#The sheer panic in Lightning's eyes

[thepencilnerd]

Feels Like Trouble

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television. warnings: cringe flirting, depiction of boundary-pushing behavior, mutual pining, protective!Robby genre: fluff, slow burn, banter, crack vibes, emotional constipation, robbie's love language is acts of service, strong!reader energy because women run the world word count: 6.3k a/n: robby in his protective, simmering, quietly feral era + men anticipating my needs without me having to ask is my roman empire. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | And Through It All) if you're interested <3

It started at the nurses’ station.

You were finishing up notes from a back-to-back shift, hair a mess, sleeves rolled, running purely on caffeine and spite. You barely registered the med student who leaned in a little too close—Jackson, of course. Jackson, who everyone knew had barely scraped through med school with a transcript that looked like a cry for help and a reputation for quoting his frat days like gospel. Jackson, who thought calling women 'Doc' in a tone meant to charm was somehow endearing. So, yeah. Not a great dude, to say the absolute least.

"Hey, Dr. L/N," Jackson said with that ever-present grin, leaning just a little too close. "You, uh... ever take pity on exhausted interns and grab a drink after shift?"

You gave a polite smile. "I’m not really a spirits person, but thanks."

Jackson blinked. "Huh?"

"You said drink, right? I’m more of a coffee or tea girl. Caffeine over cocktails."

He opened his mouth like he was going to try again, but you were already turning back to your chart.

"Good luck today!" you said cheerfully, not noticing the groan from your colleagues. Just around the corner, Mateo muttered to Javadi, "That’s the fourth time this week. It’s painful, man."

Javadi sipped her carton of apple juice with focused precision, attention directed solely on your ability to brush off such obvious advances without it getting in the way of your work. "Seventh, actually. If you count the half-made attempt on Monday. She's bulletproof."

"Try Jackson-proof," Mateo scoffed.

Two beds down, King leaned over to Langdon with her gloved hands clasped and asked, "Why does Jackson keep hovering around Dr. L/N like a... rabid mosquito?"

Langdon just smiled knowingly, looking over to the nurses' station where the man of the hour sat. "Don’t worry. Robby'll take care of it. Eventually."

Unbeknownst to you, Robby had been watching the entire interaction—and every interaction before that. If any med student so much as breathed near you with less-than-pure intentions, he was up in arms, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

There was that time Whitaker nearly took your eye out when a patient came in with a nail embedded in his femur; the force of pulling it out snapped Whitaker’s elbow backward—only for Robby's hand to catch it mid-swing before it could clock you in the face. Or when Santos nearly sliced your finger open as you gently guided her through her first incision—Robby had materialized behind her in the span of a gasp, steadying her hands with a calm correction that masked sheer panic. Or when Javadi passed out for the second time during a gnarly pelvic realignment and collapsed straight into you, nearly giving you a concussion from her deadweight—Robby had been there then, too, catching you both with lightning reflexes and barely concealed fury.

At this point, the only person in the hospital who hadn’t triggered Robby’s internal security system was Mel. And that was only because she kept a respectful three-foot radius and shared snacks with you during breaks. The two of you had a quiet little tradition—inviting her out to try the new cat café when it opened downtown, or attending weekend adoption events together like it was a team-building exercise. Langdon once joked that she was the third wheel in the most wholesome slow-burn romcom he'd ever seen. Mel's only response was two blinks and a single nod of acknowledgement.

Everyone in the ER noticed your dynamic—the way you and Robby worked together like a well-oiled machine, never needing to speak aloud to know what the other needed. It was intuitive. Rhythmic. Like watching a dance you’d been rehearsing for years.

Still, only a handful of people actually knew about your relationship. Abbot, Collins, McKay, Dana, Langdon, and Mel.

Abbot had been Robby’s sounding board from the very beginning. Back when Robby was still pacing around the break room, torn between professionalism and the undeniable, slow-burning pull he felt toward you, it was Abbot who told him to get over himself and ask you out. Life was too short for regrets.

Collins, McKay, and Dana didn’t know officially—but they knew. The meaningful glances, the subtle handoffs of coffee, the shared silences that were too loaded to be casual. They never said a word because they lived for the soap-opera-worthy drama of it all.

Langdon and Mel were on the same wavelength. They hadn’t caught you red-handed, but their spidey senses were borderline clairvoyant. They never probed, never asked. Just watched it unfold like a plotline they already knew the ending to.

Besides them, the rest of the department remained blissfully unaware—except for the way Robby’s entire demeanor shifted over a year ago. A quiet warmth started to replace his usual stoicism. People credited it to the anonymous private donation made to the ER around the same time.

But the truth was, it had nothing to do with money.

It was you. 

You, of course, were oblivious to whatever other people thought or said—unless it had something to do with your patients. Robby sometimes joked that you were pathologically unbothered, something he made a mental note to ask you about, and he wasn’t wrong. The rumors from the nurses, the looks from the interns, the knowing smirks from Dana or Langdon? All of it flew over your head like air traffic.

Maybe you just didn’t see it. Didn’t see how Robby’s entire world seemed to tilt when you entered a room. How effortlessly the two of you moved in sync like second nature—side by side in trauma bays, tossing instruments, treatment plans, and glances back and forth like muscle memory. Everyone else could see it.

You were always focused on the next decision, the next step, the next person who needed your help. You didn’t think about what you needed until the shift was over—if ever. Your well-being came last, always.

But not to Robby. Never to Robby.

He noticed everything.

The slump in your shoulders. The faint crease in your forehead when a headache was starting to set in. He knew when you were on the verge of running on empty, when your patience was thinning, when you hadn’t eaten since sunrise. He never made a show of it. He just acted.

He didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t expect you to remember to need anything.

Because he already knew. He just... knew.

Your coffee, brewed and sweetened exactly how you liked it, would be waiting for you at the nurses’ station first thing in the morning. A second cup at lunch—always packed, always hot, even if you never had time to drink it. He’d drop it off like it was routine, like it was no big deal, because he knew the odds of you being pulled into another case mid-sip were astronomical.

Your favorite sandwich from the cafeteria, left quietly on your desk with a sticky note that said, “Eat this or I’m calling your mother.” You'd sooner pass out from hunger than remember to eat. He knew that. So he took the thinking out of it for you.

And after the longest days—those days where you'd made a thousand decisions, answered a hundred questions, led back-to-back codes—he’d cook dinner at his place. Quietly, without fanfare, and pieced together with the same kind of intention you gave your patients. He’d hand you a glass of water—because that was one other thing that you along with 80% of the population deprived yourself of—and steer you to the couch while he handled the rest. Just so you could turn your brain off.

You never asked, never had to, yet he always knew.

You’d just been snapped back to the present by the sound of an unwelcome familiar voice—again.

"Dr. L/N," he said, sidling up to you again with that same confident grin—clearly not deterred by every failed attempt before. "I’ve got a list of mocktails that might just change your mind. Pretty creative, right? I googled it during lunch. There’s this one with lychee and—"

You blinked at him slowly, like you were buffering.

"Jackson," you said, voice firmer this time, "I don’t even have time to finish a protein bar most days, let alone entertain another pitch for drinks. You’re taking time away from my patients, my patients. I sincerely hope you don’t treat them the same way—ignoring their boundaries and refusing to take no for an answer."

You didn’t say it harshly. Just plainly. Clearly and finite. Like a diagnosis that needed no follow-up.

Across the room, Robby pulled down his glasses as his lip quirked up into a slow, private smirk. Pride bloomed across his face so fast he had to duck his head behind a chart to hide it. He knew better than to coddle you. The mutual discomfort and stifled reactions from the staff were one thing. Watching you handle yourself like that? That was something else entirely.

From across the nurses’ station, the staff collectively cringed like someone had just dropped a post-op surgical tray. Santos and Mateo physically turned away to hide their budding laughter. Javadi buried her face in her sleeve, secondhand embarrassment blooming. Mohan took off at a brisk pace to see a patient. Whitaker closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dana, McKay, and Collins couldn’t look away if they tried, pressing down their grins and wishing they'd brought popcorn. Langdon sipped his coffee like it was a box-office premiere. King, ever diligent, kept her focus on irrigating her patient’s wound—Langdon would fill her in later with full commentary. Before you could continue—

"Dr. L/N," your savior called, tone light but cutting through the air like a scalpel—just loud enough to interrupt whatever nonsense Jackson was about to say next.

You turned and there he was.

Dr. Robby—your chaos compass, your caffeinated partner in crime, loyal boyfriend, favorite soon-to-be roommate, and at the moment, your very composed but unmistakably irritated attending—his expression perfectly calm to the untrained eye, but you could read the tension in every line of his face.

"Got a case," he said flatly. "Now. Come on."

You blinked, confused but relieved. "Okay."

You didn’t miss the way Jackson shrank a little at Robby’s tone, nor the way Langdon grinned over his coffee like he'd just won a bet. You caught up to him by the supply closet, where he all but dragged you inside and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

He stared at you, a little too intently, like he wasn’t sure whether to scold you or wrap you in bubble wrap. "Are you seriously asking me that after that guy just tried to chat you up in the middle of the ER like this is Grey’s Anatomy?"

You blinked, tilting your head. "Wait… was that flirting?"

Robby blinked back. "You’re joking."

You were. "I thought he just wanted to split an energy drink or something."

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his hands came up to ruffle his hair. "Jesus."

You poked his chest lightly. "You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?"

His ears went red immediately. "I’m not flustered. I’m... professionally annoyed."

You blinked. "You’re jealous?"

"I’m not jealous," he said tightly. "I’m—concerned."

You grinned, stepping close. "Concerned is hot."

"He was twelve."

"He's definitely at least twenty-six."

Robby exhaled through his nose. "I’ve been very chill about this whole 'let’s not tell the hospital we’re dating' thing. But if I see him so much as come within two feet of you again, I’m submitting a formal notice that you are very much taken and a complaint with HR about his behavior. And if that doesn’t work—" he leaned in closer, voice dropping—"I’m dealing with him myself."

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "What’s that going to look like—are you gonna slam your clipboard down and tag team him with Abbot? Because honestly, I wouldn’t hate that."

Your voice was teasing, but your cheeks were warm. Watching Robby get territorial from a respectful distance? Unexpectedly hot. And now, you couldn’t help but push his buttons to see how much more riled up he’d get.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in slowly, deliberately, raising both of his arms to cage you in—palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. The move sent heat straight to your cheeks, blinking up at him as he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your lips.

Then he kissed you—hard and fast and possessive, his hands sliding up into your hair, threading through it with the kind of reverence that made your knees go weak. You gasped softly into his mouth, one hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the edge of his beard before curling into the softness of it. He leaned into your touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your other hand slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the nape of his neck, and you felt it—the way his pulse thrummed just beneath your fingertips, the way he shivered just slightly at your touch.

His thumbs caressed the line of your jaw, then drifted down to the curve of your neck, holding you like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

It was fire and softness, urgency wrapped in warmth. And you never wanted to stop.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. "Is that allowed in a supply closet?" you smirked. 

"If they didn’t want people kissing in here, they wouldn’t make it this conveniently located."

You smacked his arm, giggling.

"I’m serious," he added, voice softening but maintaining a firm undertone. "I don't share."

You looped your arms around his neck. "Good. I wasn’t offering."

He grinned, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "That thing you said back there—about boundaries, about respect." He paused, eyes scanning yours. "That was... incredible. Seriously. You handled it perfectly."

Your brows furrowed for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"It was... commanding," he added a moment later, voice lower, more playful now. "Alluringly so."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer to pepper your face with kisses. "Ridiculously in love with a woman who knows exactly how to shut down frat boys without breaking stride, resuscitate half the ER, deliver excellent patient care, and still make rounds on time."

His hand slid down your back, warm and steady. "You’re the whole damn package, you know that? It’s genuinely unfair."

You chuckled, burying your face briefly in his shoulder.

Somewhere down the hall, Dana's voice rang echoed through the PA, summoning you for the consult. Robby groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"This is not over," he muttered.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, a smirk following soon after where your lips lingered. "Got any dinner plans?"

Robby raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, yeah. I’ve got a date—with my incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, beyond intelligent, and painfully witty girlfriend."

You blinked at him, then laughed, delighted. "Wow. Sounds like a catch."

He leaned in and bumped his nose against yours, grinning. "She really is. And I think she’s about to say yes."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, so full of affection it made your cheeks ache. Then you nodded, brushing your thumb gently along his cheekbone.

"Yeah," you whispered, "she definitely is."

[rafesangelita]

♡ when a double date with rafe leads to him feeling a sense of familiarity + you may have revealed your biggest secret yet..

warnings: mean!rafe. enemies to ???, suggestive language, lots of cussing lol, slight angst, mild sexting, light degradation (reader and rafe just like being snarky towards each other), sexual tension, flirty banter (?), slight arguing

a/n: this is part two of this fic right here! if you’d like to be added to the taglist just comment on this post or leave me an ask <3 i do plan to write three more parts to this!

links: previous | next | mini series masterlist

wc: 2.9k

[1:19 AM] countryclub: we have the same area code.

you felt cold sheer panic run through your veins at the revelation, your heart beating in your ears as you kept rereading his message. you refused to believe what he said to be true. this couldn’t be happening. sharing the same area code could only mean one thing— both of you resided on the island.

sure, the island was small, but it couldn’t be that small.. right? your mind was reeling, everything that you two had talked about, the pictures that you two shared, over the last few months ran through your mind at lightning speed. tossing your phone to the side, you rested your head in your hands, trying your best to piece something, anything, together. this mystery man didn’t talk like anyone you knew, or so you thought. you chewed on your bottom lip, your chest rising and falling as you realized that you hadn’t even confirmed if you two shared the same area code. for all you know he could just be making up some lame excuse for leaving you high and dry.

yeah, that had to be it.

[1:33 AM] brattydiaries: fuck you. i don’t believe that.

[1:35 AM] brattydiaries: i don’t need you to come up with some elaborate lie in order to spare my feelings. if you weren’t serious about reaching out to me in the first place, then you shouldn’t have asked for my number.

rafe was pacing back and forth in his room, the taste of tequila from his earlier activities still lingering on his tongue. he scoffed once your messages came in, his eyes narrowing at his screen as he scratched the back of his neck. insinuating that he didn’t really want to talk to you was just flat out insane. nowadays, all he could do was imagine the way your voice would sound in his ears while he pounded you in, the thoughts and images of you taking up his headspace.

[1:38 AM] countryclub: are you fucking stupid?? i was very serious about wanting to talk to you, you live in my fucking brain.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: 252. that’s the area code for kildare island.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: and judging by the way you post your nail appointments every two weeks, along with all the sexy lil try-on hauls you did for me, i could confidently say that you’re not a pogue.

your eyes widened in horror. only someone who lived on kildare island would know about the whole ‘kooks vs. pogues’ thing. besides the confirmation with the area code, you knew he wasn’t lying. you stared blankly at the screen, having no idea what to say or even do about this situation. having these kinds of blogs and letting anyone you knew in real life find out about them was social suicide. maybe not so much for rafe, but you? you were a totally different person out here. you had a reputation to uphold, you couldn’t risk the scrutiny you or your parents would face if anyone ever found out.

as mad as you were at the mystery man behind the screen for ghosting you without an explanation, you could understand his sudden disappearance now that you currently felt sick to your stomach at the realization. he was far too close for comfort. based off of his username, you knew you two had to be running in the same social circles, your blood running cold at the thought of this person being someone you might’ve had contact with before. figure eight wasn’t big enough to keep a secret like this, it was only a matter of time before you two would unintentionally reveal yourselves to one another.

[1:50 AM] brattydiaries: this can’t go on any longer. sorry not sorry.

you ignored the small pang of hurt in your chest when you pressed send. apart of you hoped that he wouldn’t let you off so easily. you couldn’t deny the thrilling feeling that sat in your tummy at the prospect of knowing who he is but also being utterly clueless at the same time.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: nah.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: i got you right where i want you now.

there was no way in hell rafe was going to just allow you two to go back to not talking. he did it once, but he wouldn’t be able to do it again. especially now that he knows everything he wants is on his side of the island. just in arm’s reach. obviously, he couldn’t physically stop you from blocking him, but at least he knew that if you responded to him then you two were on the same page.

and sure enough..

[1:59 AM] brattydiaries: whatever.

were you scared shitless? yes. did you believe that this was going to backfire in some way? most definitely; but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want this. whatever little sexting arrangement you two had going on, it was the only relatively exciting thing you had going for yourself and you weren’t necessarily ready to let it go.

[2:03 AM] countryclub: so can i call you or what?

you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you.

[2:05 AM] brattydiaries: fuck no. goodnight.

rafe smiled down at his phone before getting ready for bed, both of you finding it nearly impossible to get any kind of sleep. when you woke up the next morning, you were met with at least a dozen messages from chanel.

[8:10 AM] chanel ♡: topper just dropped me off at home..

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: crazyyyyy night.. but anyways! me and you are going on a double date tonight. idk who topper is bringing but you don’t get to say no because love me, okay!?

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: LMAO imagine it’s rafe

[8:18 AM] chanel ♡: omg you srsly need to wake up already and come over so you could help me choose an outfit!!

you continued reading through her texts, already dreading tonight’s plans as you decided to go ahead and get the day started so you could get this whole ‘date night’ thing over with. even though chanel jokingly said topper would bring rafe to be your date, you really hoped that wasn’t the case. the last thing you felt like doing was fighting or bickering with him because of your indifferences. after spending the afternoon rummaging through chanel’s closet, she finally settled on a dress that she hasn’t worn out before. “where are we even going?” you asked.

