#his emotional rawness and vulnerability is something so exceptional

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.1)

You're accidentally hurt during a moment of loss of control by your powerful partners

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Bobby Drake, Wade Wilson, Warren Worthington III, Jean Grey & Rogue

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

It happened so fast you barely registered the pain. One minute you were training with Logan in the Danger Room, sparring as usual, the two of you enjoying the playful back-and-forth of dodging each other's hits. Logan was holding back, as he always did, but that wild intensity still gleamed in his eyes—a part of him that would never fully shut off. You loved that about him. But then, in a split second, something shifted. His movements were too fast, too fierce. Before you could react, his claws were out, and the sharp edge caught your arm.

You gasped as a searing pain shot through your body, clutching your arm as you stumbled back. Blood dripped down your skin, the deep cut immediately soaking through your sleeve. For a moment, Logan just stood there, wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat. The claws retracted instantly, and you saw the horror in his face as he processed what he had done.

“Darlin’… oh God, no. I didn’t mean—” His voice was rough, like gravel, choked with disbelief and panic. He was on you in a second, dropping to his knees beside you and gently taking your arm in his hands, careful not to hurt you further. You winced at the touch, but the pain wasn’t what hurt most. It was the look on Logan’s face—like he had broken something irreplaceable between you.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, though your voice was shaky. “It was an accident.”

But Logan wasn’t hearing it. His hands trembled as he held your arm, his head lowered like he was ashamed to even look at you. “I should’ve been more careful. Damn it, Y/N. I never should’ve… I should’ve known better.”

You reached out with your free hand, cupping his rough, scruffy cheek to make him look at you. “Logan, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

But the guilt in his eyes didn’t fade. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into that place he went when he was ashamed of himself, afraid of losing control. But instead, he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if drawing strength from you. “I can’t lose you, Y/N,” he muttered. “I can’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

You smiled softly, despite the throbbing pain in your arm. “You won’t. I’m right here, Logan. Always.”

His eyes opened, and in them, you saw the raw vulnerability that he so rarely let anyone see. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you carefully, protectively. “I’ll fix this,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make it right.”

And in that moment, as you leaned into his embrace, you knew he would.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

It started as a typical night in the mansion—Remy was showing off as usual, flicking cards across the room with that charming grin of his, teasing you with sly winks. You sat on the couch, amused but unimpressed, knowing his routine far too well by now. But you loved watching him in his element, loved the way his eyes lit up with that mischievous energy whenever he was around you. It was intoxicating.

“Y’know, chérie, if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might have to take you out for another round of cards.” His voice dripped with playful flirtation as he tossed another charged card into the air.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back on the couch. “Remy, you know I always beat you.”

He laughed, and in that moment, he flicked his wrist to toss another card—except this time, something went wrong. Maybe he misjudged the charge, or maybe it was just bad luck, but the card shot towards you too fast, too charged, and before you could react, it exploded with a small burst of kinetic energy right in front of you.

The force knocked you off the couch, sending you tumbling onto the floor with a sharp yelp of pain. Your arm burned where the blast had hit, and you groaned as you tried to sit up, clutching the now-aching limb.

“Y/N!” Remy’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed to your side, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands hovered over you, unsure where to touch, as if he was afraid of hurting you more. “Chérie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—God, I didn’t mean to do that.”

You winced, blinking back tears as you pressed a hand to your arm. “It’s okay, Remy… just a little burn. I’ll live.”

But Remy wasn’t having any of it. His normally cocky expression was gone, replaced with genuine worry as he gently helped you sit up. “Let me see,” he said softly, carefully pulling your hand away from the burn on your arm. His fingers were gentle as they inspected the damage, his eyes dark with regret. “Merde, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never hurt you, you know that, right?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile despite the pain. “I know. It was an accident.”

But he still looked haunted, his jaw tight as he gingerly cradled your arm. “Still… I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve been payin’ more attention.”

You placed your other hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. “Remy, really, I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping with relief, though the guilt still lingered in his eyes. “I don’t deserve you, chérie,” he muttered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re too good to me.”

You chuckled, wincing slightly at the movement. “You better believe it.”

But even as you tried to make light of it, Remy’s hands never left your skin, as if he needed to feel that you were still there, still with him. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what, he would always be there to protect you—even from himself.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

You had always loved watching Kurt move—the way he seemed to dance across the air, teleporting with ease, his body a blur of grace and power. You were training together, and though you weren’t nearly as agile as him, you tried your best to keep up, determined to prove that you could hold your own.

But then, in a blink, Kurt disappeared—teleporting just out of your reach as you swung your fist. You spun around, ready to block him when he reappeared, but you miscalculated, and before you could react, his tail whipped out, striking you in the ribs with more force than he intended.

The air was knocked out of you, and you stumbled back, clutching your side as pain radiated through your body. You gasped for breath, wincing as you sank to the ground, your chest heaving.

“Y/N!” Kurt’s voice was frantic, and in an instant, he was kneeling beside you, his golden eyes wide with panic. “Oh mein Gott, I didn’t mean—are you hurt?”

You couldn’t speak for a moment, too focused on catching your breath, but when you finally looked up at him, you saw the sheer horror on his face. He reached out, his hand trembling as he gently touched your side, where his tail had struck you. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful.”

You tried to smile, though the pain made it difficult. “It’s okay, Kurt. You didn’t mean to.”

His brow furrowed, his eyes filled with guilt as he gently helped you sit up. “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as you caught your breath. “I know. It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Kurt shook his head, his tail curling around your waist in a protective gesture. “I should have been more gentle. I forget how strong I am sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, wincing at the pain in your ribs. “I think you forget that you’re not the only one with superpowers.”

He smiled weakly, his hand cupping your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Ja, but I’m supposed to protect you. Not hurt you.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “You do protect me. Every day.”

Kurt’s golden eyes softened, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I will never let anything happen to you, Y/N. I swear it.”

And as you rested in his embrace, the pain in your ribs forgotten for the moment, you knew that no matter what, Kurt would always be there for you—his love for you stronger than any force in the world.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The sun had just started to set, casting an orange glow across the grounds of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You and Scott were outside, sparring as part of your usual training routine. Scott was always serious when it came to training, which you both admired and found frustrating at times. He had such control over his abilities, never letting his optic blasts get out of hand—except today, something was off. He was more intense than usual, perhaps trying to push you to your limits, or maybe his mind was somewhere else.

You dodged a series of his blasts, your body fluid and graceful as you maneuvered across the field. You were teasing him lightly, enjoying the way his focus made him that much more determined. “Come on, Summers, is that all you’ve got?” you called out, your smile playful, though your heart raced with the thrill of the challenge.

Scott’s jaw clenched in response, his visor glowing red as he prepared to shoot another blast. You saw the energy build in his eyes, felt the air shift around you. But something went wrong. The blast was too powerful, larger than any you’d seen him use in training, and before you could react, the beam struck you hard in the chest, sending you flying backward across the field.

The pain hit you instantly, searing through your body as you hit the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of you. You gasped, clutching your chest, the world spinning around you as you tried to process what had just happened. You could barely breathe, the shock and pain overwhelming your senses.

“Y/N!” Scott’s voice was filled with panic, and within moments, he was by your side, falling to his knees as he reached for you. His visor dimmed as he tried to assess the damage, his hands hovering over your body, afraid to touch you in case he hurt you more. “I’m so sorry, I—God, I didn’t mean to. Are you okay?”

You tried to respond, but the words caught in your throat, a sharp pain running through your chest with every breath. Scott’s eyes were wild with fear behind his visor, his face pale as he gently touched your arm, his fingers trembling.

“I lost control,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You managed to shake your head, your breathing shallow as you tried to reassure him. “I know… it was an accident, Scott.”

But Scott wasn’t listening. His hands moved to your shoulders, carefully pulling you into his arms, cradling you as if you were made of glass. “I should have been more careful. I should have… I could have killed you.”

Tears stung at your eyes, both from the pain and from seeing him like this—so afraid, so broken. You reached up, placing a hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingers. “I’m okay,” you whispered, though the words came out weak. “I’m okay, Scott.”

But he shook his head, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he was afraid you would slip away from him. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t… I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

You smiled weakly, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. “You won’t. I’m still here.”

And as he held you close, his heart pounding with fear and love, you knew that Scott would never forgive himself for this, even though you already had. He would spend the rest of his life making sure you were safe, even if it meant holding back from the one thing he feared the most—losing control.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

The battlefield was chaos, metal flying through the air as Erik used his powers to dismantle the enemy’s weapons, tearing through their defenses with a fury that left you breathless. You fought alongside him, your movements sharp and precise as you took down opponent after opponent, the two of you moving like a well-oiled machine. But in the midst of the battle, something went wrong—something that neither of you saw coming.

Erik was focused, his hands outstretched as he bent the metal around him to his will. You were too close, though, too caught up in the fight to notice how close you had drifted to his range of control. Suddenly, a piece of sharp metal flew toward you, faster than you could react. It struck you in the side, tearing through your skin with a force that knocked you to the ground.

The pain was immediate, white-hot and searing through your body as you gasped for air, clutching your side where blood had already begun to pool. You tried to move, but the pain was too much, your vision blurring as you struggled to stay conscious.

“Y/N!” Erik’s voice cut through the noise of battle, filled with a panic you had never heard from him before. In an instant, the metal around you dropped to the ground as he rushed to your side, falling to his knees beside you. His hands hovered over the wound, his face pale as he tried to assess the damage. “Oh, no… no, no, no. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t see you.”

You groaned, the pain making it hard to focus as you looked up at him, his face twisted with guilt and fear. “Erik… I’m fine,” you managed to choke out, though you knew it wasn’t true.

He shook his head, his hands pressing down gently on the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. “This is my fault,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing. “I should have been more careful. I never should have let you get this close.”

You winced, reaching up to touch his face, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “Erik… it was an accident.”

But he wasn’t hearing you. His eyes were dark with regret, his jaw clenched as he tried to control the rising panic in his chest. “No,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should have protected you.”

Tears stung at your eyes as you watched him, the man who had always been so strong, so sure of himself, now broken and afraid. You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of losing you, of not being able to save you this time. “You did,” you whispered, your voice weak. “You always do.”

He shook his head again, his hands trembling as he continued to press against the wound, his heart pounding in his chest. “I won’t let you die,” he muttered, his voice filled with a desperation you had never heard from him before. “I won’t.”

And as you lay there in his arms, the pain slowly fading away as darkness crept in at the edges of your vision, you knew that Erik would move heaven and earth to save you. But in that moment, all you could do was hold onto him, knowing that no matter what happened, you were loved.

Bobby Drake (Iceman)

You and Bobby had always been a team, whether it was on the battlefield or just in life. His easygoing nature balanced out your more serious demeanor, and together, you were unstoppable. Today was no different—you were fighting alongside the X-Men, taking down the latest threat to mutantkind with the precision of a well-practiced team.

But in the heat of battle, accidents happen. Bobby had just formed an ice slide, using it to send an opponent flying across the battlefield when he lost control for just a split second. The slide shifted, sending a sharp shard of ice flying toward you. You didn’t see it coming until it was too late.

The ice struck your leg, cutting deep into the muscle and sending you crashing to the ground with a cry of pain. The cold immediately numbed the area, but the pain was still there, sharp and unrelenting as you clutched your leg, trying to stop the bleeding.

Bobby’s heart stopped the moment he saw you fall. “Y/N!” He was at your side in an instant, his face pale with shock and guilt. His hands hovered over the wound, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “I didn’t—God, I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You winced, trying to push through the pain as you looked up at him. “Bobby, it’s okay… just an accident.”

But Bobby wasn’t listening. His hands were shaking as he tried to freeze the wound, slowing the bleeding with his powers. “I should’ve been more careful,” he muttered, his voice thick with guilt. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You groaned, your leg throbbing as the ice numbed the pain. “Bobby, it’s fine. It’s not that bad.”

But Bobby wasn’t convinced. His blue eyes were filled with fear as he carefully wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. “I’m taking you back to the mansion,” he said firmly, his voice trembling slightly. “We’re getting you patched up.”

You didn’t argue, the pain too much for you to resist as you leaned into his embrace. “Okay,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest as he carried you away from the battlefield.

And as you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel the guilt radiating off of him, the fear that he had hurt you, even though you knew it was an accident. But in that moment, all you could do was hold onto him, knowing that no matter what happened, Bobby would always be there to protect you.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

You’ve always known that being with Wade came with a certain level of risk. Sure, he was fun, witty, and had a charm that kept you laughing no matter what—but he was also chaotic, reckless, and had an unhealthy obsession with danger. You loved him for all of it. Even the crazy stunts that had your heart in your throat. But this time… things went too far.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Wade had assured you of that when he convinced you to join him. “Come on, babe, it’ll be a piece of cake,” he’d said with a grin. “Just a few bad guys, a few guns, and then we’re out. Easy peasy!”

Of course, nothing with Wade is ever “easy peasy.”

You were both knee-deep in a firefight, bullets flying around you as Wade expertly sliced through enemies with his katanas, making sarcastic comments with every swing. You were holding your own, taking down attackers with precision, trusting Wade to watch your back like always. But as the fight escalated, so did Wade’s recklessness.

He was laughing, spinning through the air with a grenade in hand, yelling something about “making it rain” before tossing it toward a group of enemies. Except… it wasn’t just the enemies in the blast radius.

You saw the grenade land just a few feet away from where you were crouched behind cover. Time seemed to slow as realization hit. The explosion was deafening, the force of it sending you flying backward, crashing hard into the concrete wall behind you. Pain exploded through your body, a sharp, burning sensation spreading from your side where the shrapnel had torn through your skin.

The world around you blurred, the sounds of battle fading as you gasped for breath, clutching your side as blood seeped between your fingers. You could barely move, your limbs heavy, the pain overwhelming every sense.

“Y/N!” Wade’s voice cut through the haze, suddenly filled with panic. Within seconds, he was kneeling beside you, his usual carefree attitude gone, replaced with genuine fear. His hands hovered over you, shaking as he tried to figure out what to do. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit… babe, I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—”

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, your chest tightening with every breath. Wade’s face twisted with guilt and fear, his mask pushed up just enough to reveal the raw emotion on his face. He pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but he was shaking too much to be effective.

“Don’t you die on me, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “Don’t you dare. I swear I’ll kill everyone here if you—if you don’t…”

You reached up, managing to brush your fingers against his cheek. “Wade…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s okay…”

“It’s not okay!” Wade shouted, his voice cracking. “I—God, I’m such an idiot! I should’ve been more careful! I never should’ve—”

Tears stung your eyes as you watched him, the man who never took anything seriously, now completely falling apart because of you. You knew he blamed himself, even though you didn’t. It was an accident, a risk that came with being with someone like him. But seeing him like this, so afraid of losing you, broke your heart.

“I’m sorry,” Wade whispered, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You squeezed his hand weakly, managing a small smile through the pain. “I’m still here, Wade.”

And as the world around you faded into darkness, you held onto that small bit of reassurance—that no matter how reckless he was, Wade Wilson loved you more than anything. And he’d fight to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

Flying with Warren had always been one of your favorite things. There was something freeing about soaring through the sky with him, the wind rushing through your hair as you clung to his warm, muscular frame. His wings, beautiful and powerful, were like an extension of him—graceful, protective, and strong.

You trusted Warren implicitly. He’d never let you fall before, always keeping you close to him when you flew together. But today, something went wrong. It was supposed to be just another evening flight, the two of you escaping the chaos of the world below to find solace in the clouds. You had no idea it would end the way it did.

You were high up, the city below you nothing more than a blur of lights. Warren held you close as he flew, his arms wrapped around you, his wings beating rhythmically as you both enjoyed the peaceful moment. But suddenly, there was a shift in the air, and Warren’s hold on you loosened.

You gasped as you felt yourself slip from his grasp, your heart lurching in your chest as you plummeted toward the ground below. The wind roared in your ears, and for a split second, you thought this was it—that you were going to die.

But then Warren was there, his arms catching you just before you hit the ground, his wings flaring out as he desperately tried to slow your fall. You hit the ground hard, pain exploding through your body as you landed awkwardly on your side, your breath knocked out of you. The world spun around you as you groaned in pain, clutching your ribs where the impact had been the worst.

“Y/N!” Warren’s voice was filled with panic as he knelt beside you, his wings folding back as he reached for you. His hands hovered over you, unsure of where to touch without hurting you more. “Oh God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to… I lost my grip, I… I’m so sorry.”

You winced, trying to breathe through the pain, but each breath was a struggle. “Warren… I’m okay,” you managed to choke out, though the pain said otherwise.

Warren’s face twisted with guilt, his usually calm and composed demeanor shattered as he looked at you. “No, you’re not,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing. “I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve… I almost…”

Tears stung at your eyes as you watched him, the man who always seemed so invincible, now broken and afraid because of what he’d done. You knew he blamed himself, even though you didn’t. It was an accident, something that could’ve happened to anyone. But seeing him like this—so shaken, so vulnerable—made your heart ache.

“I’ve got you,” Warren whispered, his voice trembling as he carefully pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. “I’m not letting go again. I swear.”

You leaned into him, your body aching but your heart full as you listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath you. “I know,” you whispered, closing your eyes as the pain slowly began to fade. “I trust you, Warren.”

And as he held you close, his wings wrapping around you protectively, you knew that no matter what happened, Warren would never let anything hurt you again. Not even himself.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

Being with Jean was like being wrapped in warmth and light, the love you shared radiating between you in ways that went beyond the physical. Her telepathy meant that she always knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling, and that connection made your bond stronger than you ever thought possible.

But sometimes, her powers were unpredictable. Sometimes, when her emotions got the best of her, things would slip.

It had been a stressful day for Jean. The team had just come back from a difficult mission, and you could feel the weight of it bearing down on her. You tried to comfort her, to be there for her like you always were, but Jean was lost in her own head, overwhelmed by the flood of thoughts and emotions around her.

"Jean," you called softly, stepping closer to her as she stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Talk to me."

She didn't respond at first, her eyes closed as she tried to quiet the noise in her mind. You could feel the tension rolling off of her in waves, and you knew something was wrong. Before you could say anything else, though, Jean's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with the power of the Phoenix that lived within her.

"Y/N, I—" she started, her voice shaking, but before she could finish, a surge of telekinetic energy burst from her, slamming into you without warning.

The force sent you flying across the room, your body colliding hard with the wall before crumpling to the floor. Pain shot through your spine as you gasped for breath, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. Your vision blurred for a moment, the edges darkening as you fought to stay conscious.

"Y/N!" Jean's voice was filled with horror as she rushed to your side, her telekinetic powers immediately pulling you into her arms before you could fall any further. "Oh God, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—"

You groaned, clutching your side where the pain was the worst, but you forced yourself to look up at her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and brimming with tears, her hands trembling as she held you.

"Jean…" you whispered, your voice weak as the pain pulsed through you. "It's… it's okay."

She shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. "No, it's not! I hurt you! I—my powers—I lost control and—" Her voice cracked as she choked back a sob, her grip tightening around you. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to…"

You reached up, brushing your fingers against her cheek. "I know. I know you didn’t mean to."

Jean closed her eyes, her tears falling onto your skin as she leaned into your touch. "I can’t… I can’t lose control like that," she whispered. "I can't risk hurting you. I love you too much…"

You smiled weakly, your thumb gently wiping away her tears. "Jean, I trust you. You’re the strongest person I know. And I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

She opened her eyes, looking down at you with so much love and pain in her gaze that it made your heart ache. "I’m scared," she admitted, her voice trembling. "What if I can’t control it next time? What if the Phoenix—"

You shook your head, cutting her off. "We’ll figure it out. Together. You don’t have to do this alone, Jean."

Jean let out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she held you close, her forehead resting against yours. "Thank you," she whispered. "I don’t deserve you."

You smiled, your hand resting against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your palm. "Yes, you do. You always have."

Rogue (Anna Marie)

Loving Rogue was like holding a flame in your hands—beautiful, intense, and dangerous. But you had never feared her. Not once. Despite her worries about her powers, despite the distance she tried to put between you for your own safety, you had never doubted that you could make this work. You loved her, and she loved you, and that was all that mattered.

Still, Rogue was always afraid that one day, her powers would get out of control. And today, her fear became reality.

You were in the training room, helping her practice her control, something you did often. It wasn’t an official Danger Room session, just the two of you. Rogue had been getting better, learning to control her skin’s power-draining abilities, learning to hold back. But it was still a work in progress.

You’d been sparring, teasing each other with light-hearted jabs, when it happened. Her glove slipped during a fast block, and her bare hand grazed your wrist.

