly mattered. The internet had already chosen a narrative.

Suddenly, every old interview looked different. Every clip was reexamined. Every smile was questioned.

The conversation around them became uglier. And neither of them said a word.

Award season arrived carrying all that tension with it. The Emmys were supposed to be a celebration.

The film had received multiple nominations, including acting nominations for both Jacob and Y/N. Cameras followed them throughout the evening, desperate for any interaction.

They gave none.

Jacob sat at a table near the front of the ballroom alongside several producers.

Y/N sat across the room with fellow nominees and representatives from her management team.

Not once did they acknowledge each other. Social media noticed immediately.

The photos started circulating before the ceremony had even ended.

“Why are they sitting separately?”

“This is awkward.”

“Something definitely happened.”

The biggest moment came when The Last Summer won Outstanding Ensemble Performance.

The entire cast rose from their seats. Applause filled the room.

Jacob stood.

Y/N stood.

But when they made their way toward the stage, they instinctively moved in opposite directions.

Jacob ended up on one side of the group. Y/N remained on the other. The distance between them wasn’t huge. Yet somehow it felt enormous.

Millions of viewers noticed.

The director accepted the award, thanking the cast, the crew, the writers, and everyone involved in bringing the project to life. While he spoke, cameras occasionally cut to the actors behind him.

At one point, Jacob glanced toward Y/N. She didn’t look back. The clip was posted online before the acceptance speech had even finished.

By midnight, it had millions of views. TikTok users created slow-motion edits. Twitter threads appeared. People zoomed in on facial expressions. Entire theories were built around a three-second moment. The internet was having a field day.

But things became significantly worse just hours later.

Around two in the morning, paparazzi photographs surfaced from an after-party held at a private Hollywood venue.

The pictures were blurry, messy. Yet impossible to ignore.

Jacob and Y/N were standing outside near a side entrance.

Neither looked calm. Jacob’s jaw was clenched. Y/N’s arms were crossed tightly against her chest.

One image showed her pointing toward him.Another showed him stepping closer. A third captured what looked like him throwing his hands into the air in frustration.

The expressions on both their faces were enough to send social media into complete chaos.

Within an hour, the photos were everywhere.Entertainment accounts reposted them. TikTok creators broke them down frame by frame.

Fan pages switched sides overnight. And then DeuxMoi posted.

Five times.

Anonymous submissions poured in claiming they had witnessed the argument. Each story sounded more dramatic than the last.

By morning, the entire internet was discussing nothing else. The hashtags trended worldwide.

Neither Jacob nor Y/N spoke publicly.

The internet was still dissecting the paparazzi photos when Jacob made his first move.

At 10:17 p.m., he uploaded an Instagram Story.

A simple mirror selfie taken in what appeared to be a hotel suite. Nothing about it seemed unusual at first glance. He stood with one hand in his pocket, dressed in a black button-down shirt, his expression unreadable. The room behind him was dimly lit.

But fans noticed something almost immediately.

He had tagged a song playing in the background.

Not just any song. A song about betrayal.

About being turned into the villain of someone else’s story.

Within minutes, people were posting screenshots. TikTok creators started pulling apart the lyrics line by line, convinced it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

The timing was too perfect.

The message felt intentional.

By midnight, entertainment accounts were already asking whether Jacob had subtly responded to the controversy without actually saying a word.

Then Y/N posted.

Three hours later. No dramatic quote, just a photo dump.

The first picture showed a half-finished cup of coffee beside a script covered in handwritten notes.

The second was a blurry picture of a sunset taken from a car window.

The third showed her friend’s dog sleeping upside down on a couch.

The fourth was a close-up of her Emmy award sitting on a hotel dresser.

The fifth and final slide was simply a black screen. The caption underneath the post contained a single word.

“Anyway.”

That was it. One word.

No further context. The internet completely lost its mind.

Within twenty minutes, “ANYWAY” was trending on Twitter.

People called it the most devastating celebrity response of the year. Some thought it was directed at Jacob. Others insisted it was a coincidence. Nobody believed that.

DeuxMoi reposted the screenshot almost immediately. “Not Y/N ending a whole media cycle with one word.”

Thousands agreed.

By the next morning, her post had gained millions of likes.

Jacob never addressed it. Y/N never explained it.

But somehow, her single-word caption became more talked about than every article, rumor, and paparazzi photo combined.

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 9

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

A few days passed.

And somehow, without either of us saying anything about it, a routine formed.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even something we talked about. There were no “good morning” texts, no plans days in advance, no conversations about what this was supposed to mean.

But five more times that week I ended up at Alex’s place.

It always happened the same way. A short message. Usually from him. Sometimes from me when I was pretending I was bored enough to justify it.

Come over.

You busy.

Door’s open.

Just that quiet pull toward the same place and every time it ended the same way too.

Alex had this way of holding control over a moment without saying much. His hands were always firm, sometimes too firm, and by the time I left his apartment there were always marks somewhere on my skin. Faint bruises along my ribs, fingerprints on my hips, once a darker mark on my shoulder that lasted two days.

None of it felt accidental. He noticed everything. Which meant he definitely noticed the bruises. But neither of us talked about them.

It existed in that strange space between us where things happened but were never labeled.

And the weirdest part?

I kept going back.

⸻

By Thursday night Lucy decided we all needed a break from campus.

Which meant drinks.

The bar was small and dimly lit, the kind of place students packed into because the music was good and nobody cared if you stayed for hours with the same drink.

We were sitting at a corner booth—Lucy, Bree, Pippa, and me—half laughing over something stupid Lucy had just said.

“That bartender is my ex,” Lucy announced casually, pointing her glass toward the bar.

We all turned.

He was behind the counter pouring drinks, tall, blond, the type who probably knew exactly how charming he looked when he smiled at customers.

Pippa blinked.

“That’s your ex?”

Lucy nodded.

Bree leaned forward slightly. “Wait, you dated him?”

Lucy shrugged. “For like… two-ish weeks.”

“That’s barely dating,” I said.

Lucy gave me a look. “It counts if he ghosted me.”

Pippa burst out laughing.

“You got ghosted by him?”

“Shut up.”

We all laughed, and Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling either.

“Anyway,” she continued, waving it off, “I think I traumatized him..”

“Of course you did,” Bree said laughing.

We stayed there talking for a while, jumping between random topics the way people do after a couple drinks. Classes, gossip, Pippa complaining about one of her professors.

At some point Lucy checked her phone.

“Stephen’s asking where we are.”

Pippa groaned immediately. “Why does he always show up?”

Lucy typed something quickly. “Because I told him where we are.”

“Lucy.”

“What?”

“Now he’s going to bring Wrigley and Evan with him.”

She smiled innocently. “Relax.”

Ten minutes later the door of the bar opened.

And there they were.

Stephen walked in first, scanning the room like he owned the place. Behind him was Wrigley, already grinning at something on his phone, and Evan just a step behind them.

Lucy waved them over.

The booth suddenly got crowded as they joined us, chairs scraping and people shifting around to make space.

Evan sat across from me.

“Hey,” he said with that familiar soft smile.

“Hey.”

Wrigley dropped into the chair beside Bree, immediately leaning closer to say something to her that made her laugh quietly. I noticed the way their shoulders brushed.

Interesting.

Stephen slid into the booth beside Lucy, resting his arm behind her like he always did.

“You guys started without us,” he said.

“You took too long,” Lucy replied.

Drinks appeared, conversation picked up again, the group growing louder and more chaotic the longer we sat there.

For a while it actually felt normal. Until the door opened again.

And Alex walked in.

I noticed immediately. I always did.

He paused near the entrance for a second, scanning the room the same way Stephen had earlier.

Then his eyes landed on our table.

Bree suddenly sat up straight. “Oh,” she said. “Alex.”

Everyone looked at her.

“I totally forgot,” she added quickly. “I texted him earlier.”

Lucy blinked. “You invited him?”

“I didn’t think he’d actually come,” Bree said.

Too late. Alex was already walking toward us. The energy at the table shifted before he even reached it.

Wrigley leaned back slightly in his chair. Stephen’s expression went neutral. Evan glanced between Alex and me for half a second before looking away again.

Alex stopped at the edge of the table.

“Busy night,” he said.

Bree smiled. “Sit.”

He grabbed an empty chair and pulled it over, sliding into the spot at the end of the booth.

Our eyes met for a brief moment. No smile.

Just that familiar, quiet recognition. Lucy looked between us, clearly sensing something interesting.

“So,” she said slowly. “Alex.”

“Lucy.”

She grinned. “Long time.”

“Not really.”

Wrigley snorted into his drink. The conversation picked up again after that, but it felt… different.

Like there was a current running under the table that only a few of us were aware of.

Alex didn’t say much. He mostly listened, occasionally adding a short comment that made people laugh before leaning back again.

But every once in a while I felt his eyes on me. Just quick glances.

At one point Evan asked me something about a class we shared, leaning slightly closer so he could hear me over the music.

I answered normally. But when I looked up again, Alex was watching. His expression hadn’t changed.

Lucy suddenly stood up. “Shots,” she announced.

Everyone groaned but followed her toward the bar anyway. The group scattered for a moment, chairs scraping as people moved.

By the time the drinks were ordered, I realized I’d been left at the table.

Not alone. Alex was still there. Leaning back in his chair, watching me.

“You’ve been busy,” he said quietly.

My stomach tightened slightly. “What does that mean?”

He tilted his head a little. “You haven’t texted today.”

I crossed my arms. “You didn’t text either.”

“That’s true.”

Silence stretched for a moment. The music was louder here. Then his eyes dropped briefly to my arm where my sleeve had shifted slightly. Just enough to reveal the faint edge of a bruise near my wrist.

His gaze lingered there and he looked back at me. Something darker flickered across his expression. “Careful,” he murmured.

“About what?”

His voice stayed low. “People might start asking questions.”

My pulse jumped. “About what?”

But before he could answer, the others came back with the drinks.

Lucy slammed the tray onto the table dramatically. “Okay, everyone,” she said. “Bad decisions time.”

The glasses were passed around, Laughter filled the table again.

But as everyone grabbed their shots, I could still feel Alex’s eyes on me. The room suddenly felt a lot warmer.

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 8

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

⸻

Class felt longer than usual.

Not because the lecture was difficult, but because my brain refused to focus on anything the professor was saying. My notebook stayed mostly empty while my thoughts kept drifting back to the morning, to the mirror, to the quiet way Alex asked if he hurt me.

By the time class ended my head felt full.

Instead of going back to my dorm, I decided to use one of the empty study rooms in the residence hall. They were small single rooms students could reserve, but most afternoons they were half empty anyway.

I found one at the end of the hallway, unlocked the door, and dropped my bag on the desk.

The room was simple. One desk, one chair, a small couch against the wall, and a window looking out toward the campus lawn. Quiet. Exactly what I needed.

I pulled my laptop out and opened my notes, trying to force myself back into a normal routine. For about twenty minutes I actually managed to focus, typing and highlighting paragraphs like a functional human being.

Then there was a knock on the door.

I didn’t even look up. “Come in,” I said automatically.