“topper said it’s a surprise so he’s picking both of us up from here.” she smiled, her words making you roll your eyes. you hated not knowing what you were getting yourself into. yet again, here you were, sexting with a stranger who just might not be a stranger after all. by the time topper texted chanel that he was outside, you two were in full glam, ready for whatever tonight may bring you. topper opened the doors for both of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you two. “we weren’t sure how to dress, sooo..” topper nodded, “yeah, i can see that.”

topper had on a casual outfit, a stark difference to the mini dresses and heels you and chanel currently wore. “now is probably a good time to tell us where we’re going.” you quipped from the backseat. at your cattiness, chanel flashed you a glare. “rafe offered up his boat, so i figured we’d just have a couple drinks, have a good time, ‘you know?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as chanel happily agreed. this was bullshit. not only did you have to spend the next few hours with rafe on his stupid boat, but you were sure this ‘double date’ was going to turn into a third wheeling act real fast.

fifteen minutes later, and rafe was reaching out to help you onto the druthers, an annoyed look written all over his face as you tossed your purse at him first. “what? i don’t want my bag to fall in the water, okay?!” taking hold of your hand, rafe caught a glimpse of your nails, the french tip design looking oddly familar. you squeezed his palm, stepping onto the deck with a sigh. topper and chanel had already made their way inside the cabin area, both of them laughing as they slid the door shut, leaving you and rafe all by yourselves. it was moments like these that made you wish you could be anywhere else.

rafe scanned your outfit, his eyes lingering on your cleavage before you turned around, annoyed. “i guess it’s a good thing topper didn’t mention i’d be spending majority of my night with you. ‘cause i wouldn’t have came.” you snatched your purse back, your heels clicking against the deck as you sat on one of the cushioned chairs near the lounging area. rafe grabbed his cooler, deciding to entertain your antics since all you two had was time. “mmm, i don’t know about that. apart of me thinks you like arguing with me. i know i do.” you scoffed, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips.

“yeah? i bet. female attention seems to be something you lack.” rafe laughed, taking a seat next to you. “oh, i can guarantee you that’s not the case.” he scooted closer, unscrewing the cap from his beer. yeah, right. you knew all about rafe’s inability to hold onto a relationship, rumors of his emotional unavailability spreading around the island like wildfire. “no? i’m sorry, i just assumed since, you know.. you’re a full time asshole.” rafe put his beer down, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “only with you, i am.”

you laughed, finally meeting his gaze. he was a lot closer than you thought, his cologne filling your senses as your eyes flickered down to his lips for a second. “so i’m special then?” you had a faux innocent look in your eyes as you blinked up at him, the sight making his jaw clench. “no,” he smiled, leaning in, “but i can be nice. i can be real nice.” the insinuation made your cheeks heat as his face was just mere inches away from your own. tilting your head, you flashed him a sweet smile before shoving him in the chest.

“that’s never going to happen.” rafe acted like you didn’t have any effect on him, but inside? he was fighting every urge to pick you up and take you back to tanneyhill. he couldn’t help but feel like he knew you more than you let on, your demeanor reminding him of a certain someone. “can i ask why?” he watched as you grabbed his beer, your lipgloss smudging around the rim as you took a swig. “why i don’t like you, or why i won’t let you fuck me?” rafe leaned back in his chair, his thighs spreading as he crossed his arms over his chest.

well you definitely had a way with words..

rafe took the time to get a really good look at you. he had a feeling about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the familiarity driving him crazy. he was determined to figure you out. “both.” he answered, taking his beer back from you. slipping your heels off, you brought your feet up and got comfortable in your spot next to rafe. “well i only realized i didn’t like you when i found out you had been talking about me first. so, really, i should be asking you why you don’t like me.”

rafe blinked. all this time he thought that you felt the way you did just because. “how come you never asked me then?” you stayed silent for a few moments before shrugging. “everyone has always made their assumptions about me. about my parents, about my life.. but no one really knows me, or what really goes on in my home. i just let people think whatever they want.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “what do you mean?” at his words, you realized you may have said too much.

putting your defense back up, you backed away from him slightly before you scoffed. “you’re the last person i’d ever confide in, rafe.” the man next to you immediately recognized what you did, having veered away from being vulnerable a countless amount of times himself. rafe couldn’t help but keep digging. “let’s go tit for tat, then. you tell me something, anything you want, and i’ll say something in return. ‘that way it’s an even exchange.” apart of you hated him for making this so easy.

“i’m not doing that with you.” your voice sounded different. it lacked that usual bite and now rafe felt bad for opening his mouth in the first place. before the awkward tension could settle over you two again, you got up with your phone in your hand. “where are you going?” rafe watched as you slid the door open to the cabin area. “inside. i need to make a phone call.” you lied, walking past chanel and topper who were aggressively making out on the couch in the corner.

locking the small bathroom door behind you, you sighed, taking a moment to let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. what even was that out there? unlocking your phone, you sent chanel a text that you wanted to leave even though the chances of her seeing it was extremely slim. you stalled, deciding to freshen up your makeup as you waited for this so-called ‘date’ to end already. you were reapplying your lip gloss when your phone went off, making you mutter a ‘thank god’. instead of the notification being a message back from your best friend who was currently getting her face sucked off, it was from tumblr instead.

[9:14 PM] countryclub: what are you doing right now? i could use someone to talk to rn ngl

you looked up from your screen and stared into your reflection. this message came at just the right time.

[9:15 PM] brattydiaries: that makes two of us. i’m not with the sweet talk rn though, but i could use a distraction right now for sure..

[9:16 PM] countryclub: define ‘sweet talk’ cause i had every intention of asking you for some sexy pics and maybe a phone call if you’re down with that?

you refrained from laughing at his text, his bluntness throwing you for a loop. you couldn’t deny the giddy feeling you had in your tummy when you thought about hearing his voice. biting your lip nervously, you pulled the neckline of your dress down, exposing the lace of your bra before snapping a few pictures.

[9:19 PM] brattydiaries: 3 attachments

[9:20 PM] brattydiaries: here’s the first half of your request. make me wet and just maybe i’ll accept the call..

rafe was outside on the deck looking over his shoulder every two seconds to make sure you weren’t coming back in time to see the explicit photos currently illuminating his screen. he cursed under his breath, his eyes raking over the soft swells of your breasts. you were so fucking perfect, he couldn’t believe you were so close yet so far.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: fuckk you’re unreal.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: i hate that i’m wrapped up with something right now, otherwise i’d be sending you paragraphs about how pretty your tits look for me.

you sighed in defeat, making a mental note to send him a text once you were finally in the comfort of your own bed. with you still in the bathroom, rafe took his time examining the photos, his eyes widening slightly as he zoomed in on the dainty diamond pendant of your necklace, the background looking like something he has seen before.

[9:25 PM] brattydiaries: aww, too bad.

just then, chanel knocked on the bathroom door, her hair looking slightly out of place once you opened it. “i just saw your text. you ready to go?” you nodded, adjusting your dress before stepping out. “sorry to cock block you, i just had a really weird moment with rafe.” you explained, tossing your phone back in your purse. chanel waved you off before interlocking her arm with yours. “don’t even worry about it, we’re going back to his place, anyways.” she reassured you.

topper was already outside on the deck once you two made your way out of the cabin. glancing at rafe, you quickly looked away once you saw that he was already staring at you. “well, thanks for letting us use the druthers.” chanel smiled, in which rafe just shook his head. “ah, don’t even worry about it,” he held your stare, “..i had a good time.” blinking away from him, rafe’s eyes caught onto your cleavage once again, except this time; a sparkle from right above your neckline took him out of his reverie.

that necklace..

before he could piece anything together, you were moving with chanel, not sparing rafe another look as you were getting back onto the dock. the car ride back to your place was deadly silent. all except for the music topper had playing in the background. by the time you had gotten home and showered, you felt your world come to a stand still when your phone started ringing, an unsaved number with kildare island’s area code showing up at the top.

accepting the call, you held up the receiver to your ear with a shaky hand before speaking.

“hello?”

“..you sound pretty.”

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[girlinterupptedsblog]

rafe walking in on reader humping her pillow

Don't stop now bunny

Pairing: bf!rafe cameron x bunny!reader

It was hot in your room, the kind of heat that came from restless energy and being too wrapped up in your own thoughts. The afternoon sun poured through the sheer curtains, casting golden light across the bed where you laid sprawled out, tangled in your sheets with nothing but a tank top and panties on. You didn’t think twice about locking the door. Rafe was supposed to be out all day. Some Kook thing with Topper and Kelce. Something about boats and beer and acting like assholes.

And you’d been stuck in your head all day. Wanting, needing, restless in a way that made your skin feel electric. You tried reading, watching a movie, scrolling through your phone, but nothing cut through the fog of desire sitting low and heavy in your body.

So you gave in.

It started slow. Just the press of your thighs together, rocking ever so slightly as you laid on your stomach, your face buried in the pillow. But soon, your hips moved on instinct. More pressure. A rhythm. You grabbed one of the softer pillows—your favorite one, the one that had just the right give—and slid it between your legs, your breath catching as you started grinding against it in slow, desperate movements.

You didn’t even say anything. Just quiet little gasps into the sheets. Embarrassingly needy. The kind of thing you’d never let anyone see. Especially not Rafe. You knew how he was. Rough around the edges. A little dangerous. Way too cocky for his own good. But God, the way he touched you when he wanted to it made your head spin.

You were so lost in the friction, in chasing that edge, that you didn’t even hear the door open.

“...The fuck?”

You froze. Blood rushing in your ears. Your whole body went rigid like you’d been struck by lightning. You turned your head just slightly to look over your shoulder.

There he was.

Rafe. Standing in the doorway. Shirt half-unbuttoned, backwards hat, that smug little smile spreading across his face slowly like a wolf seeing prey. His eyes dragged over your body—your hips, the way your thighs hugged the pillow, the tension in your arms as you pushed yourself up slightly in panic.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, your voice high and mortified. “Rafe, get out—!”

You scrambled to move, to throw the pillow away, to bury yourself in the covers like maybe if you moved fast enough it would erase what he saw.

But he didn’t leave.

He just leaned against the doorframe and cocked his head, biting the inside of his cheek like he was enjoying this way too much.

“Why’d you stop, bunny?”

His voice was low. Dangerous. Curious. That nickname made your face burn hotter.

“Don’t get all shy now,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with a soft click. “I mean… you were putting on a show.”

You shook your head, completely flustered, pulling the covers up to your chest like they could protect your dignity. “I didn’t know you were home! Jesus, Rafe, just—go!”

But he was already at the edge of the bed.

He reached forward, grabbed the blanket, and peeled it down slowly—like he had all the time in the world. You tried to resist, but he gave you that look. The one that said he wasn’t asking.

“Let me see you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I wanna see you pleasure yourself,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along your hip, over the hem of your panties. “You looked so fuckin’ pretty grinding like that. So needy for it. C’mon, bunny. Don’t be shy now.”

You swallowed hard. Your heart was pounding, equal parts fear and anticipation. This wasn’t how you ever imagined him finding out. But now that he had…

You hesitated. And he must’ve seen the conflict in your eyes, because he smiled again—this time, slower, more deliberate. He sat at the foot of the bed and leaned back on his elbows.

“I won’t touch you,” he said, voice low and velvet-smooth. “Not unless you beg me to. I just wanna watch. Watch my good girl make herself feel good.”

The words melted something in you.

You turned your face away, hiding in your hair for a second as your fingers crept down to grab the pillow again. He didn’t say anything—just watched, his breath shallow as you pulled it between your thighs again and slowly settled against it.

You felt so exposed. More than if you were naked.

But at the same time… it sent a thrill through your veins. The way his eyes were glued to you. The way you could hear the quiet hitch in his breathing when you rolled your hips again. Just once. Then twice.

“Fuck…” he whispered. “That’s it. Just like that, bunny.”

Your cheeks were burning, but your body was betraying you. Grinding slowly against the pillow again, feeling that friction, your hands clutching the sheets as you started building your rhythm again—this time, for him.

You felt his gaze like a physical thing. It made everything more intense. You whimpered softly into the mattress, unable to stop the way your hips moved or the warmth building in your core.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, leaning forward slightly now, his pupils blown wide. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy when you’re like this. All desperate. Just needing it so bad, you’ll hump your pillow like a little bunny in heat.”

You gasped, half in embarrassment and half in pleasure. His words were dirty and sharp—but they worked. They made your skin tingle and your muscles tighten.

You pressed harder, your thighs clenching, grinding faster now, panting softly. You could feel it coming—so close, the edge right there.

“Don’t stop now,” he murmured, almost like he was hypnotized. “I wanna see you come just like this. Come for me, baby. Show me how pretty you are when you lose control.”

That was it.

You moaned, legs trembling, burying your face in the sheets as the climax hit—intense, drawn out, full-body. You ground against the pillow one last time, riding it out, gasping through the waves of pleasure that overtook you. Your body arched and twitched, every nerve lit up.

When it finally passed, you collapsed onto the mattress, utterly spent and shaking.

There was a pause. Just breathing. Yours, ragged and shallow. His, heavy and slow.

You peeked up at him.

Rafe was still at the foot of the bed, but now he looked like he was the one barely holding it together. Jaw clenched. Hands tight. A very obvious bulge pressing against his jeans.

“My pretty bunny” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, voice hoarse.

Then, after a moment, he smirked.

“You’re mine now, bunny. You know that, right?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. You just nodded, still catching your breath as he reached for you, finally pulling you into his lap.

[societyfolklore]

Just a Little More

Title: Just a Little More

Pairing: Thor x Virgin!Female Reader

Summary:  Your wedding night with Thor was meant to be a simple, just enough to fulfill tradition. Plans change.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Smut, Unprotected sex, Slight Dub Con, virginity lost, size difference, painful first time..  

A/N: ‘just the tip’ Thor – Starting to notice a little bit of a ‘theme’ with my Thor stories.. The scent of sacred oils still clung to your skin, lingering between the strands of your freshly washed hair as Thor’s large hands glided over you, his touch reverent, tender. The ceremonial dress lay discarded on the floor, its delicate fabrics a whisper of tradition now shed in the intimacy of your shared chambers. He had been so gentle with you, bathing you with hands that could command thunder and lightning, yet, he treated you as though you were spun of fragile silk. Murmuring soft assurances as he poured warm water over your shoulders, washing away the last remnants of the evening’s rituals. His fingers had combed through your hair, working fragrant oils into your scalp before rinsing them away, his touch a stark contrast to the power he wielded in battle. Every action was deliberate, a careful unravelling of the ceremonial layers until nothing remained but the woman he was to claim.

But now, standing before him in nothing but the flickering candlelight, your breath caught as he shed the last of his own garments. The air shifted between you, thick with something unspoken, something inevitable.

He was a god. A warrior. A king in waiting.

Broad shoulders and a chest carved with divine strength, his thighs thick and powerful- the very ones you had perched on throughout the feast, his palm steady on your waist, possessive but warm. Now, with the revelry behind you and the weight of expectation settling in the quiet of your chambers, he stood before you, fully bare. His presence dominated the room, towering and unyielding, yet his hands, when they touched you, were careful, reverent. And now, with nothing between you, your eyes dipped lower, and you felt the sharp bite of panic in your chest.

The sheer size of him- the weapon that hung heavily between his legs- left your innocence trembling beneath the weight of reality. Your mouth parted, something close to a whimper escaping before you could stop it. He was overwhelming in every way, and the thought of taking him, of being his in the way tradition demanded, sent a mix of desire and trepidation spiraling through you. Heat coiled in your belly, warring with the nerves that had your thighs pressing together.

“Sweet one,” Thor murmured, his knuckles brushing along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Those oceanic blue eyes softened with understanding, though beneath his tenderness, there lay something desperate, something restrained. “I do not wish to rush you, but…” He exhaled, pressing a slow kiss to your temple. “A marriage must be consummated.”

A shiver ran through you, nerves tangled with want. He had been nothing but patient, but now he had you beneath him, breathless and shaking. His lips found your forehead, "We only need to go just a little, enough for me to claim your maidenhood." His voice a gentle purr as he kissed your cheeks, your throat. Murmured praises against your skin, a steady litany of devotion and reassurance.

“My sweet flower,” he hummed, tracing his fingers down your bare spine. “My little petal.”

His weight caged you, yet you never felt trapped. He settled between your parted thighs, one hand gripping his thick length, the other smoothing down your side in soothing strokes. His calloused fingertips danced along your ribs, his warmth seeping into your skin, grounding you in the moment. His thumb brushed over the swell of your breast, slow and deliberate, coaxing the tension from your body.

“This will hurt,” he whispered. “But only for a moment.”

The broad tip pressed against your entrance, slick from his attentions, yet still so unprepared for something of his size. He kissed you deeply as he pushed forward, just enough to breach that delicate barrier. The stretch was sharp, foreign, and you whimpered against his lips, hands clutching at his broad shoulders, your legs instinctively trying to close, only to press against the firm muscle of his powerful thighs. The realization sent a fresh wave of helplessness through you- there was no escaping the size of him. Thor stilled for a moment, giving you time, but you could feel him trembling with restraint, his body coiled tight above you.