The sensation was instant. You felt the strength drain from your body, your energy slipping away like water through your fingers. Your knees buckled, and you crumpled to the floor, your vision darkening around the edges. You could hear Rogue’s panicked voice, but it was distant, muffled.

“Y/N!” Her voice cracked as she rushed to your side, pulling her gloves back on with trembling hands. “Oh God, oh God, Ah didn’t mean to! Please, wake up, sugah, please!”

You blinked, the world coming back into focus as the wave of exhaustion began to fade. Rogue knelt beside you, her hands hovering over you but not touching, her green eyes wide with terror.

“Ah hurt ya,” she whispered, her accent thicker than usual, her voice trembling. “Ah didn’t mean to, Ah swear! Ah was bein’ careful, Ah—”

“Rogue…” you croaked, reaching up weakly to grab her wrist. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “No, it’s not okay! Ah coulda killed ya. Ah almost did!”

You struggled to sit up, and Rogue immediately helped you, her hands steady but her eyes full of guilt. “You didn’t,” you said softly. “You didn’t, and that’s what matters.”

Rogue’s lower lip trembled as she looked at you, her usually strong demeanor cracking. “Ah can’t keep riskin’ your life like this. Ah can’t control it, and Ah don’t want to hurt ya again.”

You cupped her cheek, your thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re not going to lose me, Rogue. I’m not afraid of you.”

Her breath hitched, and she leaned into your touch, closing her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. “Ah love ya too much to lose ya.”

“And I love you too much to leave,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to hers. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

[ruinme-please]

𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘫𝘢𝘩

𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭

𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘫𝘢𝘩 𝘣𝘺 𝘝𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘌𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢

(x)

[uzurakis]

THEIR ACT OF INTIMACY!

featuring: geto suguru. megumi fushiguro. itadori yuuji. nanami kento.

n. a sign of them being very comfortable with you. slighty suggestive in itadori’s part. PART 2 HERE :0

GETO SUGURU. suguru finds it aggravating when the others try to mess up his hair, with the exception of you. after the relationship evolved, you'd sit on the bed with him after he showered and brush the large tangles out of his hair. other times, you might put it up in a bun or another style when he isn't looking. you spend that quiet time talking and enjoying one other's company.

in the quiet of your shared space, suguru sat on the edge of the bed, fresh from the shower, his damp hair a tangle of knots. you approached him with a gentle smile, brush in hand. “you know the rule," suguru said with a hint of playfulness, though his eyes softened at the sight of you. “i know, i know," you replied, taking a seat beside him. "this is a condition comes with me being your girlfriend. i got to brush your hair and you get to play mine.”

as you carefully detangled his hair, the room filled with the sound of your voices, sharing stories and laughter. with each stroke of the brush, suguru felt a sense of calm wash over him, grateful for this quiet moment with you.

once his hair was finally smooth and manageable, you surprised him by styling it into a loose bun, eliciting a surprised gasp from suguru as he caught sight of his reflection. “you did it again, didn't you?" he said, pretending to scold you, though his eyes twinkled with affection. you simply smiled and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "i can't help it. i love making you look even more handsome."

ITADORI YUUJI. itadori enjoys lying and lounging about naked together. it feels like complete vulnerability, with no walls between you, resyncing your relationship as you melt into each other's body. he has a habit of writing something on your skin as a game in which you have to guess what he wrote down. other times, he simply likes to nap in the afternoon while you tell him a story in bed.

lounging comfortably in your bed, naked and unguarded, itadori traced lazy patterns on your skin with his touch sending shivers down your spine. "guess what i wrote this time," he whispered, his finger leaving a trail of invisible words on your back. you chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. "hmm, let me think..."

as you concentrated, trying to decipher his secret message, itadori pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his warmth enveloping you entirely. then finally, you ventured a guess, feeling his smile against your skin as you spoke the words aloud.

"wrong," he teased, his laughter mingling with yours. “you gotta get it right next time, babe. or else i’ll bite your thighs again.”

with each lighthearted round of the game, the barriers between you appeared to dissolve, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection to be felt.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. megumi has a difficult time opening up to others, and you were the one who showed him that it is acceptable to talk about what he feels together. you understood that him speaking meaningful words in a serious manner to you puts a toll on his ego; not that he doesn’t care, he just wasn't used to it. what surprises you is how effortlessly he drops those words only in the spur of the moment, as if he hasn't been fighting to say them all along. he also brings up topics you've already discussed and gives every single penny of thought to conversations that deepen feelings between the both of you.

in the quiet of the evening, megumi sat beside you, his expression guarded as always. you both were doing your homework together and then, in a moment that took you by surprise, he spoke, his words flowing effortlessly.

"i care about you," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "more than i can put into words."

"why so suddenly?" you asked, surprised by the unexpected confession. the man paused, his expression earnest as he searched for the right words. "i.. just feel you need to hear them from me." he replied, his voice gentle yet resolute. “sorry..”

you could feel your heart swelling with emotion, touched by the sincerity in his words. "thank you, i care about you too, ‘gumi” you whispered, feeling the weight of his feelings enveloping you like a warm embrace. "i like it when you talk about what you're feeling, you know.” you said gently, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from his face.

you knew that megumi's words had transcended the barriers he had once struggled to break through. and as you leaned in to press a tender kiss to his lips, you realized that sometimes, the most meaningful words are the ones spoken from the heart, even if they come unexpectedly.

NANAMI KENTO. nanami believes there is nothing better than a massage after a long and tiring day. he believes that the best massages are those that he earns without having to ask for them; you just knew he needed one and vice versa.

nanami trudged through the door, weary from the demands of the day. you greeted him with a warm smile, sensing the weight on his shoulders without a word spoken. "rough day?" you asked, already moving towards him with a knowing look. nanami nodded, sinking into their embrace. "you have no idea."

without hesitation, you guided him to the couch and began to knead away the tension that had settled in his muscles. "this is exactly what i needed," the man sighed, feeling the knots slowly unraveling beneath your touch.

you smiled softly, your fingers working with practiced ease. "i could tell. you always carry so much on your shoulders."

as the stress of the day melted away, he found himself falling even more deeply in love with the one who cared for him so effortlessly.

@uzurakis

[my-castles-crumbling]

Courting

James was a pureblood in the physical sense, of course. But his family wasn't traditional. He hadn't been raised to follow certain customs or ideals.

So when Regulus approached him, looking like he was going to faint, and held out a small pin, James was a bit confused.

It was ornate, and the Black Family Crest was visible etched in the silver. Regulus's hand shook as he held it out, and James took it silently, quite nervous that he would somehow do the wrong thing and upset Regulus further. His boyfriend hardly ever showed his emotions at all, let alone something as vulnerable as nervousness or fear, so James wanted to make sure not to make it worse.

"Erm...is this for me?" James asked softly, turning the pin over in his hand.

"Only...only if you want it," Regulus murmured, his voice so raw and genuine and terrified that James was quite sure he was missing something.

But he couldn't stand letting Regulus feel afraid for another moment, his heart hurt as he looked at the other man, his face so clearly showing a fear of rejection. The gift obviously meant something to him, for some reason. So he said, feigning confidence, "Of course, baby. I love it."

And Regulus's face broke into the most beautiful, relieved smile.

-

For the next few weeks, Regulus continued to give James odd gifts, always in the same way. James could never figure out why he seemed to be so terrified when he gave these gifts, and why he was always so relieved when James accepted them. But James couldn't bear to make Regulus anything other than happy, so he accepted the strange gifts without a word.

But they were. Odd, that is. Besides the pin, there was a pair of gloves, a single red tulip, and a picture of the two of them. James kept them all on his bedside table, unsure of what to do with them. Except the pin. James put that on his jacket.

-

"What the bloody fuck is on your coat?" Sirius asked one day, as they got back to their shared flat.

"What? Oh, yeah. Reg gave it to me," James explained, running his finger over the small crest. "I'm not sure-"

"And you didn't tell me?" Sirius screeched, mouth agape.

James narrowed his eyebrows. "I...I'm sorry? I didn't think I had to-?"

"You didn't think you had to tell me you're engaged?" Sirius yelled, his voice higher-pitched than most baby screams, now.

"What?" James asked, yelling as well.

"Well," Sirius clarified, sitting on the couch. "Courting to be engaged. Same thing, really, but-"

But James wasn't paying attention. He was too busy remembering Regulus's behavior as he gave him the pin, the other strange gifts. He'd heard of courting before, but he hadn't realized...

And then it hit him. Regulus wanted to marry him. Regulus wanted to marry him. Regulus wanted to marry him.

"I have to go, Pads," James mumbled, grabbing his jacket again, grinning so widely his cheeks hurt.

And he ran out of the flat to find Regulus.

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 31/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 5827

A/N: This is part 31 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Meanwhile, Ben was consumed by a storm of emotions, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. As he made his way downstairs, his thoughts were a tumultuous whirlwind of regret and frustration.

When Butcher crossed his path, his snide remark pushing Ben over the edge, something inside him snapped. Without a second thought, Ben lashed out, his fist connecting with Butcher's face with a sickening crunch.

The force of the blow sent Butcher staggering backward, blood gushing from his broken nose, a few bones cracking under the impact. Ben stood there, panting heavily, his knuckles bruised and bloodied.

In that moment, the veneer of control that had kept Ben tethered to reality shattered, leaving nothing but raw, unbridled fury in its wake. The consequences of his actions mattered little as the red haze of anger clouded his vision, consuming him whole.

As Butcher's face began to heal in seconds, the shock of the rapid regeneration only fueled his fury further. With a snarl of rage, he launched himself at Ben, his own fists swinging wildly in retaliation.

The two clashed in a violent whirlwind of punches and kicks, the sound of bone against bone echoing through the hallway as they exchanged blow after blow. Each strike brought with it a symphony of pain, but neither man showed any sign of backing down.

With each passing moment, the fight grew more brutal, the intensity of their rage fueling the relentless assault. Bones cracked and blood spilled, staining the floor beneath their feet as they fought.

Annie and A-Train rounded the corner just in time to witness the brutal brawl unfolding before them. Reacting quickly, they rushed forward, attempting to pull Ben and Butcher away from each other, but their efforts were met with resistance.

"Ben, stop it!", Annie shouted, her voice laced with desperation as she struggled to break through the haze of his rage.

But Ben was beyond reason, his fists still flying as he fought against A-Train's grip. Blood streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat and grime that coated his skin, but he showed no signs of relenting.

A-Train's muscles strained against the force of Ben's resistance, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern. "Come on, man, calm down!", he urged, his voice barely audible over the din of the fight.

But Ben's fury was unyielding, his mind consumed by a single-minded determination to unleash his pent-up rage. It took all of Annie and A-Train's combined strength to finally pry him away from Butcher.

Annie's voice cut through the chaos like a beacon of clarity, her eyes searching Ben's battered face for any sign of recognition. "Ben, where's (Y/N)?", she asked, her tone gentle yet insistent, hoping to break through the haze of his rage by mentioning someone he cared about deeply.

The mention of your name seemed to pierce through the fog of anger clouding Ben's mind.

Ben tugged harshly his arms away, his frustration still evident in his movements. But Annie refused to let him retreat into himself, her grip firm as she gently tucked his wrist again, her gaze unwavering as she searched his eyes for any sign of vulnerability.

Sensing that something was amiss with you, Annie gestured for the others to leave her and Ben alone, a silent plea for privacy as she sought to unravel the mystery of your absence.

"Let go of me", Ben growled, his voice low and dangerous, a warning simmering beneath the surface. "If you want to fucking live, you'll let go of my wrist right now".

Annie held his gaze steadily, unflinching in the face of his anger. "Ben, I'm not your enemy", she said calmly, her voice soft yet firm. "But something's wrong, and I need to know what it is. Please, talk to me".

Annie maintained her grip on Ben's wrist, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "Ben, I need to know where (Y/N) is", she insisted, her voice steady despite the tension between them.

Ben’s jaw tensed as he wrestled with his emotions, the turmoil of his inner conflict written across his face. “She’s downstairs… in the hospital”, he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Annie’s brow furrowed with worry as she processed the revelation. “What happened? Is she alright?”, she pressed, her concern for you overriding any other considerations.

Ben pulled his arm away from Annie's grasp for good, his movements sharp with frustration. "It's none of your fucking business", he snapped.

"Ben, I'm just trying to help", she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation.

But Ben's resolve remained unyielding, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "I said it's none of your fucking business", he repeated, his voice cold and cutting.

As Ben left the building without another word, Annie wasted no time in springing into action. She hurried downstairs to the Vought hospital.

Every step felt like an eternity as she raced through the corridors, her mind racing with a thousand different possibilities.

Finally, she reached the entrance to the hospital. With a quick glance around, she spotted the reception desk and wasted no time in making her way over.

"Excuse me", she said breathlessly to the nurse behind the desk, her voice urgent. "I need to know if (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is here. Can you please tell me if she's okay?".

The nurse bit her lip, her expression filled with sympathy as she regarded Annie. "I'm sorry", she said softly, her voice tinged with regret. "But I'm not authorized to share any information about Ms. (Y/L/N) without proper clearance".

Annie's heart sank at the nurse's words, frustration bubbling up inside her like a tidal wave. "Please", she pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice. "I just need to know if she's okay".

The nurse hesitated, torn between her duty to uphold patient confidentiality and her desire to help. "I understand", she said finally, her tone gentle yet firm. "But I'm afraid I can't make any exceptions. You'll need to contact Ms. (Y/L/N)'s next of kin or legal representative for any updates on her condition".

Annie nodded, her determination unyielding despite the setback. With a subtle shift of her gaze, she scanned the surroundings, searching for any opportunity to bypass the hospital's strict protocols.

Excusing herself to use the restroom, Annie slipped away unnoticed, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the hospital.

Annie began to search for your room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of searching, Annie found your room. With a silent exhale of relief, she slipped inside.

As her eyes fell upon you sleeping peacefully on the bed, a wave of relief washed over her. You didn't seem hurt or in any immediate danger, just a bit rough around the edges and tired.

Annie approached your bedside with cautious steps, her gaze softening as she took in the sight of you. Despite the shadows of exhaustion that lingered beneath your closed eyelids, there was a sense of tranquility about you that eased the knots of worry in her chest.

Annie's heart skipped a beat as she noticed the medical report at the foot of your bed. With trembling hands, she reached out and picked it up, her eyes scanning the contents with growing horror.

As she read the words "first pregnancy with a supe baby", her breath caught in her throat, her mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of what she had just discovered. It was impossible, unthinkable, something that defied all logic and reason.

Her ears went numb as she grappled with the implications of the revelation. Never before in the history of supes had there been a documented case of someone being pregnant with a supe baby. The very idea seemed like something out of a nightmare, a cruel twist of fate that defied all understanding.

Annie's mind raced with a thousand questions, each more terrifying than the last. How was it possible? What did it mean for you and the baby? And most importantly, what would happen if anyone found out?

Thats when Ben stepped inside, a large bag from the nearby pharmacy store and a huge bouquet of roses clutched tightly in his hand, his eyes immediately landed on Annie and the medical report in her hands. His jaw clenched with a force that seemed to echo through the room, his expression darkening with a potent mix of anger and betrayal.

Annie's heart sank as she felt the weight of his gaze, the tension in the air palpable as the gravity of the situation hung heavy between them. She knew that Ben was beyond mad.

But instead of backing off, Annie's eyes also flared with intensity, her own anger matching Ben's as she held her ground. "You really knocked her up?!", she growled, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. "Are you out of your damn mind?!".

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, the weight of their accusation reverberating through the room. Annie's fists clenched at her sides, her entire body tense with frustration as she stared down Ben, daring him to deny the truth that lay before them.

Ben's jaw tightened even further, his fists trembling with restrained fury as he struggled to find the words to respond. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension, as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Ben's muscles tensed with barely-contained rage as he slammed the bag anf the flowers onto the table. Without a word, he grabbed Annie by the throat and forcefully pulled her out of the room, his grip firm and unyielding.

Outside the room, Ben pushed Annie against the wall, his expression twisted with anger as he glared down at her. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!", he demanded, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the hallway.

His patience wearing thin as he fought to control his temper. "(Y/N) is not your fucking concern. Stay the fuck away from her", his voice louder than intended as he struggled to keep his anger in check.

Annie managed to pull herself free from Ben's grasp, her chest heaving with exertion as she stared defiantly back at him. "Do you even know how dangerous this fucking pregnancy probably is?", she hissed, her voice laced with frustration and concern.

But Ben remained unmoved, his expression hardened with resolve as he met her gaze head-on. "I said stay away from her", he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This is none of your business. So stay the fuck out of it".

Annie's frustration boiled over at Ben's stubborn refusal to acknowledge the gravity of the situation. "What the fuck are you gonna do if she dies?", she demanded, her voice cracking with emotion. "You think you can just ignore the risks and pretend like everything's gonna be fine?".

Ben's jaw clenched with anger at Annie's words. Without a word, he surged forward, gripping her by the throat once more with a force that made her gasp for breath.

"Watch your fucking mouth", he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "You have no idea what you're talking about".

Annie's eyes blazed with defiance even as she struggled to break free from Ben's iron grip. "I know enough to know that you're putting her life at risk", she spat, her voice filled with righteous indignation. "And if you think I'm just gonna stand by and let that happen, then you're even more of a fucking idiot than I thought".

As Annie and Ben's argument reached a fever pitch, a low rumble echoed from within your room. Startled by the noise outside, you attempted to sit up, but the dizziness that gripped you proved too overwhelming. With a gasp, you tumbled out of the bed, your limbs weak and unsteady as you hit the ground with a soft thud.

The sound of your fall cut through the tension between Annie and Ben, their argument momentarily forgotten as they rushed to your side. "Shit", Ben muttered, his concern evident in his voice as he knelt beside you, gently helping you into a sitting position.

Annie's expression softened with worry as she hovered nearby, her hands trembling with the urge to help. "Are you okay?", she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern as she reached out to steady you.

You nodded weakly, the world still spinning around you.

As your stomach churned with nauseating intensity, you found yourself unable to utter a single word, the queasiness overwhelming your senses. By now Ben was used to this look, knowing what´s going on. He scooped you up in his arms, his movements swift and decisive as he carried you to the bathroom.

Gently setting you down beside the toilet, Ben supported you as you collapsed against it, your body wracked with involuntary heaves as you emptied the contents of your stomach. The sensation was agonizing, waves of nausea crashing over you in relentless succession as you clung to the porcelain bowl for support.

Annie hovered nearby, her hands wringing with worry as she watched the scene unfold before her. "Is she going to be okay?", she asked, her voice tinged with fear as she looked to Ben for reassurance.

Ben nodded grimly, his jaw set with determination. "She'll be fine", he replied, his tone steady despite the gravity of the situation. "We just need to get her through this".

As you leaned weakly against the bathroom wall, the concern etched deeply into Ben's features was unmistakable. Despite his attempts to reassure Annie, a nagging sense of doubt gnawed at him from within. It had only been a few weeks since the discovery of your pregnancy, but already he could see the toll it was taking on you.

You had lost a noticeable amount of weight, and now, weakened by the flu and constant vomiting, you seemed more fragile than ever. The thought of you suffering like this filled Ben with a sense of helplessness that he struggled to push aside.

To be honest, he was more than worried. The weight of responsibility bore down on him heavily as he grappled with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The fear of losing you, of failing to protect you and the baby, threatened to consume him whole.

Annie brought you a glass of water to rinse your mouth, her expression filled with concern as she offered you a small measure of comfort. As you leaned against Ben's solid chest, seeking solace in his embrace, a sense of guilt washed over you.

"M'sorry", you mumbled weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as you buried your face against Ben's shoulder. The weight of your apology hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the fact that you hadn't told him about the conversation with the doctor.

Ben's arms tightened around you, his embrace offering a sense of warmth and security that you desperately needed in that moment. "It's okay", he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring against the tumult of your thoughts. "We'll figure this out".

With a deep sigh, you allowed yourself to relax into Ben's embrace, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear.

Ben held you close, his chin resting gently atop your head as he pressed you tightly against himself. His eyes stared off into the distance, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features. Concern, fear, and determination mingled in the depths of his gaze as he grappled with the weight of the situation.

Annie stood nearby, her heart heavy with concern as she watched the two of you. The sight of your weakness tugged at her heartstrings, filling her with a sense of helplessness that she struggled to shake off.

With a heavy sigh, Annie approached, her gaze filled with empathy as she reached out to gently touch your shoulder. "Is there anything I can do to help?", she offered softly, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Ben's jaw clenched again, his frustration bubbling to the surface as he listened to Annie's offer of assistance. "Keep your fucking mouth shut", he growled, his voice low and harsh. "No one can know about the pregnancy".