The door opened. A second later I heard it close again. Something about the silence that followed made me glance up.

I blinked.

Alex was standing there.

“What are you doing here?”

He looked around the small room once, then back at me.

“You said come in.”

“You knocked.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

He walked a few steps inside, hands still in his pockets, like he had every right to be there.

“I was bored,” he said.

I stared at him. “You were bored so you came to my study room?”

“Looks like it.”

“That’s weird.”

He shrugged slightly and leaned against the wall near the door.

“You were the first interesting option.”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “You know people usually text before showing up somewhere.”

“I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hm, so how did you find me?”

“Lucky guess.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “You guessed the exact building and room?”

His mouth tilted slightly. “I saw you walk in.”

That made more sense.

“You followed me.”

“I walked behind you.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“Not really.”

I shook my head and closed my laptop. “Okay, so you found me. Now what?”

He glanced at the desk, the books, the half-written notes on my screen.

“You were studying.”

“Yeah.”

“That looks painful.”

“It’s called college.”

He pushed himself off the wall and walked further into the room, stopping near the desk.

“You’re not actually studying,” he said.

“I was.”

“You were staring at the same paragraph for five minutes.”

I frowned. He sat down on the couch against the wall like he planned on staying.

I turned in my chair to face him. “You’re really just going to sit there?”

“Probably.”

“And do what exactly?”

He looked around the room again.

“Nothing.”

“That’s helpful.”

“You told me to come in.”

I sighed. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“Would you have said no?”

I hesitated for a second. That was enough for him to notice.

“Exactly,” he said.

I grabbed my pen and tapped it lightly against the desk.

“You’re distracting.”

“From what?”

“Studying.”

“You weren’t studying.”

“Now I definitely can’t.”

He leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms along the backrest. “Take a break.”

“I’ve already taken too many breaks.”

“You’ve been here half an hour.”

“That’s a lot for me.”

That made him laugh quietly.

For a moment the room went quiet again.

Sunlight came through the window behind me, warming the desk and making the dust particles in the air visible. It was strangely peaceful compared to the chaos of the parties we kept running into each other at.

Alex’s eyes drifted toward my neck again.

The sweater.

I noticed.

“You’re staring,” I said.

“Just thinking.”

“That’s never reassuring when you say it.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“No.”

“You left early.”

“I told you why.”

“That wasn’t a real reason.”

I shrugged lightly. “I had things to do.”

He watched my face for a second longer before leaning back again.

“Okay.”

I studied him for a moment. “You came all the way here just to sit in silence?”

“I told you,” he said calmly. “I was bored.”

“And I’m entertainment?”

“Right now, yeah.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile slipped through anyway. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he said, glancing at my laptop, “you still closed your notes.”

I looked down at the screen.

He was right. My focus had slipped… straight to him.

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 7

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

⸻

Then it hit me...

Alex’s apartment.

My eyes opened immediately.

The room was dim, early morning light leaking through the half-closed blinds. For a moment I just stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together how the night had ended. My memory came in flashes instead of a clean timeline—music still ringing in my ears from the party, Alex’s voice close to mine, the heat of his apartment again, the way everything had blurred together after that.

I turned my head slowly.

Alex was asleep beside me.

That alone sent a jolt of panic through my chest.

He was lying on his stomach, one arm under the pillow, breathing slow and steady like nothing in the world could disturb him. His hair was slightly messy, the kind of messy people somehow manage to look good with even when they’re unconscious. The blankets were half tangled around his waist.

He looked calm. My heart started beating faster.

I moved slowly, carefully lifting the blanket and sliding out of the bed without making noise. The floor was cold under my feet. My clothes from last night were somewhere across the room but I spotted one of his hoodies thrown over the chair and grabbed it without thinking.

I pulled it on quickly, the sleeves too long.

Then I searched for my jeans, pulling them on as quietly as possible. My movements felt rushed and clumsy, like I was trying to escape something before it noticed I was gone.

I glanced back at the bed once more.

Alex hadn’t moved, still asleep.

I grabbed my bag, slipped my shoes on halfway, and quietly opened the bedroom door. The hallway was empty and quiet, the apartment still wrapped in that early morning stillness that makes everything feel slightly unreal.

I didn’t stop until I was outside.

The cold air hit my face immediately and I finally exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Ten minutes later I was back in my dorm.

I went straight into the bathroom.

The shower turned on with a loud rush of water, steam quickly filling the small space. I stepped under the hot stream and closed my eyes, letting the water run down my face as I tried to clear the strange buzzing feeling in my chest.

For a while I just stood there.

Then I tilted my head slightly to rinse my hair.

That’s when I saw them.

Dark marks.

Right on the side of my neck.

My breath caught.

I leaned closer to the mirror outside the shower, wiping a circle in the foggy glass to get a better look.

Bruises.

Not small ones either.

My stomach dropped slightly.

For a moment my brain tried to deny it. Maybe I bumped into something. Maybe it was just pressure from sleeping weird.

But then the memory slid back into place.

Alex’s hand around my neck.

Not gentle, Firm.

The feeling of his thumb pressing just enough to make my pulse jump.

My chest tightened.

I stared at the marks for a long second, fingers hovering over them but not touching.

It hadn’t scared me in the moment.

That’s what made it weird.

It should have.

Instead it had felt like adrenaline. Like stepping too close to the edge of something and realizing you weren’t stepping back.

I exhaled slowly and turned away from the mirror.

Weird.

That was the only word that fit.

Not scary.

Not romantic.

Just… strange.

By the time I got dressed, I’d already decided one thing.

No one needed to know.

I pulled a black turtleneck sweater over my head even though the weather was a little too warm for it. The fabric covered my neck completely, hiding the marks without a trace.

Problem solved.

The girls had already gone to class when I left the dorm.

Campus looked normal, students rushing to lectures with coffee cups and backpacks like nothing dramatic had happened anywhere in the world.

Which technically was true.

I hadn’t even told anyone where I went last night.

Later that afternoon I found Bree in her room.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by camera equipment and scattered photographs. Music played softly from her laptop.

She looked up when I walked in.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

I sat down on the edge of her bed, watching her sort through the photos.

“You look tired,” she said casually.

“I didn’t sleep much.”

She nodded slowly.

“With Alex?”

Straight to the point.

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

Bree didn’t react dramatically like Lucy would’ve. She just leaned back on her hands, studying me carefully.

“So?”

“So what?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing serious,” I said. “We just hung out.”

Which wasn’t technically a lie.

Bree nodded again. “Okay.”

That was it.

No interrogation. No judgment.

“You’re not mad?” I asked.

She looked confused. “Why would I be?”

“I don’t know. You guys grew up together.”

Bree gave a small shrug.

“Alex does whatever he wants,” she said. “As long as you don't get hurt."

I smiled.

While she spoke, I glanced around the room.

That’s when I noticed them.

Photos. Dozens of them on her desk.

It was a mix of landscapes, animals, and photos of Wrigley.

Wrigley laughing outside a building. Wrigley sitting on the grass with the sun hitting the side of his face.

My eyebrows lifted slightly. “You’ve been busy.”

Bree’s head snapped toward the desk instantly.

Then she moved quickly, standing up and gathering the scattered photos from her desk.

“They’re just for class,” she said too fast.

“Relax,” I said, amused. “I’m not judging.”

But she was already stacking the pictures together and sliding them into a folder.

Her reaction felt… weird.

Wrigley and Pippa had only broken up recently, sure. But still.

I watched her for a moment.

“You and Wrigley hanging out a lot lately?” I asked.

She avoided my eyes while adjusting the camera strap.

“Just for photography stuff.”

Right. I didn’t push it.

Everyone in this friend group had secrets anyway.

⸻

Later that day I was walking across campus toward the library, earphones in, trying to focus on literally anything other than the strange mix of thoughts still sitting in my head.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I jumped.

Actually jumped.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I spun around.

Alex stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, looking mildly amused.

“Hey,” he said.

“You scared the hell out of me.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“Did I?”

My pulse was still racing.

“You came up behind me like a creep.”

“I said your name.”

“I had earphones in.”

He glanced down at them.

“Ah.”

For a moment we just stood there.

His eyes scanned my face slowly before he spoke again.

“You left early.”

My stomach tightened slightly.

“I had class.”

“That’s not why.”

I crossed my arms instinctively. “You were asleep.”

“That’s never stopped anyone before.”

His tone was calm, but there was something sharper under it.

I looked away briefly.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Interesting.”

I glanced back at him.

“What does that mean?”

“It means most people wake me up.”

“And?”

“And you ran.”

I scoffed slightly. “I didn’t run.”

“You did.”

His eyes dropped briefly to my neck.

The turtleneck.

His gaze lingered there for half a second.

Then he looked back up.

Something unreadable crossed his expression.

“Did I scare you?” he asked quietly.

My stomach twisted.

Images from last night flickered through my mind again.

His hand.

The pressure.

The adrenaline.

“No,” I said.

He studied my face carefully like he was searching for something.

“Then why’d you leave?” he asked.

For a moment I didn’t answer. Because the real reason sounded ridiculous even in my own head. Because staying would’ve meant admitting I liked it more than I should have.

I shrugged lightly. “I got what I came for.”

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Oh?”

“Curiosity,” I said.

For the first time since I’d turned around, Alex smiled.

Not a big smile. Just enough to show he understood exactly what I meant.

“Careful,” he murmured.

“Why?”

His eyes stayed on mine.

“Curiosity gets expensive.”

⸻

A/N: @kanelkake @tana-babe This one’s for you guys — thank you for the sweet comments. You both really motivated me to finish this chapter in literally 3 days! 😂

I really appreciate all the likes, reblogs, and messages from everyone. 🤍

[glazpuffis]

okay but your thoughts on the tell me lies finale???

It felt too rushed—some important parts of the show were all shown in just one episode. I get that they didn’t want a season 4, but then they could’ve at least added a few extra episodes… Alex deserved a proper ending. We don’t see him again after that conversation with Bree in his apartment—we could’ve at least seen him at the wedding. I loved the screen time of Lucy & Alex. I feel like the showrunners didn’t expect Alex to become so popular, otherwise they could’ve made something really good out of it. Apparently, Meghan Oppenheimer has confirmed there are “discussions” for a potential spin-off, so I’m curious!

And the ending with Bree and Wrigley at the wedding could’ve been written better. Anyways, sorry for the late reply 🤍

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 6

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

⸻

Pippa perked up instantly. “Where?”

Lucy pointed subtly with her cup. “Walking ego problem by the stairs.”

Bree glanced over her shoulder and smiled slightly. “That’s Alex.”

Pippa studied him for a second. “Yeah he does look like trouble.”

Lucy laughed. “He is trouble.”

I forced myself to look away. I was not going to be that girl scanning the room every five seconds.

But it didn’t take long for him to drift closer anyway. He stopped near Wrigley first, saying something I couldn’t hear. Wrigley laughed at whatever it was. Then Alex glanced over again. Our eyes met. And suddenly the room felt smaller.He didn’t smile. He just held the eye contact for a second longer than normal before walking over.

“Vanilla,” he said when he reached us.

Lucy burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you actually call her that?”