You had done your duty. Had let him take what was required. The pain was still sharp, but the act was complete. It should have ended here- a moment of pain, a brief claim, nothing more. You squirmed beneath him, your breathing quick and uneven, your heart pounding against your ribs. Each shift of your hips sent another pulse of sensation through you-  even this small intrusion stretched you in a way that you could barely take.  Your pulse thrummed in your ears. Your body pulsed around him, tight and unfamiliar, creeping embers of something else- something overwhelming, something too much. He would move soon, pull back any moment now. 

“T-Thor?” Your voice wavered, barely more than a breath, uncertain. A plea, an expectation, waiting for him to retreat.

He didn’t.

Thor kept going.

His breath hitched, a low groan spilling from his lips as he pushed deeper. You whimpered, hands flying to his arms, nails biting into his unyielding flesh. You tried to shift away, to alleviate the burning stretch, but his hands on your hips held you still. He was too strong, too solid, and you were utterly trapped beneath him.

Your confusion twisted into panic, a choked sob escaping before you could swallow it down. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had said only a little- only enough to make you his.

“Shhh, sweet one,” he murmured, voice warm but heavy with something darker, something raw. “Just a little more. You can take it- I know you can.” You choked on the small, helpless sob that left you. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He had said you only had to go so far. 

It was sweet agony. The burn of being stretched open, the way his girth invaded you inch by inch. He whispered to you through it all, lips pressing against your damp cheeks, kissing away the tears that slipped from the corners of your eyes. His hips rolled in careful, measured motions, easing the pain, coaxing your body to relax.

“It’s alright, it always hurts at first,” he soothed, voice tender yet dripping with something darker, something primal. “You’re so strong, my love. Soon the pain will be forgotten.”

His hips rolled again in slow, shallow circles, coaxing your body to yield to him, to accept the unbearable fullness of being taken for the first time. The heat between you grew, the press of his heavy body against yours grounding you as you whimpered and arched beneath him. His hands were everywhere- stroking, petting, kneading as though he could soothe the ache even as he deepened it. He kissed along your jaw, his lips dragging against the sweat-slick skin of your throat.

“You’ll make me proud.”

Thor’s forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm, his body impossibly hard against your softer curves. His weight surrounded you, his scent- wood smoke, spice, something purely him- invading your senses. He was inside you, fully seated, and you swore you felt your body give way to him, trembling in overwhelmed bliss.

The realization of what you had taken, of what was now fully inside you, sent a sharp pulse of pleasure through your core, tipping you into something raw, something overwhelming. It was too much- the mix of pain and pleasure, the way his thick, rigid length stretched you beyond what you thought possible. Your breath hitched, a sob catching in your throat as your walls spasmed around him, your body caught in the first unbearable waves of pleasure. The tight grip of your core around him, the pulsing squeeze of your walls, had him growling, a deep, primal sound that sent another rush of heat through you.

You gasped, the heat rolling through you, consuming you from the inside out. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails biting into his shoulders as the sensation crested, stealing your breath. The thought of having him entirely, of how deeply he filled you, how his sheer size claimed you, only made the feeling stronger, more potent.

Thor groaned, deep and guttural, as he felt you clench around him, his own control fraying at the edges. His large hands cradled your face, his thumbs stroking over your tear-streaked cheeks, and through his own labored breaths, he whispered,

“There you are, there's my queen.”

[shirefantasies]

You Underestimate Me- Fili x F!Human!Reader

EVERYBODY LIVES AU!!! Warnings: canon typical violence and peril, descriptions of pain/blood/wounds, one suggestive comment

“Fili, stop it!”

The dwarf in question was chasing you through the stream, forcing you to run as fast as you could through the splashing water, which wasn’t much at all considering the resistance.

“Make me.”

One look at his smug face was all the convincing you needed to come to an abrupt stop, extending one leg out and bracing yourself to endure the inevitable strike, the brief pain of Fili barreling into you well worth the splash he made. Spinning on your heels, you joined Kili and Dwalin’s roar of laughter proudly, smiling and giving a little wave to Fili as he rose, dripping.

“Your clothes needed a wash, too,” you remark as he first glared, then shook his head and burst into laughter of his own, “I distinctly remember you saying so.”

Fee’d come back with some sort of revenge, you knew. Even if you didn’t know him so well as you thought and hoped, the look of rivalry-toned respect, the challenge gleaming in his eyes, told it all to you as you strode back to the muddy bank.

“Mark my words,” Fili spoke your name as though it were a vicious utterance, but either a smile upon his face, “if I wasn’t a gentleman, I would pick you up and toss you into the river myself!”

“I’m too big,” you shot back, “You couldn’t even lift me.”

“You underestimate me,” Fili replied to that, striding with great long leather-booted steps right up to your side, "I'm stronger than I look, you know."

"I will believe that when I see it."

"Someday you will," he said simply, joining you at the bank with water rushing from his long golden hair as he shook it out, "Mark my words, I will raise you above my head in triumph!"

At that, you just kicked one more little splash of bank at him and scurried off toward camp, ducking and hiding between Dwalin and Balin lest Fili seek his retaliation then and there.

At dinnertime, the slightest hint of mischief glinted in Fili's eyes, but it was only made manifest in the way his knee darted out, nudging yours and sending you laughing and holding up your bowl.

"Oi! Watch the stew!"

"What was that?" Fili smiled innocently and cupped a hand around his ear, nudging you one more time. "I think I've still got water in my ears. Can’t imagine how that happened."

~

Shattering, cracking bones and crashing steel almost drowned out the blood pounding in your ears as you darted between blades. Cried out names in search of any fragments of familiarity amidst it all. Not a sight of your friends brightened the bleak, black-and-red-painted horizon for what felt like minutes on end. An orc's falling body nearly toppled you over, but your voice was too exhausted to scream.

Panting, you beat the battlefield harshly, pounding it again and again with the soles of your boots. The weight of your black blood-spattered daggers slowed the swing of your arms as you ran, stitches in your sides stinging harshly, but stasis was afforded by no one in such violent bedlam. A blade was flung mere feet from you, and only upon turning to follow its trajectory did you see your attacker.

Scimitar raised and swung, the orc looked down upon you with a sadistic sneer as he slashed you across the side. Gasping, you tumbled back from the sheer force, let alone the burning arc of steel penetrating flesh and the warm trickle of blood spattering and spreading across your body with the impact of your fall. Lightning pain arced up and down your torso and you cried out, barely able to roll away from the next strike. Before the killing blow could fall, though, an arrow struck your assailant through the eye, knocking him right down to your side.

Spots danced in your vision as you heaved there, panic overtaking you. Dirt barely gave way beneath your scrabbling fingers as you forced yourself to attempt crawling forward. Just as the spots began winning, however, a pair of hands darted into your vision and your wound burned when they made brief contact with it. Your last sight before the dark enclosed you was that of Fili pulling you up, hoisting you on his shoulders. Briefly his face, his tear-streaked face, glistening blue eyes, and sad smile passed before you and then you faded away…

“I’m not losing you. I’m not.”

~

It felt like mere seconds later that you jolted awake again, gasping for breath at the shock of pain the motion brought you. Before your hung head was a blanket. Your legs beneath it. You’d been bandaged and lain in a cot. Breath barely came to you and stars danced once more in your vision. Hastily tapping footsteps ran your way and a hand gripped yours.

“Lie down.” Fili.

You spoke his name. He gently but firmly pushed you back onto the bed. Carefully manipulated you by your hands so as not to touch your bleeding side.

“Lie back down,” he repeated, “You’re hurt.”

“We survived,” you panted, giving a weak smile, “You saved me.”

“I told you,” he replied, whispering your name, “I would raise you above my head one day. I kept my promise. You saw.”

“I don’t know,” you teased, “My vision was a little spotty. How can I be sure it was you who picked me up?”

“You underestimate me.” He shook his head and tutted in mock disappointment. “If you wish, I’ll do it again once we’re not so battered.”

“And risk dropping me?”

“Only if we’re standing over a lake.”

Your smile grew. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

“Not as long as we’re growing old. I’ll always remind you.”

Even in its frail state, your heart leapt at his words, beating harder and deepening your haze. Lips parting, you gaped at Fili, who only smiled harder, squeezing your hand.

“If, that is, you’ll have me. I don’t mean to force the responsibility on you, I’m just… so relieved you made it. Didn’t know what I would do if I lost you before I could tell you how much I love you. You can blame the blood loss on how it came out.”

Shaking your head, you let out a small, breathy laugh. “Responsibility? What responsibility? Babysitting my best friend every day? A small price to pay for a courting bead from the dwarf I love.”

“Any price I could pay for you is small,” Fili added, the hand that wasn’t holding yours reaching up to trace the back of it along the curve of your face.

“Even getting tripped and knocked on your face?”

“Well remember, anytime you do that I get to get you back.”

“And what punishment do you have in mind for me,” you grinned even as your eyelids fluttered weakly, “Hm?”

“Don’t worry,” Fili reassured you with a fond look, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll hoist you triumphantly and throw you in plenty of lakes once you rest up.”

“You have a deal,” you replied, allowing Fili’s hand to rotate, pulling you in and caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb as he brought his lips to yours.

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[dark-and-kawaii]

꧁༺ 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 ༻꧂

Astarion loses sight of you in a fight, he fears the worse has happened to you. He finds you and manages to bring you back to shadowheart for healing, only to discover he has more to protect than just you…

Angst - Hurt - Comfort - Pregnancy

(Click For Part Two)

You were fearless. He watched as you swung your dagger effortlessly, piercing into the necks of their enemies.

He wondered how you still managed to look elegant even when covered in the blood of fallen warriors.

His gaze never left you for too long, making sure you were safe, while he stealthed around the makeshift arena, racking up his own share of kills. How glorious this was! There was so much blood splattering all around them and with his love at his side it truly couldn’t get any better.

Astarion’s eyes couldn’t be everywhere though, and at some point, he lost sight of you. The last person to recognize him for what he’s worth, the one person he truly couldn’t afford to lose.

His head darted across the battlefield, desperately trying to find you. His panic plunged into sheer dread as fear overcame him. It was happening all over again, he’d seen this before… Alone.. No, please, he couldn’t let this be his fate.

He hadn’t felt fear this whole day; why should he? He was free of Cazador, had you- A subtle manic laugh drew from his throat, he’d never be free of fear, instead of fearing for himself or what his old master would do to him he now feared what would happen to you when in danger.

His red eyes turned a dark shade of black. The expression of a crazy man etched onto Astarion’s face. No, he wouldn’t let fear consume him, no more! He’d finally be the protector! Overcome with fury he went on a rampage. Cutting through the battlefield, slaughtering anyone and everyone in his way, determined to find you. He raced over to where he last saw you, faster than a blue dragon's lightning splits through the air in a storm.

Was he truly going to be the reason you passed on to the next life. Was his fate to destroy everything he held near and dear to his heart? He nearly killed you before with his own fangs and now, no! He wasn’t the cause of that, was he? He hadn’t ever tasted human blood before, but if he was stronger it wouldn’t have happened! If he would’ve ascended he would’ve been able to stop this, however he’s still just a spawn… How could you have fought for his love, a fool who couldn’t even protect you. A fool who was going to be the reason you die.

“FIND HER” He roared at the top of his lungs. “FIND TAV!”

The group of companions didn’t dare hesitate and instantly started searching the grounds, Gale being the second most worried.

Astarion was about to collapse to his knees before hearing Gale's voice, “I’ve found her!” in the distance. It filled him with more apprehension. All he could think is, ’what if she’s dead’.

Staggering up the hill where Gale’s voice had come from, Astarion can see a figure laying in the dirt next to the wizard, “No! You can’t die dammit! Get up!!” he rushed out his words, dismay evident in his tone as he knelt next to you.

“She is unconscious, but alive. There’s hope.” Gale replied.

Astarion let out a shaky breath of relief.

“We must get her back to camp,” Astarion demanded. “She needs Shadowheart, she’s the only one who can fix this!” His voice cracked despite his efforts to mask it.

“I agree.” Gale, mere inches from grabbing you to lift you in his arms until the pale elf stopped him, “Don’t touch her!- I- I will carry her.” Trying to compose himself he lifted you bridal style.

Astarion never left your side during Shadowhearts attempts to heal you. Time never bothered him, not after his 200 years of torment, he waited as “patiently” as he could.

“Honestly, how long does it take! You could at least give me some good news!”

Shadowheart continued to focus on you best she could, everyone including the gods were used to Astarions fits at this point. Gale on the other hand not so much, he could hear Astarion all the way in his own tent which caused the wizard to scrunch his nose. Eventually, leading him to where you were being treated, “Astarion, why don’t you join me in some wine. I’ve got quite the choices, besides… It might be best if we give her some space.”

Astarion scowled, “You expect me to leave her side to join you in some cheap wine? Really? I didn’t think you could get anymore annoying, Gale.”

“It’s done. She’ll be fine after some more rest.” Shadowheart stood from your side and wipes the blood off her hands. She’s been traveling with you and these two men for far too long, toning out their bickering was a skill of hers at this point.

Turning to face you, if his heart could beat he knows it would’ve dropped in his chest this very moment… “Leave us-“ kneeling down next to your bedroll, his eyes fixed on your bandaged wound, “please.”

“I was able to save her,” -Shadowheart bent down towards Astarion- “and the child, but it took most of my energy and resources… Don’t ask for me again for a while. Keep them both safe.”

He was quiet, his eyes wide after the news he was just told.

“Ahhh,” Shadowheart’s voice was surprised, “she didn’t tell you yet? Hmm or perhaps she hadn’t known yet? Curious.”

Astarion could only stare at his love, “A-are you for certain?”

Gale interjected, “I doubt her magic would deceive her, congratulations.”

Dark bruises and cuts decorated your once perfect skin. A deep purple shade surrounded your right puffy eye. His eyes traveled further down your body, stopping at your stomach.

He caressed your still flat stomach, causing you to wince and awake. Retreating his hand, he awaited for your eyes to open and look up at him.

A-Astarion?” You spoke with a small smile carved on your lips.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.” He struggled out, trying his best not to crumble.

You were both silent, hands entwined with one another thankful that you both can spend another day alive in the presence of another.

He was the first to break the silence, “thank you.”

You were so weak, but you wanted to know why he was thanking you out of the blue, “For what?” Your voice barely heard.

“For this,” his hand stretching out to rest on your abdomen, “for giving me purpose again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, not knowing what he was talking about until it finally hit you. Your arm wavered as you lifted it to place your hand atop of his on your belly. A gentle smile forming on your lips as you stared into his vermilion eyes.

When your breath became labored indicating you had fallen asleep again, Astarion’s attention was back at your torso where the bandage was slowly being stained by your blood. This moment of relief turned to anger again as he lashed out, slapping a metal canister of water out the tent with force. The absolute intrigued him at first, more power meant being stronger to protect you, but now… He was beyond ever considering it again. The cultist not only almost killed you, but the child growing from within you!

“How dare they…” He seethed, “How dare they harm her and my child!”

Astarion was pacing around angrily, how could he have allowed this to happen? He started to blame himself.

“Astarion-“ You spoke up, attempting to calm him down.

“I’ll show them, my love-“ he cut you off, “that nobody is allowed to touch what is mine.” He growled.

His eyes darkened again: “I’ll make them pay.”

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.2)

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

Characters: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Ororo Munroe, Mystique, Magik, Colossus & Sunspot

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Being in a relationship with Pietro Maximoff was like living life at lightning speed—quite literally. His world was always in motion, and being with him meant constantly adapting to the rapid pace of his thoughts and actions. But beneath his fast-talking, sometimes brash exterior, you found someone who was deeply caring, even if his way of showing it was a little unconventional. He adored you, always racing back to you after a mission or zipping out to grab your favorite food when you were feeling down. But sometimes, Pietro’s powers got the best of him.

Today had been one of those days. It started out fine—Pietro had taken you on a whirlwind day trip to Paris, as he often did, running across the Atlantic in the blink of an eye. You had laughed as he effortlessly carried you through the streets, dodging between pedestrians, never once bumping into anyone. The two of you had spent hours exploring the city, grabbing pastries from the corner café, and watching the sunset by the Seine.

But on the way back to the mansion, something went wrong.

Pietro, in his typical rush, had underestimated just how tired he was. He carried you back across the ocean, but this time, his focus slipped for just a second. That second was all it took.

One moment you were in his arms, the wind whipping through your hair, and the next you were falling. The blur of the world slowed into a terrifying clarity as your body hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of you, and pain flared through your side. For a moment, everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, Pietro was there, his face pale with fear. He was kneeling beside you, his hands hovering over you but not touching, as if afraid his very presence would break you further.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, his usual confidence and swagger gone, replaced by sheer panic. “Oh god, I—I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking—”

You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made you gasp. Pietro’s hands immediately shot forward, but then he froze, torn between wanting to help and being terrified of making things worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve never… I didn’t think this would happen. I’m so stupid! I—”

“Pietro,” you gasped, forcing a weak smile. “It was an accident.”

He shook his head furiously, his silver hair falling into his eyes. “No. No, it wasn’t. I wasn’t careful. I was too fast. I always do this—”

“Hey, stop.” You reached out, grabbing his wrist to ground him. “I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

His eyes, wide and filled with guilt, locked onto yours. For once, Pietro didn’t have a quick comeback, didn’t have a joke or a grin to deflect. He looked devastated, as if the very thought of hurting you had broken something inside him.