Annie recoiled slightly at the force of his words, the gravity of the situation hitting her with renewed intensity. She nodded solemnly, understanding the severity of the situation. "I won't say a word", she assured him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I promise".

With a curt nod, Ben turned his attention back to you. He carefully lifted you up again, cradling you gently in his arms as he murmured, "Let's get you back in bed".

His voice was tender, filled with a quiet reassurance as he carried you back to the hospital bed.

Annie followed close behind. Despite the tension that lingered in the air, there was a sense of unity in that moment, a shared commitment to ensuring your well-being above all else.

As Ben carefully laid you back down on the bed, he tucked the blankets around you with gentle hands.

Ben watched you fall back asleep within seconds. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, the weight of exhaustion settling upon his shoulders. With a weary groan, he sank onto the couch, his muscles tense with pent-up tension and worry.

Annie observed him from across the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she studied him. "You both look beyond exhausted", she remarked softly, her voice tinged with empathy.

Ben rubbed his face with a tired hand, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to push back the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm him.

"I'm fucking fine", Ben muttered defensively, his voice strained with exhaustion as he brushed off Annie's concern. "We're both fine".

But Annie wasn't convinced, her brow furrowing with worry as she refused to let Ben off the hook so easily. "What do the doctors say?", she pressed, her tone gentle yet insistent. "They must have some idea of what's going on".

Ben hesitated, his jaw tightening with frustration as he struggled to find the words. "They think it's the flu adding to her weakness", he admitted reluctantly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"But it´s not just that", Ben continued, his voice low and troubled.

Annie's concern deepened at Ben's cryptic words, her heart pounding with a sense of foreboding. "What do you mean?", she pressed.

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. "They're worried that (Y/N)'s body might be too weak for the baby", he confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. "No one knows if she'll be able to continue the pregnancy without… help".

"But what kind of help?", she asked, her voice trembling with fear. "Is there anything they can do?".

Ben shook his head, his expression haunted by the uncertainty of the situation. "The doctors are working on some kind of V medicine to make (Y/N) stronger", he explained, his voice barely above a whisper. "But… there are no guarantees".

Annie leaned back against the wall, her eyes fixed intently on Ben as she processed the weight of his words. "Do you love her?", she asked softly, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Ben's eyes narrowed slightly at the question, his expression guarded as he met Annie's gaze. He rolled his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "What kind of fucking question is that?", he grumbled, his tone defensive.

Annie sighed softly, recognizing the familiar defensiveness in Ben's response. She knew that he was not one to open up about his feelings, especially not to her. But she couldn't help but wonder about the depth of his emotions towards you, especially in light of the challenges you were facing together.

"It's just… she means a lot to you. I can tell, but.. ".

Ben's jaw tensed with frustration at Annie's probing, his walls rising higher as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "She knows how I feel", he muttered evasively, his gaze drifting away from Annie's probing stare. "That's all that matters".

"If you love her, you wouldn't allow her to suffer like this", she insisted gently, her voice tinged with sadness. "She's counting on you to protect her, Ben".

Ben's jaw clenched tighter at Annie's words, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest as he looked upon you, so fragile and vulnerable in that moment. "I'm doing everything I fucking can", he muttered defensively, his voice thick with emotion.

But Annie shook her head. "She's suffering, and you know that", she murmured.

With that, Annie left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she disappeared from view. Left alone with his thoughts, Ben felt a wave of anguish wash over him, the weight of his responsibilities bearing down upon him like a leaden weight.

Ben's hands trembled slightly as he pulled the bag from the pharmacy closer to himself. He began to carefully arrange the small boxes of vitamins for pregnancy on the table, each one a beacon of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

He knew that he loved you more than anything in this world, and that his heart ached at the thought of seeing you suffer. But at the same time, he couldn't shake the overwhelming desire to protect the life growing inside of you, to ensure that your child had the chance live.

As he glanced over at you, still lost in peaceful slumber, a wave of tenderness washed over him, mingled with a fierce determination to do whatever it took to keep you both safe. His heart clenched with indecision, torn between his love for you and his desire for the baby that symbolized your love.

By midnight you were awake again, the soft shuffle of footsteps drew your attention to the doorway, where the nurse entered the room, her presence a comforting reminder of the watchful care surrounding you.

You watched from your bed as she approached, her gentle demeanor a balm to your weary soul. With a warm smile, she checked on you, her eyes filled with genuine concern as she assessed your condition.

Meanwhile, Ben lay sound asleep on the small couch nearby, his form bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, the lines of tension that had etched themselves into his features during the day softened in the gentle embrace of sleep.

"The fever seems to have gone down a bit", the nurse remarked with a gentle smile, her voice soft and reassuring as she checked your vital signs.

You offered her a weak smile in return, grateful for the small reprieve from your symptoms. She administered the new infusion. But the nurse's expression turned more serious as she turned her attention to the untouched dinner plate resting on your bedside table. "You need to eat something", she insisted firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument as she gestured towards the meal with a determined nod.

You nodded obediently, understanding the importance of nourishing your body, especially in your weakened state. With a weary sigh, you reached for the plate, determined to do whatever it took to regain your strength and vitality, if only for the sake of your unborn child.

After the nurse left the room, you turned your attention to the plate of food before you. As you ate, you found yourself sinking one hand down onto your belly. Slowly, you began to rub small circles over the swell of your abdomen.

With each gentle stroke, you felt a sense of connection to the tiny being nestled within your womb, a bond that transcended words and filled you with a profound sense of peace.

As Ben stirred from his slumber, his eyes slowly blinked open, heavy with exhaustion. His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the dimly lit surroundings before settling on you, sitting on the bed, quietly eating your vegetables.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you, a sense of relief washing over him at the sight of you awake and seemingly feeling a bit better. Pushing himself up from the couch, he made his way over to your side, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he approached.

"Hey", he murmured softly, his voice rough with sleep as he reached out to gently touch your shoulder. "How are you feeling?".

You looked up at him, a tired yet genuine smile gracing your lips as you met his gaze. "Better", you replied softly, the words carrying a weight of gratitude for his presence by your side.

Ben's heart swelled as he looked down at you, his hand lingering on your shoulder. "I'm glad", he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness.

With a gentle squeeze of your shoulder, he settled down beside you on the bed. His arms holding you close against his chest. With a heavy sigh, he murmured softly, "I'm sorry for losing my shit… Again".

His heart still ached with the memory of seeing the fear in your eyes, a painful reminder of the impact his anger had on you. Despite his outward strength, inside, he felt a sense of guilt and regret for causing you any distress.

"I would never lay a hand on you.. Not like that", he added, his voice filled with sincerity as he held you tighter, as if seeking reassurance that you believed him.

You felt a wave of warmth wash over you at his words, knowing deep down that Ben would beat you or something. You nestled closer to him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, a comforting reminder of his love and devotion.

"I know", you whispered softly as you reached up to gently stroke his cheek. "I trust you, Ben. I always will".

Ben's heart ached with a profound sense of remorse, knowing that despite your words of reassurance, you had still flinched away from him earlier.

With a tender touch, he squeezed you even closer against his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as a silent apology for his earlier outburst.

As Ben’s hand gently guided you towards his car a week later, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief at the prospect of finally leaving the confines of the hospital behind. Your body still felt weak and fragile, but the promise of fresh air and freedom beckoned on the horizon.

Just as you approached the car, Annie’s voice pierced through the air, her tone filled with urgency as she called out to you. “Hey, wait up!”, she yelled, her footsteps quickening as she hurried to catch up with the two of you.

You glanced at Ben, a flicker of surprise crossing your features at Annie’s sudden appearance. It had been over a week since she found out about your pregnancy, yet she hadn’t reached out to either of you during your time in the hospital. Her sudden presence now left you feeling uncertain and apprehensive.

Ben's jaw clenched slightly as Annie's unexpected presence grated on his nerves, his annoyance palpable as he struggled to maintain his composure. Despite his irritation, he forced himself to remain outwardly calm, knowing that any outburst would only escalate the tension between them.

Annie's eyes flickered over to you, her gaze lingering on the small bump that adorned your abdomen, a mixture of curiosity and concern flashing in her eyes. "Are you feeling better?", she asked softly, her voice laced with genuine concern.

You nodded slowly, offering her a small smile of gratitude for her concern. "Yes, I am", you replied, your voice soft yet sincere. "Thank you for asking".

Ben's grip on your lower back tightened imperceptibly, a silent reminder of his protective stance. Despite his lingering annoyance, he couldn't deny the sincerity in Annie's voice, nor could he fault her for showing concern for your well-being.

Annie quickly reassured the both of you, her voice tinged with sincerity as she spoke. "I haven't said a word to anyone, and I won't", she insisted firmly, her eyes meeting yours with earnestness. "Your secret is safe with me".

You offered her a small nod of gratitude, appreciative of her commitment to keeping your pregnancy confidential.

But Ben's expression remained guarded. "Forgive me if I don't exactly fucking trust you", he muttered, his tone laced with a hint of bitterness. "Cause you've already proven that you can't be trusted".

Annie's brow furrowed with frustration. "I understand that you're upset", she replied. "But I'm telling you the truth. I haven't told anyone, and I won't".

Despite Annie's assurances, Ben remained skeptical, his distrust of her lingering like a shadow between them.

Annie's voice broke through the silence, her tone soft yet tentative as she broached the topic that had been weighing on her mind. "Do the doctors have any idea how your pregnancy will proceed?", she inquired gently, her eyes flickering between you and Ben. "Will the baby need any special treatment or care?".

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond to Annie's questions. Part of you still felt a lingering sense of resentment towards her for the role she had played in the team's actions against Ben, yet another part of you couldn't deny the longing you felt for her friendship.

"We're still waiting on some test results", you replied carefully, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "But so far, everything seems to be progressing kinda normally".

Annie's gaze shifted towards Ben as she spoke. "You need to be careful (Y/N)", she said softly, her voice tinged with urgency. "To not get hurt. You're important too, not just the baby".

Ben's jaw tensed slightly as he absorbed Annie's words, his expression guarded. "We'll be careful", he replied curtly, his voice firm with determination. "We know what's at stake".

You couldn't help but mumble under your breath, the overwhelming desire to just go home and find solace in the familiar comforts of your own space tugging at your heartstrings. "I really just want to go home", you whispered.

With a heavy sigh, you slid into the car, the worn leather seats enveloping you in a sense of familiarity and warmth. As Ben settled into the driver's seat beside you, you spared a fleeting glance towards Annie, a pang of guilt tugging at your conscience as you left her standing alone.

As the car rumbled along the familiar streets towards home, your hand found its way to your belly, instinctively seeking comfort in the gentle swell that cradled your unborn child. Despite the lingering weakness that still clung to your limbs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you as you felt a subtle vibration beneath your palm.

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you marveled at the tiny life growing within you.

Feeling Ben's hand squeeze your thigh, you turned to him with a curious expression, the gentle pressure of his touch anchoring you in the present moment. "What's up?", you asked softly, your voice tinged with curiosity as you met his gaze.

Ben's eyes softened as he glanced at you, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I talked to your doctor about the V medication", he explained, his voice filled with a quiet sense of optimism. "He said they're making great progress".

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a surge of hope flooding through you as you processed the implications of his statement. The prospect of a medication that could strengthen both you and your unborn child filled you with a renewed sense of optimism, easing the weight of uncertainty that had been looming over you in recent days.

"That's amazing news", you murmured, your voice filled with gratitude.

As you and Ben settled onto the couch, the aroma of the takeaway food filling the air, you snuggled up against him, seeking solace in his comforting embrace. However, as you nestled closer, a wave of pain shot through your back, causing you to tense up involuntarily.

Sensing your discomfort, Ben's expression softened with concern as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. "You´re okay?", he murmured as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You winced slightly, the pain in your back intensifying with each passing moment. "It's just my back", you whispered, trying to downplay the discomfort. "I think I pulled something".

Without hesitation, Ben channeling his power into his hand to generate warmth. He then carefully pressed his heated hand against your lower back, the soothing heat radiating through your muscles and easing the tension.

As the warmth seeped into your aching muscles, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, the pain gradually subsiding under Ben's comforting touch. Leaning back against him, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to relax, grateful for his unwavering support and care.

When Ben's heated touch eased the pain in your back, a soft moan escaped your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sound of your moan had a powerful effect on Ben, instantly arousing him and sending blood rushing to his groin, making him hard.

Feeling the sudden shift in his body, Ben's cheeks flushed with heat as he tried to suppress the rising desire that threatened to overwhelm him. With a shaky breath, he focused on maintaining his composure, his hand still resting gently against your lower back as he tried to ignore the growing ache between his legs.

Ben couldn't help but grumble under his breath, his voice strained with pent-up desire. "It's been a fucking while since I heard you making those sounds", he muttered, his words laced with a mixture of frustration and longing.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 32

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK

[avocado-writing]

I love your work and saw that your request for baldur's gate 3 was open and was wondering if you can do Astarion x abused? Reader

Basically the reader's father was a narcissist and they or she whichever you prefer. Even though they ran away years ago old habits die hard. They feel the need to take care of everyone else cause that's how they survived for so long and put on a front of being the strong leader they "need". Then maybe they have some sort of nightmare either being dragged back or something feeling the trapped feeling they felt for so long. Maybe Astarion hears them whimpering or something after a hunt and curiosity gets the best of him and ends up comforting them. 

notes: didnt want to get too into what abuse the reader had suffered, so I kept it reasonably vague. hurt/comfort

rating: M (due to themes)

pairing: astarion x reader

Astarion hears the sobbing from the moment he steps foot into camp.

He has exceptional hearing anyway and having just fed his senses are sharpened to a knife-point - he zeroes in on the sound with bat-like perception. Ears twitching as he goes, he tip-toe follows the noise to… 

…your tent.

That is a surprise. He’s not sure that he’s ever been present to you being anything other than… well, joyful. Constantly smiling. Constantly caring. Constantly laughing and reaching out a hand in friendship, the very epitome of what a good leader ought to be. Even in battle you don’t let awful odds get to you, always crying out reassurance from behind your shield as you fend off bloodied spears and vicious claws.

Maybe it is ego that makes Astarion go to your little refuge. He wants to see you shatter, just a bit. Just so he can reassure himself that you aren’t as infallible as you seem; that you are kith like the rest of them, able to err and break.

Or maybe it’s not because of any of that. It is because, despite it all, he has genuinely come to care for you.

Either way when he pulls open the fabric door his heart twinges uncomfortably in his chest.

You sit up in your bedroll, face buried in your hands, ugly tears boiling out from under your palms and soaking the sleeves of your sleep clothes. Your whole body heaves from both the raw emotion and the effort of trying to keep it under control. He’s never seen you so open. 

You look up when you hear the rustle of his arrival. He freezes as the two of you lock eyes. 

“Shit,” is all he can muster, and is it relief he feels when despite everything, you laugh?

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you ask, grabbing a handful of blanket and roughly drying your face with it. An attempt to hide the shame of crumbling.

“No, I was still up - out hunting,” he says, and you nod in acceptance. The two of you remain there for a moment, staring. Astarion is stuck on a threshold, both literally between outside and in, but also one of the soul. He wants to reach out. He wants to withdraw. He doesn’t know what he wants.

Eventually, your soft eyes win him over. He walks in and lets the tent fall closed, sitting down across from you on your bedroll. He feels your feet wiggle aside to make space for him and is struck by the intimacy of what he is doing.

This is unlike him. Stupid, stupid. Don’t reveal too much, don’t leave yourself open to vulnerability. He tries to affect a posture of ease, leaning back on his hands.

“Nightmare?” he asks. You nod again, sighing.

“Sorry, I must look dreadfully silly. I was just thinking about… someone I used to know.”

Astarion winces. Yes. He’s been there, hasn’t he - devoured by the panic of your past catching up with you. 

“You don’t look silly at all. A bit blotchy, perhaps, but not all of us can look beautiful when we cry.”

He flips his hair and that makes you laugh again. The atmosphere in the tent gets a little lighter. He watches the way your hands desperately look for something to occupy them, how they start picking at the loose stitches in any fabric you can find.

“This man. He used to, erm… hurt me. Quite badly, actually.” He hates the way your usually vibrant eyes have dulled. “And I managed to get away - ran away, really - but sometimes… you know. Something reminds me of him and I get dragged down again.”

Damn it all, Astarion finds himself reaching out and covering your hands with one of his. You stop your slow dismantling of your blanket thread-by-thread.

“I understand,” is what he’s able to force out of his suddenly tight throat. He’s mentioned Cazador before, trying to make a joke out of it, pretending it doesn’t bother him now that it’s all in the past - but it does bother him. Scares the life out of him, really, or this facsimile of a life he’s been able to build for himself now he’s free. 

Your fingers slide between his and hold him very tightly. 

The two of you sit in silence.

And then he decides to move properly, shuffling ungraciously so that he can be by your side rather than across from you, his arms wrapping around your body and bringing you close.

Your shoulders hitch a little. Fresh tears warm his shirt, patched dozens of times over because of a man who wouldn’t let him buy anything nice and new.

“I’m fucking tired of being strong. It feels like it’s too much sometimes,” you confess, voice barely louder than a whisper. He tucks his head over yours, your scalp beneath his chin, as if he can shield you from the world like this.

“Then don’t be strong. If it feels better, be weak, my dear. I’m the only one here and I promise you that won’t mind.”

You know that, for once, he won’t. Astarion ‘my favourite activity is to judge everyone I meet’  Ancunín is happy to let you lay your soul bare in front of him. So you do, you let yourself force every emotion you’ve ever bottled up leak out of you, in drips at first and then in a full tsunami. You cry so hard that you lose the ability to make sound for a while, silently choking on tears long since overdue.

He holds you all through it. He is not a strong man but his grip is tight, keeping you grounded, and he knows it helps because eventually you go from crying to sobbing to neutral to asleep. You breath evens out into something more controlled and when he moves to look at your face he is relieved your eyes have shut and that you can finally find a little peace. Gods know you deserve it.

You’re the strongest one of them all. He decides that perhaps he wouldn’t mind being there to help you shoulder things, if you need.

He lays down with you, limbs tangled, and drifts off.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget@hopeful-n-sad

[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part twelve

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: swearing, fighting, sort of drowning ??, mentions of alcohol use

author's note: cue the bridge of 'strangers' by ethel cain

You felt the weight of Rafe's footsteps closing in behind you, his urgent calls slicing through the rainy night air. With every step he took, your resolve wavered, torn between the desire to keep running and the need to confront the turmoil swirling inside you.

But as his pleas grew more desperate, something in you snapped. You couldn't bear to hear any more, to face the reality of what you had just witnessed. So, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, you stopped in your tracks and turned to face him.

Rafe skidded to a halt just a few feet away, his breath ragged and his expression a mix of desperation and remorse. Raindrops clung to his disheveled hair and streamed down his face, mirroring the turmoil in his eyes.

"Y/n, please," he gasped between breaths, his voice raw with emotion. "I need you to listen to me."

"I came here because I broke up with JJ! Okay?" The words spilled from your lips, laced with frustration and anguish. "I broke up with him for you. But apparently, that was another stupid fucking mistake of mine, because you still want your cake and to eat it too!"

Your voice cracked with emotion, the torrent of feelings threatening to consume you whole. You shoved him back, your palms trembling with the force of your despair. The distance between you stretched like an unbridgeable chasm, a stark reminder of the fractures in your once-unbreakable bond.

Rafe staggered back, his eyes wide with disbelief and remorse. Raindrops glistened on his lashes, mingling with the sheen of regret that clouded his gaze. He reached out, a desperate plea in his outstretched hand, but you recoiled, your heart aching with a pain too profound to bear.

Your voice wavered with raw emotion, each word a dagger thrust into the heart of your despair. Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to look away, your gaze locked with Rafe's as you bared your soul to him.

"And I'm a fucking idiot, I guess, for even coming back here in the first place!" The words tumbled from your lips, laced with self-recrimination and regret. Your chest heaved with the weight of your confession, the ache of your fractured heart laid bare for all to see.

You struggled to maintain your composure, the anguish clawing at your throat as you fought to keep the tears at bay. But the pain was too great, the memories too potent, and soon, your resolve crumbled beneath the weight of your sorrow.

"I get it. I fucked up. I ruined your trust and I lied to you," you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of your admission. "But at least I didn't..." You choked on your words, the bitterness rising like bile in your throat, "I didn't lie when I said that I loved you." Your finger quivered as you pointed it accusingly at Rafe, the gesture a tangible manifestation of your anguish and frustration. In that moment, you laid bare your heart, your vulnerability a testament to the depth of your feelings for him.