“It fits,” Alex replied.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re still not over that?”

“No.”

Pippa looked between us like she was watching a tennis match. “Wait, how do you two know each other again? Beside that party.”

“Library,” Alex said calmly.

“That’s not the whole story,” Lucy muttered.

Alex glanced at her briefly, amused. “No?”

Lucy just smirked into her drink and didn’t elaborate. Bree looked slightly uncomfortable now, like she wasn’t sure if she should intervene or let whatever this was play out.

Alex’s attention shifted back to me. “You came.”

“I said I might.”

“You did.”

His tone wasn’t teasing or impressed. Just observational, like he was ticking something off a list. I crossed my arms slightly. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Then what are you?”

He studied my face for a second before answering. “Interested.”

Pippa suddenly clapped her hands. “Okay, I need another drink before this gets weirder,” she said, grabbing Bree’s arm and dragging her toward the kitchen.

Lucy stayed for about two seconds longer before she sighed dramatically. “I’m going to check on Stephen,” she said, giving me a look that clearly meant be careful.

And then I was standing there alone with Alex again. “You’re quiet tonight,” he said.

“I’m thinking.”

“Hm, that's dangerous.”

I glanced at him. “You think everything is dangerous.”

“Not everything.”

“Just me?”

His mouth tilted slightly. “You’re not dangerous,” he said.

“Wow, thanks.”

“You’re curious.”

I sighed. “You really love that word.”

“Because it explains you.”

“And what explains you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he picked up someone’s abandoned cup from the counter, took a small sip, then set it back down like he didn’t care whose drink it was.

“I’m not that complicated,” he said finally.

“That’s not convincing.”

“Most people pretend to be deeper than they are.”

“And you don’t?”

“No.”

I studied him for a moment. “You’re either extremely self-aware or extremely delusional.”

“Probably both.”

For a second neither of us said anything. Then he leaned slightly closer so I could hear him over the music. “Are you watching your ex?”

My stomach dropped. “What? I'm not.”

“You looked over there three times.”

I followed his gaze across the room before I could stop myself.

Evan was standing near the couch with Abigail again. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting lightly on his arm like she’d been doing it forever.

I exhaled slowly. “You really enjoy pointing out people’s flaws.”

“I enjoy honesty.”

“There it is again.”

He glanced back at me. “You hate that word.”

“I hate how you use it.”

“Why?”

“Because you say it like everyone else is lying.”

“A lot of people are.”

“And you’re not?”

“No.”

I stared at him for a moment. Before I could respond, someone bumped into me from behind, nearly spilling their drink down my arm. Alex’s hand moved instantly, grabbing my wrist to steady me before I lost my balance.

He let go almost immediately, like he didn’t want to make it a moment. Still, my pulse jumped.

“You okay?” he asked.

The question surprised me. “You ask that sometimes?” I said.

“Sometimes.”

“I thought you hated checking on people.”

“I hate pretending to care.”

That answer was so typically Alex that I almost laughed. “I’m fine,” I said.

He studied my face for another second like he was deciding whether to believe me. Then he leaned back against the wall beside me. “Good,” he said.

Across the room, Evan glanced over. For a split second our eyes met. Then he looked away again. And somehow that felt like the real beginning of something messy.

⸻

I woke up to silence.

Not the comfortable kind. The kind that makes you immediately aware that you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be.

For a second I didn’t move. My eyes stayed closed while my brain slowly caught up with my body. The room smelled faintly like smoke and detergent, the sheets heavy. My head felt foggy, like I’d slept too hard.

Then it hit me...

[glazpuffis]

Captive, AU

Nixon Cooper x Reader

All the characters belong to R.J Lewis. This is an AU story with her characters. Book: Captive, 1.

Warnings: Dark Romance, Abusive toxic relationship

⸻

The fight had started the way it always did—slow at first, like something building under the surface, until it cracked open all at once and there was no stopping it anymore. I had been pacing the room, restless, suffocating in a space that had never once felt like mine, my thoughts spiraling faster than I could control them, every breath sharper than the last.

Two years of the same walls, the same routine, the same man deciding everything for me—it caught up to me in waves, and when it did, it never ended quietly.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I had said, my voice already breaking before I even finished the sentence, because I knew how it would sound, how it always sounded—desperate, emotional. “I can’t breathe here, Nixon. I can’t think. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

He had been standing there, watching me the way he always did during these moments. That was the part that pushed me further every time. The fact that nothing I did ever seemed to shake him in the way he shook me.

“Then stop fighting it like it’s going to change,” he said, his tone even, almost quiet, and that only made something snap inside me.

I shoved him, hard enough that anyone else would have taken a step back, but Nixon didn’t move. Of course he didn’t. He never did. My hands stayed against his chest for a second too long, my breathing uneven, my frustration spilling over into something physical because I didn’t know what else to do with it anymore.

“You don’t get to say that,” I shot back, my voice rising, shaking. “You don’t get to decide what my life is.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“I’m here because you won’t let me leave.”

“You’re still fighting me instead of figuring us out.”

That was the moment I completely lost control. My hands moved before I could think, my nails dragging across his neck—hard, desperate—like I needed to leave a mark, like I needed proof that I wasn’t as powerless as he made me feel. I expected him to stop me, to push me away, to react in some normal way—but he didn’t. He just stood there and let it happen, only grabbing my wrists when I had nothing left in me.

“You’re done?” he asked quietly, like I hadn’t just broken down in front of him.

“I hate you,” I whispered, my voice shaking, my chest tight with everything I couldn’t say.

“I know.”

And then, like always, he pulled me back in instead of letting me go. He grabs my face in a hard grip, his fingers pressing my cheeks into my teeth and forcing my mouth open.

I’m forced to look at him, to watch him as he leans down and spits. It lands partly in my mouth, making me gag. The moment he lets go, I turn my face into my arm, trying to wipe it away from my lips, my skin.

I hear his zipper, the sharp sound of his belt buckle. A sob gets stuck in my throat as I bury my face deeper into my arm. He throws me onto the bed and spreads my legs. Then he pushes himself inside me—everything happens so fast I don’t even have time to react.

He fucks me like I’m about to disappear, like he needs to keep me here, the bed shaking under us. Every time he pushes into me, it feels too deep, like he’s trying to bruise something inside me, like he wants to leave a mark there.

“How much do you hate me now, y/n?”

I don’t look at him. I don’t want to see his smirk.

“Come on, baby, tell me.”

I want to. I really do. But the words won’t come out. I try to push him away, but he’s too strong. He pushes deeper, a broken sound slipping from my lips when he moans my name. It feels like too much—like he’s inside me and taking everything with him.

His hand moves up my body, squeezing my ribs before sliding higher, until his fingers wrap around my throat. Not enough to choke me, but enough to make me tense, enough to make me nervous.

He sees it.

That fear.

And he smiles.

Of course he does.

Because he likes it. No matter how many times he tries to make me believe he cares, there’s always a part of him that enjoys this—enjoys what he does to me.

The sound of our bodies hitting together is loud, almost painful to hear. By the time everything slows down, by the time we both go still, I’m breathing just as hard, my body heavy and exhausted.

“You’re safe when you’re mine. You think anyone else would handle you the way I do,” he says, his voice rough, breathless.

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

I feel empty, drained, like everything inside me has been pulled out and left in pieces I can’t fix.

And then, like nothing even happened—

he tells me to get ready and come with him.

⸻

By the time we walked into the meeting room, the marks on his neck were still there—faintly red, impossible to miss if you knew where to look. No one reacted when he pulled me onto his lap the second we sat down. No one questioned it, this had long since become normal to them. I wasn’t a guest, I wasn’t a surprise—I was simply part of Nixon, something that came with him, something no one challenged because they understood exactly what that meant.

His arm wrapped around my waist automatically. The conversation around the table was already in motion, voices overlapping as they argued over, territory shifts, numbers that seemed to matter more than anything else in their world. I tried to follow it, but it blurred together quickly, my attention slipping.

Flynn sat across from us, still new enough that his gaze flickered toward me every now and then, curious, like he hadn’t quite learned yet that looking too long came with consequences.

The door opened, and the room shifted as Hobbs walked in, his presence cutting through the noise without needing to raise his voice. The conversation tightened, more focused now, until Dolly’s voice broke through it again,

“You’re distracted,” she said, her eyes fixed on Nixon in a way that was almost challenging.

He didn’t even look at her at first. “Am I?”

Her gaze slid to me, slow and unimpressed. “It’s hard not to be with that sitting on your lap.”

A faint smirk pulled at his lips as he finally glanced her way. “Careful, Dolly. You’re starting to sound obsessed.”

The reaction around the table was subtle but present—small shifts, quiet amusement—but Dolly didn’t smile. Her patience snapped just as quickly as mine always did.

“Fuck you, Nixon,” she said flatly, and then her eyes cut to me. “And fuck your little chihuahua. You should put her down before she claws your face next.”

The room fell quiet, but Nixon just chuckled under his breath like she had said something mildly entertaining instead of openly provoking him. Slowly, he tilted his head, exposing the scratches on his neck without a hint of embarrassment.

“My baby gave these in a different sort of fit, Dolly.”

Heat rushed to my face instantly, but his arm only tightened around me, pulling me closer like he was proud of it, like it meant something more than just another fight.

“Wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he added casually, his tone smooth, almost amused.

Dolly scoffed, leaning back in her chair, but she didn’t push it further, not with Hobbs watching, not with the atmosphere already thin. Hobbs stepped in not long after, back to business like none of it had happened.

When the meeting ended, Nixon didn’t say anything. He just stood, his hand finding my waist again, guiding me out with him like it was expected, like I followed because that was what I always did.

⸻

A/N: This is a fanfic based on the book: Captive by R.J. Lewis, which I recently finished. If you’re into dark romance, I definitely recommend it.

Let me know if I should write more AUs based on my favorite dark romance books.

[glazpuffis]

Next chapter of Unravel plssss im obsessed

Thank you so much for reading! I made this one extra long for you all 🤍 hope you enjoy it!

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 5

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

⸻

I didn’t walk away.

That was the moment everything shifted.

Not when he kissed me.

Not when his hand was around my throat.

But when I stayed after he warned me.

Alex watched my face carefully, like he was waiting for something to change. For fear. Regret. Reality.

None of it came.

My heart was still racing, but there was something steadier underneath it now. Something stubborn.

“You think I’m going to fall apart because you kissed me?” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“I think you already did.”

I scoffed and pushed past him, walking back toward the couch like I wasn’t just pinned against his wall thirty seconds ago.

My legs felt weird.

Unstable.

But I refused to let him see it.

I picked up one of the books on his table.

“Attachment Theory,” I read out loud. “That’s ironic.”

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What’s ironic about it?”

I flipped through a few pages like I actually cared. “You acting like you’re above attachment when you literally study it.”

His mouth twitched slightly. “Understanding something doesn’t mean you participate in it.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“It’s efficient.”

I put the book down. “You’re exhausting.”

“And you came here anyway.”

He had a point.

I sat back down on the couch, this time leaning into it like I was comfortable. Like my heart wasn’t still recovering.