“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You… you’re everything to me, and I… I hurt you.”

You gently pulled his hand toward you, resting it over your heart. “Pietro, I trust you. Always. This was an accident, and it could have happened to anyone.”

Pietro’s face crumpled, and he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips trembled against your skin, and you felt his breath hitch.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll never let this happen again.”

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Being with Wanda was like stepping into a world where magic and reality blurred together. You were always mesmerized by the way her crimson energy glowed at her fingertips, the way she could bend the world to her will, her power immense but her heart so fragile. You’d been through a lot together, and you’d come to understand the weight of her power, the burden she carried with each spell cast, each alteration of reality. But despite her best efforts, sometimes things spiraled out of control.

Today, it had started as a simple, quiet day in your shared apartment. Wanda had been in a particularly good mood, her laughter filling the room as she practiced her magic casually. She’d been making small changes to the space—coloring the walls with a wave of her hand, rearranging furniture with a flick of her wrist, changing a painting on the wall just for fun. You’d always admired how natural her magic was to her, as if it were an extension of her being.

"Look at this!" Wanda giggled, twirling around as she summoned a cluster of glowing red orbs that danced in the air between you. You smiled, watching her joy with an affectionate gaze. She was so radiant when she let her guard down, when she allowed herself to play without worry.

You reached out, trying to touch one of the floating orbs, but suddenly, her expression shifted. Something flickered in her eyes—panic, uncertainty—and the magic faltered.

Before you could react, the energy exploded outward in a burst of chaotic force. You were thrown back, your body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. The wind was knocked out of you, and pain seared through your back and head as you crumpled to the floor, dazed and disoriented.

“Y/N!” Wanda’s voice was filled with horror as she rushed toward you, her crimson energy quickly dissipating as she knelt by your side, her hands hovering over you. “Oh my God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to—I lost control—”

You winced, trying to catch your breath as you pushed yourself up, but every movement sent sharp pain radiating through your body. Wanda’s hands trembled as she touched your arm lightly, afraid to cause any more harm.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—my magic—”

“It’s okay,” you croaked, even though you were still catching your breath, your body aching from the impact. You managed a weak smile, reaching up to touch her hand. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Wanda’s face was pale, her green eyes wide with guilt and fear. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t control it sometimes, and this is exactly what I was afraid of. I hurt you. I could have—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her gloved hands to her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Wanda…” you breathed, slowly pulling yourself into a sitting position despite the pain. You cupped her cheek gently, brushing away a tear that had escaped her lashes. “You didn’t lose control. It was an accident. I’m fine.”

She shook her head, her chest tight with emotion as she looked at you, her guilt weighing heavily on her. “I could have done worse. What if next time it’s worse? I can’t live with myself if—”

You silenced her with a soft kiss on her forehead, your touch gentle but grounding. “You won’t. I trust you. We’ll work through this. You have more control than you think, Wanda. I’ve seen you do amazing things, and I know you can handle this.”

Her tears slowed as she gazed at you, her heart swelling with love and guilt, her hands carefully cradling your face. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be so careful. I promise, I’ll never hurt you again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, leaning into her touch, knowing that together, you could face anything—even the occasional chaos of her powers.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

Your relationship with Charles Xavier was built on a deep, unspoken understanding. His mind was a marvel—brilliant, compassionate, but weighed down by the burden of leading the X-Men and carrying the future of mutantkind on his shoulders. You loved him for his wisdom, his kindness, and his unwavering dedication to his ideals. But with his incredible psychic abilities came risks, especially in moments when his concentration slipped, when the weight of his mental strain became too much.

The day had started like any other. You had been sitting across from Charles in his study, watching him as he went through a pile of documents. His brow furrowed in concentration as he read over reports from Cerebro, the faint hum of the machine in the background. You could tell he was tired, the mental strain from constant use of his powers weighing on him. He rarely admitted it, but you could always sense when he needed rest.

"Charles," you said softly, setting your book aside. "You’ve been working too hard. You need a break."

He glanced up from his papers, offering you a small, tired smile. "You worry too much about me," he said, though the affection in his voice was clear. "But I appreciate it."

Before you could reply, something shifted. Charles’s expression grew distant, his eyes glazing over as his mind seemed to drift away. You had seen this before—when Cerebro pulled him into a deep telepathic connection, when his mind traveled across the globe in search of new mutants.

But this time, something went wrong.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through your head, so intense it felt like your skull was being split apart. You gasped, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion overwhelmed your senses. Images flashed before your eyes—disjointed, chaotic thoughts that weren’t your own. You tried to scream, but no sound came out, your body wracked with the intense pressure of Charles’s mind accidentally invading yours.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

You collapsed into the chair, gasping for air as the pain ebbed away, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache. Charles was immediately by your side, his wheelchair rolling quickly to you, his face filled with horror and guilt.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I—I didn’t mean to—are you alright?”

You blinked, trying to clear the lingering fog from your mind as you looked up at him. His hands were trembling slightly, something you had never seen before. The great Charles Xavier, always calm and composed, was visibly shaken.

“It was an accident,” you managed to say, though your head still pounded from the psychic overload. “I’m okay.”

Charles shook his head, his guilt written plainly across his features. “No. I wasn’t careful. I—my mind slipped, and I hurt you. I should have been more aware. I…” He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You reached out, placing a hand over his, trying to convey your forgiveness through your touch. “Charles, it’s okay. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. I’m fine. Really.”

He looked at you with such sorrow in his eyes, the weight of centuries of knowledge and responsibility pressing down on him. “I could have done much worse. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I would never… I would never want to harm you.”

“I know,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “You’ve been carrying so much. It’s no wonder your mind slipped. But I’m not afraid of you, Charles. I never will be.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “You are far too forgiving, my love. I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve everything,” you said softly, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips, reassuring him with your touch. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Let me help you.”

He gazed at you with such deep gratitude, his hand brushing your cheek softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered, knowing that, no matter what, you would always be by his side.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

You’ve always admired Hank’s intelligence and his unparalleled kindness. For someone so physically imposing, he was remarkably gentle, both in mind and heart. Being with him had been a gift, his endless curiosity and deep compassion bringing a unique sense of warmth into your life. You loved watching him in the lab, his mind constantly at work as he balanced his brilliant scientific endeavors with his more primal, physical side.

Today was no different, except for one thing. He’d been stressed recently, working long hours in his lab to perfect a new serum, one that could enhance mutant abilities without adverse side effects. He was meticulous, often pushing himself too hard, and you could see the toll it was taking on him.

“Love, you’ve been at this for hours,” you said, leaning against the doorframe of the lab, watching as he adjusted some delicate equipment. His large, fur-covered hands moved with surprising precision. “You should take a break.”

Hank glanced up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he offered you a weary smile. “I’m almost finished,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with both affection and fatigue. “Just a few more calculations, and then I’ll join you for dinner.”

You sighed, knowing how hard it was to pull him away when he was so focused. Still, you couldn’t help but worry. “Don’t push yourself too hard,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

He looked up from his work, his blue eyes softening as he reached for your hand, pulling you close. “You always know how to take care of me,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I promise, just a little longer.”

You smiled, resting your head against his broad chest, comforted by the steady thrum of his heart. But as you pulled away to give him space, something unexpected happened.

A sudden crash echoed through the lab. One of Hank’s devices, an experimental generator, sputtered and sparked. Hank reacted instantly, his instincts taking over as he lunged forward to stop the malfunction. But in his haste, he misjudged his own strength.

Before you could react, his powerful arm swung out, hitting you square in the side. The force of the blow sent you flying into a nearby table, your body crashing against the hard surface. Pain shot through you, sharp and unforgiving, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Hank’s voice was filled with horror as he rushed to your side, his hands shaking as he carefully lifted you into his arms. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see you—are you alright?”

You winced, trying to catch your breath, the pain in your ribs making it hard to move. “I’m… okay,” you managed, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the impact. “It was an accident.”

Hank’s face was a mixture of guilt and fear as he cradled you against his chest, his large hands carefully checking you for injuries. “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—sometimes I forget how strong I am.”

You could see the anguish in his eyes, the way his self-loathing threatened to consume him. He had always been so careful with you, so aware of his strength and size. To have hurt you, even by accident, was his worst nightmare.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek, your fingers brushing through his thick fur. “I’ll be okay, Hank. It’s not your fault.”

But he shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I should have been more careful. I—” His voice broke, and he pulled you closer, his arms trembling as he held you. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, trying to soothe his guilt with your touch. “I trust you,” you whispered, your voice filled with love and reassurance. “I’ll always trust you.”

Hank held you close, his heart aching with both love and guilt, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this never happened again.

Emma Frost

Being with Emma Frost was never simple. She was a woman of many layers, her sharp intellect and cold exterior often hiding the vulnerability and passion that lay beneath. But you knew her better than anyone. You’d seen the cracks in her icy façade, the warmth she reserved only for you. Emma was fiercely protective, but she also had her moments of weakness, and today, that weakness had shown itself in the worst way.

You were in the Danger Room, watching her train. Emma was skilled, both in her telepathy and her diamond form, and she took pride in her ability to protect herself and those she cared about. You had always admired her strength, but you also knew how much pressure she put on herself to be perfect.

“Darling, you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” you called out, leaning against the control panel as she finished a particularly brutal round of training simulations. “You’re already incredible.”

Emma smirked, her blue eyes glinting with amusement as she sauntered over to you, her body shimmering as she shifted out of her diamond form. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she purred, though there was a hint of tension in her voice.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. “Are you okay?”

Emma hesitated for a moment, her confident demeanor faltering ever so slightly. “I’ve just been under a lot of stress,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “There’s… a lot on my mind.”

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here.”

For a moment, Emma softened, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability she rarely showed. But then, something shifted. Her telepathy flared without warning, a sharp, unintentional burst of psychic energy hitting you like a tidal wave. Your mind was flooded with overwhelming thoughts and emotions—fear, pain, anger—all tangled together in a chaotic storm.

You cried out, clutching your head as the psychic intrusion tore through your mind, leaving you gasping for air. The pressure was unbearable, your thoughts splintering as Emma’s powers overwhelmed your senses.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

Emma’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had done, her hands shaking as she reached for you. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You staggered, still reeling from the psychic onslaught, but you managed to steady yourself, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath. “It’s okay,” you said, though your voice was weak, your body trembling from the aftershock. “It was an accident.”

Emma’s usually composed expression crumbled, her icy exterior shattering as guilt washed over her. “I hurt you,” she said, her voice filled with self-loathing. “I swore I’d never let that happen.”

You reached out, gently touching her cheek, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of her face. “It wasn’t your fault,” you whispered, your voice filled with understanding. “You were overwhelmed. I get it.”

But Emma shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have been stronger. I should have controlled it. I—” Her voice broke, and she turned away, her shoulders tense with guilt.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her from behind, resting your head against her shoulder. “Emma, you don’t have to be perfect. I love you for who you are, flaws and all. I’m not afraid of you.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into your embrace as the tension slowly melted away. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You deserve everything.”

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

Ororo was breathtaking in every sense. From the calm in her voice to the ferocity of her powers, she was like the perfect storm—gentle and violent, all at once. You had fallen in love with her grace, her wisdom, and the way she treated you like the calm at the eye of her whirlwind. But even the most controlled storm can lose its way, and today, you found yourself caught in the middle of one.

It was a bright, peaceful afternoon at Xavier’s mansion. Ororo had been training in the backyard, working on perfecting her connection with the elements as she often did. You sat nearby, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin, the rhythmic sound of the wind responding to her commands soothing your nerves.

“Be careful, love,” you called out with a teasing smile. “You know how you get when you push yourself too hard.”

Ororo’s golden eyes met yours, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ve got everything under control, darling,” she reassured you, her voice like a summer breeze, carrying with it the sweet scent of rain.

You relaxed into the moment, watching as she raised her arms to the sky, commanding the clouds to shift, the wind to change direction. You were used to this—Ororo playing with the elements like a conductor leading an orchestra. But today, something felt off. The air grew heavier, the skies darker, and a sense of tension filled the space around you.

Suddenly, without warning, a crack of thunder split the sky. You barely had time to react before a sudden gust of wind, stronger than any you’d ever felt, slammed into you, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, pain radiating through your body as the wind continued to rage, swirling around you with an almost tangible fury.

“Y/N!” Ororo’s voice broke through the chaos, panic evident in her tone.

She was by your side in an instant, the storm vanishing as quickly as it had come. You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but the pain in your ribs made it difficult to breathe. Ororo’s hands were gentle but frantic as she helped you sit up, her face pale with fear.

“I didn’t mean to—oh, Goddess, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she touched your cheek, her fingers soft against your skin. “I lost control for just a moment. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You winced but managed a small smile, reaching up to place your hand over hers. “It’s okay, Ororo,” you said, though your voice was weak. “It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Ororo shook her head, her eyes filled with guilt and self-reproach. “I should have been more careful. I never should have put you at risk like that.” She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you protectively as though she could shield you from the storm that had already passed.

“I trust you,” you whispered, resting your head against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

Ororo held you tightly, her breath shaky as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never let it happen again,” she promised, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of her storm, you knew that she meant every word.

Raven Darkholme (Mystique)

Loving Raven had always been a risk. Her world was filled with danger, deception, and ever-changing faces. But you had fallen for her, despite it all, because beneath her tough exterior was someone you loved with all your heart. Still, there were moments when her powers—her ability to shift and change—created unintended consequences.

Today had been one of those days. You and Raven were in the middle of a mission, something quick and straightforward. But things had gone wrong. In the heat of the battle, you had gotten too close, and without realizing it, Raven had shifted into a form with a sharper edge—literally. Her arm, now covered in razor-like scales, brushed against your side as she fought off an enemy, and you felt a searing pain slice through your skin.

You gasped, stumbling back as you clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers, and Raven’s eyes immediately snapped to you. Her form shifted back into her usual self, and for the first time in a long time, you saw fear in her eyes.

"Y/N!" she called out, her voice shaking with an emotion she rarely showed—panic. She was at your side in an instant, her hands already on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "I didn’t see you… I didn’t realize…" Her voice was frantic, and the guilt that clouded her expression was unlike anything you’d seen before.

"It’s okay," you said, wincing as the pain shot through you. Your vision blurred slightly, but you forced yourself to smile up at her. "It was an accident."

But Raven wasn’t hearing it. "I’m supposed to protect you," she muttered, her voice thick with frustration and anger—though not at you, at herself. "I’m supposed to be in control, and I hurt you."

You placed your hand over hers, despite the pain. "Raven, it was a mistake. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Her jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle she was fighting. Raven prided herself on being in control, on never letting her emotions—or her powers—slip. But this time, she had, and it was eating her up inside.

"I won’t let this happen again," she whispered, her voice hard with determination as she pressed her forehead against yours. "I won’t lose control like that again."

You smiled softly, despite the pain radiating from your wound. "I know you won’t," you whispered back, your hand gently squeezing hers. "I trust you, Raven. I always will."

Raven’s eyes softened at your words, and she carefully lifted you into her arms, her movements gentle despite her strength. As she carried you to safety, you could feel the tension in her body, the way she held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

The wound would heal, but the love between you and Raven only deepened. She became even more protective of you after that day, never letting her guard down again when you were near. But through it all, the bond between you remained unbreakable.

Illyana Rasputin (Magik)

You knew Illyana had a complicated relationship with her powers, especially with the dark side of Limbo that constantly pulled at her. Despite this, you loved her fiercely, and she loved you with a passion that could light up even the darkest realms. She was careful around you, more than anyone else, but today, things had slipped out of her control.

You had been helping her train, something simple, nothing too intense. But the energies of Limbo were unpredictable, and without warning, a surge of dark magic shot out from her sword, the edge of it grazing your arm. The moment it hit, a burning sensation spread up your skin, and you let out a gasp, staggering backward as the pain ripped through you.

Illyana’s eyes flared with panic, and within seconds, she was at your side, her sword vanishing into thin air. "Y/N!" she cried, her voice breaking as she grabbed your shoulders, her hands trembling. "I didn’t mean to! I— I lost control for a second!"

You winced, feeling the magic burn deeper into your flesh, but you forced a smile through the pain. "I know," you whispered, your hand coming up to rest on hers. "I know, Illyana. It’s okay."

But it wasn’t okay to her. Her eyes were wide with fear, with guilt. "No… no, it’s not. I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have let this happen." Her fingers traced the burn on your arm, her magic already working to heal it, but the regret in her expression remained.

You could see the darkness lurking just behind her eyes, the worry that she might hurt you again. "Illyana, listen to me." You gently cupped her face, forcing her to meet your gaze. "I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to. This doesn’t change how I feel about you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerable side of her that she rarely let anyone else see. She kissed your forehead softly, her lips lingering there as if trying to absorb your pain. "I love you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never want to hurt you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "You won’t. I know you, Illyana. You’re stronger than the darkness."

She nodded slowly, her arms wrapping around you tightly. From that moment on, she became even more protective, determined to never let her powers slip around you again. And through it all, your love for her only grew stronger.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

The weight of Piotr's presence always made you feel safe, but today, that same strength was what had hurt you. You and Piotr had decided to engage in some light sparring in the Danger Room, a regular part of your routine since you liked to train together. Piotr, in his towering, metal form, was always so careful with you, knowing the tremendous strength he carried. But today, something went wrong.