But as the rain continued to fall, washing away the remnants of your shattered resolve, you knew that the wounds inflicted upon your fragile bond may never fully heal. And as you stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills, you couldn't help but wonder if love alone was enough to bridge the chasm that now yawned between you and Rafe.

Rafe's voice cut through the storm like a beacon of clarity, his words a plea wrapped in desperation and longing. The rain poured down around you, a relentless torrent that mirrored the tumult of your emotions as you stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills.

His grip on your wrist was firm, a tangible anchor in the tempest of your despair. You could feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, a silent reassurance amidst the chaos that raged within your heart.

"I spent two years thinking I'd never see you again," Rafe's voice wavered with emotion, each word a testament to the depth of his longing, "and you think that I'd ruin my chances with you the second I got you back?"

You recoiled slightly at the force of his words, the sting of betrayal still fresh in your mind. "Then why is she here, Rafe?" Your voice wavered with a mix of anger and hurt, the turmoil of your emotions bubbling to the surface.

Rafe's shoulders slumped in defeat, his gaze falling to the ground as he ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Because, y/n!" His voice rose with frustration, a raw edge creeping into his tone. "I called her over because I was trying to break up with her!"

The words hung between you like a heavy fog, thick with tension and unresolved emotions. As you stood there, grappling with the weight of his confession, you couldn't help but feel the ground shift beneath your feet, uncertainty clouding your thoughts as you struggled to make sense of it all.

You looked at him with your eyes wide, taken aback by his testament. Part of you felt confused, wondering how something allegedly so simple could get so mixed up, while the other half of you wasn't ready to let your guard down.

"Why would you do that, Rafe?" you asked, your voice betraying a mixture of disbelief and vulnerability. You searched his eyes for some semblance of truth amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions, hoping to find a shred of sincerity in his explanation.

You looked at him, the rain cascading down around you, each drop adding to the tension in the air. His expression was raw, his frustration evident in the way his brows furrowed and his jaw tensed. Despite the anger simmering beneath the surface, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored your own.

Rafe took a step closer, his hand still gripping your wrist gently, as if he feared you might slip away if he let go. His voice was strained, laced with desperation and sincerity as he tried to explain himself.

"I called her over because I realized that I couldn't be with her, not when my heart was still with you," he admitted, his words hanging in the air like a confession. "not when you're standing right in front of me for the first time in years after thinking I had lost you for good."

His admission echoed in the space between you, carrying the weight of years of separation and longing. You felt the weight of his words settle over you, the realization dawning that perhaps there was more to his actions than met the eye.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing in the midst of the storm once again. The rain continued to pour, a relentless backdrop to the emotions swirling between you.

"I… I didn't know," you confessed softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. "I didn't know you felt that strongly."

There was a vulnerability in your admission, a crack in the armor you had built around yourself. You had spent so long trying to convince yourself that you were over him, that seeing him again wouldn't affect you. But now, faced with the truth of his feelings, you couldn't deny the lingering ache in your own heart.

His words pierced through the walls you'd built around your heart, making you realize how deeply you still cared for him. The rain pelted down harder, soaking you both to the bone, but neither of you seemed to notice. You were lost in the intensity of the moment, the world around you fading into the background.

Rafe's eyes, filled with anguish and sincerity, bore into yours as he pointed to his chest, his voice breaking. "I have never once stopped loving you," he confessed, each word laced with a raw, painful honesty. "I-I was miserable here without you, y/n." His voice broke as he frantically pointed his pointer finger into his chest, expressing his dismay.

You felt your own chest tighten with emotion, the tears mixing with the rain on your face. "Rafe," you began, your voice trembling as you reached out to him, "I… I didn't know. I thought you had moved on. I thought I was just a part of your past."

He shook his head vehemently, taking a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "You were never just a part of my past," he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You are my everything. I thought about you every single day, wishing things had been different."

Your breath hitched at his touch, the familiar warmth of his hand bringing back a flood of memories. "I never stopped loving you either," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I was scared, Rafe. Scared of getting hurt again and hurting you. I was afraid to come back here and be faced with what happened between us."

Rafe's expression softened, his thumb continuing to caress your cheek. "I know, y/n. I know I hurt you before, we hurt each other, but I swear, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me."

There was desperation in his eyes as he stared down at you, ignoring the droplets of rain that fell down his face. His mouth stayed agape as he breathed heavily, his emotions weighing down on him as he waited for your reply. "We have to stop hurting each other, Rafe," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of determination and vulnerability.

Rafe's expression softened, and he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to hurt you anymore. I want to be the person who makes you happy, the person you can trust. I-I can do that, y/n."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. "It's not going to be easy," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Not everyone is gonna agree with us being together."

Rafe's eyes softened, and he nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of your words. "I know," he replied, his voice steady. "But I don't care what they think. This is about us, not them."

"I'm scared, Rafe. My friends are the only family I've had my entire life," you averted your gaze to the ground, taking in a deep breath. The weight of your words hung in the air, a confession of the fear that gripped your heart.

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin. "I understand," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy. "But you don't have to choose between them and me. We'll find a way to make this work."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for reassurance. "What if they can't accept us? What if I lose them?"

Rafe's expression was earnest, his gaze unwavering. "If they really care about you, they'll understand eventually. It might take time, but they'll see how much we mean to each other."

"But what about you?" you asked, peering up at him.

"What about me?" he replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"I mean, you aren't a huge fan of my friends either," you said, your voice tinged with worry. "How are you going to handle that?"

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. "Yeah. I'm not their biggest fan, and they're definitely not mine. But if being with you means I have to make some type of peace with them, then I'll try. For you."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of relief and concern. "It won't be easy, Rafe. They're protective of me, and they have every reason to be wary of you."

"I know," Rafe admitted, his voice steady. "But I'm willing to put in the effort. I just need them to see that I've changed, and that I care about you."

Just as the tension had settled and you and Rafe stood there, gazing at each other with a resolution easing your worry, Sophia emerged from the house, her arms crossed and her expression stormy. The rain had begun to pour more heavily, each drop like a drumbeat on the roof and the ground around you. "What the hell is going on here?" she demanded, her voice slicing through the rain-soaked air like a knife.

You turned to face her, your heart sinking at the sight of her anger and confusion. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, flicking between you and Rafe as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t make sense. Rafe stepped forward, his posture tense but resolute. "Sophia, I told you to wait in the house," he said, his voice strained with the weight of the situation.

"I don't care," she shot back, her voice trembling with hurt and frustration. "So, what's this? Are you two messing around behind my back or something?"

You swallowed hard, the rain mingling with the tears you hadn’t realized had started to fall. "Sophia, this is complicated," you began, your voice almost drowned out by the downpour. "Rafe and I... we have a lot of history."

"History?" she echoed, incredulous and bitter. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Rafe had a subtle glare on his face at Sophia's remark, feeling a sense of defensiveness over you. You were perfectly capable of handling your own, that he knew, but this was his mess to begin with, and he wasn't going to let her get to you so easily. "Knock it off, Soph. Don't go starting shit," he said, his tone firm and unwavering.

Sophia's eyes flashed with anger, her arms tightening around her body as if to protect herself from the emotional storm that was brewing. "Starting shit? Really, Rafe? You're the one who is supposed to be with me, not her."

You felt a pang of guilt at her words but stood your ground, meeting her gaze with as much strength as you could muster. "Sophia, I didn't come here to cause problems. I just needed to talk to Rafe."

Sophia let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Talk? Really? You waltz back into town and expect everything to just fall into place?"

"Sophia, I said cut it out. We can talk in a minute," Rafe insisted, his voice firm but edged with frustration.

Sophia's eyes narrowed, her stance rigid with defiance. "No, Rafe. You need to get this little bitch out of here or else."

"Or else what?" you asked, stepping forward, your voice steady despite the tension radiating from Sophia.

She crossed her arms tightly, her gaze flickering between you and Rafe. "Or else I make sure everyone knows what kind of person you really are. You think you can just come back here and ruin everything? Rafe is with me." Sophia's words sliced through the tension like a knife, her voice dripping with venomous intent. You felt a surge of frustration and disbelief rising within you, but you forced yourself to stay calm, meeting her gaze squarely.

"Do whatever you want, Sophia. I didn't come back here to play games with you, so get over yourself," you retorted, your voice firm and unwavering.

Sophia's words dripped with venom as she leveled her gaze at you, her tone laced with a vindictive edge. "Just wait and see, y/n. I'll make you choke on your words."

Rafe's voice cut through the tension like a sharp blade, his tone laced with frustration and authority, "Just go away, Sophia! I'm not dealing with your shit right now!"

His words echoed in the empty space around you, the force behind them enough to make Sophia falter for a moment. She recoiled slightly, her features contorting into a mixture of shock and indignation, her eyes blazing with defiance. For a brief moment, it seemed as though she might retort, but the steel in Rafe's gaze made it abundantly clear that he wouldn't tolerate any further defiance.

With a resentful glare, Sophia finally relented, shooting one last venomous look at you before turning on her heel and storming off. The sound of her footsteps echoed angrily on the wet pavement as she disappeared from sight, leaving behind a palpable sense of relief in her wake.

As Sophia vanished into the distance, the tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the soft patter of raindrops against the ground. Rafe's shoulders slumped slightly as he let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the confrontation evident in the weary lines of his face.

Turning back to you, his gaze softened, filled with a mixture of gratitude and apology. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "She's... she's not easy to handle."

"it's okay," you shook your head as you ran a hand through your hair, "i should get going. this has been the longest night ever and i'm tired."

Rafe's shoulders slumped slightly, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. "Yeah, I guess we both need some rest," he replied, stepping closer to you. His hand extended tentatively, as if he wanted to offer comfort, but he hesitated, eventually letting it fall back to his side. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

As Rafe's lips touched your hair, a shiver ran down your spine, but not from the cold rain. It was a bittersweet moment, filled with tenderness and longing. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to savor the fleeting warmth before pulling away reluctantly. "Goodnight, Rafe," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Days had passed since your altercation with Sophia at Rafe's house, yet your mind still played over the events incessantly, haunted by her threats and what weight they held. You managed to keep your distance from JJ in attempts to make the breakup easier on him, since it definitely wasn’t easy going through a breakup with someone you basically live with. You kept yourself busy with chores around the house and visiting Sarah whenever you felt the weight of the situation pressing too hard on your shoulders.

Each time you caught sight of JJ in the Chateau, your heart twisted with guilt and sadness. His once bright and carefree demeanor seemed clouded with a hint of bitterness, and you couldn’t help but feel responsible for the change. It hurt you deeply to see him this way, knowing that your choices had contributed to his pain.

You kept yourself busy and out of JJ's way, spending most of your time either in your room or spending time solely with Kiara and Sarah instead. Aside from a few awkward encounters, things were civil between you and JJ, although he had yet to have any idea that you were in contact with Rafe, which would've waged an even bigger war than you could handle.

One evening, Kiara came bursting into your room while you and Sarah were binge-watching some dumb reality TV show. She had a giant grin on her face, her excitement practically radiating off her.

"Guys, what would you say if I suggested we go to a pool party?" she smirked, her statement causing both you and Sarah to sit up straight.

"Whose?" you asked, intrigued by her sudden enthusiasm.

"Some touron I met at the Wreck today," Kiara replied, her grin widening. "Apparently, his family owns this huge vacation house he hosts parties at every summer."

Sarah's eyes lit up with excitement. "A pool party sounds like just what we need! We've been cooped up here way too long."

You felt a flicker of excitement too, though it was tinged with apprehension. "Do you think it'll be fun? I mean, it's not like we know anyone there."

"That's the best part," Kiara said, plopping down on the bed next to you. "It's a chance to meet new people, have some fun, and maybe forget about all the drama for a while. Come on, we could all use a break."

Sarah nudged you playfully. "She's right. Plus, it'll be good for you to get out and enjoy yourself. You've been through a lot lately."

You sighed, considering their words. The idea of a carefree night sounded appealing, especially after everything that had happened with JJ and Rafe. Maybe a pool party was exactly what you needed to clear your head and have a little fun.

"Okay," you finally agreed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Let's do it."

"Yes!" Kiara exclaimed, jumping up with excitement. "It's going to be awesome. Trust me."

The three of you spent the next hour getting ready, picking out your best swimsuits and summer outfits. Kiara helped you choose a flattering bikini, and Sarah lent you a cute cover-up. You all spent time perfecting your looks, experimenting with different hairstyles and makeup.

You stood in front of your mirror with a newfound sense of confidence, admiring your reflection. The dark red string bikini hugged your curves perfectly, and the two low ponytails on each side added a playful touch to your look. As you observed yourself, you couldn't help but wonder for a moment what Rafe would think if he saw you right now. The thought of him seeing you like this, rather than random men at some party, sent a shiver down your spine.

You turned slightly, checking out your outfit from different angles, feeling both bold and a little nervous. The bikini was daring, more revealing than anything you’d worn in a while, and the ponytails gave you a youthful, carefree appearance. It was exactly the look you needed for tonight—a night where you intended to leave all your worries behind and just have fun.

"Looking good," Kiara's voice broke through your thoughts. She stood in the doorway, already dressed in a vibrant blue swimsuit that complemented her tan. "I'd definitely hit on you if I was a dude."

You chuckled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Thanks, Kie. I needed that."

"Seriously, though," she continued, stepping into the room and giving you an approving once-over. "You look amazing. Ready to turn some heads tonight?"

"I hope so," you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "I just... I hope I can have fun and forget about everything for a while."

Kiara nodded understandingly. "That's the plan. Now, let's go make some memories."

Sarah popped her head in the door, her eyes widening with approval as she took in your outfit. "Damn, y/n! You look incredible. We’re definitely going to turn heads tonight."

"Thanks, Sarah," you said, feeling a surge of confidence. "Let's get going!"

The three of you left the room, chatting excitedly about the party and what you hoped to experience. As you arrived at the vacation house, the sound of music and laughter filled the air, much louder than you had anticipated. The house was even more impressive than Kiara had described, with a sprawling backyard, a sparkling pool, and twinkling lights hanging from the trees. The party was already in full swing, with people mingling, dancing, and lounging by the pool.

"Wow," Sarah breathed, taking it all in. "This place is incredible."

You found a table near the pool and placed your things down, feeling the energy of the party wash over you. The music was loud, the air was warm, and for the first time in a while, you felt a sense of freedom.

"Hey, you wanna get a drink?" Kiara asked, nudging you playfully.

"Sure," you replied, following her to the bar set up on the patio. You ordered a fruity cocktail and took a sip, savoring the sweet and tangy flavors.

"It's hot, I'm gonna get in the pool!" Sarah yelled to both of you over the music, her enthusiasm cutting through the night. She took off running, wasting no time before diving into the lit-up pool a few feet away. Her laughter mingled with the splashes as she joined the others already swimming.

"She's wild," Kiara chuckled, shaking her head. "I don't think even John B can tame her."

You laughed, watching Sarah splash around. "Yeah, she's got a spirit that's hard to pin down."

Kiara nudged you playfully. "What about you? Are you going to join her or stay here and keep me company?"

You considered Kiara's question for a moment, debating between another drink or getting into the pool. The cool water looked inviting, but you felt like you needed a bit more time to settle in and get comfortable with the party's atmosphere. Besides, a little more liquid courage couldn't hurt.

"I think I'll grab another drink first," you decided with a grin.

Kiara nodded, her eyes twinkling. "Good call. Let's get something strong!"

You both made your way to the other bar set up in a corner of the yard. It was a makeshift setup, but it was stocked with an impressive variety of drinks. The bartender, a guy around your age with a friendly smile, greeted you as you approached.

"What can I get for you ladies?" he asked, wiping down the counter.

Kiara leaned in, eyeing the selection. "Two margaritas, please. Extra strong."

You chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, extra strong sounds good."

As the bartender mixed your drinks, you glanced around, taking in the scene. The party was in full swing, with people dancing, chatting, and laughing. The air was filled with the scent of chlorine from the pool, mixed with the aroma of grilled food from a nearby barbecue. Strings of fairy lights twinkled above, casting a warm glow over everything.

The bartender handed you your drinks, and you took a sip, savoring the tart, refreshing flavor. "Perfect," you said, raising your glass to Kiara.

"To a night of fun and forgetting all our worries," Kiara toasted, clinking her glass against yours.

You both took long sips, the alcohol warming you from the inside out. As you chatted with Kiara, you felt the tension of the past few days start to melt away. It was good to be surrounded by friends, to let loose and enjoy the moment.

Just as you were starting to relax, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and saw a text from Rafe: "Can we talk?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn't seen or spoken to Rafe since the confrontation with Sophia, and you were still processing everything that had happened. But part of you was also eager to hear what he had to say.

Kiara noticed the change in your expression. "Everything okay?"

You brushed off Kiara's concern and maintained your composure, not wanting her to worry. "It's nothing, just my boss texting me about work," you said with a reassuring smile. Kiara gave you a curious look but didn't press further, allowing you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Once you were sure she had bought your story, you quickly typed a reply to Rafe, asking, "What's up?" and hit send. The party continued to buzz around you, with music thumping and people laughing, but your mind was now focused on your phone.

Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe's message popped up on your screen almost immediately.

"I saw you were here at the party. I need to see you." You read it over, feeling a rush of emotions flooding through you. Despite the lively atmosphere of the party, you suddenly felt a wave of nervousness wash over you.

You quickly glanced around, checking to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Kiara was engaged in conversation with a group of people across the pool, and Sarah was nowhere in sight. Taking a deep breath, you typed out a response to Rafe: "Okay, where are you?"

His reply came almost immediately: "By the keg near the pool."

Your pulse quickened as you read the message. Without another thought, you excused yourself from the conversation with Kiara, making up some excuse about needing some fresh air.

Your heart raced as you walked around the yard, your eyes scanning the lively scene for the keg by the pool. The lump in your throat tightened with each step, the thought of being face-to-face with Rafe for the first time in days overwhelming your senses. You knew you couldn't hide from him forever, and brushing your feelings away wasn't an option anymore.

The music thumped in the background, a heavy bass line that seemed to sync with your racing heartbeat. The partygoers were lost in their own worlds, laughter and chatter filling the air, but your mind was solely focused on Rafe. You needed to confront your emotions, no matter how daunting the prospect seemed.

As you approached the pool, you spotted the keg, a small group gathered around it. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable encounter. The pool's surface shimmered under the party lights, creating a surreal, almost dreamlike atmosphere. You grabbed a plastic cup, filled it with beer, and took a long sip, hoping to calm your nerves.

Just then, you felt a presence beside you. Turning slightly, you saw Rafe standing there, his expression unreadable. The air seemed to thicken around you, the noise of the party fading into the background as your eyes locked onto his.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music.

"Hey," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you.

Rafe took a step closer, his gaze intense. "I had no idea you'd be here. Who'd you come with?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you met Rafe's gaze. His presence was overwhelming, and the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the weight of his question, and for a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background.

"I came with Kiara and Sarah," you replied, your voice steady but quiet. "I guess Kiara met this guy while she was working the Wreck and he invited her, so she asked us to come."

Rafe nodded, his expression softening slightly, though there was still a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "I didn't expect to see you here," he admitted, his voice low. "I thought these parties weren't your thing."

You shrugged, trying to play it off casually despite the pounding of your heart. "They're not, really. But I needed a distraction." You glanced around, avoiding his gaze. "Things have been... complicated."

Rafe nodded, his eyes tauntingly flickering back and forth between yours as he observed the features of your face intently. "I get it," he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching for a mere second. "I just... really needed to see you. I haven't heard from you since the other day."

You felt a pang of guilt as you heard the raw vulnerability in his voice. "I'm sorry, Rafe. It's not you.. It's just been hard dealing with the whole JJ thing."

Rafe took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I understand. I just... I can't stand the thought of losing you again."

You glanced down at your hands, twisting them nervously. "It's just so complicated. With JJ, with Sophia, with everything."

Rafe stepped closer, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, your skin tingling where he touched you. "I know it's complicated. But you don't have to worry about anything. I—I've got this thing figured out."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of uncertainty. "How can you be so sure?" you asked, your voice wavering.

Rafe's hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path along your skin. "Because I know what I want," he said firmly. "And I want you. I've spent too much time regretting what happened between us to let anything come between us now."

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You wanted to believe him, to trust that he had everything under control, but the events of the past few days had left you feeling vulnerable and uncertain. "It's just... Sophia made some threats. I don't want to make things harder for you."

Rafe's jaw tightened at the mention of Sophia. "I'll handle Sophia," he said, his voice resolute. "She doesn't get to decide our future, and she sure as hell isn't going to lay a hand on you."

You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. "I just don't want to cause more problems."

"You're not causing problems," Rafe insisted, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce determination. "We're in this together. Nobody is gonna do shit to you, I promise."