Alex didn’t move for a moment.

Then he walked over and sat in the armchair across from me.

Not next to me.

Across.

Like this was an interview.

“You’re analyzing me,” I said.

“I’m observing.”

“Same thing.”

“Not really.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not as mysterious as you think.”

“Oh?”

“You’re just emotionally unavailable with a superiority complex.”

He laughed quietly. “Did your friends tell you that one?”

“No,” I said. “Common sense did.”

He tilted his head slightly. “And yet you’re still here.”

Silence hung between us again. I hated how comfortable he was with silence. Most people rush to fill it. Evan definitely would’ve. Evan would’ve asked if I wanted tea. Evan would’ve apologized for something he didn’t even do.

Alex just watched.

“You keep comparing me to him,” Alex said suddenly.

My stomach dropped slightly. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I crossed my arms. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“I know enough.”

God, he does that thing again.

“You’re not psychic,” I said.

“No,” he replied calmly. “But you keep bringing him into the room.”

I looked away for a second. That annoyed me.

“Evan and I are over.”

“I know.”

“Then stop acting like I’m secretly in love with him.”

“I didn’t say you were in love with him.”

Alex leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re curious about people who push you,” he continued calmly. “People who don’t immediately give you what you want.”

“That’s normal.”

“Not the way you do it.”

“Oh really? Enlighten me.”

He studied me for a long second. “You test people.”

I frowned. “No I don’t.”

“You do.”

“How?”

“You see how far someone will go for you,” he said. “And the second they go too far, you lose respect.”

That felt… uncomfortably accurate.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“You just met me.”

“And you’ve already proven it.”

My chest tightened slightly.

“How?”

He gestured vaguely toward the door.

“You broke up with a guy who worshipped you.”

“That’s not why—”

“And you came here tonight,” he interrupted. “To someone you think is dangerous.”

My stomach flipped.

“You’re not dangerous.”

He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me.

“You’re just arrogant.”

“That too.”

I leaned back against the couch, suddenly tired.

“You really like hearing yourself talk.”

“No,” he said. “I like watching you realize things.”

“And what exactly am I realizing?”

His gaze softened slightly. Not kinder. Just… quieter. “That you’re not as in control as you pretend.”

My heart thumped again. “You’re obsessed with control.”

“Everyone is,” he replied. “Some people just lie about it.”

“Like you?”

“No,” he said calmly. “I’m honest about mine.”

That word again. Honest.

“You keep saying that,” I muttered.

“Because it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does.”

I groaned and rubbed my face. “You’re actually unbearable.”

“And yet,” he said softly.

I looked at him again.

And there it was.

That same energy from the party.

Like we were standing too close to something unstable.

“Why did you kiss me?” I asked suddenly.

His expression didn’t change.

“You wanted me to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is.”

I shook my head. “You’re impossible.”

“You leaned into it.”

My cheeks heated. “That doesn’t mean I wanted it.”

“It means you didn’t stop it.”

Silence again.

I hated how the room felt warmer now.

I stared at him for a moment.

“You think this is going to end well?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“No.”

That answer surprised me.

“You’re very confident about that.”

“I’m realistic.”

“So why bother?”

His eyes held mine again.

“Because you’re not going to walk away yet.”

My stomach dropped slightly.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

He leaned back in his chair again, completely relaxed. “Because you’re still here.”

I looked toward the door.

It was still right there.

Still open.

Still an option.

But leaving suddenly felt like losing something.

Which was ridiculous.

We barely knew each other.

“You’re manipulative,” I said quietly.

“Maybe.”

“You like messing with people.”

“Only the interesting ones.”

“And what happens when you get bored?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I leave.”

There it was. Cold. Honest. And somehow that felt worse than a lie.

“You’re kind of a terrible person,” I said.

He shrugged. “I never said I wasn’t.”

I laughed quietly. “You really don’t try to impress people.”

“Impressing people is a waste of time.”

“Most guys would be trying a lot harder right now.”

“I’m not most guys.”

No. He definitely wasn’t. And that was the problem.

“You know this is a bad idea,” I said more to myself than to him.

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay with that.”

“Yes.”

“And you think I am too.”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Because the truth was sitting right there between us.

I stood up.

For a second his eyes flicked to the door again.

I noticed.

“You think I’m leaving.”

“I think you’re thinking about it.”

I walked closer to him slowly.

He stayed seated.

Watching.

“You’re not the only one who likes testing people,” I said.

Something shifted in his expression. Interest.

“Careful,” he murmured.

“Why?”

“Because you might not like what you find.”

I stopped right in front of him. Close enough that his knee brushed my leg. “You assume I scare easily.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Then why do you keep saying I should be?”

His gaze dropped to my lips for half a second. Then back up. “Because if you don’t,” he said quietly, “you’re going to get hurt.”

My chest tightened. “And you’re warning me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

A small pause. “Because you deserve the choice.”

That surprised me.

I searched his face for a second.

“You’re confusing,” I said.

“No,” he replied. “I’m consistent.”

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced at it briefly.

His expression hardened slightly.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

But something about his tone changed. Sharper. More distant. “You should probably go,” he said.

That caught me off guard. “What?”

“You have class tomorrow.”

“So do you.”

He stood up now, suddenly creating distance again. Like he was closing something.

“Goodnight,” he said.

Just like that. Conversation over.

I stared at him. “You’re kicking me out?”

“I’m ending the night before you start pretending this means something.”

My chest felt weirdly tight. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he said calmly.

God.

I grabbed my bag.

“Fine.”

I walked to the door.

This time he didn’t stop me.

Didn’t grab my wrist.

Didn’t say anything dramatic.

Just watched.

My hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

“Y/N.”

I turned.

His eyes were darker now. Quieter.

“You’re going to keep coming back,” he said.

Not a question.

A statement.

I scoffed. “No I’m not.”

He tilted his head slightly. “We’ll see.”

And somehow… That sounded exactly like a challenge.

⸻

I didn’t sleep much that night.

Not because of what happened.

But because of how it ended.

Alex didn’t try to keep me there.

He didn’t ask me to stay.

He didn’t text after.

Nothing.

Just silence.

And for some reason that bothered me more than if he had tried to pull some dramatic move. I kept replaying the moment he told me to leave. Like I’d somehow lost something.

Which is insane.

I barely know him.

⸻

The next morning, Lucy was already sitting on my bed when I woke up.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You went to his place.”

It wasn’t a question.

“How do you know?”

“Bree told me he asked for your number.”

Of course he did.

Lucy leaned forward. “So?”

“So what?”

“Did you hook up?”

“No.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. But it wasn’t the full truth either.

Lucy watched my face carefully. “You kissed.”

I groaned and buried my face in the pillow.

“Oh my God.” She laughed. “I knew it.”

“It was nothing,” I said into the pillow.

“That’s the tone girls use when it’s definitely not nothing.”

I sat up. “It was just… intense.”

Lucy’s expression changed slightly. “Define intense.”

I hesitated. How do you explain Alex to someone?

“You know when someone makes you feel like they can see every thought you’re having?” I said.

Lucy immediately frowned. “That’s not hot. That’s terrifying.”

“Exactly.”

“And you still kissed him?”

I rubbed my face. “I don’t know why.”

Lucy crossed her arms. “Actually I do.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re bored.”

I looked at her. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s accurate.”

She leaned back against the wall. “You dumped the nicest guy on campus because he treated you too well,” she continued. “Now you’re flirting with someone who looks like he might ruin your life.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“This entire friend group is dramatic,” she said. “Look at us.”

Fair point.

“You know Stephen hates him, right?” she added.

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Stephen says Alex ‘plays long games.’”

That phrase again. I tried to ignore the small twist in my stomach. “Well Stephen manipulates everyone too,” I said.

Lucy went quiet.

Yeah.

We both knew that.

⸻

Later that afternoon I saw Evan.

Of course I did.

Campus is too small to avoid people.

He was sitting outside the student center with Wrigley.

Wrigley looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His leg was bouncing like he had electricity running through it.

Evan noticed me first.

His whole face lit up.

That stupid golden retriever energy.

“Hey!” he said, standing up immediately.

I forced a smile.

“Hey.”

Wrigley gave me a quick nod.

“You coming to the game?” Evan asked.

Game.

Right.

He always invites everyone.

“I’m not sure yet,” I said.

“You should come,” he said quickly. “It’ll be fun.”

I glanced at Wrigley. He was staring at his phone now, completely zoned out.

“You okay?” I asked him.

He blinked like he just woke up. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “Just tired.”

Evan frowned. “You sure?”

Wrigley nodded.

But something felt… off.

I pushed the thought away.

Evan turned back to me. “Are you doing okay?” he asked softly.

There it was. The question he always asks.

I should’ve said yes.

Instead I heard Alex’s voice in my head:

You keep smiling like you owe him kindness.

“I’m fine,” I said.

But my tone must’ve sounded strange. Because Evan looked at me like he wanted to ask more.

He didn’t. He just nodded.

“Okay.”

⸻

That night my phone buzzed. But I already knew who it was.

Alex: Did you survive today?

I stared at the message.

Me: Barely.

Three dots appeared.

Alex: Dramatic.

Me: You started it.

Pause.

Alex: Did you tell Lucy?

Me: She’s psychic.

Alex: And?

Me: She thinks you’re a red flag.

Alex: She’s probably right.

I frowned at my screen.

Me: You’re very self-aware for someone who enjoys chaos.

His reply came fast.

Alex: I don’t enjoy chaos.

Me: Could’ve fooled me.

Alex: I enjoy honesty.

That word again.

Honesty.

Me: You keep saying that like it’s a personality trait.

Alex: For most people it’s not.

I rolled my eyes.

Me: You sound insufferable.

Alex: And yet you’re still texting me.

God.

He’s so annoying.

Me: Maybe I’m studying you.

Alex: You’re not good at pretending you’re detached.

My stomach flipped slightly.

Me: You’re very confident.

Alex: You came to my apartment last night.

He had a point.

Me: You kicked me out.

Pause.

Longer this time.

Alex: I stopped something.

That made my chest tighten.

Me: What?

The typing bubble appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Alex: Something you wouldn’t walk away from.

I stared at that message.

My heart started beating faster again.

Me: You think I have that little self-control?

Alex: I think you’re curious enough to ignore it.

I didn’t reply.

Because the worst part?

He might be right.

My phone buzzed again.

Alex: Come to the party thursday.

Me: You just said you don’t like chaos.

Alex: I didn’t say I avoid it.

I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

⸻

Thursday came faster than I expected.

Campus had this weird energy all week, like everyone was waiting for the same thing. Midterms were creeping closer, people were pretending to study in the library, but somehow there were still parties every night.

Lucy was sitting on my bed again while I got ready, scrolling through her phone like she was bored out of her mind. She kept glancing up at me every few seconds, watching the way I changed outfits like she was analyzing a crime scene.

“You’ve changed three times,” she said.

“I didn’t like the other ones.”

“You’re going to a frat party, not a fashion show.”

I shrugged, pulling the hem of my top down slightly. “I’m aware.”

She tilted her head, still studying me. “You’re dressing for him.”