The match had been going smoothly until you tried to land a playful punch on his side, which he quickly blocked. But his reflexes, powerful and fast, caught you off guard. He turned, his metal fist too swift and forceful, and connected with your shoulder before either of you could stop it. The impact was immediate, sending a shock of pain through your body and knocking you to the ground.

You gasped in shock, clutching your shoulder as you struggled to catch your breath. "Y/N!" Piotr's voice was laced with panic as he immediately knelt beside you, his large metallic hands trembling as he reached for you. "I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. Are you hurt badly?" His deep, accented voice was almost a whisper as his guilt consumed him.

The pain was sharp, but you forced yourself to give him a reassuring smile, though it was more of a grimace. "I’m okay," you managed to say, though the pain in your shoulder said otherwise. You knew Piotr would never intentionally hurt you, but the guilt that filled his eyes was almost unbearable.

"I should never have agreed to spar with you," Piotr muttered, his voice full of self-reproach. His hands hovered over your body, unsure of where to touch, afraid of causing you further harm. "I’m too dangerous. I hurt you. I could’ve—"

"Piotr, stop," you interrupted softly, reaching up with your good arm to rest your hand against his cool, metal cheek. "It was an accident. You’d never hurt me on purpose."

He closed his eyes at your touch, but the pain in his expression didn’t lessen. "You are too precious to me," he whispered, his accent thick with emotion. "I cannot forgive myself for this."

Despite the pain, you leaned into his embrace as he carefully lifted you in his arms. His metal skin was cool against your body, but you could still feel the warmth of his love beneath it. "I know you love me, Piotr," you said, resting your head against his broad chest. "That’s why I know you’d never hurt me intentionally."

Piotr carried you to the med bay, never once letting you go. Even though the pain in your shoulder would take time to heal, the bond between you and Piotr only grew stronger. He became even more protective of you, but the love and devotion he showed was something that would never waver.

Roberto Da Costa (Sunspot)

Roberto’s energy had always been one of the things that attracted you to him. His fire, his passion, his vibrancy—he was like the sun, impossible to resist. But today, that same energy had gone out of control. You and Roberto were training together, as usual, but he had been pushing himself harder than normal, his powers flaring hotter and wilder than you had ever seen before.

You had been standing too close when it happened—a massive surge of solar energy burst from Roberto’s body, and before you could react, the heat slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. The burning pain spread through your chest and arms, and you cried out in shock, clutching at your skin as it stung from the impact.

"Y/N!" Roberto’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed over to you, his hands still glowing with the residual energy from the blast. "Oh god, are you okay? I—" He knelt beside you, his usually confident demeanor shattered as he took in the sight of you, wincing from the pain.

You tried to smile, though it was more of a grimace, as you lay on the ground, the heat from the blast still radiating through your skin. "I’m okay," you said weakly, though you weren’t entirely sure that was true. The burn was painful, but the look of guilt on Roberto’s face was worse.

"I didn’t mean to," Roberto said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I lost control for a second, I swear. I would never… I’d never hurt you on purpose." His hands hovered over you, glowing with warmth but not daring to touch you, as if afraid he’d burn you again.

"I know, Roberto," you said, your voice soft but filled with reassurance. "I know you didn’t mean to."

He shook his head, his dark eyes filled with regret. "I should’ve been more careful. I could’ve hurt you so much worse." He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. "I can’t believe I let this happen."

You reached up with your uninjured hand, gently placing it on his arm. "You didn’t let anything happen," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the pain. "It was an accident. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

Roberto’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled shakily. "I love you so much, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what I’d do if I really hurt you."

You smiled softly, despite the burn, and pulled him closer to you. "I love you too," you whispered back. "And you didn’t hurt me on purpose. That’s all that matters."

Roberto carefully helped you up, his arms gentle but protective as he guided you to the med bay. The pain would fade in time, but the love between you and Roberto only grew stronger. He was more careful with his powers around you from that day on, but the bond between you remained unbreakable.

[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓑𝓾𝓰

Description: Reader screams and Tom is instantly at her door to see what's wrong. Turns out it's a bug she needs him to kill. The problem? Tom discovers he is also afraid of this particular bug. (Reader x Tom, established relationship)

A/N: My roommates and I discovered a cockroach in our room yesterday so that inspired this. And no, we weren't able to catch it yet- it hid under our sink so now we're all afraid to go into the bathroom. Anyway, I kinda hate the title but I wanted to post this before going MIA for a couple days for finals (my first two exams are tomorrow; help). Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none.

--

The soft but insistent tap of rain against the window echoed through the room as Tom hunched over his desk, his quill moving at lightning speed. The dying candle sat near his parchment, creating a mosaic of flickering light across the paper. He was nearly finished with an essay he was writing about the Unforgivable Curses for Defence class, despite it being assigned earlier that day. He had gone to the library as soon as class let out, snagging a few books regarding the subject (it was easy to find them- he’d had the title memorised due to how many times he’d read them before) and locking himself in his dorm room to write the essay. 

Now, as his quill approached the end of the parchment with sure strokes, he leaned back in his chair, relaxed from the satisfying feeling of another essay well-written. He’d still have to spell check it, of course, and go back through it another day to add in any details he missed. Perhaps he could-

A scream interrupted his musings. It was high-pitched, full of sheer panic and unmistakably hers. Immediately, Tom was on his feet, his chair knocked back by the force in which he leapt up, though he didn’t even attempt to fix it as he yanked his door open, storming down the stairs and across the common room towards the girls’ dormitories. 

Anyone who saw him stalk with such a determined gait would not have clocked him as worried, but Tom’s mind was ablaze with terror. She had screamed. She never screamed- not like that- not unless something was wrong. Something is wrong, he thought to himself, dread seeping in, something is wrong and I’m not there. That thought made him pick up his pace, speed-walking to the stairs and practically hurrying up them. 

He arrived at her door and didn’t bother with the pretence of knocking before barging in, his eyes instantly zeroing in to find her. She was perched on her desk chair, clutching the wall beside her as she looked at the floor in fear. He felt his shoulder relax slightly- she was okay. Although she looked odd, she appeared unharmed. But the fear in her eyes made him tense up again. He would not let her be afraid, not if he had anything to say about it. Nothing would hurt her while he was with her. 

“What are you doing?” He asked sharply, voicing cutting through the air and her eyes whipped up to his. She gasped in relief, frantically gesturing for him to come over.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re here!” She exclaimed as he stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. “I saw a trollcleg!”

Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly as he approached her. “You screamed because you saw a trollcleg?” Trollclegs were relatively harmless insects. Despite looking a bit creepy with their many legs and annoying buzzing when they flew, they were similar to cockroaches and nothing to be afraid of.

“It was huge!” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Practically the size of a Vampyr Mosp!”

“Why didn’t you kill it?”

She looked up at him sheepishly. “I’m afraid of them.” 

Tom sighed, though it was more fond than exasperated. “Come on,” he said, taking hold of her arm and placing a hand on her waist. “Let me help you down before you fall and I have to deal with you declaring a terrifying insect made you lose your balance.”

“Not until you get it!” She protested, gently pushing his arms away from her. Tom raised his eyebrows in mock irritation. 

“You want me to kill the trollcleg for you?” He asked, and she nodded enthusiastically. He let out another sigh, stepping away from her. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” She exclaimed, straightening up and nearly toppling over in her unsteady chair. Tom grabbed her arms again, steadying her so she didn’t fall. 

“I’ll do this if only to get you down from there faster.” He warned her, only releasing her arms when he was sure she had regained her balance. 

It didn’t take him long to locate the trollcleg. It was hovering near a pile of chocolate frog candy wrappers, buzzing happily around. But his eyes widened when he saw it. She was right, it really was massive. Despite himself, Tom felt a shiver run down his spine. He did not want to get any closer to that thing. 

“Did you find it?” She asked suddenly, and Tom nearly groaned in a mix of frustration and relief as the trollcleg heard her voice and buzzed away. At least he could put off getting nearer to it for a little while.

“We need to be quiet,” he chided her, and she put her hands up in a ‘surrender’ motion. 

Tom crept around the room, waiting for the trollcleg to reappear. It finally did, crawling on the floor next to her trunk. Tom slunk towards it, carefully lifting his foot to crush it with one swift stroke. But right as he was about to step on it, it lifted back up, buzzing directly towards his face. Tom recoiled, stumbling backwards with a very undignified shriek. 

“Get it; get it!” He heard her yelp, clapping her hands. 

“Don’t move on that chair, you’re going to fall!” He yelled, still slapping at the bug, which was fruitlessly trying to attack his face- it had no stinger so it really wasn’t threatening at all, just annoying.

“Damn you-” he managed to get out before knocking it to the floor again and quickly stomping on it. Only when he pulled his foot away and ensured that it was indeed dead did he hear her let out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Did you scream?” She asked, trying (and failing) to hide a smile as she got down from the chair and made her way over to him.

“No,” Tom said instantly, and her smile only grew, now looking more like a smirk. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you shriek like that before,” she teased, reaching up and fixing his hair for him, running her fingers through the soft waves. It had been mussed up as he tried to swat the bug away from his face. 

“I intended to keep it that way,” he told her. “And just to be clear, I killed the bug because I wanted you down from that chair as quickly as possible,” he added, looking down at her sternly. “Not because I also dislike trollclegs.”

She smiled slyly, nodding her head wisely. “Oh, of course. I won’t tell anyone it was you who made that last scream.” Tom glared at her for a moment before shaking his head. He couldn’t feign anger at her for too long. 

“Alright,” he murmured, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“Besides, if anyone asks, I can just say you did it because you love me.” She quipped, and Tom rolled his eyes but stepped in closer. 

“Yes,” he said. “That too.” 

--

[antinousletmehit]

Okay please here me out

After your latest post chapter 25 imagine ody accidentally walks in on tele and reader kissing or something and she’s on top of him and ody thinking she’s still dangerous he’s like “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY BABY BOY YOU SUCCUBUS!!! 😡” acting like a paps bear 🐻

The corridors of the palace were quieter than usual, save for the soft shuffle of sandals on the stone floor. Odysseus was doing his usual rounds, his sharp eyes scanning for anything out of place. While the suitors had been dealt with, old habits died hard, and he couldn’t help but patrol his home like a hawk.

It was then he heard it—a muffled giggle, followed by the unmistakable sound of hushed whispers. His brow furrowed.

Following the sound, Odysseus turned the corner, and his jaw dropped.

There, in the shadows of the courtyard, stood Telemachus… locked in a passionate kiss with none other than Antinous’s sister.

Odysseus froze for only a moment before the sheer audacity of what he was witnessing sank in. His son—his sweet, innocent, baby boy—was entangled with the sibling of the suitor who had caused him endless grief.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY BABY BOY, YOU SUCCUBUS!” Odysseus bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls.

You and Telemachus broke apart so fast it was as if you’d been struck by lightning. Telemachus turned beet red, his hands flying to his face in an attempt to shield himself from his father’s wrath.

“Father!” Telemachus exclaimed, voice cracking in his panic.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Father!’ me, young man!” Odysseus stormed over, grabbing Telemachus by the shoulders and yanking him away from you as if you were some deadly predator. “What are you doing? With her?”

You, flustered but still trying to maintain your composure, crossed your arms and raised a brow. “Her has a name, King Odysseus,” you said, trying to sound dignified despite your burning cheeks.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Odysseus shot back, his eyes narrowing at you. “You’re Antinous’s sister! The very bloodline of my torment!”

“Father, stop!” Telemachus groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re embarrassing me!”

“Good!” Odysseus barked. “You should be embarrassed! Sneaking around with—” He gestured wildly at you, clearly at a loss for words.

“She’s not like Antinous,” Telemachus defended, his voice desperate. “She’s kind and sweet and—”

“Oh, don’t you dare start listing her qualities to me!” Odysseus interrupted, waving a finger in his son’s face. “You’re too young for this! And with her? What kind of betrayal is this?”

You, finally fed up, stepped forward. “With all due respect, King Odysseus, Telemachus and I care about each other, and that has nothing to do with my brother.”

Odysseus glared at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It has everything to do with your brother!”

Before you could respond, Telemachus groaned loudly, grabbing his father by the arm and dragging him away. “Father, we’ll talk about this later!”

Odysseus, despite being far stronger than his son, allowed himself to be pulled away, grumbling under his breath. “Later? Oh, there will definitely be a later!”

Telemachus shot you an apologetic look over his shoulder as he disappeared down the corridor with his father.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Well, that could’ve gone worse,” you muttered, though you weren’t entirely convinced.

Somehow, you had a feeling this was far from over.

[hypnobeauty]

a chance encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 12)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. masterlist cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, squid games, blood, violence, hints of transphobia and homophobia, author cannot do math. a/n: hello lovelies! this took forever and it is not as good as i hoped. writer's block has been kicking my ass for the past weeks--- haven't even replied to most comments on the last part. sorry for it! i'll catch up, i swear. as always, enjoy xx comments are always welcome, i giggle and kick my feet whenever i read them. silly pinterest board i've been curating over the weeks taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen @deernat @vvlwvvy @psychobitchsthings @dikeu-yoiz

part 12. player 120 and player 133

the first thing you felt was disorientation.

the light was too bright, searing through your closed eyelids and pulling you from unconsciousness. the music was too loud, making your head throb, a dull, persistent ache that seemed to echo with every beat of your heart. you blinked against the brightness, your vision swimming as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

the ceiling above you was unfamiliar—smooth white tiles with fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly. you turned your head slowly, your body sluggish, and realized you were lying on a bed. no, not just a bed—a top bunk bed.

panic began to creep in as your senses sharpened. the room was massive, far larger than any space you’d ever been in. rows upon rows of identical black metal bunk beds stretched out before you, stacked four high like a factory assembly line. the walls were tiled in white, adorned with strange decals of sports figures that gave the space an odd resemblance to a school gymnasium.

you sat up, your movements stiff, and looked down at yourself.

the green tracksuit caught you off guard. it was simple, plain, with the number 133 printed in bold white on the chest and back. beneath the jacket, a white shirt bore the same number. your feet were covered in white socks and plain white loafers.

a sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you realized your own clothes were gone.

you tugged at the waistband of the tracksuit pants, peeking underneath to find black, nondescript underwear. everything you’d been wearing—the cardigan, the jeans, the sneakers—was gone. your breath quickened and you quickly placed your hand on your neck, and sighed in relief to find hyun-ju’s locket still there. you ran your hands over your body as if searching for some other trace of familiarity. but there was nothing. no bag, no phone, no wallet.

the panic surged.

“where am i?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

your eyes darted around the room, taking in the sheer scale of it. hundreds of people were scattered among the beds, some sitting, some lying down, others pacing restlessly on the floor. they were all wearing the same green tracksuit, each with a unique number printed on it.

it felt like a nightmare, one of those dreams where nothing made sense, but the fear was real. you pressed your fingers to your temples, trying to steady your breathing, but the questions came faster than you could answer them.

how did i get here? what happened to my clothes? my phone? my life?

and then it hit you like a lightning bolt.

“hyun-ju,” you whispered, the word barely audible.

you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, climbing down the metal stairs with shaky limbs. your heart pounded as you scanned the sea of faces, your voice rising in desperation.

“hyun-ju?”

your voice echoed faintly in the cavernous space, but no one responded. your chest tightened, the panic threatening to consume you.

“hyun-ju!” you called again, louder this time.

and then, like a lifeline, you heard her voice.

“here!”

you turned sharply, your eyes locking onto her figure. she was standing a few feet away, her tracksuit identical to yours except for the number 120 printed on it. relief washed over you like a tidal wave, so overwhelming that your knees nearly buckled.

without thinking, you ran to her, throwing yourself into her arms.

hyun-ju caught you effortlessly, her strong arms wrapping around you as you clung to her like she was the only solid thing in this surreal, shifting world. her scent—warm, familiar, floral spicy, and comforting—filled your senses, grounding you in the chaos.

“hyun-ju,” you whispered against her shoulder, your voice trembling. “where are we?”

her arms tightened around you, her chin resting on your head. “i don’t know,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the uncertainty. “but we’re together in this.”

you pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, searching for reassurance. her dark gaze was calm, but you could see the flicker of unease beneath the surface.

“what happened to us?” you asked, your voice breaking. you knew she knew as much as you did, but still, it was impossible not to ask.

“i don’t know,” she repeated, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. her thumb brushed against your skin, a small, grounding gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you.

your gaze darted around the room again, taking in the countless people who looked just as confused as you felt. “they took everything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “our clothes, our phones… everything.”

hyun-ju nodded, her jaw tightening. “i know. but we’ll figure it out. whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

her confidence was like a balm, soothing the edges of your frayed nerves. you leaned into her touch, drawing strength from her presence.

“promise me,” you said, your voice trembling. “promise me we’ll stay together.”

hyun-ju’s eyes softened, and she pressed her forehead to yours. “i promise,” she said, her voice steady and resolute. “we’ll stay together. no matter what.”

in that moment, the fear didn’t disappear, but it dulled, tempered by the warmth of her arms around you. whatever this place was, whatever lay ahead, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t alone and that was enough to keep you standing. the fear didn’t disappear, but it dulled, tempered by the warmth of hyun-ju’s arms around you. whatever this place was, whatever lay ahead, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t alone.

you two walked back toward hyun-ju’s bed, trying to process the chaos of the situation. before you could gather your thoughts, the main door of the massive room swung open, and figures in pink suits and black masks walked in, their expressions hidden behind the stark black symbols—circle, triangle, square—displayed on their masks. the atmosphere shifted immediately, a hush falling over the room, curiosity and apprehension thick in the air. a masked figure with a square stepped forward and addressed the crowd, their voice altered by a mechanical filter.