His words, filled with conviction, sent a surge of warmth through you. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his face, trying to gauge just how much he meant it. The intensity in his gaze left little doubt.

"But what about Sophia?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "She seemed pretty determined to make trouble."

Rafe shook his head, a determined set to his jaw. "I'll handle Sophia. She doesn't get to decide how this goes. This is between you and me."

You nodded, but before you could respond, you heard an unfortunately familiar voice come up from behind Rafe. "Rafe! Come on, we're doing shots." You saw a tall blond boy approach, his presence cutting through the moment you were sharing with Rafe. It was Topper.

You rolled your eyes, glaring up at him with annoyance evident on your face. "Oh hey, y/n," Topper greeted, a smirk playing on his lips. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"Topper," you replied curtly, crossing your arms. "Always a pleasure."

Rafe sighed, clearly frustrated by the interruption. "Top, not now," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "We're kind of in the middle of something."

Topper raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. "Middle of what? You know what, never mind," he shrugged, not really waiting for an answer. "We're about to do shots by the pool. You coming or what?"

You looked over at Rafe with a shrug. "You should go. I need to see Sarah and Kiara before they think I got lost anyways. I'll catch you before I leave."

Rafe hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he nodded. "Alright, but don't forget. We still need to talk."

"I won't forget," you promised, offering him a small smile.

As Rafe turned to rejoin Topper by the pool, you took a deep breath and made your way through the crowd, searching for Sarah and Kiara. The party was in full swing, the music loud and the air thick with laughter and chatter. It didn't take long to spot Sarah, her blonde hair glistening under the colorful lights as she danced by the pool.

"Hey! There you are," Sarah called out when she saw you, waving you over. "We were starting to wonder where you went."

Kiara, standing beside Sarah with a drink in hand, gave you a knowing look. "Yeah, you disappeared on us. Everything okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile as you joined them. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just work stuff."

Sarah arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying it but choosing not to press the issue. "Well, we're glad you're back. Come on, let's dance!"

As Sarah pulled you onto the makeshift dance floor, Kiara gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "If you need to talk, we're here," she said softly, her eyes full of understanding.

You nodded gratefully, allowing yourself to get lost in the music for a while. It was a welcome distraction, the beat of the music and the energy of the party temporarily pushing aside the turmoil in your mind.

After a few songs, you excused yourself to get another drink. As you made your way to the keg, you couldn't help but glance around, wondering where Rafe was and what he was doing. The thought of your earlier conversation lingered in your mind, and you knew that talking to him later was inevitable.

You reached the keg and got a drink, taking a moment to compose yourself. As you took a sip, you felt a presence beside you. Turning, you were met with the face of the last person you wanted to see—Sophia. Shock registered on your face as you took in the sight of her standing there, her expression unreadable.

"Sophia," you said, your voice betraying your surprise and confusion.

She looked at you with a mix of amusement and disdain. "What, surprised to see me here?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "What do you want, Sophia?"

She took a step closer, invading your personal space. "I want you to know that I'm not backing down," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Rafe might be playing his little games, but I'm not going to let you waltz back into his life and mess things up."

You felt a surge of anger rise within you. "This isn't a game to me, Sophia. I care about Rafe. This isn't about winning or losing."

Sophia scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're so naive. Do you really think you can just come back here and everything will be fine? Rafe's moved on. Maybe you should too."

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your composure. "You don't know anything about what Rafe and I have been through."

"Maybe not," she admitted with a smirk. "But I do know that I'm not going anywhere. So you'd better watch your back."

You furrowed your brows at her, scoffing with unamusement. "I'm not doing this with you, Sophia. I don't care about whatever scheme you have planned in your head. I have bigger things to worry about than your stupid shit—"

Before you could finish your sentence, you felt a force shove you backwards, and before you knew it, you were submerged underwater. The shock of the cold water took your breath away, and you instinctively swallowed a large gulp of water, panic flooding your senses. You flailed, struggling to find the surface, but the initial shock had disoriented you.

The sounds of the party were muted, distorted by the water around you. Your lungs burned as you kicked and pushed, desperately trying to reach the surface. Just as you came in and out of consciousness, you suddenly felt as if you were floating out of the water, lifted up in the arms of someone unknown as your vision was completely blacked out and hazy.

Your senses were disoriented, the once vibrant lights of the party now mere blurs in the darkness. The muffled sounds of laughter and music faded into a distant hum as you felt yourself being carried away from the chaos. The cold air stung your wet skin, but the strong, steady arms around you provided a strange sense of comfort amidst the confusion.

As the hands pressed urgently against your chest, you struggled to focus, the sounds around you muffled and distant. The voice calling out to you seemed to echo in your ears, but you couldn't quite grasp onto it.

You felt yourself slipping further into darkness, the sensation of drowning still haunting your senses. Panic surged through you as you tried to respond, but your body felt heavy and unresponsive.

Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath pierced the fog in your mind, followed by the urgent sound of footsteps approaching. Through the haze, you saw blurry figures leaning over you, their features distorted.

"Y/n, hey, hey. Stay with me, alright? C'mon!" The voice was urgent, tinged with desperation. It sounded familiar, a lifeline in the suffocating darkness.

Rafe's voice cut through the confusion like a blade, sharp with anger and urgency. "Who the fuck did this?" he demanded, his tone commanding attention as he scanned the crowd, his gaze piercing through the chaos. You felt a surge of relief at his presence, his strong hand gripping yours tightly as if to reassure you of his protective stance. Through the haze of your mind, you strained to focus on his words, the anger in his voice resonating deep within you.

As the onlookers murmured in response to Rafe's question, his grip on your hand tightened, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination. You could sense the fury simmering beneath his calm exterior, a storm waiting to be unleashed upon whoever was responsible for your distress.

With effort, you managed to muster the strength to speak, your voice trembling with the weight of your accusation. "Sophia," you managed to croak out, the name heavy on your tongue as you met Rafe's gaze with a mix of frustration and defiance.

Rafe's expression darkened at the mention of her name, his jaw clenched in barely contained rage. "I'll deal with her," he vowed, his voice a low growl that brooked no argument.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Sophia behind him, her smug expression etched into his mind like a brand. "You did this!" he bellowed, his accusation slicing through the air like a blade. His gaze bore into Sophia's, a mixture of fury and disbelief burning in his eyes.

Sophia's smirk only widened as she shrugged nonchalantly, taking a casual sip of her drink. "Oops, clumsy me," she taunted, her voice laced with sarcasm as she feigned innocence.

The veins in Rafe's neck bulged with fury, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His entire body quivered with suppressed rage, the intensity of his anger palpable in the air around him. "Don't you dare fucking touch her ever again," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "Matter of fact, don't even come near her or I'll make this whole island hell for you."

His words hung in the air like a threat, each syllable dripping with the promise of retribution. The ferocity in his gaze bore into Sophia, leaving no room for doubt that he meant every word he said. Sophia's smirk faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features as she recoiled slightly from Rafe's simmering rage. For a brief moment, the facade of arrogance crumbled, revealing the underlying fear beneath.

But just as quickly, Sophia regained her composure, masking her unease with a defiant glare. "C'mon, Rafe," she retorted, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her bravado. "You don't need that dirty pogue weighing you down for the rest of your life. she doesn't even have a family for fuck sake!" Her words cut through the air like a knife, each syllable laced with venom. Her attempt to undermine you was evident in the contemptuous tone of her voice, but beneath the surface bravado, there was a hint of insecurity.

Rafe's jaw tightened at her words, his fists clenching even harder at his sides as he turned to face her. "Don't you dare talk about her like that," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "She's worth more than you ever wish you could be." His words echoed with a fierce protectiveness, a stark contrast to the venom in Sophia's tone. The intensity of his gaze bore into her, daring her to challenge him further.

But Sophia recoiled, her facade of confidence faltering in the face of Rafe's unwavering resolve. For a moment, she was silenced by his unwavering defense of you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she masked it with a defiant sneer.

"How could you choose her, Rafe? She left you! I was there when she wasn't, remember? I was there for you, asshole!" Sophia's voice rose in pitch, her frustration and bitterness palpable in every word. Her attempt to discredit you and manipulate Rafe's emotions was evident in the desperation of her tone, but her words only served to further ignite the fire within him.

Rafe turned to face Sophia once more, his expression hardened with resolve. "Yeah, and if she never left I would've never been with you. I will always choose her." His words cut through the tension like a knife, his resolve unwavering as he reaffirmed his loyalty to you. The weight of his declaration hung heavily in the air, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of your connection.

Sophia flinched, her front crumbling as his words pierced through her defenses. In that moment, she realized that she was fighting a losing battle, her attempts to sway Rafe futile against the unwavering bond he shared with you.

Sophia's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. She looked at Rafe with a mix of hurt and anger, her eyes flashing with betrayal. "You promised me, Rafe," she accused, her voice trembling with emotion. "You said we were in this together, that you loved me."

But Rafe's expression remained resolute, his jaw set in determination. "I know what I said, Sophia," he replied evenly, his voice steady despite the turmoil around them. "But things have changed. I can't keep pretending that this is what I want."

Sophia's tears spilled over, her resolve crumbling as she stared at Rafe with desperate pleading. "Please, Rafe," she begged, her voice choked with emotion. "Don't do this to me. Don't leave me."

But Rafe stood his ground, his gaze unwavering as he gently shook his head. "No, Soph," he said softly, his tone filled with regret. "But I have to do what's right for me."

Sophia's tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked around the party, her face a mix of embarrassment and shame. Disbelief was etched across her features, her mouth agape as she blinked rapidly, trying to process the situation. "Okay," she nodded slowly, her voice breaking with a sniffle. "Yeah. That's fine, it's not like I wasted two years of my life on you or anything."

Rafe's expression softened, guilt flickering in his eyes as he took in the depth of her hurt. "Sophia, I never meant for it to end like this," he said, his voice low and remorseful. "I did care about you, but I can't keep lying to myself or to you."

Sophia shook her head, tears still flowing. "Just... go to her, Rafe," she said bitterly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "You always will anyway."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she pushed through the crowd. Rafe watched her go, a mix of relief and sadness washing over him. He then turned his attention back to you, where you lay on the concrete, his heart aching with the need to make sure you were okay.

"Hey," he whispered, kneeling beside you again, his voice tender and filled with concern. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

You nodded weakly, your vision slowly clearing as you looked up at him. The party around you seemed distant, the sounds muffled as you focused on Rafe's face. "I'm okay," you managed to say, your voice hoarse from the ordeal.

Rafe let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relief flooding through him. "I'm so sorry, y/n," he murmured, gently brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. "I should have been there sooner."

You gave him a small, tired smile, reaching up to touch his hand. "It's okay, Rafe," you said softly. "It's not your fault."

Rafe's eyes softened, his worry evident as he gently helped you sit up. The sounds of the party seemed distant, muted by the intensity of the moment. He sighed, running a hand through his wet hair, clearly struggling with his emotions.

"I'm just glad you're okay," he said, his voice thick with relief. "I was so scared when I saw you go under."

You nodded, still feeling the aftershocks of what had just happened. "I'm okay now," you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently.

Rafe helped you to your feet, keeping a protective arm around you as you stood. You could see the concern in his eyes, mixed with a fierce determination to keep you safe.

"I won't let anyone hurt you again," he vowed, his voice steady and resolute.

Before you could respond, you looked up to see Kiara and Sarah standing in front of you, their faces ridden with shock and concern. Sarah's eyes flickered between you and Kiara, who was clearly piecing things together. Although your mind was still a bit foggy, your heart fell into your stomach as Kiara's confusion turned to suspicion.

"Rafe, what are you doing here?" Kiara asked disgustedly, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

Rafe's protective stance didn't waver. He looked directly at Kiara, his expression a mix of defensiveness and sincerity. "I was here for the party, Kiara. I didn't know y/n would be here," he replied, his voice firm.

Kiara's eyes narrowed as she looked between the two of you, trying to make sense of the situation. "And why are you with him, y/n?" she demanded, her voice tinged with a mixture of betrayal and concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and find the right words. "Kie, it's not like that. He was just helping me—"

"And you let him?" Kiara interrupted, her voice rising in disbelief and hurt. Her arms were still tightly folded across her chest, and her eyes bore into you with an intensity that made you flinch.

Sarah, sensing the rising tension, placed a hand on Kiara's arm. "Let's not do this here," she suggested gently. "Y/n needs to rest. We can talk about this later."

Kiara shoved Sarah's hand off, her attention locked back on you. "No. Why would you even talk to him, y/n? After everything he has done to us? To John B?" Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of the situation crashing down on you. You could see the hurt and betrayal in Kiara's eyes, and it made your heart ache.

"Kie, it's not that simple," you tried to explain, your voice wavering. "I've been through a lot with Rafe, and we both have things we need to work through. It's complicated."

Kiara's eyes flashed with anger. "Complicated? He's caused so much pain for all of us. You know that better than anyone."

Rafe rolled his eyes, scoffing at Kiara's attitude. "I haven't done shit to you, Kie. And besides, this has nothing to do with you."

Kiara bristled at his words, her jaw clenched in frustration. "Everything has to do with me when it involves my friends," she shot back, her tone sharp. "And last I checked, you've caused plenty of trouble for us."

Rafe shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. "You're holding onto shit that happened two years ago, Kie!"

"Well, it still affects us, Rafe! John B's life is ruined because of you!" Kiara shot back, her tone sharp with accusation.

Your heart raced as you struggled to find the right words to explain the situation, your mind racing with a hundred different thoughts at once. "I know it does, Kiara, but..." you started, your voice trailing off as you searched for the right words to defend yourself.

"But what, y/n?" Kiara's tone was laced with disappointment and frustration. "How could you even think about associating with him after everything he's done? Is that why you broke up with JJ?"

The weight of her accusation hung heavy in the air, and you felt the heat of embarrassment rise to your cheeks as you struggled to find a response. "No, Kiara, it's not like that," you protested, your voice tinged with desperation.

Kiara's expression softened slightly at your words, but her disappointment was still evident in her eyes. "I just... I can't believe you, y/n," she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness as she turned away from you.

"Kie please—" You stared, but before you could finish, Kiara stormed off past you. Sarah shot you a sympathetic "I'm sorry this is happening" look at you before chasing after her. You stood there, the weight of Kiara's words heavy on your heart as you watched her storm off into the crowd. Sarah's sympathetic look only added to the guilt gnawing at your insides, leaving you feeling utterly alone in the midst of the lively party.

Rafe's presence beside you was a small comfort, but even he couldn't chase away the nagging doubts and regrets swirling in your mind. You turned to him, opening your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, you stood in silence, staring off into the distance as the chaos of the party continued around you.

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[sparkrls]

set a love alight

MASTERLIST

part of the bandmates! harry x yn au

Summary: in which Y/N makes mistakes and Harry remind her she’s only human

Author’s Note: just needed some emotional Y/N with sweetheart Harry. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.3k

•••

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Y/N cursed, pushing past the mess of wires and equipment backstage and pushing through the door of the emergency exit. The door swung open, slamming against the brick wall before clicking shut again.

Kicking at a small rock in the gravel, Y/N tried to release her fury. A choked sob escaped her raw throat, the burning reminding her of the fatal mistake she’d made that night.

Ambition had been her downfall. She’d let herself be overly confident in her abilities and had reached too high, her wings scorched by the sun.

Y/N fell to the ground. She didn’t bother to sit down gently, simply just letting her knees give out beneath her. She curled her knees up to her chest, hugging them and linking her hands together.

The hem of her skirt rode up, reaching her upper thigh. Usually, she might tug it down, but she was a bit too busy crying to even think about something so trivial like her skirt.

A pair of hands settled on her shoulders. Y/N was startled at the sudden touch. She could’ve sworn she was alone.

Eyeliner and makeup smudged from crying, Y/N looked up to find that Harry was crouched in front of her, his gaze soft and warm. She quickly tried to wipe her tears away, but he caught her wrists and pulled them down to her sides.

Harry’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, “Baby. It’s okay.” He was handling her like shattered glass, doing his best to not slit his hand while picking up the sharp fragments. “I’m here.”

Y/N didn’t like for people to see her cry. Not only was she an ugly crier, but she hated when people saw her so vulnerable. It felt wrong. And she didn’t cry often anyways. But when she did, it was messy and wild.

“I screwed up,” Y/N whispered, hating how her voice broke when she was barely audible. A pool of shame gathered in her stomach, weighing her down and suffocating her.

Harry sat down next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. He leaned forward to meet her eyes. “Yeah. You did. And?”

“And?” She said, her voice raising a bit. “And I humiliated myself. I was so fucking bad.”

“You were nervous and you made a mistake,” Harry said steadily, his voice never raising. “It happens to the best of us.”

“I shouldn’t have taken that solo,” Y/N said with the shake of her head, another tear spilling against her will.

They had decided to perform their new song, ‘Set A Love Alight’. Y/N and Harry had written it just three weeks ago, and they decided to play it at this gig they’d booked at the bar they regularly played at, 17 Black.

After a long time of reluctance and hesitation, Y/N had decided to do the song as a solo. Up until now, Harry was always the one singing. Occasionally, Sarah or Mitch would sing a verse or two, but for the most part, Harry was the vocal powerhouse. Everyone liked it that way, everyone felt comfortable.

And Y/N had never dared to sing anything except backing vocals. And for the last few months, Harry had been trying to convince her to sing at least one verse of a song. He’d hyped her up, encouraging her to do so and telling her how amazing her voice was about a million times.

After a long time of pleading, Harry’d gotten what he wanted and more. Y/N took on the burden of an entire song. And tonight was not only the debut of the new song, but also of her voice.

Weeks of rehearsals had fallen down the drain when Y/N started singing and her voice came out shaky with nerves. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t hit the right chords on the guitar. And her lungs started constricting, making it hard for her to complete the lines without gasping for air. And all of this combined into the messiest performance the band had ever performed.

At the end of the song, Y/N was holding back tears and the small amount of people paying attention to the band clapped politely, but she heard the whispers of judgement. And when she turned to look at the band, the three of them were looking at her with pity in their eyes.

That was how she’d rushed off stage, thrusting her guitar into the hands of someone she passed by, possibly even a bystander just walking by. She didn’t even look at their face before walking out in tears.

“Love, you’re a good singer,” Harry said with a small sigh, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut. “You got nervous. It happens to everyone. You just have to learn how to control those nerves, that’s all.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, holding back a sob. “I made everyone look bad.”

Harry let out a small laugh. Y/N opened her eyes to glare at him. He rushed to say, “Baby, I wasn’t making fun of you, I swear. I just… I’ve made countless mistakes on stage. My voice has cracked, I’ve missed high notes, I’ve mixed up verses, I’ve sung off-key. But my mistakes don’t take away from my talent.” He pulled her forward to hug her. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a good singer. Because I was persistent and a hard worker. I didn’t give up even when I had moments where I sounded like shit and thought I had humiliated myself to a degree no other human being ever had.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Which part?” Harry asked, curiously. He was ever as bright as always, but so soft and gentle. He was a sweetheart above anything else.

“Getting on stage and giving an amazing as fuck performance each time,” Y/N said. She shook her head. “You’re amazing, H.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s what I know how to do. I’ve done it my entire life. The same way you always play the guitar ‘amazing as fuck’.” He scrunched his nose up at her as he mocked her words. She let out a small chuckle. He smiled, pleased at himself. He always pulled a smile out of her. “It takes time and experience. I promise next time you get on stage to sing you’ll be better. Not perfect, just better. And someday, you won’t even remember tonight as anything more than just another story to tell and laugh at.”

Y/N pursed her lips, silent for a moment in thought. He was right. He always was.

Somehow, Harry always managed to make the tears seem like just another silly hurdle to jump over. The world seemed so much easier to face when he spoke about it so simply.

And with Harry holding her in his arms, who wouldn’t be ready to take on anything the universe threw her way?

Harry let out a small sigh, running his fingers through her hair. “You’ll be okay, love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Harry always took care of her with love. Not as if she were fractured sharp glass, but as if she were a bouquet of flowers you settled into a vase with care as to not let a single petal drop.

And Y/N wished she were as sweet as him. She wished she could be as good and pure as he was, to give him the affection he needed. The care he gave her was the kind he should be receiving.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, starting off with something small to remind him of her love.

Harry smiled, as if she’d made some grand declaration of love and hung a star in the night sky for him. “I love you too.”

[morgana-ren]

Why do you think Bailey has such regret/panic after he fucks the PC?

I think that ultimately, there's a few reasons why that is.

For starters, Bailey has cultivated a 'no bullshit, no excuses' atmosphere in his orphanage. You have a set date he expects payment, and if you don't have it, you pay another way-- he extracts value from you, one way or another. However, that doesn't mean what one might think it would mean in a devious concept (at least not regarding Bailey himself.)