I turned around immediately. “No I’m not.”

“You are,” she said calmly. “You didn’t care what you wore to these things before.”

“That’s because before I wasn’t being psychoanalyzed by my best friend.”

Lucy smirked slightly but didn’t argue. Instead she leaned back on her elbows and watched me for another moment before speaking again.

“Are you going to hook up with him tonight?”

I paused for a second, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The honest answer sat somewhere in my chest, uncomfortable and complicated.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Lucy raised her eyebrows.

“That’s new.”

“What’s new?”

“You not having a plan.”

I grabbed my jacket from the chair. “Maybe I’m just going to have fun.”

Lucy laughed under her breath. “That’s exactly how girls end up in therapy.”

“Relax,” I said. “It’s not that serious.”

But even as I said it, I knew Lucy wasn’t entirely wrong. Something about Alex felt less like flirting and more like stepping onto unstable ground. Not dramatic, not romantic—just unpredictable. And for some reason that unpredictability had been sitting in the back of my mind all week, like an itch I couldn’t ignore.

When we got to the party, it was already packed. The music was loud enough that you could feel it in your chest, the bass vibrating through the floor and walls. Bodies everywhere, people yelling over the music, drinks spilling, the usual chaos. Pippa was already there with Bree near the kitchen counter, and Wrigley was leaning against the fridge looking half-present, half somewhere else entirely.

“Finally,” Pippa said when she saw us. “We thought you two died.”

Lucy hugged Bree quickly before grabbing a drink. “Give it an hour,” she said.

I scanned the room without meaning to.

Alex wasn’t there.

That shouldn’t have bothered me.

But it did.

Pippa noticed immediately. She followed my gaze around the room and then looked back at me with a knowing expression.

“Looking for someone?”

“No.”

“Sure.”

I grabbed a drink just to give my hands something to do. The room felt warmer than usual, or maybe it was just the noise getting to me. Bree was telling Lucy something about her photography class, but I couldn’t fully focus on the conversation.

Part of me kept glancing toward the door.

Which was ridiculous.

He texted me to come. That didn’t mean he’d actually show up early.

Still, after about twenty minutes, I started convincing myself maybe he wouldn’t come at all. Maybe this was one of those weird Alex things where he just wanted to see if I’d show up.

That thought irritated me more than it should have.

Then the front door opened again.

And he walked in.

He stepped inside like he already knew exactly where everything was. His eyes scanned the room once.

Then landed on me.

The look lasted barely a second before he looked away and continued walking further into the house, but that was enough to send this stupid rush of adrenaline through my chest.

Lucy followed my gaze and immediately groaned. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“He’s here.”

[glazpuffis]

Trigger

Rafe Cameron x Kook Reader

Summary: Y/N faces Rafe Cameron’s dark obsession after a life-changing shot.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship

—

That afternoon Rafe was lying on my bed, scrolling through his phone like he owned the air in my room. I was getting ready for a small party my girlfriends were going to — nothing crazy, just music and drinks at my neighbor’s house. I told him about it casually, not thinking much of it.

He looked up slowly. “You’re not going.”

I paused, mascara wand hovering mid-air. “What?”

“I said you’re not going.”

“It’s just a party with the girls.”

His jaw tightened. “There’ll be guys there.”

“There are always guys somewhere, Rafe.”

He stood up and walked toward me. Not fast. He never needs to rush. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is for me.”

We stared at each other in the mirror. His eyes were dark, unreadable. I could feel the tension building, that familiar pressure in my chest that always tells me if I push this, it’ll explode. “Fine,” I said quietly. “I won’t go.”

His expression softened instantly. He kissed the side of my head like he hadn’t just controlled my entire evening. “Good. Stay home.”

I nodded.

But I didn’t stay home.

—

Later that evening I walked to my neighbor’s house anyway. It’s literally two houses down. If Rafe wanted to check, he’d see my car still parked at home. I told myself it wasn’t technically lying. Just a chill night with my best friends, some music, Sarah was there too.

I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Sarah was sitting cross-legged on the floor when I arrived, laughing about something stupid. For a moment, everything felt normal. No tension. No pressure. Just music and girls talking too loudly.

Then someone knocked.

One of the girls peeked through the window. “It’s Topper.”

Sarah immediately got up. “I’ll go.”

I followed her outside without thinking. Topper was leaning against his car, hands in his pockets. He smiled when he saw Sarah. “Hey.”

They hugged quickly. And then I asked the question that changed everything.

“Where’s Rafe?”

Topper looked at me like I’d asked something weird. “What?”

“Where’s Rafe?” I repeated. “Isn’t he with you guys tonight?”

His brows pulled together. “No.”

I felt my stomach drop slightly. “Weren’t you all together today? You, Kelce, Rafe?”

Topper hesitated. Just for a second.

“No. We weren’t together.”

He looked away too fast after saying it.

And that’s when it clicked. Rafe told me not to go out. But he wasn’t with the boys. So where was he?

I forced a small laugh. “Oh. I thought you guys had plans.”

Topper shrugged, but he looked uncomfortable now. Like he’d just said something he wasn’t supposed to.

Sarah was still talking to him, but I barely heard it. My head was buzzing.

He lied.

—

I went back inside and stayed for maybe three minutes before I stood up again. “I don’t feel great,” I said. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

Sarah looked worried. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

I left before she could ask more.

Instead of going home, I got into my car and drove around the corner so no one would see me. My hands were shaking as I called Barry.

He picked up on the third ring. “What?”

“Have you seen Rafe today?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah,” Barry said. “Dropped something off at the Camerons summer house earlier.”

My chest tightened. I hung up before he could question me.

The summer house is about twenty minutes away. And suddenly I knew exactly where I was going.

—

The entire drive there I kept replaying his voice in my head.

You’re not going.

Stay home.

I don’t like it.

He was so sure. So confident. Because he knew where he’d be.

When I pulled into the driveway, his truck was parked outside. Music was playing faintly from upstairs. The house lights were on.

My heart was beating so loud I could feel it in my throat.

I let myself in quietly. The house smelled like his cologne.

Then I heard it.

The shower running upstairs.

I walked up slowly.

The master bedroom door was half open.

And there she was.

A girl sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone like she belonged there. She looked up when she saw me. Her eyes widened immediately.

For a moment neither of us spoke.

Then I raised my finger to my lips.

“Just leave,” I whispered.

She didn’t argue. She grabbed her clothes and rushed past me, avoiding my eyes completely.

The shower was still running.

Like nothing happened.

Like I’m the interruption.

—

That’s when I noticed it.

His gun. Sitting on the dresser.

I stared at it for a long time. I don’t even know what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn’t thinking at all.

I picked it up.

It felt heavier than I expected.

I sat down in the chair facing the bathroom and waited.

A minute later, the shower stopped.

Two minutes later, Rafe walked out with a towel low around his waist, water dripping down his chest.

He stopped when he saw me.

And then — unbelievably — he smirked.

“You weren’t supposed to go out,” he said calmly.

I didn’t answer.

His eyes dropped to the gun in my hand.

His smile widened slightly. “You look cute holding that.”

“Don’t,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Where’d she go?” he asked casually, glancing at the empty bed.

“She left.”

He nodded slowly. “Good.”

“You lied to me.”

He walked closer.

“I told you not to go out,” he said.

“That’s not the point!”

“It is for me.”

Silence.

He stepped closer until he was right in front of me. My hand tightened around the gun.

“Put it down,” he said softly.

“No.”

Instead of backing away, he grabbed my wrist and pressed the barrel against his own chest.

“Go on,” he whispered.

My breath hitched. “Rafe, stop.”

“You came all this way.”

“You cheated on me.”

“And you disobeyed me.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

“I’m not your property,” I snapped.

His eyes darkened. “Aren’t you?”

“Move.”

“Shoot me then.”

“Are you insane?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping lower. “You’re not innocent, y/n. You’re just scared to admit you’re like me.”

“Shut up.”

“Do it.”

Everything blurred.

My hands were shaking.

My heart was racing.

And then the gun went off.

The sound was deafening.

He stumbled back, blood spreading across his side.

And he laughed.

Actually laughed.

“You did it,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Oh my God—”

“You pulled the trigger.”

“You made me!” I shouted. “You pushed me!”

Headlights flashed outside.

A car door slammed.

“Rafe?” Topper’s voice from downstairs.

Rafe looked at me and smiled.

“Perfect timing,” he murmured.

And that’s when I realized…

He never lost control.

Not even for a second.

Topper bursts into the room and everything moves too fast after that. There’s blood on the floor, on Rafe’s side, on my hands. He keeps asking what happened, but Rafe answers before I can.

“She shot me.” Not angry. Not shocked. Almost calm.

Topper looks at me like he doesn’t recognize me.

I try to speak, but Rafe cuts in smoothly, “She got emotional.”

Emotional. Like I’m hysterical. Like this is just some dramatic girl moment.

As Topper helps him up, Rafe doesn’t take his eyes off me. “We’ll talk,” he murmurs quietly, just for me.

No police show up that night. No ambulance questions me. The whole thing disappears too cleanly. Ward Cameron makes problems vanish, and this one vanishes too.

But Rafe doesn’t let it go.

That same night my phone lights up. "You okay?" I don’t answer. "That was intense." My stomach twists. Then: "You know this doesn’t look good for you, right?"

I call him immediately.

He answers like nothing happened. “Relax.” I can hear it in his voice — he’s enjoying this.

“You told Topper I shot you,” I whisper.

“You did,” he replies calmly. “You told me to!” I snap. Silence.

Then softly, “No one else heard that part.” My chest tightens.

Before I can respond, Ward’s voice replaces his. Calm. Controlled. “Sweetheart, this could become very serious legally.”

I try to explain, but he talks over me gently. “Intent is hard to prove.”

The phone shifts back to Rafe. “They won’t believe you over me,” he says quietly. And I hate that he’s right.

The next few days feel suffocating. No rumors. No consequences. Just silence. And him.

He texts constantly. Miss you. You looked good holding that gun. We’re connected now.

I ignore him until he shows up at my house. Bandaged. Pale. Alive.

He walks into my room and shuts the door behind him like he owns it. “You threatened me,” I say. “I protected you,” he corrects.

“By calling your dad?”

He shrugs slightly. “You think I could clean that up alone?”

My heart pounds. “You’re blackmailing me.”

He steps closer. “No. I’m reminding you.”

“Of what?” I ask. His eyes lock onto mine.

“That you pulled the trigger.”

I tell him he pushed me. He tells me he didn’t make me squeeze. The worst part is how calm he stays.

“You hate that I know this about you,” he murmurs. “That you’re capable.”

“I’m not like you.”

A faint smile touches his lips. “You aimed at me. You shot me. Don’t act innocent.” The word innocent feels like an accusation now.

A week passes. Then two. He never goes to the police. He doesn’t have to. The threat just lingers between us.

Sometimes it’s subtle. “Answer when I call.” Sometimes it’s direct. “If you leave me, I can’t promise this stays quiet.”

Ward even invites my family over for dinner one night. He smiles across the table like nothing happened. “We take care of our own,” he says casually.