“i would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you. everyone here will participate in six different games over six days. those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize.”

murmurs broke out, people exchanging confused glances, some intrigued, others skeptical. hyun-ju was the first to speak, her voice sharp, clear. “excuse me.” heads turned in her direction. “you said we’d be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me. how can we trust anything you say?”

the square-masked figure remained unmoved. “i apologize. please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game’s security.”

another woman spoke up next, questioning the masks, asking if this was some kind of underground gambling house. the square simply replied, “we must maintain confidentiality.”

you didn’t like this at all. it felt too good to be true—who just hands out money for playing games? what kind of games? the vagueness set you on edge, your mind spinning with possible explanations. you voiced your concerns to hyun-ju in a hushed tone, but she simply squeezed your hand. “let’s listen, aein,” she murmured. you sighed, frustrated, but nodded.

around you, complaints rose. people demanded their belongings back—their phones, their wallets, their dignity. one man, player 333, grumbled about missing the crypto market.

“player 333, lee myunggi.”

a remote clicked, and a massive screen descended from the ceiling. a video flickered to life—a man getting slapped at a subway station.

“age 30, used to run a youtube channel called mg coin. after convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappeared. you’re wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws. current debt levels: 1.8 billion won.”

you gaped. “god, hyun-ju, 1.8 billion!” you whispered, grabbing her arm. suddenly your debt didn’t feel so grand now.

the videos continued. one after another, humiliating debts laid bare for all to see. then, suddenly— “player 133.”

your breath caught as your own face appeared on the screen. the moment you met the salesman at the bus stop played back for everyone to witness, the slap still stinging even through the recording. your name flashed beneath your image.

“125 million won in debt.”

a lump formed in your throat. before you could fully process it, another familiar face appeared on the screen.

“player 120, cho hyun-ju, 330 million won in debt.”

hyun-ju stiffened beside you. the video showed her outside her job, the sharp crack of the salesman’s slap echoing in the silent room. she shifted uncomfortably. without thinking, you reached for her hand and squeezed.

more videos played, and soon the shouting resumed. voices layered over one another, demands, confusion, panic growing by the second. the square-masked figure spoke again.

“all of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliff edge. when we first came to you, you did not trust us either. but as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. and so, you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will.”

murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. you still felt uneasy, the uncertainty of what you’d have to do gnawed at your nerves. a sudden mechanical rumble vibrated through the room. the ceiling panels split apart, and a massive transparent piggy bank descended from above, illuminated by an eerie yellow glow.

“what you see now is the piggy bank where your valuable prize money will be stored,” the square continued. “after each of the six games you play, the prize money will accumulate in this piggy bank.”

“how much is the prize money?” someone called out.

“45.6 billion won.”

gasps. disbelief. the air vibrated with excitement, greed, desperation.

the square continued, detailing that players would have a chance to vote after each game—they could choose to continue or leave, taking home whatever money had been accumulated. you perked up at this. if you could, you’d leave now.

“are you saying we’ll still receive the money, even if we leave after the first game?” an older man asked.

“that’s correct.”

a brief surge of hope lifted in your chest. maybe it wasn’t all bad. maybe you could play one round and get out. the moment of reflection was interrupted when an old woman elbowed past you. “good heavens! excuse me, darling!”

she rushed forward and smacked a man in glasses over the head.

“you idiot!” she shouted.

“mom?! what… what are you doing here?”

they bickered, their voices rising over the crowd. you couldn’t help yourself—a laugh bubbled out of you.

“stop it,” hyun-ju murmured, nudging you, though her own lips twitched with amusement.

“sorry, it’s too ridiculous,” you giggled, leaning into her.

she rolled her eyes, but then, unexpectedly, leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips.

the warmth of her lips lingered as you pulled back, your hand instinctively reaching for the locket around her neck, fingers brushing over its surface. “you’re wearing it,” you murmured, tracing the cool metal.

“of course,” she said simply, catching your hand in hers. “it’s you. why wouldn’t i?”

a tight knot formed in your chest. you wanted to leave. now. every part of you screamed that this was too much, too dangerous. but you knew hyun-ju—she was already thinking things through, weighing possibilities, calculating risks. and more than anything, she was thinking about the money.

the square-masked figure interrupted your thoughts. “if you wish to participate in the games, please sign the player consent form. those who do not wish to participate, please speak up now.”

you hesitated. “you’ll really pay us even if we play just one game?”

“yes.”

hyun-ju’s hand tightened around yours.

“then let’s do this,” you whispered.

*

as soon as the masked figures announced that the first game would begin shortly, players were instructed to sign a contract. hyun-ju instinctively placed you in front of her, her presence like a shield at your back. even now, she was always protecting you. you quickly scanned the lines of the contract, but the words barely registered. your heart was pounding. with a deep breath, you signed your name.

a circle-masked guard ushered you through a side door. the moment you stepped through, you hesitated, turning to look for hyun-ju. you weren’t going anywhere without her. minutes felt like hours before she finally emerged from the other side, her eyes frantically searching the room. the instant she spotted you, relief washed over her features. you hurried to her, taking her hand in yours.

“i’m here. i waited for you.”

her grip tightened. “thank you,” she murmured, squeezing back.

you fell into line again, following the flow of people as they moved through a labyrinth of pastel-colored hallways. the bright, childlike hues felt at odds with the suffocating dread curling in your stomach. up and down stairs, through arched doorways, past seemingly endless twists and turns until you reached a large room lined with photo totems.

“smile,” an automated voice instructed as you stepped up to one of the machines and you obeyed, a big smile plastered on your face.

a camera flash blinded you for a second, and you blinked against the sudden burst of light. “after having your picture taken, follow the staff’s instructions and proceed to the game site.”

you moved to the side, waiting for hyun-ju. while you stood there, a conversation nearby caught your attention. the old woman from before, player 149, was watching hyun-ju with narrowed eyes.

“is that a man or a woman?” she muttered, nudging her son, player 007. you felt your stomach drop.

“there are people like that,” her son replied quickly. “they’re men who want to be women.”

your fists clenched. a sharp, biting anger curled in your chest.

“why would they want to be women?” the woman scoffed. “men are men, and women are women.” then, her gaze slid to you, “and that girl—is she with…her? why would a pretty girl like her want to be with… someone like that?”

the words felt like a slap. shame and anger warred inside you, tangled up in a storm of helplessness. you wanted to turn around, to say something, to defend hyun-ju, but the words lodged in your throat. you could only stare, frozen, as her son sighed in exasperation and tugged her away.

“you can’t say things like that, people can love whoever they want nowadays,” he muttered, casting you a quick, apologetic glance before guiding her through the line.

the moment they were gone, your breath left you in a shaky exhale. you hadn’t realized your hands were trembling until you saw them clenched at your sides. of all places, here—where every single person had been stripped of their dignity, humiliated, and reduced to nothing more than their debts—people still found ways to discriminate, to make others feel small.

tears burned at the back of your eyes, and despite your best efforts, a few slipped free before you could blink them away. you wiped them hastily, not wanting hyun-ju to see.

when she finally finished her turn at the photo booth, she approached you with a soft smile, completely unaware of what had just transpired. the moment she was close enough, you threw your arms around her, burying your face in her shoulder, inhaling the familiar warmth of her scent.

she chuckled, hugging you back. “what is it?” she murmured, pulling back to search your face.

you shook your head quickly, pushing down everything you felt, not wanting to ruin the moment. “nothing, i… i just love you so, so much.”

her expression softened instantly. “i love you too.” pressing her forehead against yours, she whispered, “let’s do this, yes?”

you nodded, managing a tight-lipped smile. she turned, leading the way this time, and you clung to the back of her jacket as you climbed yet another flight of stairs.

at last, you stepped through a massive green gate and onto a sandy field. it was enormous, stretching farther than your eyes could follow. tall walls surrounded you, painted to resemble a serene outdoor landscape. but it wasn’t real—none of this was real. at the far end of the field stood a gigantic doll, dressed in yellow, her unblinking eyes staring blankly ahead.

“all players, please wait a moment on the field.” a woman’s voice echoed over the pa system. “let me repeat. all players, please wait a moment on the field.”

more people filed in, filling the space until there was no more room left to move. the tension in the air was palpable. hyun-ju scanned the area, eyes sharp.

“do you see anything different?” you asked quietly.

she shook her head. “not yet.”

the pa system crackled again. “the first game is red light, green light.”

murmurs rippled through the crowd. you turned to hyun-ju, eyebrows furrowing. “red light, green light? the kids’ game?”

she nodded slowly. “it seems so.”

“this is weird, hyun-ju. i don’t like it.” you tugged at her hand, voice lowering to a whisper. “let’s leave after this, yes?”

before she could respond, the voice returned. “cross the finish line without getting caught in five minutes. if you do, you pass.” a giant stopwatch clicked on above the field. 05:00. a man—one of the players who had spoken earlier—suddenly stepped forward, waving his arms. “everyone! everyone, listen up! pay attention!”

somehow, his voice cut through the crowd. heads turned.

“listen carefully! this is not just a game!”

the unease you had felt since waking up in this place sharpened into something more tangible. the man took a deep breath and shouted, “if you lose the game, you die!”

you sucked in a sharp breath, fingers tightening around hyun-ju��s. your pulse pounded in your ears, your body stiffening in fear.

you looked up at hyun-ju, eyes wide, searching for some kind of reassurance, but she was staring ahead, jaw clenched, her own fear barely concealed beneath her steady expression. a cold dread settled over you, the unknown stretched ahead like a dark abyss and you weren’t sure if either of you would make it to the other side.

*

the murmurs of confusion and disbelief around you grew. someone in the crowd let out a nervous laugh, but it was swallowed by the sharp, mechanical voice over the pa system that announced, “let the game begin”. the air seemed to shift, a collective breath held in tense anticipation.

“green light.”

the sound of the doll’s mechanical chime rang through the space, and everyone hesitated for a beat before cautiously stepping forward. some laughed, moving with ease, treating it like an actual game.

“red light.”

a sharp, mechanical whir cut through the air and then bang.

a girl fell forward with a sickening thud, unmoving. you stiffened, your breath catching in your throat. someone let out a nervous chuckle—until the gunfire continued.

one, two, three more bodies hit the ground. screaming erupted, people turned, bolting for the doors.

bang. bang. bang.

the laughter and confusion from before turned into pure terror as the exit became a slaughterhouse. player 456’s voice broke through the chaos, urgent and desperate. “don’t move! stay still! if you run, you’ll die!”

your legs shook beneath you. hyun-ju’s grip on your hand was tight—so tight it hurt—but you barely noticed. she wasn’t moving, you weren’t moving. but your whole body screamed at you to run. 

someone next to you stumbled. bang. blood splattered against your cheek and your stomach lurched, bile rising in your throat.

when it was time to move hyun-ju turned to you, her voice low but firm. “aein, listen to me.” you forced yourself to look at her.

“we have to keep moving,” she said, her voice steadier than you thought possible. “but we have to do it right. step when it says. stop when it says.”

you could barely hear her over the pounding of your own heartbeat, but you nodded. time to stop, another crack of gunfire and another body.

456 was still shouting. “we just have to move and stop at the right time! we can all make it if we stay calm!”

people started forming lines, a methodical approach to survival. before you could react, hyun-ju grabbed your shoulders and maneuvered you behind her, shielding your smaller frame with her own.

“hold onto me,” she ordered, voice softer this time. you gripped the back of her jacket, holding onto the green fabric so tightly your knuckles turned white. your fingers trembled against the material, your entire body vibrating with fear. but she was tall, broader than you—blocking most of you from view and you pressed yourself against her back, willing yourself to become smaller.

"green light."

she stepped forward, and you followed, mirroring her movements exactly.

"red light."

you froze. the trembling in your legs threatened to give you away, but you clenched your jaw and forced yourself to remain still. it was agony, every second stretched unbearably long. the fear of moving, of making even the slightest twitch, felt suffocating.

"green light."

a step. another.

"red light."

stillness.

hyun-ju’s breaths were deep and controlled. you mimicked her.

"green light."

the finish line was close. so close. you passed. relief, you both made it safely. but then 456 turned, his voice ringing across the field. “there’s still time! we can save him!”

you barely had a second to register what was happening before you felt hyun-ju’s grip on you disappear. you only watched in horror as she sprinted past the other players, past you, towards 456 and the man struggling to crawl forward.

your mind blanked.

no. no, no, no.

“hyun-ju!”

you lunged forward, instinct taking over, but before you could get far, strong arms wrapped around you, yanking you back.

“let me go!” you shrieked, thrashing violently against the hold. “hyun-ju, no! let me go! let me fucking go!”

“stop moving!” the voice belonged to player 390, the man holding you back. he was shockingly strong, his grip ironclad as he forced you still. “you’ll get yourself killed!”

tears burned down your cheeks as you struggled, watching helplessly as hyun-ju and 456 lifted the wounded player between them. the doll’s head was already beginning to turn.

“hyun-ju, please!” you sobbed, your throat raw from screaming.

the last stretch. just a few more steps.

the timer was running out.

“green light.”

one step.

“red light.”

stillness.

seconds stretched into eternity.

then—

“green light.”

they stumbled across the line.

the second the countdown ended, the arms holding you back released you. you hit the ground hard, palms scraping against the rough surface, but you didn’t care. you scrambled forward, throwing yourself at hyun-ju before she even had time to react.

you sobbed against her, gripping her tightly, feeling the frantic rise and fall of her chest as she gasped for breath. “you idiot,” you choked out between sobs, fingers digging into her arms, her back, anywhere you could hold onto her. “you stupid, reckless idiot.”

her arms wrapped around you just as fiercely. “i’m sorry,” she breathed, over and over again. “i’m so sorry.”

and then a gunshot, a wet, sickening sound.

you flinched and then you saw him. the man hyun-ju and 456 had just risked their lives to save; his body lay motionless, a bullet through his skull.

blood splattered across your cheek, your hands, hyun-ju’s face. hyun-ju’s grip on you tightened as she trembled. “no…” it had all been for nothing.

a sob wrenched itself from your throat. you didn’t care who was watching, who was judging. you buried yourself against hyun-ju, fists clutching at her shirt, at her warmth. hyun-ju held you just as tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other locked around your waist. and neither of you moved or let go.

*

eventually, you had to go back.

you didn’t know how much time had passed, how long you had spent on the cold, sandy floor, curled into hyun-ju, sobbing against her as she held you just as desperately. everything outside of her warmth felt distant, blurred—like the muffled sounds of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

but then, a hand landed softly on your shoulder. you flinched.

when you looked up, through the haze of tears, you saw player 456 standing there, expression heavy with exhaustion, grief, and something close to understanding. “you’re the last ones,” he said gently.

your stomach twisted as you glanced around, barely registering the bodies being cleared away in the distance, the blood that still stained the sand. there had been so many people on that field before. now, the space felt horrifyingly empty.

hyun-ju helped you stand, keeping you close as the two of you trudged back toward the sleeping quarters in the back of the line. every step felt weighted, your body sluggish, heavy with something worse than exhaustion. the sound of gunfire still echoed in your ears, like it had embedded itself into your skull. the scent of blood clung to your clothes, your skin—it was in your hair, beneath your fingernails. you wanted to scrub it off, to rip it off.

the moment you stepped inside the sleeping quarters, your legs gave out. you dropped to the floor, sitting close to one of the metal-framed beds, your back slumping against it.

hyun-ju was beside you in an instant, pulling you into her chest.

“i’m sorry,” she murmured, voice hoarse, lips brushing the crown of your head. “i love you.”

that was all she said. that was all she could say. her chin rested atop your head, arms wrapped tightly around you, grounding you in place as your body shook with silent sobs. the tears had slowed, but they kept returning in waves, stopping and starting, stopping and starting.

you couldn’t stop seeing it, that final gunshot, the way his body slumped forward, the blood—warm, wet—splattering onto you.

a presence approached. you barely registered it until a familiar voice cut through the numbness. “you gave me a fight back there,” player 390 said, amusement laced into his voice. “you’re stronger than you look, girl.”

you knew he meant well that he had held you back to save your life and he was trying to comfort you now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react. you just stared at him with empty eyes, unable to summon even a flicker of response.

his grin faltered slightly, but he didn’t seem offended. instead, he shifted his gaze to hyun-ju, giving her a small nod. you felt her move against you, the gentle dip of her chin as she nodded back. silence stretched between the three of you, then, with one last glance, player 390 clapped a hand to his thigh and walked away, giving you space.

hyun-ju’s grip on you tightened and she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. you closed your eyes and tried to breathe, but the air still felt thick with the metallic scent of blood, the echoes of gunfire still ringing in your ears.

*

an alarm buzzed, sharp and grating, making you flinch. the door at the front of the room slid open, and the masked figures in pink suits filed in, standing like statues as square stepped forward, his voice eerily neutral.

"congratulations on making it through the first game. here are the results."

a digital trill filled the silence before the screen behind him flickered to life.