We know Bailey has some sort of miserable past likely mirroring your own. The only thing that seems to shake him is that attic. It alludes to the fact that he may have grown up in the orphanage, or maybe before he bought it, it was something different and darker entirely.

The way he seems to have gotten over it is by separating himself entirely from any form of sentimental or gentle emotion. Like poof, gone. Not a fucking ounce of humanity left in that man. Not one. He found a goal, and he sticks to it steadfast. That goal is to-- more or less, anyways-- to never be vulnerable again. The town he lives in is sick, and it's wrong. Something is going on in this place that makes people exceptionally more licentious; more rotten. Dark desires that most people would never even conceive of entertaining are rather commonplace here. In more ways than one, they have everyone-- victims and perpetrators-- by the balls.

One way to crawl your way to the top would be to remove yourself from that situation-- and then take advantage of it. If you're not looking at anyone as a potential victim of your lust, but rather purely as a paycheck, it removes a lot of the complications. The town still has a facade of law and order, as we can see if you frame Leighton, or just allow Briar to get raided, the cops at least pretend to do their jobs when confronted with cold, hard evidence.

Bailey has avoided this outcome because, plain and simply, he doesn't indulge. Doesn't even consider it. He doesn't take advantage of his charges in the way one might expect. In the way that Leighton does, or the way that most of the people in this perfidious town do-- with pure, unadulterated lust and base desire.

Bailey is all about the paycheck, which has the double advantage of making him rich, and riding him under the radar. Both of these things, when coupled with his raw power, leave him relatively untouchable.

Let's examine what sleeping with the PC means knowing all of this.

Well, having sex is in and of itself a vulnerability. Especially in the way it's instigated with him. It's actually sort of brilliant: it literally breaks every single rule he has. Even the unspoken ones.

He shows humanity in being seduced. It reveals a weakness, both to him and to someone who could potentially take advantage of it. It shows that he very much does suffer from base human desire to the point where it's actually boiling over from his repression.

And how you seduce him has him breaking his very strict rules on payment.

No mercy, and no leniency. That's what one can usually expect from Bailey. No amount of batting your eyes and pouting your lips at him will get you what you want. It might work for everyone else in this shithole, but not him.

....Except it does.

In fact, it works so unbelievably well, that he pounces. Literally.

He loses all sense in that moment. Just goes right out the goddamned window. You ask him for a little extension on the payment, which should be an automatic 'no' without even thinking-- except he makes the mistake of looking at you when normally, he probably wouldn't. He would just keep his nose in his paperwork and point wordlessly to the door.

(This shows a pique of attention when it comes to the PC themselves. He seems to indulge them a little more than he would anyone else, which you see on several occasions.)

The PC doesn't even technically outright ask for anything. Just puts on a little show in the most minor sense, and Bailey straight up loses his mind. Shoves you to the floor and crawls on top of you right there, tearing at your clothes and trying to get his cock in you as quickly as physically possible.

Desperation. That's the word for it.

He breaks his most iron rule and pretty much every other one in one swift motion (or several, lmao) and he loses from it-- at least how he tries to view things.

He has to honor his word. You help up your unspoken part of the bargain, and while he is a complete bastard, he's not a scumbag. You get your damn extension.

And then there's the matter of the power you have over him, and know you have over him now. Lusting for someone is, in the most base sense, them having a form of power over you. You want something from them, and whether you'd like it to or not, that impairs your judgment regarding them. He wants to be seen as this iron-willed monster. Unbreakable and unmovable. Not even human.

But his grunting and panting and hissing over you shows that he is all too human for his own liking. Because not only did he give in to his lust, but he enjoyed it. Enjoys it so much that even if you ask him to stop, and take it all back, he won't. He'll keep fucking you even if you beg him to stop and try to beat him away, which shows that he is just like everyone else in this fucking town.

Even he has a weakness.

Bailey doesn't casually have sex just to have it. You'll never see him at the brothel, and he never touches any of his charges, or anyone else for that matter. That puts a weight of importance on sex to him, whether he means it to or not. That means there's something so special about you that he indulges.

That's where the regret stems from. It breaks his own mental image of himself. It breaks every one of his rules. Everything he bases himself on and spent years building crumbles beneath your touch. It shows him that he's weaker than he thought he was, and all because of, what is to him, the whining and mewling of an orphan girl he's supposed to be 'taking care of.'

I imagine that's why he turns colder afterwards. He cannot risk that happening again. Can't risk you worming your way into his heart the way you manage to do with everyone else. You'd ruin everything because you let him ruin you.

He owns you, and you're his property. If he thinks too long on that, he might start getting ideas.

And he can't have that.

[wingedblooms]

How do you interpret "A thing of secret, lovely beauty" in the bonus chapter? The first time azriel used it to describe the necklace. But the second time it was used to describe gwyn's happy smile.

Hello there! I feel like this is a trap. But as I’ve discussed before, readers interpret this differently and that’s wonderful. Interpretations can also evolve over time after rereads and new information. Mine has mostly remained the same (except for some specifics surrounding the second usage 😆). Part of my interpretation drifts into theory. As a reminder, theories are predictions of what might happen based on patterns of evidence in the text. No theory is guaranteed and it’s important to read any new books in the series with that in mind.

That said, Sarah is a fairly predictable and repetitive writer, so I try to pay close attention to her patterns. Many of my theories are based upon those patterns. For example, one of the most apparent patterns is that fate comes in threes. There are three faces of the Mother. Three sacred sister peaks that are barren and thrumming with power. Three stars that shine above Ramiel, the heart of the Night Court, each spring. Three blessed sisters who have been marked by fate and Made fae. Three winged males who found each other and are drawn to the three blessed sisters. There’s more evidence, but I think you get the idea. It can be helpful to use patterns to interpret and predict what Sarah has planned (e.g., the first and second sister have had their stories told, so it would follow that the third is next; there is also strong evidence that what she contributes to the narrative is needed next).

You’re probably wondering how this relates to my interpretation of the phrase secret, lovely beauty. Before I connect it to another clear pattern, I want to put it in proper context. When we first see the phrase, it is used to describe the necklace Azriel gifts to Elain. The setting in which this occurs is romantic: faelights dimming to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadow of the longest night of the year. Put plainly, this is Sarah setting the mood. 😂 Azriel, who feels lonely despite the company of his shadows, finds himself suddenly moving into the foyer and there she is:

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

On the longest night of the year, Elain glows golden like the sun at dawn. Like a pool of gold amid the deep shadow. This description follows a pattern in their imagery together, and it is lovely.

Their interaction is also raw and vulnerable, and therefore distinct in this bonus. When they come together, Azriel allows himself to feel and those feelings run deep enough to question his people’s traditions later on. Unlike every other interaction in this bonus, he doesn’t feel the need to put on a show for Elain (i.e., a cold mask, fake smile, or lying repeatedly to avoid emotional topics). In other words, he is himself with Elain. They share a quiet understanding and powerful attraction.

Now that we have this context in mind, we can move onto the the necklace and its chaos-inducing phrase:

The golden necklace seemed ordinary—its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of colors would become visible.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, “Put it on me?”

Notice something interesting here? Both Elain and the necklace glow with their true depth of color—golden and rosy, like the dawn—when faelight shines upon them. Dawn is when first light appears (pun definitely intended) and the world reawakens. Elain is linked to the rose amulet, and that follows a pattern of imagery she has already established in the text. This is the pattern I mean:

“I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,” I said, sawing and sawing. “Little roses and begonias and irises.” (acomaf)

She was a rose bloom in a mud field. Filled with galloping horses. (acowar)

Even in the middle of winter, she was a bloom of color and sunshine. (acofas)

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.” (acosf)

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

This gift not only reinforces the pattern, but it also holds a secret message that has become central to Elain’s arc: the rose (like Elain) has hidden depths. The Feysand bonus echoes this theme. Elain’s outburst stunned her family and Rhys suggests there is more to her than they’ve seen thus far.

“I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer.” A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” (Feysand)

Feysand then agree to help Elain after Nesta, which is Sarah’s way of reinforcing the other pattern she put in place (fate comes in threes—first Feyre, then Nesta, and now Elain).

With Elain’s character arc in mind (and the fact that she herself has suggested she doesn’t feel seen), Azriel’s gift is actually incredibly insightful. He gave her something that says, I do see you, and he knew she’d be able to appreciate its meaning. Even the words that describe her gift—secret, lovely beauty—refer to specific things we learn about Elain in the text.

Secret: Feyre compares Elain’s ability to learn and keep secrets to Azriel’s own secrecy (one of many parallels). She is a seer, after all. What other secrets might she know and keep hidden from others?

Before Feyre could reply, Azriel said, “What about Mor?”

Feyre smiled. “Elain was the only one who guessed. She caught me vomiting two mornings in a row.” She nodded toward Azriel. “I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.” (acosf)

Lovely beauty: We learn from Nesta that their mother predicted Elain would marry for love and beauty, which I think @juusworld5728 observed sounds a lot like lovely beauty:

My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen…You shall wed for conquest. (acosf)

This last phrase, love and beauty, is connected to the rose Papa Archeron carved for Elain. It is a symbol of love and beauty and goodness in the world, and for such a simple carving, it has unexpected weight just like the rose amulet has unexpected depth (Sarah hit this theme hard).

Her father had died for her, with love in his heart, and Nesta held love in her own heart as she pulled the small, carved rose from her pocket and set it upon the gravestone. A permanent marker of the beauty and good he’d tried to bring into the world. (acosf)

Why does this little rose matter? It is also linked to Wyrd. In acosf, Nesta felt the need to place Elain’s rose next to a figurine of what we now know is farseeing and benevolent Wyrd. Wyrd, the higher force of the universe, found Elain so lovely that she gifted her such powers and purrs like a kitten in her presence. They even share the same blooming imagery. Over time, Wyrd became known as a goddess (probably because she uses female forms as vessels, if I had to guess based on the evidence), but she is in fact a force, a mother to all, a cauldron brimming with creation. Now, where have we heard those terms before?

Gwyn huffed a soft laugh. “In part. We honor the Mother, and the Cauldron, and the Forces That Be. We have a service at dawn and at dusk, and on every holy day.” (acosf)

Gwyn’s words nearly echo the Under-King’s in hosab and hofas. The priestesses worship Wyrd. Let’s look at the description of their worship:

The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth. (acosf)

Elain’s strength lies in finding beauty even in dark chapters. She is a rose bloom in a mud field—the embodiment of blessings and dreams and hope and mercy and love and growth. The priestesses, including Gwyn, honor that benevolent force and seek to bring it into the world with their services. They are the voice of the Cauldron. And in this world, we know like calls to like. Now that we’ve read hofas, it’s highly likely that the ancient, spell-like music the priestesses perform is ancient summoning magic, which is magnified by the properties of the cavern (ahem, witch glass) in which they sing. So, is it a surprise that Azriel had every intention to return Elain’s rose amulet, a symbol of love and beauty, and found himself at the library during their worship of such things instead? No, it actually makes a lot of sense.

Azriel expressed no forethought in giving the necklace to Clotho for Gwyn. He did not select it for her and did not intend it to be a romantic gesture, which is why he tells Clotho to give it to Gwyn or any other priestess who might appreciate it. The setting and interactions in this part of the bonus are not described romantically because they are not intended to be romantic.

Clotho, who is observant like Elain, can see the shadowsinger’s sadness despite his deflection and offers him comfort in a dark moment:

Clotho’s pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her.

Her words spark hope in him and for whatever reason, he is able to picture Gwyn’s eyes lighting upon the rose amulet in his mind. The vision is a thing of secret, lovely beauty.

Some interpret this moment, a vision of Gwyn described as a thing of secret, lovely beauty, as an indication of Sarah shifting romantic pairings. I think this interpretation falls short of the full context, especially since days (in acosf) and months later (in hofas), Azriel is still upset and refuses to even discuss the topic of mates.

Rather, I think that—like the sister caverns, which are linked in song and dreaming—Elain and the priestesses (especially Gwyn) are also connected. They are part of the solution to the problem that was introduced in the first half of this bonus as well as the overarching plot. Like @silverdreamscapes, @silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, @willowmeres, and others I’m sure, I believe Elain—a seer chosen by Wyrd—will work with the priestesses that worship her (the most logical partnership in the series, when you think about their respective powers). It wouldn’t surprise me if a dawn service, especially if it involves groundings, helps Elain push the limitations of her powers like the dusk service did for Nesta.

I also agree with many (notably @silverlinedeyes and @merymoonbeam) who think Gwyn’s voice holds magic and, depending on what we learn, relates to being a lightsinger. That is likely the hidden depth (a thing of secret, lovely beauty) that was hinted at in the image since her eyes light upon Elain’s rose amulet. I believe @silverdreamscapes and @silverlinedeyes have suggested her voice, which summons and pierces during the dusk service, could clear mist and shadow in a vision if needed. I also think it is interesting that Gwyn is the first to sever the Valkyrie ribbon, a string tied not to a rib, but a post. Perhaps she and the priestesses could help Elain sever an unwanted bond and weave a different fate for herself, one that binds her to someone she loves? That would be the most epic end to the near-constant arguments over ships.

[jjmaybanksgun]

Affection - JJ Maybank (Part 2)

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Author’s note: here’s part 2 of this story after like forever. find part one here. enjoy and send requests if you want! (please note, they may take a while to write, but they’ll be in the works and published in due time!)

Warnings: cursing, fighting, jj being drunk, angstttt, mentions of l*ke maybank and abuse

———————————————————————

It had been three months since you’d left JJ at the chateau. Every time you see him in public, you make eye contact and immediately look away so he doesn’t get any ideas. 

JJ on the other hand could barely stop thinking about you. He always wanted to text you, call you, try to get you back, but he never was able to bring himself to do it. He didn’t want you thinking he was weak or vulnerable so you could use it to your advantage. He was always taught to keep himself at a distance so no one could take advantage of him. He always had to be in control. What was he if not strong? He remembered his dad’s beatings and how he would make his punches worse when he started crying, telling him to “man the hell up.” 

His thoughts ate away at him and he needed a way to get his mind off of it. The very solution came when he heard there was a party over at the beach. He forced himself up and went to where the party was.

Little did he know, you were there too. You didn’t see him as you talked to some other people at the party. He saw you and froze in place for a few seconds. He cleared his throat and decided to try and ignore you.

He eventually decided alcohol was the best distraction from you. That proves ineffective for him. He ends up just noticing you more. What catches his attention however, is when you start smiling and talking with a guy.

If looks could kill, the guy would be dead immediately. He glared at you both as you laughed and the guy started getting touchy with you. Before JJ could process it, before he could stop himself from doing something stupid, he was on top of the guy and landing many blows to his face.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” He slurs, his punches unrelenting. You immediately grabbed JJ by his shoulders and with effort, pulled him away from the guy who was now bleeding.

“JJ, what the fuck?!” You scolded as you took him away from the party and to somewhere quieter. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

JJ grunted and avoided your angry gaze as he tried to calm down. He eventually did look at you and his gaze immediately softened even when yours didn’t. He felt his eyes fill with tears. He tried to blink them back. Even when drunk, he didn’t want to be vulnerable. He inevitably failed and felt his knees buckle as he sobbed.

“I’m sorry… I’m so s-sorry… I’m a fucking idiot…” He cries, his arms coming up to hug your waist and burying his face into your shirt.

You were taken aback by his sudden show of emotions. You kneeled down to his level and took his face in your hands, making him look at you. 

“JJ, are you okay? What is going on?” You ask, concerned for him. You’d never seen him like this. Not even close. Now he was apologizing.

He averts his eyes away from yours. He looks anywhere except where you are. He can’t look at you.

“I’m so fucking stupid…” He whimpers. “I should’ve… I should’ve told you how much you meant to me… I should’ve hugged you and kissed you and given you all the love you deserve… But I was so fucking stupid… I am stupid…” 

You looked at him with saddened eyes. His cries were so raw, so genuine, it was hard not to hug him. But you figured you shouldn’t until you found out everything.

“You’re not stupid, JJ. Just tell me everything, okay?” You prompted. You wanted him to feel safe enough to talk to you.

He took a few ragged breaths before speaking. “I just… It was my dad… He never showed me anything like you did… He never hugged me or showed me any form of affection…” He explains. “When you did, I didn’t know how to show it back without being cold and distant like he does… I know that’s no excuse…” 

Your heart hurt when you realized it was his dad’s fault. You felt so much empathy for his situation that it was hard to be mad at him anymore. You slowly wrapped your arms around him and held him tight.

He tensed up at your touch for a moment before letting himself melt into it and reluctantly hugging you back.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t ever think that.” You reassured him.

You two sat there for a while before eventually standing up and walking to the chateau to put JJ to bed. You walked inside and brought him to his room, laying him down on his bed. He groaned and curled up into the messed up sheets. 

You smiled softly as you watched him look somewhat at peace while he fell asleep. He looked up at you with those pretty blue eyes of his.

“Can you stay, please?” He asked, sounding like an innocent little boy.

You couldn’t resist that innocent stare and slowly climbed in next to him. You wrapped your arms around him and he did the same to you, kissing your forehead.

Fast forward a month, and you two officially started dating again. He still struggled to fully show you physical affection but he made more of an effort to try. And as long as you both understood each other, you were both happy.

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones - XVII

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

@abruisedmuse thank you for always being my sounding board bby <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian | @vanserrass | @positivewitch | @zenkindoflove | @animezinglife | @readthelastpaage | @clockwork-ashes | @carolynmezzosoprano | @carnythian | @runningwiththeoceans | @readychilledwine | @goldenmagnolias | @thedarkinmansfield | @mali22 | @maidr-00 | @electromagnetic-waves | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22 | @the-midnightwriter | @moonfawnx | @weesablackbeak | @ladywhilemia | @illyrianshadowhunter | @alohaangels | @moobell55 | @bibliophiliaxvignette | @easchies | @feysandfeels | @thelovelymadone | @corcracrow | @dawneternal | @teddyhoneybear | @sinnerrsworld | @queenoftheworld1998 | @gracie-rosee

Find it all here.

Eris hadn’t even felt them winnow. He knew nothing — had sensed nothing, save for Iris and the feeling of her lips on his. All that he was, was being consumed by her. 

She pulled away, a fraction of an inch between them, eyes wide as she stared into her husband’s amber eyes. She barely breathed as he stared and stared and stared.

Mine.

The word clanged in his mind as Iris gripped the front of Eris’s tunic tighter, her fingers tightening as she staggered back slightly. He wondered if she had felt it — the thread tugging at his rib. If she knew how suddenly everything between them made sense. The attraction. The constant need to touch. How right it had felt even when neither of them had wanted it to be.

The Prince of Autumn wondered if it had clicked for her, that Iris was his and he was hers in a way no one would ever be. Something he never thought he’d have. Something he hadn’t even dreamed of being worthy of.

His. She was his and he was hers.

Iris blinked, finally noticing the heat that radiated around them. 

“We’re — we’re on fire.” she whispered, her eyes darting to the flames they were engulfed in then back to his face, cataloging what he was sure was a slightly dazed expression. 

“I know.” he said tightly, his gaze never leaving hers. 

Iris reached out a hand, letting the flame dance between her fingers. “It’s not burning.” 

She watched him in a way that made him feel too vulnerable — too raw. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then said hoarsely, “My fire would never burn you.” 

And Iris flushed as the words washed over her. At the honesty of them. His fire would burn whomever he wished except for one person — a person he could never harm.

“Oh.” she whispered, her eyes darting across his face and the many emotions Eris knew he was fighting to hide.

But she must feel the sheer amount of intensity between them. She must know.

“Iris —” he rasped and licked his lips. “I —”

“Shut up.” she breathed and met his lips again, pulling him into her once more, and oh, what a kiss. 

Eris’s kiss was an imprint on her very soul and Iris felt and felt and felt. Iris felt so deeply, she wished she hadn’t wasted a single kiss on anyone else. 

She let him tighten his grip and a noise slipped from her lips when his tongue met hers. She wouldn’t let him stop — would simply keep going. They didn’t need to see anyone. They could go home and keep kissing. They could sink right here, out in the open, and simply keep kissing.

“If you don’t stop —” Eris said in between the heated kisses, his hands squeezing her waist, then sliding to squeeze lower and the feeling of his hands on her had gooseflesh erupting all over her skin. “Nothing will stop me from letting this get inappropriate very quickly.”