Rafe’s hand rests on my thigh under the table, fingers pressing slightly — not enough for anyone to notice. Just enough for me to understand.

One night I finally confront him. “You can’t control me because of one mistake.”

He tilts his head. “One mistake?”

“You told me to shoot you.”

He steps closer, voice low. “I trusted you.” I stare at him. “That’s insane.”

“You think I’d let just anyone do that?” he whispers. “You and me, we crossed something.”

I shake my head. “You’re using this to trap me.”

“I’m keeping you,” he corrects.

“That’s not love.”

He doesn’t even argue. “Maybe not.”

He moves closer until my back hits the wall. “You think anyone else would understand you after this?” he murmurs. “After what you did?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did.” His hand lifts to my jaw, not rough but firm, forcing me to look at him.

“You’re not pure anymore,” he says quietly. “Not after that.”

My breath trembles. “I’m scared of you,” I admit.

He studies me for a second. “Good.”

Then he kisses me. Slow. Controlled. Like he knows I won’t push him away. When he pulls back, his lips brush my ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”

His fingers tighten slightly at my waist. “If you try, I’ll remind you.” My chest rises and falls too fast.

He leans in one last time, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll never get away from me.” A pause. “You’re mine.”

And this time it doesn’t sound like a threat.

It sounds like a decision he already made for both of us.

—

A/N: This was a short story I had sitting in my notes for a few weeks, inspired by a small scene from a TV show lol. Hope you liked it.

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 4

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

—

His apartment is ten minutes from campus.

Too close.

Like he planned it that way.

I stood outside for a full thirty seconds before knocking. My heart was beating so loud I thought someone walking past could hear it.

The door opened almost immediately.

Like he was already standing there.

Waiting.

He didn’t smile.

“You came.”

“I was bored,” I said.

He stepped aside to let me in.

His apartment was minimal. Dark couch. Books stacked everywhere. Psychology textbooks. A camera on the table. Ashtray by the window.

It smelled like smoke and something expensive.

“You live alone?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

No explanation. No details.

He closed the door behind me. The click of the lock sounded louder than it should’ve.

I noticed.

He noticed me noticing.

“You nervous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

I hate how he knows.

I dropped my bag on the counter. “So what? You just invite girls over and say ‘come because I said so’?”

“I don’t invite girls over.”

That made me look at him.

“Oh.”

“I invited you.”

The air shifted.

I crossed my arms. “Why?”

He stepped closer. Not touching.

“Because you think you’re immune.”

“To what?”

“To me.”

God.

“You’re not that special,” I said.

He smiled slightly. “You keep trying to convince yourself of that.”

I rolled my eyes and walked further into the apartment like I owned it. I refuse to let him see me hesitate.

“Show me where you study,” I said.

He watched me like I was a moving object he was analyzing.

“You like pretending you’re in control,” he said.

“And you like pretending you’re not trying.”

He laughed softly.

“Sit.”

That word.

Not “do you want to sit.”

Not “come here.”

Sit.

I should’ve argued.

I didn’t.

I sat on the edge of his couch.

He stayed standing for a second. Looking down at me.

Power move.

I stood back up immediately.

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Don’t,” I said quietly.

“Don’t what?”

“Try that.”

He stepped closer, slow.

“You walked into my place,” he said calmly. “At night. After I told you to come.”

“I had a choice.”

He tilted his head.

“Did you?”

I swallowed.

The room felt smaller.

“You think I’m like Lucy,” I said.

He stepped closer again. Now we’re inches apart.

“No,” he said softly. “Lucy submits because she’s scared to lose him.”

His eyes locked on mine.

“You’d submit just to see if you could survive it.”

My breath caught.

“That’s twisted.”

“It’s honest.”

His hand came up slowly.

Not grabbing.

Just brushing my jaw.

Light.

Testing.

I should’ve stepped back.

I didn’t.

My body betrayed me.

His fingers slid to my neck. Not squeezing. Just resting there.

“You like this,” he murmured.

“No.”

“You’re shaking.”

I was.

Not from fear.

From adrenaline.

“I’m not like your other girls,” I said.

“You think I have other girls?”

“Don’t you?”

He smiled slightly.

“I don’t repeat.”

That sent a chill through me.

His thumb pressed lightly against my throat.

Not enough to hurt.

Just enough to remind me he could.

“Say it,” he said quietly.

“Say what?”

“That you wanted to come.”

I stared at him.

“I didn’t.”

His grip tightened slightly.

Not painful.

But firm.

“You’re lying again.”

I exhaled sharply.

“I was curious.”

“There it is.”

He leaned closer. His mouth near my ear.

“Curiosity ruins girls like you.”

My heart felt like it was in my throat.

He pulled back slightly, looking at me like he was deciding something.

“You can leave,” he said suddenly.

That surprised me more than anything.

“What?”

“You can walk out right now.”

He stepped back fully. Giving me space.

No touching.

No blocking the door.

And that’s what made it worse.

Because now it really was my choice.

The door was right there.

Freedom.

Safety.

Vanilla.

Instead I said, “Why would I?”

His eyes darkened.

“Because once you stay, you don’t get to pretend you didn’t know what this was.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

“I’m not scared of you,” I whispered.

He stepped forward again, slow, deliberate.

“You should be.”

And then he kissed me.

Not soft.

Not romantic.

Controlled.

Like he was testing a reaction.

His hand slid back to my neck, firmer now. My back hit the wall. My mind screamed no— But my body leaned into him.

And that’s the scariest part. Because it didn’t feel like love. It felt like jumping off something high just to see if you survive the fall.

When he pulled back, my lips felt swollen.

My thoughts were messy.

“You’re going to regret this,” he said quietly.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t do halfway.”

My chest was rising too fast.

“Then what do you do?”

He looked at me like I already knew.

“I take.”

And the worst part? I didn’t walk away.

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 3

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

—

Campus feels smaller after a party like that.

Like everyone knows something happened.

Even when nothing technically did.

Lucy was sitting across from me in the cafeteria, stirring her coffee like she was trying to drown something in it.

Stephen sat next to her. Of course he did.

He had his arm around her chair, not even touching her, but claiming space anyway. He looked calm. Controlled. Like he always does.

Nobody understands why she went back to him.

Not after last year.

Not after he dumped her at that party. In that stupid coconut bra. In front of everyone.

Humiliated her and somehow… she still chose him.

Now she’s distant again. Quieter. Always checking her phone. Always calculating her words around him.

Stephen glanced at me.

He doesn’t look at people. He assesses them.

“You were talking to Alex last night,” he said casually.

Lucy stiffened slightly.

My stomach dropped. “For like five minutes.”

Stephen smirked. “Five minutes is enough.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For him.”

Lucy forced a laugh. “Stephen, stop.”

But he didn’t.

“He doesn’t play nice,” Stephen added. “He plays long.”

That shouldn’t have made my heart beat faster.

But it did.

Pippa and Wrigley were sitting a few tables away.

Well. Not sitting together.

They broke up a few days ago, and Wrigley has been… off.

Restless. Laughing too loud. Getting quiet out of nowhere. He kept glancing at Pippa like he was waiting for her to look back.

She didn’t.

She was pretending she didn’t care.

Nobody in this friend group ever really leaves each other. They just orbit. Toxic gravity.

Bree was late again. She walked in with her camera hanging off her shoulder. Photography. She and Wrigley take that class together.

It’s weird watching them laugh when you know they’re both kind of broken in different ways.

Last year she had that thing with the professor. It destroyed her. And now he’s dating some 18-year-old freshman.

Bree says it makes her sick.

She pretends she’s over it. She’s not.

Bree doesn’t talk about her childhood much. Foster homes. No relationship with her mom. She met Alex in one of those houses.

That explains things.

You don’t grow up like that and come out soft.

⸻

I saw him again two days later.

Library.

Of all places.

He was sitting alone, laptop open, headphones on, completely focused.

He didn’t look like a drug dealer.

He looked like someone writing a thesis about human behavior.

Which is somehow worse.

I shouldn’t have walked over. But I did.

He noticed me before I even said anything.

He took one headphone off.

“Miss Vanilla,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Still obsessed with that?”

“Still thinking about me?” he replied.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

I hate how sure he sounds.

I sat down across from him anyway.

“Stephen warned me about you,” I said.

He leaned back slightly. Amused.

“Stephen warns people about everyone he can’t control.”

“You don’t like him.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“He thinks he’s the only one allowed to manipulate a room.”

That word.

Manipulate.

“You think you don’t?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t lie,” he said eventually.

“That’s not true.”

“I don’t lie about what I am.”

That was… unsettling.

“So what are you?” I asked quietly.

His eyes held mine.

“Honest about my intentions.”

“And what are your intentions?”

He didn’t blink.

“I want to see how far you’d go.”

My chest tightened.

“Go where?”

“Past the version of you that smiles for everyone.”

My pulse was loud in my ears.

“That’s dramatic.”

“No,” he said calmly. “That’s accurate.”

Silence stretched between us.

Students walking past. Pages turning. Life continuing. And it felt like we were in something else entirely.

“You think I’m like Lucy,” I said suddenly.

“With Stephen?”

“Yes.”

He studied me.

“No.”

That surprised me.

“You’re worse.”

Excuse me?

“You won’t let someone control you,” he continued. “You’ll pretend you’re choosing it.”

That felt like a slap.

“I would never let someone treat me like he treats her.”

“Maybe not,” he said softly. “But you’re curious about being tested.”

I stood up abruptly.

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to.”

His voice was calm. Too calm.

I grabbed my bag.

“You’re not scary,” I lied.

He tilted his head slightly.

“I’m not trying to scare you.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

He held my gaze for a long second.

“Make you honest.”

That word again.

Honest.

As if I’m not.

As if I’m hiding something.

Maybe I am.

⸻

That night, Lucy called me.

She sounded off.

Stephen had accused her of flirting with someone. He wasn’t angry. That’s the worst part.

He was calm.

Calm Stephen is dangerous Stephen.

“I don’t know why I keep going back,” she whispered.

Because you’re addicted to chaos, I almost said.

But I didn’t.

Because I’m starting to understand it.

⸻

Three days later, Alex texted me.

He got my number from Bree.

Of course he did.

Alex: You looked bored in library today.

I stared at the screen.

I shouldn’t reply.

I did.

Me: You watch me a lot for someone who pretends not to care.

Three dots instantly.

Alex: I don’t pretend.

My heart did that stupid thing again.

Alex: Come over.

Not “want to hang out?”

Not “are you free?”

Come over.

I stared at it for a full minute.

No smiley face.

No explanation.

Just control.

I typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Me: Why?

Three dots.

Pause.

Alex: Because I said so.

And there it was.

The line.

The red flag Lucy joked about.

The thing I said I would never fall for.

My phone buzzed again.

Alex: Or don’t. Your choice.

That’s the trick, isn’t it?

He makes it sound like a choice.

My stomach twists.

This is how it starts.

Not with love.

Not with sweetness.

With curiosity.

With ego.

With wanting to prove you’re not affected.

And maybe I just want to see if I can handle him. Or if he’ll be the one who handles me.

I stare at his address.

My thumb hovers over the screen.