“out of 456 players, 121 players have been eliminated. 335 players have completed the first game. congratulations again for making it through.”

the number hit you like a punch to the gut. 121 dead, just like that. simply. completely erased from existence, their bodies likely already being disposed of somewhere while the rest of you stood here, still shaking, still trying to process the horror you had just witnessed.

the silence was suffocating, only broken by a single, trembling voice.

"please…"

the older woman—player 149—fell to her knees, hands clasped together as she pleaded. "please forgive us, let us go. i don’t want to do this anymore! please!"

you wanted to laugh, to scream at her. woman, they just executed more than a hundred people in cold blood. you really think they’re going to listen to you?

then, a new voice cut through the room.

"clause three of the consent form. ‘the games may be terminated upon a majority vote.’ correct?"

you turned toward the speaker—player 456. his voice was steady, but his eyes were desperate. square nodded. "that is correct."

"then let us take a vote right now."

your heart pounded at those words. relief, a way out. square tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "of course. we respect your right to freedom of choice."

you let out a shaky breath, turning to hyun-ju beside you. "finally, we can leave," you whispered. "this nightmare is over."

she nodded, her grip tightening on your hand, and together you stood.

"but first," square’s voice interrupted, "let me announce the prize amount that’s been accumulated."

a low, mechanical rumble came from above. the ceiling panels shifted, and suddenly, the enormous transparent piggy bank descended, hanging ominously over your heads. “the number of players eliminated in the first game is 121. therefore, a total of 12.1 billion won has been accumulated. if you quit the games now, the 335 of you can equally divide the 12.1 billion won and leave with your share.”

murmurs rippled through the crowd. someone spoke up. "how much is that?"

square didn’t miss a beat. "each person’s share would be 35,820,895 million won."

discontent immediately spread through the room.

"fuck. we almost died, and they’re giving us 35 million? that’s fucking bullshit."

"thirty million? you said 45.6 billion!"

you couldn’t believe it. they almost died, and they’re complaining? you wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake them, just take the fucking money and go.

square remained unbothered. "the rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. if you choose to play the next game and more players get eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly."

no. no, no, no, no. no more games. you turned to hyun-ju, your heart hammering. pleading with your eyes. let’s leave, let’s get the fuck out. as if she could fix this, as if she could make it all go away.

but her expression wasn’t what you expected because she didn’t look scared, she didn’t even look phased. she looked… calm.

her grip on your hand had loosened, her gaze distant, lost in thought. it was the look she got when she was calculating, when her mind was whirring with possibilities, weighing outcomes, considering things too carefully.

"hyun-ju," you called her name, voice soft but urgent. she blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and finally met your eyes. the hold on your hand tightened again.

square continued. "now, let’s begin the vote. if you wish to continue the games, press the o button. if you wish to end them, press the x button. the vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers. once you finish voting, put the patch you are given on the right side of your chest and stand on the side you have chosen."

you turned back to hyun-ju, gripping her arm. "this is it. this is our chance. we’ll vote x and leave. i’m sure everyone else will do the same, right?"

she smiled at you. a small, unreadable smile. "of course." you wanted to believe her.

the first person to vote was player 456. he pressed x and hope blossomed in your chest, but then the next person pressed o. and then another. and another. your heart sank as the balance tipped, people choosing to stay.

then, your number was called. "player 133."

you turned to hyun-ju, giving her a quick peck before stepping forward. you didn’t hesitate. you pressed the red x with firm finality, placing the patch on your jacket. a few more people voted. then—

"player 120."

you watched as hyun-ju walked toward the stand. you were smiling, already anticipating her pressing x. but her hand hesitated, and then she pressed o, placing the blue patch onto her jacket.

she turned her head, her eyes meeting yours and the smile fell from your face. your body went rigid as ice shot through your veins.

disbelief.

betrayal.

your knees nearly buckled, but a hand caught your arm, keeping you upright. player 007. you barely registered his face as you swallowed thickly, watching as hyun-ju calmly walked to the right side of the room.

your hyun-ju.

the person who had held you through your worst moments. the person who had whispered promises into your skin, swearing you’d always have each other. and she had just chosen to stay.

your vision blurred, hot tears spilling over your cheeks. you didn’t even try to stop them—hyun-ju had made her choice. and now, you didn’t know what that meant for the both of you.

*

the moment the final vote was cast, the room fell into a suffocating silence. the glowing red and blue lights illuminated the numbers above, sealing your fate. o had won—by one vote.

a wave of nausea rolled through you. one vote. one person had tipped the scales in favor of staying in this nightmare. it could’ve been anyone, but the only one that mattered was hyun-ju.

your legs felt unsteady as you turned away from the screen, barely registering the murmurs rippling through the crowd. without a word, you started walking back toward your bunk, climbing the stairs with heavy, mechanical movements. you didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to look at her.

but hyun-ju caught up to you quickly. she called your name softly, reaching for you. "please, just—"

"not now," you snapped, your voice shaking with restraint. "i need to be alone."

she hesitated before asking, "can i at least sit with you?"

you scoffed, finally turning to face her. the hurt in her eyes almost made you falter, but your anger and fear kept you steady. "do whatever you want, hyun-ju. it’s clear you’re doing that already."

her head dropped slightly, and she followed behind you like a lost puppy as you climbed into your bed. you curled up, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to breathe through the storm in your chest. hyun-ju sat at the edge of the mattress, her hands wringing together, a nervous tic you knew all too well.

"talk to me," she murmured. she was nervous. 

good. she should be.

you turned your head, glaring at her. "talk to you? what is there to talk about, hyun-ju? we almost died. we will die if we stay. and you—" you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "you voted to stay."

“i know you’re mad—”

“mad?” you let out a hollow laugh, finally looking at her. “mad doesn’t even cover it, hyun-ju. i’m furious. i’m terrified. i’m—” you cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before opening them again. “how could you do this? how could you vote to stay? we almost died today—more than once! i thought we were leaving. i thought we agreed.”

she nodded, exhaling through her nose. “i know. i know it’s fucked up. but listen to me—”

“listen to you?” you laughed again, harsher this time. “hyun-ju, we were this close—” you held your fingers barely apart. “to getting out of here! to walking away with our lives! and you—” you inhaled sharply, gripping your knees tighter. “you threw that away.”

she inhaled deeply, steadying herself. “i didn’t vote to stay because i want to die. i voted to stay because this might be our only chance to finally be free.”

your brows furrowed. “what are you even saying?”

she ran a hand through her hair, exhaling in frustration. “the money. the debts. everything hanging over our heads.” her voice was lower now, strained. “i hate it. i hate watching you stress over every bill. i hate counting every won, living paycheck to paycheck, wondering if we’ll ever catch a break. this… this is a way out.”

you shook your head, incredulous. “at what cost? hyun-ju, people died. hundreds of people.”

she flinched. “i know.”

you swallowed, trying to steady your own breath. “this isn’t the answer.”

hyun-ju met your gaze then, her expression unreadable. “if we do the math,” she said slowly, carefully, “we’d only need to play one more game.”

your stomach twisted. “no,” you said immediately. she reached for your hand, but you pulled back.

“hyun-ju, no,” you repeated, voice firmer now. “this isn’t some calculated risk. this is life or death. and you—you’re talking like it’s just a numbers game.”

“i know it’s not.” her voice wavered. “i know, okay? but this money could change everything for us. just one more game. one.”

"oh, you’re sure it’ll be just one?" you scoffed. "hyun-ju, we don’t know what’s coming next! we barely made it past this one! you almost died going back for that guy! what if next time you don’t make it?"

she opened her mouth, then closed it. her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. "i know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "i know it’s dangerous. and i hate that i put you through this. but if we make it through one more, we can leave with enough to never have to worry again. no loan sharks. no scraping by. just us, safe, with a future."

you let out a shaky breath, rubbing your temples. "i can’t do this, hyun-ju. i can’t sit here and pretend i’m okay with this."

she reached for your hand, hesitated, then pulled back. "i don’t expect you to be."

the pa system crackled. "lights will be turned off in five minutes."

hyun-ju exhaled and stood up, preparing to descend the stairs. but something in you lurched at the sight of her leaving. without thinking, you grabbed her jacket sleeve, your fingers trembling.

"don’t you think that just because i’m mad at you, you’re allowed to sleep away from me."

hyun-ju turned to you, surprised, then her expression softened. "i’ll grab my pillow."

the moment the lights went out, the two of you had settled into the small bunk. it was tight, even more so now that you weren’t curled up in opposite directions. hyun-ju faced you under the cover, her breath warm against your face.

for a while, neither of you spoke. the room buzzed with the soft murmurs of others, the occasional sniffle or stifled sob from a distant bunk. your hand twitched against the mattress, and then hyun-ju’s fingers brushed against yours. she whispered your name, almost tentatively.

you swallowed, feeling the anger still simmering inside you, but it was no match for the sheer exhaustion weighing down your body. "i don’t forgive you," you murmured.

"i know."

"but i love you."

a shaky breath. "i love you too."

she pressed her forehead to yours, her hand resting gently over your waist. "we’ll figure it out."

you sighed, letting your body melt into hers despite everything. "we have to."

in the darkness, with only the sound of her breathing keeping you grounded, you pressed a slow, tired kiss to her lips. it tasted like salt and regret, like a silent promise neither of you could yet fulfill.

but for now, it was enough.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Chapter 3

Three are now dead, but the killer seems to be caught ... but this night is not over until the room is found.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Silver, Cater Diamond

Content; Unreliable narrators, murder mystery

Content Warning; Death, murder, blood, anxiety, kidnapping, overall dead dove content warnings

Word Count; 1.1 K

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Link to the Google Form to vote!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

The body count had risen to three; Dire Crowley, the Ramshackle Prefect (whose blood still stained the floor, the iron scent permeating the air), and now, Divus Crewel as well, the latest victim. One minute the professor was alive, shaking from anger that one of his students was killed on his watch and that he was the prime suspect of the killings. But now he was sprawled out on the ground, killed in an instant.

The remaining students — Vil, Rook, Azul, Jade, Silver, and Cater — were silent, processing what exactly had just happened. The lights had flickered only for a minute, and in that minute, the killer had struck. But the silence was broken by a deafening clap of thunder, lightning illuminating the windows, and bringing everyone back to the present, to their laughably horrible situation that they had found themselves in by sheer chance and bad luck and timing.

Silver sat down on the staircase, and put his head in between his legs, taking deep breaths. Despite his training, he did not consider that he would be witnessing death so soon. The small part of his brain that had a sliver of hope that his friend had survived their gruesome injury, but he was just lying to himself; no one could survive that.

Vil was pacing, hands clasped behind his back, and he was muttering to himself. He thought he could read people, what with being raised amongst the stars that hid behind too-sweet smiles that belied venomous words. What was there to gain from any of this?

Rook was cracking his knuckles, and then rubbing his eyes, trying to think of why this was happening. While he could appreciate the hunt, this was something entirely different. Yet, it also reminded him of several books; one being a murder mystery, and the other about the deadliest game, of hunting a fellow person.

Azul was shaking and biting his nails, his resolve long gone. Had he made himself the enemy of one of his peers? Was he going to be next? He was supposed to just be perfecting a potion recipe for the next test, yet he found himself way above his head.

Jade looked at Azul, taking in that his house warden and friend was shaking more than the leaves outside in the howling wind. He too was disturbed by the night's events, sick to his stomach even, but he couldn’t show weakness, especially if he wanted to see it through.

And Cater? He was paler than a ghost, a cold sweat glistening on his forehead, and he felt like his heart was going to leap out of his throat. His cheery smile had left long ago, and now panic was fully starting to take control. Why? Why? Whywhywhy? WHY?! Yet he stayed silent.

No one spoke, but they eyed each other with caution. Every time that they had went to the mirror and they voted through it, someone died. Was it the mirror? No… no, that didn’t make sense… None of this made any sense though. 

“No more votin-” Silver whispered.

Cater cracked his head around, green eyes judging every move the underclassman made. “And why’s that, Silver?” His voice was shaky, but Cater wasn’t trusting him or anyone for that matter. “Afraid that-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Vil barked, commanding everyone’s attention, eyes all on him. But he was used to eyes being on him, and he stayed cool, despite how this may damn him into being guilty in their eyes. He didn’t care at the moment though, all he cared about was no one else dying. “Look at what being suspicious of each other has brought us,” his eyes wandered to the dark clotted blood that had now gone cold. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, keeping the calm mask up. “I agree with Silver though; voting through the mirror only ends up with someone… dead.”

“Then how do we proceed, Roi du Poison?” Rook asked, falling to his house warden’s side. His eyes looked over everyone, picking up their behaviours, emotions, and any tells.

Azul’s head snapped up. “The potion-” he started muttering to himself, before clearing his throat and gaining his composure again. “A truth potion, but one that shows the truth about the situation, we can use that to find the killer.”

Cater looked at Silver, and offered him his hand; a peace offering. Silver took it, and brought himself up on wobbly knees. A truce.

Jade placed his hand on Azul’s shoulder, offering him a bit of comfort that not everyone was out to get him. “Was that what you were working on?”

Azul nodded, and he started making his way towards the alchemy lab, where hopefully they could put an end to the killer’s little charade once and for all.

…

…

Vil helped Azul make the potion, and both students kept a keen eye on the other, but they made it without incident. And to show the others that they hadn’t tampered with it at all, they took it first, with the others shortly following suit.

“What about the room?” Silver asked.

“We can figure that out once we find the killer,” Jade countered.

Everyone looked at each other, taking in any minute details, but everyone was calm; the potion apparently did wonders to calm the nerves… but that in itself was a dangerous effect, since now everyone’s guards were down, making them easy targets.

Vil took in a breath and released it. “Who killed Dire Crowley? Why did you then kill the Prefect, and then Professor Crewel?” 

But no one spoke up.

“It isn’t me,” Vil said confidently, hoping that his speaking up prompted the others to follow suit.

Cater was to his left, and he spoke next. “I didn’t do it.”

Then Silver, “Or me… I couldn’t do something like this…”

“I did not do it either,” Jade offered.

Azul’s eyes went wide, and he eyed the next person in line. “The killer isn’t me.”

All eyes fell on the last person left in their little circle; Rook. With all of them but him left, that only left him.

He let out a throaty, quiet, chuckle. “I suppose this game has run its course,” he tipped his hat to them, green eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. “As for why? Hmmm,” he hummed, and the hairs on everyone’s necks stood on end. There was something off about Rook, this wasn’t Rook. 

“You’ll find that out when you guess the room.”

What?

Everyone took a step closer to each other, away from Rook, and they whispered amongst each other, voting on what room Crowley’s murder took place in.

“Alchemy lab,” Cater spoke for the group, trying to keep his resolve as Rook seemed to stare into the very contents of his soul, like he was searching for something.

Rook stepped forward, still smiling. “Ah, désolé Monsieur Magicam,” the whites of his eyes started turning black, “but you would be wrong.” The lights flickered again, and in the seconds of darkness, Rook was gone, and so was Cater.

GOOGLE FORM (voting will end Wednesday, October 18th at 9pm EST)

SUSPECTS:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard) MURDERER - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach) MISSING

ROOMS:

- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2) - Teachers’ lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab (eliminated in Chapter 3) - Library - Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)

WEAPON: MAGIC (found in Chapter 2)

…

To be continued

[readychilledwine]

Tainted Love pt 2

Eris Week - Day 3 - Healing and Betrayal

Summary - You had never planned on falling in love with Eris when Beron assigned you to spy on him.

Warnings - injuries, angst, Lucien and Eris's relationship, miscommunication

A/N - Is it a character week if I'm not rewriting something last minute 🤔 Happy @erisweekofficial day 3! This may get a part 3 that jumps in time. I'm not happy with it, but that's normal for me lately with my writing (and that's okay). Plus, I want to write some Mabon magic ritual smut for funsies.

🐕Find pt 1 here🐕

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Healing Halls were Eris's least favorite place to be. The smell was potent. The air was too stale. The environment was lifeless. He had hoped Rhysand in all of his glory would have found a way to change that.

But Rhysand was just one male. One male who couldn't even get his hound to correctly communicate why they had warned him about you in the first place. At least the shadowsinger had the decency to look guilty.

Azriel was supposed to him you were playing a dangerous game, that you were spying for Beron, yet in doing so pushing all of Eris's wants. That as far as Rhys could tell from your mind, you were loyal to Eris, but feared losing your position with Beron would lose Eris a valuable tool.

You were right. Had you let Eris begin calling the shots, you would not have gotten half the things accomplished you did.

And because of Azriel's anger, his miscommunication, Eris had almost lost you.

Your hand was still cold as Eris held it, warming it and your bed with his magic. Blood was dried and clinging to him like a second skin. Yours, his, the guards, his father's. He had never lost control the way he had tonight and he prayed he never would again.

Your pain, the way it shot down the bond and settled in his bones and skin, it would haunt him. It was an ache that would linger. Regardless of your breathing. Regardless of your cheeks regaining their soft blush.

He had never felt panic like he did when he and Azriel had found you. The sheer desperation that set in seeing you lifeless, of hearing your heartbeat slowing to a stop, was also going to linger. You had been saved my a miracle he'd forever repay to the Mother in her glory but it left him with needs.

He just needed you to breathe. To open your eyes and wake up. He held no concerns in the world other than you and you alone. Regardless of what you had done to him.

Eris knew deep down you wanted to tell him, that you love him, that none of this was meaningless or fake.