“If you stop kissing me —” she whispered against his lips, arching into his touch. “I will stab you in so many places —”

He pulled away with a laugh and Iris truly wanted to gut him. But she also wanted to kiss him again and — and have him touch her some more. Face heated, she tried to yank him down to her lips again but Eris smirked, his hands coming to grip her face. She tried not to shudder at the reverent way he held her, at the way his thumbs traced her cheeks so gently. His lips were smirking but his eyes gave away all that he was feeling. It mirrored all that she was feeling.

“Please don’t stab me.” he said in a tone more gently than he had ever used with her, his gaze matching the whirlwind of emotions blazing through her. “I want to keep kissing you but can’t if I’m bleeding out all over my nice clothes.”

Iris couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. “Such a pretty princess you are.”

“The most pretty of princesses.” he confirmed with a smirk then leaned in and kissed her once more. This kiss a caress, a little hello as they met in the middle. Iris’s hands slid down and she splayed her fingers on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat and Eris growled against her lips, sending a shiver of delight down her spine. 

His lips left hers and Iris was about to protest when his hands slid to wrap around her waist again and he kissed the corner of her mouth instead then slid to pepper her jawline with more. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her when his lips slid to her neck and his tongue darted out to taste. She bit her lip to hold back a groan as Eris’s mouth explored and he certainly had no qualms about the noises that slipped from his lips. 

“You have terrible timing.” he whispered into her skin and Iris’s grip tightened on him. “How am I going to endure this visit now that I’ve gotten a taste of you? How am I supposed to pretend I don’t want to lay you here and taste every inch of you, Iris?”

“I won’t apologize for giving you an excellent thank-you gift.” she said breathlessly, her lips twitching when his head lifted from her neck to smirk at her. “You’ve only wanted it since you met me.”

“True.” he said quietly, his eyes holding the predatory gleam she knew so well. “I demand about a thousand more of them.”

The corner of her mouth curled up as Iris slid her hands around his waist and up his back, feeling every inch of his hard muscles through the layers of his clothing. Her eyes were glued to his as they stared at each other once more, the silence between them holding a steady, palpable tension. She wanted him closer, especially as his grip on her tightened again.

It was thrilling. To touch each other so openly, so easily. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself other than kiss him some more. Iris may have hesitated before but now — it seemed hard to resist. 

“I think I can manage that,” she whispered. “But we might be late.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Eris murmured and pressed his lips against hers again. And it wasn’t so much of a kiss as it was an ascension to heaven. 

Iris let out a soft whimper as Eris kissed her fiercely, their kiss a clash of fire. Heat like no other spread between them, their hearts ticking bombs, a volcano of emotions erupting; hands roaming, and suddenly, they couldn’t get close enough. It was an intensity she could barely process, could barely keep up with — but all Iris knew was this deep desire to stay wrapped in him. 

“Eris.” she breathed into him and then gasped when he pressed her firmly into him, feeling exactly how much he liked her lips on his. He kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans and every touch of his fingers sent a wave of pleasure that seemed to be unraveling her. She felt invigorated and Iris knew she was melting against him, knew she had become putty in his hands when she felt Eris’s smile against her lips.

“See what you’ve been missing, wife?” he murmured against her lips. 

“B-barely much.” she breathed and felt his chuckle tickle her lips as she leaned into him, unable to stop the constant need to have their lips meet. 

“Think of all the other places I will kiss you when we go home, ma —”

But Eris stiffened, the flame that had encased them immediately flaring out and Iris froze in his arms. Her brows furrowed in confusion until the sound of someone approaching became clearer and Eris’s entire demeanor changed. A blink was all it took for Eris’s face to fall back into the sneer he was known for. Another blink had Eris now in front of her, hands clasped behind his back, tension hardening the line of his shoulders as he faced away from her.

“What —”

“Helion may have granted me permission but that doesn’t mean I am always welcome whenever I visit.” he said quietly as the footsteps approached. His stance had hardly shifted but Iris knew he would be ready to strike. “If needed, you winnow right back —”

“Why would I leave?” Iris demanded. “I know how to fight! You taught me.”

“I know that.” he snapped as he looked at her over his shoulder. “But I’d rather wait to know what I’m up against before throwing my m — my wife into —” 

“No.” she objected, jutting out her chin. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Eris’s jaw clenched, cutting himself off when her firm gaze met his and he shuddered. “You’re going to end up being my biggest source of anxiety, aren’t you?” he mumbled with a scowl as she shifted next to him.

“I don’t have to be.” she said with a quirked brow and Eris noted the way she was leaning into his side, staring up at him challengingly. “Don’t try and make this my fault.”

“If you insist on being stubborn all the time and not following directions, it will be.” he said through clenched teeth and flared nostrils, his gaze ravenous as he looked at her. 

Iris swallowed as she watched him but then narrowed her eyes in return, her hands sliding to her hips as she leaned in closer. “I’m happy to follow directions if they make sense and those directions are something I actually want to do.”

“You’re supposed to follow directions even if you don’t want to.” he retorted, his eyes now on her lips, inches away from his. “Especially if it concerns your safety.”

“I don’t think my safety would be jeopardized if I’m with you, husband.” Iris replied, though her tone had no heat in it as the closeness of him threatened to overwhelm her. 

Eris’s own eyes narrowed and he snorted softly. “Your safety would absolutely be jeopardized if you were with me. Because you’re with me. Enough people dislike me to target you.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I have a knife then.” she shrugged, without losing his gaze.

“And an attitude of reckless endangerment. What an excellent combination,” he said, baring his teeth in a smile that would be threatening to most. Iris had to fight back the urge to kiss him all over again. 

“I can hold my own just fine.” she said firmly and hesitated before lowering her arms from her waist and gently placing a hand on his arm. “You should just listen to me and make things easy for yourself.” 

What Iris really wanted to say was, You’re my friend and my person. I don’t want to leave your side. Instead, she added, “Stop being an idiot.”

“I’m going to throttle you if you keep arguing with me over this.” he mused calmly, his hand coming to settle over hers without a single hesitation. “Your safety is non-negotiable.”

“Neither is yours.” she argued, and Eris tried not to roll his eyes. 

“You know I’ve fought in wars, yes? I will be fine.”

“You are a fool that is very close to getting stabbed.”

“I am a prince who most definitely does not want to get stabbed.”

“A prince that is a pain in the ass.”

“You are on thin ice with my patience, wife.” 

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it, husband?”

The two shared a breath as they seemingly forgot what the source of their argument was, too engrossed in staring at each other and fighting the urge to desperately touch again. Iris didn’t know if she had it in her to stop if they started again and Eris would definitely not be inclined to stop at all. 

Iris licked her lips. “If I kiss you again, will you relax?”

A soft smirk graced his face. “If you kiss me again, I will be the farthest thing possible from relaxed.”

“Hmm.” she mused. “I should definitely kiss you then. That’ll get you to shut up at least.”

“Maybe I should kiss you so you’d quit being so damn stubborn.”

Overwhelming need thumped through her veins as she stared at him and he stared at her. Had a simple kiss intensified whatever it was she was feeling now? It — it seemed ridiculous. Iris licked her lips again as she glanced at Eris, his gaze turning positively wicked. But as she opened her mouth to speak and put an end to this madness, another voice interrupted.

“If I were anyone else, you’d both be very dead by now.”

Eris’s sword flew out faster than Iris could blink, his eyes never leaving his wife as Iris whipped her head at the sound of the stranger’s voice and found who could only be their gracious host glancing at them. 

And Lucien was very, very amused. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting what seemed to be a very charged argument, brother dear.”

Eris finally looked away from Iris to shoot his brother a glare as Lucien stood there, hands raised by his head and a knowing smirk on his face with Eris’s sword at his throat. Eris spared Iris one more glance and squinted at the faint color gracing her lovely face, sensing her embarrassment. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t stab you in the throat.” he said tightly, his body relaxing as he slowly sheathed his sword once more and scowled at his brother. 

“I’m so thrilled at your enthusiasm to see me.” Lucien said with a grin, lowering his arms. “Somehow, I knew it was you causing fires on the outskirts of my home.” 

“Ah, fuck off.” Eris said with a wave of his hand as Lucien chuckled and Iris fought back a smile.

“I take it this isn’t the first time you brothers have drawn swords at each other.” Iris said lightly.

“Look at his obnoxious face. How could I not?” Eris demanded and Lucien snorted.

“If anyone here has cause to stab someone, it would be me stabbing you for being rude all the time.” Lucien said, crossing his arms. “I know that note came from you, asshole.”

Iris’s lips twitched and Eris watched her curiously as she raised her hand. “I would like to say, legally speaking, I am the only one allowed to stab him at this point,” she said calmly. “But since you are his brother, I will allow it if you ask nicely.”

Lucien glanced at Iris and tilted his head. He silently observed her for a moment and then smiled. “We’ve only just met and I am certain we will be the best of friends.”

Iris smiled warmly and held out a hand. “Agreed.” she said. “Iris. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the only brother Eris admits to having. You must be so proud.”

Lucien took her hand with both of his hands and squeezed it. “Lucien. And the pleasure is all mine.” he replied with a grin. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since I heard about your engagement. You’ve been within choking distance of my brother on a daily basis. I am very jealous.”

“He is very chokeable, isn’t he?” Iris said and glanced at Eris, her lips twitching at the deep scowl on his face. 

And it was a deep scowl indeed because Eris — he was feeling too many things at the moment. The high of kissing her was wearing off and now — now it was starting to catch up to him. 

Frankly, he was going to start freaking the fuck out. 

He…he had a mate. His wife was his mate. And he’d fucken finally kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her some more and possibly slowly peel that damned dress off her — goodness knows he had made an art out of fucking outdoors that he knew Iris would enjoy it too — except of course, of course, his insufferable brother just had to interrupt.

He should’ve stabbed him when he had the chance. 

Eris glanced at Iris and Lucien as they chatted softly. He heard nothing of what they were saying, only watched their lips moving and his heart did a strange spasm at the sight. Two important people of his life smiling at each other, likely talking about him, finally meeting.

He had the strongest urge to vomit.

Squinting himself back to reality, Eris’s face heated at the sound of Iris laughing and the urge to strangle his brother skyrocketed when Lucien high-fived Iris. They already had inside jokes. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“I am immediately objecting to this friendship.” he snapped then squinted at Lucien and pointed with one finger, his other hand clasping around Iris’s hand to tug her closer. “Keep your hands off my wife.”

Lucien rolled his eyes and then gave his brother a curious look. “Sensitive today, are we, brother?”

“One more word out of you and I’ll show you exactly how sensitive I can be.” he sneered and glanced down at Iris when she nudged his side.

She gave him a pointed look. “We just arrived. Be nice.”

“But I don’t like him.” Eris argued calmly and Iris rolled her eyes. 

“Should I tell him what you said to me the first time I asked you about him to debunk that statement?”

Eris’s eyes narrowed as he took in his beautiful wife’s teasing expression and gods, if Lucien wasn’t standing right there, he’d devour her. 

“I have no recollection of such a conversation,” he said haughtily then promptly turned to his brother. “Take us to your better half. I like her more than I like you.”

Lucien shot Eris a look that was too knowing for his own good; it was easy to see that Lucien already had so much he wanted to say and it made Eris want to winnow home and avoid the whole thing. As if sensing that one word from him would send Eris bolting, all Lucien did was wave a gracious hand and walk them toward his home. 

And now, they sat in Lucien and Elain’s home, trying to pretend the kiss and grand revelations hadn’t happened. Trying to pretend everything was fine and they hadn’t been interrupted. 

Desperately trying not to pounce on his wife.

Elain had given them such a warm welcome, Eris would forever be grateful to her for making Iris comfortable right away and he tried to focus, to pay attention to the conversation around them as two of his favorite people got to know each other. He nearly choked on his drink twice.

His mate.

Everything suddenly made so much sense.

And simultaneously, everything just got so much worse. 

He sensed Iris watching him and his hands tightened around his glass. She had no idea, did she? He wasn’t sure if Iris was actually aware of what Eris had figured out. He also hadn’t had a chance to really process what happened and it was all too much. He couldn’t look at her for too long — everything in him ached when he did. Was this what a mating bond was supposed to feel like? 

Someone that was all his own. Someone that was his in a way no one would ever be.

He hated it. This feeling of losing control. Having feelings at all.

Having a mate. 

Oh gods, he liked that more than he’d care to admit. 

He shot back his drink in one gulp then held out his glass that Lucien warily refilled. Iris gave him a bewildered look as she placed her own glass gently on the table then turned back to Elain and Lucien who were watching the two of them with barely contained amusement.

“You have such a beautiful home.” she finally said with a smile. “It’s so cozy and welcoming.”

“Thank you!” Elain said brightly. “Lucien and I really wanted a place that felt that way. Neither of us is much for fanfare.”

“If it was up to Helion, we would be living lavishly inside his obnoxious palace but he was nice enough to let us venture on our own here.” Lucien said with a chuckle.

“That’s very generous of him.” Iris commented. “I didn’t realize you had such a close relationship with him.”

Lucien stole a glance at a mute Eris who only glared at his brother and then gave Iris a small smile. “He has been incredibly good to us both.”

“Eris mentioned you play the piano beautifully.” Elain jumped in with a smile. “Lucien plays really well too! You two will have to play us a song together at some point.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” Iris said, smiling widely, and glanced at Eris who still avoided looking at her. “I’d love that! This one has never offered.”

“That’s because he’s terrible at it.” Lucien said with a mischievous grin towards his brother. “Did Eris ever tell you about the one and only time he attempted to play the piano? He was so bad at it, that the instructor resigned almost immediately due to the levels of distress he caused.”

Iris raised her brows at her husband who rolled his eyes at the chuckles around him and finally spoke stiffly, “That idiot was terrible at his job, stuttering like an imbecile. How am I expected to learn to play the piano if his fingers were trembling all over the place?” he asked indignantly.

“As if a measly instructor could stand against the wrath of a tiny Eris.” Elain teased.

“You must’ve petrified him immediately,” Iris commented with a small smile and glanced his way. Eris licked his lips, his gaze flickering to Iris’s mouth and then back up at her eyes. 

“I like instilling fear. It gets people to do what I want much quicker.”

“I doubt that always works for you, does it?”

“There has ever only been one exception, wife.” he replied with a raised brow and Iris flushed, the atmosphere between them immediately tensing.

It took all of his willpower not to pounce on her instantly. He hadn't tasted anything he’d been offered since they arrived and if Lucien and Elain noticed the scent change, they were gracious enough not to show it. His mind kept wandering to what her skin would taste like. What she would look like when he had her splayed before him and spread those lovely thighs to —

He scowled immediately. This was absolutely ridiculous. He was more self-composed than this. Eris would not let himself become an imbecile just because they had kissed and happened to be mates. He stole a glance at his wife as she continued conversing with their hosts.

Mine.

His grip tightened on his glass. In a way, this reaction made absolute sense with the way they’d moved so carefully around each other before. Were they both so pathetic that kissing would seemingly destroy the self-control they had? 

Eris swallowed, ignoring another look from Lucien, focusing only on the drink in his hand. As long as Iris didn’t move too close to him or touch him, he would be fine. He could be composed. He was a Prince.

Who really, really, really wanted to kiss his wife again. And do many, many other things to her.

He stole another glance at Iris and immediately regretted it as she smiled at Lucien then much to his dismay, cautiously placed a hand on Eris’s thigh as she continued, “Eris mentioned you —”

She didn’t get a chance to finish the statement as the glass in his hand shattered and Iris’s head snapped towards her husband in shock.

A beat of silence passed then Eris glanced down at what remained of the glass in his hand and blinked up at his brother. “I think my drink was too strong.” he said lamely.

He shouldn’t have looked at her again but he did and swallowed as Iris’s mouth fell open then closed, baffled for a moment, her eyes flickering between his tense face and his now bleeding hand. She blanched at the sight.

“Are you alright?” Iris demanded and despite her tone, gently took his hand in hers to inspect it.

“I don’t think you should do that.” Eris said tightly. If she kept touching him, he would not make it through the rest of the day. 

“You’re bleeding.” she snapped. “You might have little pieces of glass stuck in your hand and I don’t want you to —”

“Iris — wait —”

“— I need to clean it and then —”

“Lucien.” Eris snapped, snatching his hand out of Iris’s grip, and glanced at his brother with wide eyes. “I need to walk off this drink.”

“I — okay.” Lucien said with a confused glance to his wife then shot his brother a bewildered look. “We can take a walk outside.” 

Iris frowned at her empty hands then looked up at Eris, annoyed. “Well, let me clean your hands first, Eris.”

“I can get something for that — “ Elain began but Eris cut everyone off as he stood abruptly.

“I need fresh air.” he said hoarsely and gestured to the shattered glass. “Nobody touches that. I will clean it.”

“Eris – “ Iris tried again but he whirled rather wildly towards her and she froze.

“Wife.” he rasped. “If I stay here for another moment, I will do something very, very stupid and will not have a single slither of regret. Now, if you will all excuse me, I will walk this drink off.”

And the three of them watched silently as Eris briskly exited the room.

Lucien paused for a moment and looked at Iris curiously as she stared after her husband in disbelief. 

“Well.” Elain blinked. “That was rather dramatic of him.”

“I can’t believe him.” she muttered then turned to Elain. “I’m so sorry for the mess. I don’t know what made that happen but let me go check on —.”

“I’ll go see what’s wrong.” Lucien interrupted gently. “He’s my brother. I can handle this.”

Iris took a step forward but paused as Lucien waved her off with a reassuring smile. She gave Lucien a tight smile in return as he left to follow Eris and bit her lip. He had — that was — she wasn’t sure what that was but Iris could only stand dumbfounded.

“That doesn’t mean they’re going to hit each other, does it?” Iris asked quietly after a moment, her eyes still searching for wherever Eris had escaped to. 

“Maybe, but it’s all done lovingly,” Elain said and Iris turned to find her holding back a laugh. “Being affectionate with each other makes them nauseous.”

“Not surprising in the slightest.” Iris said then shook her head with a sigh, holding out her hands. “I’m sorry if things are…tense.”

Elain’s lips twitched. “Don’t even worry about it…first meetings and all.” she began gently. “Did something happen before you came? You seem to be worried about him.”

Iris flushed instantly and looked away from Elain towards the door Eris had exited from. 

Did something happen? Why, yes. She had finally kissed her husband and had been about two seconds away from climbing him like a tree. Iris bit her lip and glanced at Elain who encouragingly patted Iris’s arm. 

“Don’t feel pressured to say anything. I just want to make you feel comfortable.”

Iris groaned. “You’re so nice. I’m sorry we’re being — whatever this is.” she immediately said, waving a hand and Elain laughed.

“It’s fine! You have no idea how strange it is to see Eris with a wife.”

“You have no idea how strange it is being Eris’s wife.” she said with a huff of laughter. “He’s so…. ridiculous. What kind of exit was that!”

“He’s always been that way.” Elain said with a chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried. I’m definitely going to choke him later for this.”

Elain raised a brow then smiled knowingly. “Will you? You seemed very concerned a few moments ago.”

Iris blinked then as calmly as possible said, “I can’t stand him actually.”

“You’re about to break your neck to see him through the window.”

“I want to break his neck,” Iris replied, momentarily distracted when she saw her husband pass by said window. She could tell he was frustrated by his pacing and it made her tense. Was he — was he truly upset by the timing of their kiss? She knew he liked it but something — something had shifted his thought process. Iris had hardly been given a moment to really think it all through, but Eris seemed ready to launch himself into the sun.

It was just a kiss. A kiss that felt so…right. At least for her. 

Iris narrowed her eyes at the open window even though Eris hadn’t passed by it again. Had she done something wrong? Was it bothering him that she was friendly with Lucien after all the jokes she made about him? She blinked. That couldn’t be it. He had been looking forward to them being friends.

“Yes, that is the exact look someone has when they want to break someone’s neck.” Elain said with a laugh and Iris turned back to her sister-in-law. She gave Elain a sheepish smile and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Again, I’m sorry.” she said quietly, her fists clenching then unclenching. “We had a…difficult morning before coming here and then had a bit of a moment right before we came —”

“Yes, Lucien mentioned something about that.” Elain said and Iris’s face flushed again at the grin on her face. She opened her mouth then closed it, brows furrowed.

“How?” she then demanded. “He was with us the whole time.”

“Mating bond,” was all Elain offered then giggled at Iris’s indignant expression. “I have to say, I’m very happy that you two seem to be getting along well.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I wanted to break his neck?” 

Which, of course, was a lie anyone could see right through. Iris wanted to kiss his neck maybe. See how he liked it if Iris decided to get a taste of him the way he had teased her outside.

“Getting along very well, it seems.” Elain said and Iris was mortified to realize the scent of the room had changed. 