Safe.

Or burn.

I think I already know which one I’m walking toward.

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 2

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

—

I should’ve left after that.

That would’ve been the normal thing to do.

Laugh it off. Go back to Lucy. Pretend I wasn’t slightly shaking for no reason.

But I didn’t.

Because I hate normal.

The party got louder. Hotter. Someone knocked over a lamp. Pippa was dancing on a table. Bree was arguing with someone about something political. Lucy disappeared with Stephen.

And Alex?

Alex was watching.

Not in a creepy way.

In a calculating way.

Like he was memorizing weaknesses.

Every time our eyes met, he didn’t look away.

I did.

Which annoyed me.

I went to grab a drink just to have something to do with my hands.

“You don’t even like vodka,” his voice said behind me.

I didn’t turn around immediately. “You’ve known me for what, an hour?”

“I pay attention.”

I turned.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “It’s useful.”

“For what?”

He stepped closer, but not touching.

“Understanding people.”

“You’re a psych major, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains the God complex.”

He smirked. “You think I have one?”

“I think you like thinking you see through people.”

“And I do,” he said calmly.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Freud.”

He laughed softly.

“You keep joking when you’re uncomfortable.”

My jaw tightened. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You are.”

“Stop telling me how I feel.”

“Then stop proving me right.”

God.

He was exhausting.

And magnetic.

Evan walked past us at that moment, Abigail basically glued to his side. She laughed at something he said, touching his chest like she’d known him for years.

I felt something twist in my stomach.

Alex noticed.

Of course he did.

“You don’t want him,” he said quietly. “But you don’t want anyone else to have him either.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“It’s just weird seeing him with someone else.”

“Because you lost control.”

I looked at him sharply. “I don’t control people.”

“You controlled him.”

That hit.

“He liked doing things for me,” I said defensively.

“Yeah,” Alex replied. “Because he needed you.”

“And that’s bad?”

“It’s weak.”

“You really hate soft people, don’t you?”

“I hate dependency.”

There was something in his tone when he said that. Something personal. Cold.

“And what are you?” I asked.

He leaned closer. This time I could feel the heat from his body.

“I don’t depend on anyone.”

“That’s not healthy either.”

He smiled slightly.

“I’m not trying to be healthy.”

I should’ve walked away then.

That was the second moment I could’ve escaped.

But instead, I asked:

“What do you want from me?”

His eyes dragged slowly over my face.

“I don’t know yet.”

“That’s comforting.”

“You’re interesting.”

“That’s vague.”

“You act like you’re in control,” he said. “But you’re bored. And boredom makes people reckless.”

I laughed quietly. “You think I’m reckless?”

“I think you want to be.”

The music in the background felt distant suddenly.

Like we were in our own bubble.

Dangerous bubble.

“You don’t even know me,” I whispered.

“I know enough.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me.”

He studied me for a long second.

“You broke up with him because he loved you more than you loved him.”

Silence.

“You couldn’t breathe in that kind of love.”

My throat felt tight.

“You’re projecting.”

“No,” he said calmly. “I’m observing.”

I hated that he wasn’t emotional. Hated that he wasn’t trying to impress me. Hated that he wasn’t soft.

And I hated that my heart was racing.

“You think you’re better than him?” I asked.

“No.”

His eyes darkened slightly.

“I think I’d never let someone walk over me the way he did.”

“That’s not strength,” I said. “That’s ego.”

“And you like ego,” he replied instantly.

I swallowed.

No.

No, I don’t.

Do I?

⸻

Lucy suddenly appeared beside me, slightly drunk.

“There you are!” she smiled at Alex. “Are you corrupting her yet?”

Alex didn’t even hesitate. “Working on it.”

Lucy laughed like it was a joke.

I didn’t. Because it didn’t feel like one.

Later, when we were leaving, I could feel his eyes on me again.

Bree hugged him goodbye.

I avoided looking at him.

Coward.

As I walked toward the door, I felt a hand lightly grab my wrist.

Not tight.

Just enough.

I froze.

“Maybe you do scare easily,” he murmured.

“I don’t.”

“I think you do.”

“Let go.”

He did. Immediately.

But he leaned in slightly.

“You’re going to think about this conversation,” he said quietly. “And you’re going to hate that you liked it.”

My chest felt heavy.

“I didn’t like it.”

He tilted his head.

“Liar.”

And then he walked away first.

Not me. He walked away.

Like he already knew I’d be the one replaying everything in my head tonight.

And the worst part?

He was right.

⸻

In bed that night, I stared at my ceiling.

Evan would’ve texted me: Did you get home safe?

Alex wouldn't text.

Alex doesn’t chase.

And somehow that silence felt louder than any message.

Lucy wanted me to meet someone toxic.

I think I just did.

And the scary part?

I don’t know if I want to run.

Or see how far this burns.

[glazpuffis]

Burning Tides: Part 7

Rafe Cameron x Kook Reader

Summary: Jealousy, friendship, and chaos collide in a toxic relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

—

By the time the party has started to settle into a rhythm, you find yourself laughing. Really laughing.

The music hums in the background but it isn’t overwhelming. You’re sitting in a circle with Kie, Lucy, and a few others from your friend group.

Someone suggests a game—nothing crazy. Just a light, goofy game that makes everyone snort or roll their eyes. You end up on the couch with Kie beside you. The game has everyone laughing so hard that you nearly spill your drink on yourself.

Then, unexpectedly, Topper slides onto the couch next to you. “Am I allowed?” he jokes, plopping down without asking. You roll your eyes but don’t push him off.

A few seconds later, you feel the shift before you even see him. Rafe sits down at the other end of the couch, careful to seem casual. But his eyes are fixed. On you. On your movements. On your laugh.

At first, you ignore it. Pretend you don’t notice. You focus on the game—on the ridiculous dares, the sarcastic comments, the laughter. For a while, you almost forget he’s there.

Then someone suggests another game. A slightly more intense one this time. One that asks about past crushes, old loves, and embarrassing flings.

You feel the temperature shift immediately.

It’s harmless, you tell yourself. Just a game. A question came up for you. You answer lightly, smiling, trying to keep it fun. “It’s… someone from middle school, but it was nothing serious.”

Rafe tenses beside you. You sense it before he says anything. The subtle curl of his fingers around the couch, the way his jaw tightens just enough that it catches the dim light. He doesn’t look at you. He looks forward, pretending not to care—but you know him. You know that look.

The game moves on. But you can feel him watching every interaction, every joke, every laugh.

“Who was your first kiss?” someone asks you next. You shrug, a small smile. “Someone I dated in high school. Really short-lived. Not worth the memory, honestly.”

A sharp inhale behind you. Rafe. His body stiff. He leans back, arms crossed. Not angry yet.

You bite the inside of your cheek.This is a game. A question. Not a declaration. Not a reason for jealousy.

Topper notices it too. He nudges your knee lightly. “Ignore it,” he whispers, like he knows the storm brewing beside you.

You try. You really do. You laugh at the next player’s answer. You comment sarcastically on someone pretending they’ve never kissed anyone. You let the joke land.

But you can feel Rafe’s gaze on you like a weight you can’t shake. His jaw clenches, then relaxes, then clenches again. You know it isn’t just about the game. It’s about him. The past. The constant, nagging fear that he isn’t enough. That he can’t compete.

And part of you wants to reassure him. Part of you wants to roll over and let him have control again, just to calm the tension. But most of you—the part that’s learning, the part that wants space—forces your voice steady and calm.

“You’re quiet,” you say softly, not looking at him. “Not playing?”

“I don’t need to,” he says, voice low. “I already know you’re too… generous with your attention.”

You blink. That hurts. And angers you. But you hold it in.

Topper shifts, awkwardly trying to break the tension. “Uh… let’s just keep going. Come on, everyone, next question!”

You nod, forcing a smile at the group, letting the absurdity of the game wash over the moment. Everyone laughs again.

Eventually, the game ends. Drinks are poured. People drift into smaller groups. The tension between you and Rafe hasn’t vanished, but you’ve survived it.

You glance at him once, seated across from you, leaning back like he owns nothing, and you realize something.

Even now, even when he’s distant, even when the jealousy is sharp and quiet, you still understand him. And that scares you more than any question in a game ever could.

Because for the first time, you’re not hiding. You’re just… standing your ground.

And Rafe? He knows it.

[glazpuffis]

Only One

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: A lonely girl gets trapped in a toxic love she can’t walk away from.

—

I still remember the first time Bree introduced me to Alex.

It felt dangerous from the start. Like she was striking a match in a room that already smelled like gasoline.

It was a few months ago two, maybe three. We were crammed into someone’s kitchen, music too loud, cheap vodka burning down my throat, everyone laughing like nothing mattered. Bree grabbed my sleeve and tilted her head toward the back door like she had a secret.

Outside, the air was freezing. The kind that bites your lungs when you breathe too deep.

He was standing under the porch light, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket. When his eyes landed on me, it didn’t feel curious. It felt calculated. Like he was already figuring out how far I could fall.

“This is Y/N,” Bree said lightly. “Be nice.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “You look like you don’t sleep.”

I should’ve been offended. Instead, I felt seen.

“Yeah,” I shrugged. I’ve never been good at pretending. “You don’t either.”

“I don’t,” he said, holding my gaze just a second too long.

And then Bree slipped back inside, like she’d done her part and didn’t want to watch whatever happened next.

“You want something?” he asked.

It wasn’t flirty. It wasn’t playful.

It was an offer.

I told myself I said yes because my head was always too loud. Because my chest felt heavy all the time. Because the world felt too sharp, too much. I told myself I’d tried everything else—therapy I couldn’t afford, parents who were technically alive but emotionally gone. Two houses. Neither one a home.

Lucy, Bree, Pippa—they cared. They really did. But caring doesn’t fill the hollow parts.

I was an only child in the aftermath of a divorce that felt less like separation and more like erasure. Like I’d been misplaced somewhere along the way.

So I told myself it was just one night. Just something to quiet the noise.

He pressed something small into my palm. Our fingers brushed. His skin was warm. Mine was cold.

“On the house,” he said.

That’s how it started.

Free became routine. Routine became currency.

The price was time. My attention. My body.

His apartment was dim and always a little too warm. We’d fall into each other like we were starving. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t romantic. It was frantic. Desperate. Like we were both trying to outrun something inside ourselves.

We understood each other in a way that felt rare. He talked about foster homes. Distant. Lonely. I didn’t have that exact story, but I knew what it was to grow up alone.

He’d whisper it in the dark after, when we were tangled up in his sheets.

“I’m the only one who gets you.”

His lips against my ear.

“You don’t have anyone else.”

And I believed him.

Because it was easier than believing I deserved more.

Slowly, I drifted away from everyone else. Coffee with Lucy. Late nights with Pippa. Group hangouts. I’d cancel. I’d disappear. I became this blurred-out version of myself.

They noticed.

I caught the looks Bree and Lucy shared. The way Pippa’s teasing started to sound like testing. Like she was checking if I was still in there.

It all exploded at a party.

Music shaking the walls. Lights flashing too fast. I was leaning against a wall, trying to feel steady, when Wrigley came over.

“You okay? You haven’t seemed like yourself.”

Before I could answer, Alex was there.

“She’s fine,” he said. Calm. Tight.

“I was just asking,” Wrigley replied.

“You don’t need to. I take care of her.”

That did it.

Words sharpened. And then Wrigley said, “You’re poisoning her, man.”

Alex swung before I even processed it.

The crack of knuckles against jaw. My scream. Evan and Stephen dragging them apart.

Later, outside in the cold—the same kind of cold as the night we met—I finally found my voice.

“I don’t want to see you for a while.”

He didn’t argue. He just stared at me like I’d said something temporary.

My friends walked me back to my dorm like a shield. They didn’t push. They didn’t demand explanations. They just stayed.

The next day, I tried to focus. Tried to be normal.

I felt him before I saw him.

Alex was standing by the condiment station, watching me like he’d been there a while.

My tray rattled when I stood.

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” I said.

And for the first time in weeks, my voice didn’t shake.

I walked away.

And then there was silence.

No texts. No calls. No surprise appearances.

It should’ve felt peaceful.

Instead, it felt empty.

Lonely in a way that ached physically.

I smiled for my friends. Told them I was just tired. That everything was fine.

A few nights later, they dragged me to another party.

“You need to get out,” Pippa insisted.

I went. I didn’t feel much of anything.

Until I saw him.

Across the room. Sitting back in an armchair like he owned it. A girl with long hair perched on his lap, laughing at something he said. Her hand on his chest.

The room tilted.

I turned away before he could see my face and went straight to the bar.

One shot. Two. Three.

Something bitter and strong in a plastic cup that I drank too fast.

I threw myself into the crowd. Laughed too loud. Moved like I didn’t care. Like my chest wasn’t cracking open.

Some frat guy started dancing with me. He was easy. Harmless. I flirted back. Let his hands rest on my waist.

For a second, I almost felt free.

Then Alex was there.

He stepped between us without touching me.

“Walk away,” he told the guy quietly.

The guy didn’t argue.

I spun toward Alex, furious. “What is wrong with you? I can do whatever I want.”

“She’s nothing,” he said about the girl. “You know that.”

“I don't care, go back to her.”

“You’re just trying to hurt me because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be.”

He stepped closer. The party noise faded into background static.

“I’m the only one who sees you,” he said. “You know that.”

And the worst part was—I did know what he meant.

I hated that he could still get inside my head.

“Leave me alone,” I said.

“No.”

He took my hand.

And I didn’t pull away.

We left together.

His apartment felt smaller than usual. Tighter. The second the door shut, the fight came back full force. Words about control. About trust. About who belonged to who.

He called me selfish.

I called him a liar.

We were both bleeding in ways we didn’t know how to admit.

At some point, I turned toward the window, arms wrapped around myself.

I heard him move behind me.

Then his hands were on my hips.

Firm. Certain. His chest against my back. His breath warm against my neck.

“You don’t get to look at me,” he murmured, in to my ear. “Not after you let someone else touch what’s mine.”

His hands slid over me, familiar and claiming. My body reacted before my pride could. Heat tangled with anger until I couldn’t tell them apart.

I told myself to push him away.

I didn’t.

Clothes hit the floor. His touch wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t cruel either. It was intense. Charged. Like we were both trying to win something that didn’t exist.

When he pulled me closer, when he moved against me, it felt like falling back into something dangerous and known. My hands pressed against the cold window. My breath fogged the glass.

I couldn’t see his face.

Part of me was grateful for that.

It was easier when it was just sensation. Just the physical pull between us. The anger twisted into need. The way he held me like I might disappear.

“This is what it is,” he said against my skin. “You know that.”

And when the pleasure hit—sharp, overwhelming —I hated how much I felt it. Hated that my body still answered him.

He followed seconds later, breath breaking against my shoulder.

Afterward, we stayed like that.

Breathing hard. Silent.

The fight burned out, leaving nothing but exhaustion.

He was the only one who understood this emptiness in me.

[glazpuffis]

Unravel: Part 1

Tell Me Lies, Alex x Reader

Summary: Y/N meets Alex — the opposite of safe. Might be the beginning of something dangerous.

Warnings: Abusive toxic relationship, Domestic violence, Jealousy

—

I didn’t even want to go to the party.

That’s the truth.

It had only been three weeks since Evan and I officially ended things. Three weeks since I decided I was done with soft boys, done with “are you okay?” texts every hour, done with someone looking at me like I was something fragile.

But Lucy wouldn’t let me stay in.

“Wear something short,” she said.

“Something that says emotionally unavailable,” Pippa added.

Bree just smiled like she knew something I didn’t.

So I went.

The music was already too loud when we walked in. Bodies everywhere. Sweaty. Drunk. Desperate. College.

And then I saw him.

Evan.

Of course he was there.

He was laughing at something, holding a red cup, looking like someone who tries too hard to look like he’s fine.

He saw me.

And he smiled.

And I smiled back.

Because that’s what I do.

I always smile.

We moved to the kitchen, away from the crowd. Just us girls.

Pippa immediately turned to me.

“So. Be honest. You still want him?”

I laughed. I actually laughed.

“No.”

They stared at me.

“He’s… too simple,” I said. “He thinks about me too much. He wants to do everything together. He plans things. He checks in. He says yes to everything I want.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “That’s bad?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s boring.”

It felt harsh saying it. But it was true.

Evan is… perfect. Daddy’s money. Always paying. Always offering help. Always saying “whatever you want, baby.” Always making sure I’m okay. He would literally cancel his own plans just because I sighed.

He’s a super sweet guy.

Too sweet.

Like vanilla ice cream with nothing on it.

Safe. Predictable. Soft.

And I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but safe makes me feel trapped.

“He deserves someone who actually wants that,” I said quietly. “I don’t.”

Bree tilted her head. “You don’t deserve someone like that?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I don’t.”

Lucy smirked. “I hope you meet someone toxic. Like actually toxic. So you’ll finally understand Evan’s value.”

We all laughed.

It was a joke.

Right?

That’s when Bree went quiet.

She was looking toward the doorway.

“Oh God,” she muttered. “He came.”

“Who?” I asked.

“My foster brother.”

And then I saw him.

Alex.

He wasn’t loud like some of the other guys. He didn’t need to be. He walked in like the room already knew him. Dark hoodie. Hands in his pockets. Calm. Too calm.

Bree went over to him first. They talked for a minute. He barely smiled.

Then she brought him over.

“Guys, this is Alex.”

He looked at each of us briefly.

When his eyes landed on me, they didn’t move.

Not even for a second.

I said, “Hey.”

He looked me up and down. Slowly. Not subtle. Not respectful.

Then he grinned.

“Hey.”

That was it.

But the way he said it felt like he already knew something about me.

I didn’t like that.

—

Later, Evan came over.

“Hey,” he said softly, like he always does. “Can we talk for a second?”

I nodded because again… I smile.

We talked about something stupid. Some class thing. He asked if I was okay. I said yes. He said he missed me. I said I hope he’s doing good.

Then some girl—Abigail, I think—came up to him. Touching his arm. Laughing too much.

And just like that, he was distracted.

I felt… nothing.

Or maybe something small.

But I ignored it.

At some point, my friends disappeared to get drinks.

And suddenly I was standing alone.

With Alex.

He hadn’t moved far. He was leaning against the wall, watching everything like it was a show.

I crossed my arms.

“You don’t have to answer him,” he said suddenly.

I blinked. “What?”

“You don’t have to answer him like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re scared to hurt him.”

I stared at him. “How would you even know?”

He shrugged. “You look uncomfortable. But you keep smiling. Like you owe him kindness.”

My stomach tightened.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” I said.

Alex tilted his head. “Exactly.”

Something about that irritated me.

“So what? I should be mean?”

He stepped a little closer.

“I think you’re already mean,” he said lightly. “You just hide it.”

I felt heat rise to my face.

“You don’t know me.”

He smiled again. That stupid calm smile.

“I know girls like you.”

“Oh yeah?” I shot back. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You like being chased. You like someone who doesn’t need you. Someone who doesn’t bend.”

I swallowed.

“That’s not true.”

“Then why did you dump golden retriever over there?”

That made me laugh, even though I didn’t want to.

“He was too nice.”

Alex’s eyes darkened slightly.

“Too nice isn’t real,” he said. “It’s just weakness.”

“That’s messed up,” I said.

“Is it?” He stepped even closer. Close enough that I could smell his cologne. Something dark. Not sweet.

“You think he was exciting?” he continued. “You were bored. I could see it from across the room.”

“You’re very confident for someone I met ten minutes ago.”

He smirked. “You’re very defensive for someone who doesn’t care.”

I hated how my heart was beating.

I hated that he was right about some things.

“I’m not defensive.”

“You are,” he said softly. “And you’re pretending you don’t like attention. But you love it.”

“That’s not—”

“You loved that he needed you. You just didn’t love him.”

Silence.

That hit too close.

He watched my face carefully. Studying me like I was a puzzle.

“You don’t scare easily,” he added. “That’s interesting.”

“Should I be scared?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Maybe,” he said.

He wasn’t kind.

Not even a little.

There was something sharp about him. Something that felt like he would say exactly the thing that would hurt the most and then look at you like it’s your fault for bleeding.

And I knew that.

I saw it.

But I didn’t walk away.

That’s the part that scares me.

“You think you’d be different?” I asked quietly.

“From him?”

“Yes.”

He smiled without warmth.

“I wouldn’t text you good morning every day.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I wouldn’t ask if you’re okay every five minutes.”

“Good.”

“I wouldn’t say yes to everything.”

I folded my arms tighter. “You sound proud.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t perform,” he said. “If I want something, I take it. If I don’t, I leave.”

“And what do you want right now?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes dropped to my lips for half a second.

Then back to my eyes.

“You don’t want that answer.”

My stomach flipped.

No. No. No.

Lucy’s voice echoed in my head: I hope you meet someone toxic.

I almost laughed.

Because here he was.

Standing in front of me.

Not sweet. Not safe. Not vanilla.

Dangerous.

And the worst part?

Part of me liked that he wasn’t trying to impress me.

Part of me liked that he wasn’t soft.

But I also saw it.

The cruelty. The control. The way he liked reading people and pushing.

“I don’t date guys like you,” I said.

He leaned in slightly.

“You don’t know that yet.”

“I do.”

He smiled again.

“We’ll see.”

And then Bree came back, breaking whatever that was.

Alex stepped away like nothing happened.

Like he didn’t just crawl under my skin.

Across the room, Evan was laughing with Abigail.

He looked happy.

I should’ve felt relieved.

Instead, I felt something else.

Not regret.

Not exactly.

Just this quiet realization that I might have traded safe for something that burns.

And burns don’t keep you warm.

They destroy you.

But as Alex glanced at me one last time before turning away…

I didn’t feel scared.

I felt curious.

And that’s worse.

⸻

A/N: Hi, this is a fictional story based on Tell Me Lies. In this version, Y/N was in a relationship with Evan, not Bree. I haven’t seen any Alex fanfictions yet, so I wanted to write one myself.