“Oh gods.” came her response and Elain let out a hearty laugh as Iris covered her face. “I’m so sorry. This is disgusting. We just met — I’m in your home — this is absolutely his fault for behaving like a —”

Elain only patted her back sympathetically and tried not to laugh again. “Please, don’t apologize. This is extremely amusing.” she said. “Besides, I lived with my sister and her mate for a while. I’ve learned to very quickly tune out anything I don’t wish to see, smell, or hear.”

Iris pursed her lips, squinting at Elain who poorly attempted to hide her glee.

“To be fair, this is our first time out in public where we can be comfortable with each other.” Iris muttered, fingers smoothing down the fabric of her dress. “Usually, we have to pretend I’m a doormat and he’s a maniac.”

“Oh, I understand.” Elain said with a snort, “Try to pretend you don’t want to jump his bones while your sisters and their friends are all in one room.” 

Iris tilted her head curiously. “Eris mentioned you and Lucien took time to get to know each other.” 

Elain smiled down at her hands. “I had a hard time coming to terms with turning fae and getting a mate all in one breath.” she said and glanced at Iris. “Once I let myself give Lucien a chance, it was a whole different battle trying not to have everyone else know I wanted him just by being in the same room.”

The corner of Iris’s mouth lifted at Elain’s expression. “I bet Lucien enjoyed that.”

“He kept behaving like a true gentleman which only made me feel like a wild woman desperate to get his clothes off.”

Iris laughed then gave Elain a pointed look, thinking of every moment her husband had said the most scandalous things to her. “Yeah, no. Eris is just a heathen. Nothing gentlemanly there.”

Elain snorted. “Sure.” she teased. “Judging by the glass all over my floor, I’d say he’s struggling a lot more than you think.”

At the reminder, Iris rubbed a hand to her forehead, roses blooming on her cheeks. He had been right. Kissing him right before this visit had been a terrible idea. Now she wanted to hurtle herself into the sun. 

“I should go check on him.” she said quietly, giving Elain a small smile. “As much as I want to punch him in the face much of the time, I — I want to make sure he’s okay.”

Elain’s gaze softened and she shared Iris’s smile. “He’ll be fine, Lucien pushes his buttons but he’ll make sure Eris is okay.”

Iris nodded slowly, her gaze back towards the open window where she could see Eris and Lucien talking in the distance. She had to fight back the urge to follow him and instead turned back to Elain, who was watching her with that same smile.

Flushing, Iris let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry. This is all…” she started and waved a hand. “Very new for me.” 

Elain chuckled. “I’ll bet.” Her sister-in-law watched her for a moment then spoke gently, “He’s been very lonely, you know.” she said. “He pretends otherwise but…I think he’s needed someone like you for a long while now.” 

Iris felt her smile slowly slide off her face and she glanced down at her hands. 

“Eris always says how we’re two sides of the same coin,” she began in a low voice. “The more time I spend with him, the more I see how much we work well together. How much we…match.”

Even if it scared the living shit out of her.

“It didn’t start off that way though, did it.” Elain said, the corner of her mouth ticking up.

Iris shook her head and said softly, “No, it did not…but I think we were meant to find each other. Unpleasant circumstances aside, I…am glad for it.” She licked her lips and tugged gently at her ear. “I’m assuming he, uh, mentioned how we got married.”

“He might have.” Elain said slyly and Iris rolled her eyes.

“He comes by here often enough, doesn’t he?” she asked with a chuckle as she glanced around the home. “My beautiful flowers are always from you.” 

Elain laughed and reached out to squeeze Iris’s hand. “I hope that’s okay.” she said gently. “I’m always so happy he feels comfortable sharing with Lucien and me. They haven’t had it easy. We’ve gotten a lot closer.”

Elain gave Iris a warm smile as she continued, “Despite the rough start you two had, I’m glad he has you to shake him up and get him out of the mold everyone keeps trying to shove him in.” she said. “You see him. And he needs that more than anything. He isn’t used to kind or gentle and Eris may not want that all the time but he certainly needs it.”

Kindness. Iris thought about that word and what her mother-in-law had told her.

“You and Lady Enya share similar thoughts.” 

“She is our mother-in-law and we both strongly disliked her sons at first.” Elain said with a wink. “This wouldn’t be the first time she’s dealt with this.” 

Iris let out a chuckle, smoothing down her dress again. “The last thing I ever expected was Eris Vanserra to be kind to me.” she said quietly. “It’s been so…unexpected.”

Elain smiled knowingly. “I felt so wary of Lucien at first. I didn’t want anything to do with him.” she said then shrugged as her smile turned fond. “But we were meant to find each other too. He was my mate for a reason and despite the circumstances of our meeting, Lucien was one of the best things that happened to me.”

A mate. Gods, Iris thought. She had gone into this marriage barely wanting a husband but now…she not only had a husband, but a friend. She wondered if…would it be silly to think that Eris could be her mate? The intensity between them would certainly make sense but…mates were equals in some way and Eris…well, she certainly was not on equal footing. 

He was the son of a High Lord. She was the daughter of a fiend. 

A shitty father was the common denominator between them but…he was still hers now. Her husband.

And her shitty father couldn’t take that away from her.

The word mine flashed through her mind.

She pursed her lips and rubbed at her forehead gently. Too much was happening so fast. Too many emotions, too many feelings. Iris wasn’t so sure she was ready for everyone to know exactly how she was feeling. Until she felt brave enough to figure it out.

“I…tolerate him.” she finally said and Elain rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Right.”

Iris gave her sister-in-law a pointed look, changing the subject. “He speaks so highly of you. I want to know more about you and Lucien. I’d love to know what it’s been like to live in this court.”

“And know more about Eris too, I presume?” Elain asked and it was Iris’s turn to roll her eyes at the suggestive look on her sister-in-law’s face.

“If you’d like to share.” Iris said casually. “I guess it would be interesting to know what he’s like through your eyes.” 

“You guess, huh?” Elain asked with a wiggle of her brow and Iris’s lips twitched.

“I wouldn’t say no to whatever you decided to share.” she said with an air of indifference and Elain laughed.

“The first time I was in direct contact with him after the war was at a ball.” Elain began with a grin. “We didn’t even speak to each other, we just observed each other from a distance. I think he was trying to scope me out and tell Lucien about me.” She rolled her eyes with another fond smile. “He ended up proposing to my sister that evening.”

“Did he now?” Iris asked with as light of a tone as possible. She would not get jealous of something that happened before her time or of Elain’s mysterious sister who had to be magnificent to get a reaction like that from Eris. Nope, she would not be jealous at all.

Elain froze. “Had he not mentioned that?” she squeaked and Iris snorted.

“No, but I am very intrigued,” she said. “Please Elain, don’t hold back now.” 

Like a deer caught in the wild, Elain blinked rapidly as her cheeks turned pink and Iris couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I think I should stop talking.” Elain said promptly.

“And I think we should take a walk in your beautiful garden that Eris is always raving about and make fun of my husband.” Iris said with a pointed look. “You’re the only one I can get true intel from, Elain.”

Elain groaned, covering her face with her hands which only made Iris smile. “I shouldn’t have said anything! I feel terrible!”

Iris chuckled and nudged her with a shoulder. “There’s nothing to feel terrible about. This was before my time and besides, you really expect Eris to tell me about something like that?” she said with an eye roll. “Eris sharing anything is like him trying to pass a kidney stone the size of a building.” 

Elain snorted and then doubled over laughing. “Oh, you! I like you.” she said and then gave her a sly look. “You’re right. Let’s take a walk and get to know each other better. I’ll spill some secrets while we’re at it that you absolutely did not get from me.”

Looping an arm through Elain’s, Iris patted her hand. “Secrets? What secrets?” Iris said airily. “We’re just going to take a walk and you’re going to tell me all about your lovely garden.”

“Of course.” Elain agreed with a serious nod. “Nothing about your husband, of course.”

“Naturally. Talking about him is nauseating.”

Elain let out a laugh and shook her head. “Yes, so nauseating you can’t keep your eyes off him for a moment.” 

And indeed, the moment Iris stepped outside, her eyes locked in on her husband and his pacing once more. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

[writeriguess]

Request. Draco Malfoy x fem reader where they are enemies but have feelings for each other.

The common room at Malfoy Manor was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening. You and Draco Malfoy, despite your intense animosity toward each other, had managed to establish an unusual arrangement—one that went beyond mere hostility. The tension between you two had evolved into something far more complicated: a relationship of convenience and desire, hidden behind a facade of mutual disdain.

It was a game you both played—one of sharp words, heated arguments, and secret encounters. Draco had a knack for showing up just when you least expected it, and tonight was no exception. You were lounging in a comfortable armchair, flipping through a book with little interest, when you heard the familiar, unmistakable sound of footsteps.

“Still pretending to read, are we?” Draco’s voice was laced with his usual smirk as he entered the room, his presence commanding attention.

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to look up. “Oh, Malfoy. I didn’t realize you were so keen on disrupting my peace.”

Draco’s smirk widened as he closed the distance between you. “Peace is overrated, especially when it means missing out on our little... arrangement.”

The air between you crackled with an electric tension, the kind that had become all too familiar. You set your book aside, turning your gaze to meet his. “What do you want this time? Another round of insults or something more... entertaining?”

Draco’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Maybe a bit of both. But tonight, I’m feeling particularly adventurous.”

He moved closer, his hand brushing against yours in a way that was both deliberate and intimate. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and despite your best efforts to remain aloof, your heart raced with anticipation.

“Adventurous?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re full of surprises.”

Draco’s expression grew more serious, his gaze locking onto yours. “You know as well as I do that this... whatever this is between us, it’s more than just physical. There’s a fire here that neither of us can ignore.”

His words were a challenge, and you felt a surge of defiance and desire coursing through you. You stood up, closing the distance between you. “You’re not wrong about that,” you said, your voice low and steady. “But don’t think for a second that I’ll make this easy for you.”

Draco’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with something softer, more genuine. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Before you could respond, Draco cupped your face in his hands, his fingers brushing against your skin with a surprising tenderness. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours in a heated, urgent kiss.

The kiss was fierce and demanding, a clash of passion and frustration. You responded with equal intensity, your hands gripping his shirt as you pulled him closer. The world outside the common room ceased to exist, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours and the tumultuous emotions that swirled between you.

When Draco finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your faces flushed with the heat of the kiss. His eyes were dark with desire, and there was a vulnerability in his expression that you rarely saw.

“This,” he said softly, his breath mingling with yours, “is what I meant by adventurous. I want more than just our usual games.”

You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “And what exactly do you want, Malfoy?”

Draco’s gaze softened, and he traced his fingers lightly along your jawline. “I want us to stop pretending. I want to acknowledge what’s really between us.”

You took a deep breath, your emotions swirling. The kiss had revealed something raw and unspoken, a deeper connection that neither of you had fully admitted to before. “Fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But if we’re doing this, we do it on our own terms.”

Draco’s lips curled into a genuine smile. “Deal.”

With that, the tension between you shifted, replaced by a newfound understanding. You were still enemies, still prone to arguments and sharp retorts, but there was now an undercurrent of something more—a recognition of the intense, complicated feelings that existed between you.

As you both stood there, the firelight casting flickering shadows on the walls, you knew that whatever came next, it would be a journey you were both willing to explore together. For now, you relished in the heated kiss and the promise of more adventures to come, each one a testament to the fiery connection that defined your unique relationship.

4o mini

[platypotoo]

I started watching the show assuming (from pictures and such) that Sydney and C*rmy are the main couple. I didn't even know Richie existed.

But having finished the second season just now, I can't feel anything romantic between Syd and C*rmy. I expected to like them together, even to ship them at least a little. But I just don't.

Syd and Richie on the other hand? Wow.

In season 1, where they absolutely hate each other most of the time, their interactions are already so meaningful:

- The first time that we as viewers see Richie be vulnerable, Syd sees it too.

- His worry whether she is okay after the gunshots. Should be normal between colleagues, but... they used to dislike each other so much...

- When Syd resolves the fight between the gangsters, Richie looks at her in irritation, but also almost... awe? It also makes him actively change at this point already, actively change himself and how he sees certain things.

It's really a testament to the writing of this show, to the complexity of its characters that Richie is such a scumbag in season 1, in some ways saying exactly what you'd expect a guy like him to say, yet he could have been so much worse. He never crosses a certain line. And then in season 2, he becomes so much better.

Their interactions kind of hit me like a freight train - completely unexpected, raw, realistic, extremely emotional, almost forceful.

Thematically, too. The very new one and one of the oldest. At the beginning: always at each other's throats. Fighting, pulling, pushing. Is it possible that they might find peace with each other? Find even more?

The structure of season 2 had the main cast interact less, and since Syd and C*rmy were the ones working most closely together, I was sure that the strange vibes I got between her and Richie would disappear in favour of Syd/C*rmy. But except for the table scene (which I just didn’t read as romantic, more a continuation of Syd's personal arc), there were very few meaningful scenes between Syd and C*rmy.

There weren't many big scenes between Syd and Richie either, but... nobody really expected them to. However, we did get two scenes of weird awkwardness, like they didn’t know how to behave around each other without fighting. (her jumping away when nearly bumping into him! Their weird interaction when she's seeing him in a suit for the first time! "You smell good"?! Wtf? Ultimately it probably means nothing but I can't stop thinking about it!!) And of course the one scene in the last episode, when they are more than amicable colleagues - they are the perfect team without ever training together, same focus, same drive to make things exactly as they should be, helping each other, supporting each other and being impressed by each other.

It's just so weird how Sydrichie completely surprised me. I wouldn't even call it only "chemistry" or something. It's their entire dynamic, the way they made each other madly, almost exaggeratedly emotional in season 1, then went on parallel paths apart from each other - did some soul searching, improved themselves - and ended up as this weirdly perfect force together. I never expected it. I've never seen anything like it.

Right now, I think there's a 50:50 chance that in canon nobody of The Be*r's staff gets romantically involved, or that Syd gets together with M*rcus. No other option is realistic. But I'll be thinking about her with Richie for a good long while.

[theflyindutchwoman]

You know, you're good at a lot of things. Lying isn't one of them. You think I'm good at things? Can I get that in writing?

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 1.20 - Free Fall

The symbolism of Tim and Lucy being separated by a wall is extremely fitting… and poetic. She spent their first six months together seeing through the façade he put on, getting through him like no one else… So ending the season with a physical barrier between them seems apt : one more obstacle before their relationship entirely shifts. And while Tim only slammed the door on Lucy to protect her from being infected as well, she still sticked by his side, refusing to leave him alone… he still allowed himself to be emotionally vulnerable with her… And that summarises their early dynamic wonderfully : him trying to push her away with her staying and getting him to open up to her...

Even separated, there's still this connection, this feeling of togetherness that shines through the scene. Their little heart-to-heart on each side of the door is so touching. Both of them sitting on the floor, mirroring each other… Although Lucy's body is slightly more inclined towards Tim at first. Which makes sense : she's usually more open while he's more guarded. But his head turns towards her before long, as if he's instinctively looking for comfort, drawing support from her on the other side. She's doing her best to cheer him up and reassure him… But she's anxious nonetheless : it's a small detail but she rubs her collarbone while checking in with him, a gesture she often does when she's getting nervous or on the edge of panicking… only nowadays it's her side that she touches, where her DOD tattoo is.

Despite the tension and the bleakness of the situation, they still manage to make the other smile. Tim telling her she's good at a lot of things, except lying, and Lucy teasing him about needing him to write down his compliment feel like their classic banter. She's trying to take his mind off what's happening and judging by his little smile, it works. It is some much-needed levity… if only for a minute. There's still a crack in his voice though. They're both trying to remain strong for the other but it's getting harder to mask. She can hear the fear in his voice and he knows it. He can hear the worry in hers. The choice of having the camera move from Lucy to Tim in one shot, at that precise moment, is perfect : physical touch is something they use to ground themselves. But not only were they not quite at that stage of their relationship, they physically couldn't. This shot brilliantly - and metaphorically - emphasises how close they are, and yet how far they still are… This is also a bit of a role reversal from Redwood, with Lucy being the one trying to keep his mind out of the worst case scenario and making him talk. The quivering lips, shaking voice… Tim is so terrified - for good reasons. He's not the only one. Lucy is just as scared for him, her tears falling when he admits he'll take his own life first if it comes to that. But the fact that he is hidden by a door also allows Tim to break down, to be extremely vulnerable - in some ways even more so than with everything that happened with Isabel. There's something completely primal in his fear here. They're both so powerless and this isn't something they're good at. All this display of vulnerability and honesty showcase how close they already are, how much Tim already trusts Lucy with his emotions. The way they keep glancing at each other once the door opens… She needs the reassurance that he's alright and he needs the eye contact - she was his lifeline behind the wall after all. He needs her comforting presence for a little bit longer, still reeling and feeling raw.

Something shifted between them at the quarantine house, and despite Tim's best efforts to rebuild some walls, they are both passed that… The bets, the bantering, the flirting of early season 02 : this moment made all of that possible. This was such a pivotal moment in their relationship… with the wall / door imagery starting to be an ongoing motif in their journey as well.

[denimbex1986]

'Last month, the BBC offered an apology of sorts after a red-carpet reporter at the Baftas asked Andrew Scott, star of the film All of Us Strangers, about fellow Irish actor Barry Keoghan’s appendage. This had been the subject of conversation thanks to Keoghan’s naked dancing in the film, Saltburn, in which Keoghan’s floppy bishop steals the final scene. To settle this nagging concern the BBC turned to a gay man. ‘There was a lot of talk about prosthetics. How well do you know him?’ the reporter asked an annoyed Scott who shook his head and walked away.

Had a female actress been asked to authenticate another woman’s breasts, the scandal that would have ensued goes without mentioning, but the BBC dusted it off. ‘Our question to Andrew Scott was meant to be a light-hearted reflection of the discussion around the scene and was not intended to cause offence,’ the organisation said.

The gynarchy has made clear that objectifying men is perfectly fine and, after all, what’s a little light-hearted homophobia when gay movies are having a renaissance? All of Us Strangers – nominated for six Baftas but ultimately snubbed, and Saltburn, nominated for five – joined a handful of other gay titles that studios have banked on attracting an audience beyond the 4 per cent of the population who might traditionally see those films.

Where the box office didn’t pay off, critical acclaim largely has. 2020’s Supernova, staring Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci as a 60-something gay couple, and last year’s drama Passages directed by Ira Sachs, have also inched into a market where such movies typically didn’t belong.

‘Why are gay movies always so sad,’ people used to ask in the 1990s. Thirty years later, nothing has changed. Gay flicks tend to have three themes – loneliness, death, and villainy – and this recent batch of movies is no exception. The miniseries Feud: Capote vs. The Swans, released last month and based on writer Truman Capote’s final years, nicely encompasses all three.

‘New film All of us Strangers centers on gay loneliness and trauma,’ a headline on NBC News read, as though that’s anything new. And while I don’t know what ‘trauma’ is, I do know that gay people have always fixated on it and, increasingly, so does everyone else. Gay films haven’t changed, but the audience has. Women are lonelier, more promiscuous, and more atomised than ever and now they’ve discovered a whole sub-genre of cinema speaking to that and aiming to nurture those anxieties. Just a hunch, but the ladies sobbing along at home to Supernova are probably childless and spend many hours a week on Zoom calls.

When a gay film meanders too deeply into gay insider baseball, like Billy Eichner’s 2022 romantic comedy Bros, it bombs. The most resonate gay movie of all time might continue to be 1970’s The Boys in the Band, but the 2020 remake flopped, probably because it’s a story devoid of hope and beauty, only messiness and casual destruction –something gay men understand but remains far too raw and excruciating for women to enjoy.

Then there’s the other side of it – the neutered gay fan fiction written by and for women, like Amazon Prime’s horrendously stupid 2023 film Red, White & Royal Blue, which offers women magical gay pets to carry around in their dreams. When I asked the feminist writer Louise Perry about these films, she said:

"These are usually gay relationships represented in a uniquely feminine way: intensely emotional, no casual sex, very unlike gay porn for men.

I suspect that young women find these gay fantasies attractive because they’re scared of the asymmetries inherent to straight relationships, in which women are always the more physically vulnerable party. So, they invent fictional gay men and give them a style of sexuality more typical of women.

She continued: ‘Will & Grace was obviously created for women because the gay male characters are weirdly asexual,’ reiterating something gay men have speculated for some time, noting that the bitchy and boozy, heterosexual Karen Walker was the only character they gravitated toward.

That’s not to say women can’t write great gay stories. Brokeback Mountain, the most critically acclaimed gay movie of all time, was based on a short story by Annie Proulx, who revealed in a 2009 interview her frustration with fan letters wishing the story had ended on a positive note. Those ‘idiots’ who want a happy ending, she said, overwhelmingly tended to be men.'