No one was that good of an actress. No one would fake the look of love you had in your eyes when you saw him. No one could fake the way you looked in his arms, in his bed. No one could fake the bond sitting in his chest.

It was such a special thing, a blessing. To be able to feel the female he loved so intimately. To know that right now, the dreams playing in your mind were happy. That you weren't in pain.

Azriel stood and squeezed Eris's shoulder, “I'm going to go get you a drink.” He grunted in response, eyes never leaving your sleeping form. They had given you the best healers and medicines, but the wounds were deep. Scars dancing your back like lightning would forever remind him of what his father had done.

He felt a tremor of his new power run through his body again and shook his shoulders to recenter himself. He had not expected the weight her instantly felt when he gained Beron's power, but he had not been expecting to gain it so soon. His more primal instincts were heightened.

The need to protect.

The need to fight.

Needs for other activities he only wanted to enjoy with you.

He had to shake that as well, smiling as you sighed and adjusted in the bed.

“Wake up, sunflower,” his voice held an air of command he knew he would have to be careful with. “Open your eyes for me.”

Your fingers twitched in his, your nose scrunching slightly as the medical smell hit you. You could hear Eris, feel his presence in your chest. The words you would say to him if you could. You felt your senses slowly coming back. Soon it wasn't just Eris you could hear, but the ping of glass bottles, the crackle of a hearth.

The air was off. It wasn't a lingering scent of bonfire and fallen leaves, but instead a soft musk and Cyprus.

Night Court.

You were in the Night Court.

He commanded you again, calling for you like a king to his soldiers and forcing your body to respond to him with a soft whine as you curled your toes and slowly opened your eyes.

Eris was on you in seconds, helping you sit up before his arms were around you. A new 3rd emotion hit him, undeniable relief. His hand lingered on your heart as he pulled back, “I'm glad you are okay.”

“I-”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I know. I know everything. Rhysand read your mind."

You nodded, but the words still needed to be said, “I never meant to hurt you. As soon as the bond snapped, I wanted to tell you, but it felt like-”

“It was too dangerous,” he put it simply. “I know.”

“Beron-”

“Is dead,” the words seemed to tilt your world upside down. “When I felt what he did to you, when I saw what he had done, I couldn't stop myself.”

You had to process that slowly, word by word, “How do you feel?”

“I feel everything,” he took a deep breath “Anger, joy, mourning. I thought it would bring me nothing but happiness, but seeing him-”

“It's complicated. Because he was your father. Because he was not always the monster you learned he was. Because you will never get to fix that bridge, but at the same time you get to heal and relax.”

He nodded at your words. “I don't know what I would have done if you died, y/n. I would have burned that whole court down, consequences damned.” Eris took a deep breath as he laced his blood stained fingers into yours. “You played such a dangerous game, sunflower.”

“I wanted to help you, take him down from the position I held.”

Eris took your chin in his, “And you almost died. The one being who has helped me cope with my past, who has made me feel whole, who has helped me heal my inner child. You almost died.”

There was silence again as the door opened and Lucien and Madja came in. The youngest son of Autumn didn't speak as he began to look over your lingering injuries and Madja began to mix something. He didn't even look at Eris. Nor Eris him. The sadness in both of them was clear. “Lucien?”

He glanced up at you, “Yes?”

“Did you get to see your mother?”

Lucien's lips twitched up, “Not yet. I was told I had to help heal you or my favorite pieces of me would get attached to a wall.”

Your eyes went wide as you gave Eris a dirty look, “I regret nothing.”

“Jerk.”

“Asshole,” Eris fired back at Lucien.

“Rather be an asshole than a limp dick.”

The two of them bickering back and forth lightly. There was no malice in their words.

“Eris,” you interrupted. “I think you should take Lucien to her.” The brothers both went still at your words. “And take a bath while you're there.”

Lucien hid his smirk at that as well as he could, “Because you smell like rot.”

“He smells like change,” the words were slow. “Like the beginning of healing, a cycle turning.”

“A grove of trees that seemed to be dead have come back to life in Autumn,” a purr from the doorway made you glance over there. “They are blooming white flowers.”

Rhysand commanded the room while he entered it. Sitting across from you as Madja moved to give you a vial before leaving. “Take that,” Eris tilted your hand to your lips. “Are you referring to the grove near summer? The one that stopped producing nearly 100 years ago?”

Rhysand nodded as he looked solely at you, “It appears that they needed new Leadership to bring new life. I think your dear mate knows something about that.”

More eyes looked to you as you glared at Rhys. “I found research in Beron's office that pointed to Autumn dying from the lack of magic being put back into the lands. Your father evidently was not taking part in some hunt?”

Lucien chuckled, “Oh it's a hunt alright.”

“Mabon,” Eris rolled his eyes. “It's not exactly a hunt, sunflower.”

“It's our Calanmai,” Lucien explained. “Not surprised you don't know what it is considering females aren't allowed to know but are expected to partake if chosen.”

You only nodded before looking at Eris, “That needs to change.”

Eris looked to Rhys. The High Lord put his hands up, “Eris, let me give you advice Helion's father gave me. Being a powerful High Lord means nothing if you are not good to your fae. To be good to your fae means to put their safety and needs first. To do will heal your court, but, to heal your court you have to heal yourself. Think of all the lies and things hidden from you. The betrayals you faced,” a pointed look your way. “It this how you want Autumn to be from this point forward?”

Eris shook his head, “No.”

“Then you must look inward, heal the parts of you that have been tainted by Beron, and with those things healed, your court and land follows.”

Eris raised a hand to Lucien wordlessly, waiting for his baby brother to take it. A tanned hand laid in his, a metal eye whirling, “Where are we going?”

“Home,” Eris said. “To mother. Thank you for healing my mate, Rhysand. But I fear her stay has come to an end.”

The Lord of Night nodded, “Be better, Eris.” It was the last sentence before magic ripped you through the fabrics of the world and the familiar halls of the Forest House appeared.

Lady Autumn sat at her piano, long graceful fingers kissing the keys as she played freely for the first time in 300 years. There was a smile on her face that both of her sons knew. A smile saved for her private moments with her boys. Lucien stumbled to her, making her hands stop.

“Mama,” his tone was filled with broken emotion, bliss that had Eris grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers together as you both watched. “Mama!”

“Lu,” her own voice whispered as she stood and rushed to him. “My baby.” Their hug was a moment that you felt. It was a fracture in your mate's soul beginning to fill.

“We should give them privacy,” you pulled him away as Lucien and Lady Autumn fell to the ground holding each other. “Unless you need to see this?”

“No. We can go,” Eris glanced at you. “This seems like a good beginning.”

You could only nod as sobs of joy filled the air, “For healing Autumn or you?”

“Both,” he tried to sound confident. “For healing both.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

Tainted Love Taglist:

@unfortunately-a-dazai-kinnie @kennedy-brooke @y0urm0m12 @slytherinindisguise @river-of-woe @darling006 @endless-worldss @sharknutz @saltedcoffeescotch @mal-adaptive-dreams @chaos-on-stand-bi @wrensical003 @bookwormysblog @mp-littlebit @ratgirl2020

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

The Quiet in the Storm

Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr x Reader Summary: The noise in your head won’t stop, and the world feels like it’s tearing at your skin. But Barty knows how to sit with silence. Tags: fem!reader, no use of y/n, overstimulation, emotional dysregulation, sensory overwhelm, panic attack, breakdown, hurt/comfort, barty being unexpectedly gentle, he doesn't joke this time, quiet support, storm metaphor carried through, reader can't speak but still communicates, barty's hand is the lifeline, safe touch, neurodivergent-coded reader, just let me be held for a minute, barty knows how to sit in the silence, eventual calm Word count: 1.5k words

The storm hits without preamble. There's no thunderous crash, no flash of lightning to signal its approach—just the sudden, unyielding pressure in your skull and the deafening rush of blood in your ears. You can't pinpoint when it started; one moment you're on the edge, teetering, and the next, you're swallowed whole.

Everything else fades into static, a cacophony of sensations that prick at your skin like tiny needles. The flicker of the fireplace is too erratic, each shift of light an assault on your senses. Barty's pacing, once a dull background noise, grates against your nerves, every footfall a drumbeat echoing through your bones. Even the whisper of fabric against skin seems amplified, a harsh reminder that your body, too, betrays you.

You pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, not for warmth but for the illusion of separation it offers—a thin layer of insulation from the world outside. You focus on your breathing, count the seconds between inhales and exhales, as if by sheer force of will you can control the storm raging within.

But it's no use.

Barty doesn't see it at first. Or perhaps he does and chooses not to react, giving you the space to process the enormity of what's happening. That’s his way—watching from the sidelines until it's clear whether you need a joke or a shoulder. But it's the silence that betrays your turmoil; the lack of quips and laughter is a void too vast to ignore.

"Hey." His voice is low, not quite a whisper but soft enough that it barely disturbs the air between you. It's meant to be reassuring, a lifeline in the darkness, but instead it tugs at something inside you, unraveling the final thread of your composure.

You don't answer. You can't. Words are like smoke in your throat, choking you with their absence. You want to tell him everything, let it pour out of you in a torrent of grief and anger and betrayal, but all you manage is a shaky breath, drawn in through your nose and exhaled through teeth gritted against the overwhelm.

Barty crouches before you, his hands held slightly out from his sides as though he's fighting against the instinct to reach for you. His fingers twitch once, twice, before he clasps them together, grounding himself. He tilts his head, examining your face, your posture, the way your hands shake ever so slightly on your lap. The smugness in his eyes has given way to something softer, more tentative.

"Bad day?" he ventures, the words barely above a whisper.

You give a slight nod, not trusting yourself to speak just yet.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, and the silence stretches between you, taut but not uncomfortable. There are no biting remarks on his tongue, no dramatic flourishes to punctuate the quiet. Instead, he moves with deliberation, settling beside you on the couch. He's close, but not too close, giving you room to breathe even as the warmth of his body seeps into the empty space.

"Alright," he says finally, voice low and steady, a counterpoint to the chaos storming within you. "We keep it quiet, then."

For a moment, he's still—just the occasional twitch of his fingers betraying any sign of life. Then, slowly, cautiously, Barty moves closer, each movement deliberate and measured. His hand comes to rest on your knee, just barely brushing against the blanket that covers you. You flinch—not from pain, but from the sudden jolt of sensation.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Barty murmurs, and there's a tenderness in his voice that always makes your breath hitch. "Just—here." He extends his hand further, palm upturned and waiting, not touching you yet. "Take it if you want. Or don’t. I’ll still be here."

His hand trembles slightly in the air between you two—a grounded bird, unsure whether to take flight or stay put. You stare at it, this unexpected lifeline, and something within you uncoils. It’s strange how much difference a choice can make—even one as small as this.

The breath you've been holding escapes your lips in a soft sigh. Slowly, tentatively, you extend your own hand. Your fingers graze his, then curl around them with a grip that's more question than answer. His hand closes around yours, firm and warm. The tension seems to drain from him, replaced by a quiet resolve.

"Good," he murmurs, relaxing back into the couch. "You don't need to say anything else tonight. Just exist. I’ll make sure the world behaves for a bit."

The sound that escapes your lips is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Barty shifts slightly, his head turning towards you as if sensing your confusion.

"What's that? You don't believe I can handle it?" His voice is a mix of amusement and something else—something warmer, softer. "I've managed professors for far less than what you're going through right now."

You squeeze his hand, not sure how to respond, not sure what to make of all this. But there's a strange comfort in his presence, in the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. It's familiar, yet entirely foreign—a contradiction that somehow makes sense in the madness of this moment.

"Not that I'm saying I will," he adds, a hint of a tease lingering in his tone. "But I could. I can be very persuasive when I want to be."

There’s a pause, and then he chuckles softly—the sound low and rumbling, a counterpoint to the storm in your head.

He shifts closer, the warmth of his leg brushing against yours as he settles at your side. Then, with a motion more deliberate than before, he lifts his arm and drapes it over your shoulders, drawing you towards him. Your muscles stiffen under the contact, every instinct screaming to retreat, but Barty doesn’t let go. Instead, he holds you there, his grip steady and reassuring.

"You don't need to hide," he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the crackling fire. "Not from me."

His arm is not heavy, yet there's an undeniable presence to it—a strange sort of comfort that keeps you anchored to the here and now.

"Your storms... they don't scare me," he continues, his cheek resting lightly against your hair. "It’s nothing to be ashamed of, the world is just louder for you."

A small sigh escapes your lips, and without realising it, you lean further into his embrace.

His fingers, calloused and warm, find your wrist beneath the blanket, tracing small patterns against your skin. You're not sure if he does it to soothe you or to ground himself, but it helps.

Slowly, your breaths begin to even out, the tightness in your chest loosening just enough for you to catch your breath. Barty doesn't gloat or say "I told you so," and he doesn't point out how much you need this—how much you need someone—even though you know he's thinking it. He simply breathes with you, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

When you finally find your voice, it comes out as a ragged whisper. "I hate this," you admit, the words tasting like defeat.

Barty makes a sound that might be agreement, but it's too soft to tell. "I know," is all he says, but the sentiment hangs heavy between you.

You swallow hard, the action painful against your dry throat. "I feel broken."

That gets a reaction out of him. Barty pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. His expression has hardened—not at you, but at the implication that you see yourself as less because of this. "Don't," he says, his voice firm as steel. "Never say that again."

Surprise skitters across your features, your eyes widening slightly under his intense gaze.

"You're not broken. You're not damaged goods. You're human, and sometimes being human comes with a brutal cost. But you? You're not the problem here."

Your gaze drops, unable to hold his, but a hand at your chin tilts your face back up. There's a firm gentleness in the action, forcing you to meet his eyes once more.

"I don't pretend to know everything you're feeling. But I understand what it means to fight a battle within yourself, to feel like your own mind is a warzone. And I know what it's like to have someone stay despite that."

His confession hangs in the air between you, a testament to something deeper than friendship. His thumb brushes against your cheek, a tactile anchor amidst the turmoil.

"Let me stay."

You don't respond, but you don't need to. Instead, you lean into him, resting your head against the crook of his shoulder. It's answer enough, and Barty seems to understand, for he makes no move to leave.

Time passes, marked only by the crackling of the fire as it burns down to embers. The tension in your body begins to ebb, replaced by a strange calm that settles over you like a blanket. Barty remains beside you, his arm a comforting presence around your shoulders, his gentle humming barely audible above the soft sigh of the wind outside.

His fingers trace light patterns on your cheek, coaxing the tension from your body. You close your eyes, letting the world narrow to the sensation of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"See?" Barty's voice is a whisper, barely disturbing the silence. "The world is quieter with me here."

For tonight, at least, you choose to believe him.

[starlight-incarnate]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars & shiny things, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

angst? me? haha... 2.4k words of it actually c:

cw: slight sensory deprivation (blindfold/mention of going non-verbal)

you still remember the first time it happened. how could you forget? the sheer panic and rapid thoughts racing through your mind when the itch in your throat had produced a single, golden ginkgo leaf from your tongue.

in the stages of grief, it states there are five. you beg to differ since you spent so long staring at the yellow leaf in your palm for so long your eyes felt irritated from the lack of blinking. you couldn't just deny that something was so very wrong when the evidence had come out of you.

you didn't feel anger either. confusion, fear, the deepest pit you've ever experienced in your gut? that's what you felt, but not anger. this was something that was bound to happen one day if you lived long enough to see it, so it shouldn't anger you anyway. still, that doesn't mean that that stage was skipped.

no, jing yuan felt it for you.

jing yuan hated yaoshi, the adundance. he loathes them from the deepest, darkest and most tainted part of his soul. the loathing he felt no doubt could even be felt by the continuously passed on entity of his Lightning-Lord. it was a sick twist of fate that he had been with you when you coughed up that leaf, stood so closely within your personal proximity when your life started ticking away from him.

jing yuan was not a loud man when it came to his negative emotions. he- in fact- made a bad habit of keeping most of them internalized and kept solely to himself. may haps he would tell you or yanqing that which would plague him to the point of bursting- but those rare moments only happened well away from the public eye of the luofu residents. no, jing yuan is a man who radiates anger like a brewing lighting storm devoid of rain and thunder. it's quiet and heavy and skin crawling.

you were younger than him, you still had time to enjoy your long life before having to worry about the effects of mara. you should've still had time to enjoy your long life beside him.

"y/n," his voice calling you is breathless as he moves swiftly to stand in front of you. he takes your wrist gently- you can feel his fingers tremble ever so slightly- and he brushes that yellow leaf onto the ground under his boot. "let me see," he says. finally registering back into reality, you lift your chin and he's immediately searching your face and eyes for any signs of... just something.

maybe he was looking for something that was invisible. a way to prove that what just happened before his very eyes was a trick of some sort- maybe a sick prank you'd be begging him to forgive you for later. or maybe he had already reached a state of dreary understanding and was searching for a timeline of how much time you have left.

"jing yuan," you softly call, and he flinches when he hears the drag of your voice that indicates your painful coughs from a moment ago. "it..." you take a deep breath, "it's going to be fine. let's just go to lady bailu and-"

"no," he quickly shoots down before his brain could think otherwise. his outburst startled you both, and if it weren't for such a dire situation, his wide eyes that quickly scrunched closed may have been cute in a way. "no, just- nevermind." he lets out a deep sigh. "we should go see the dragon lady, you're right. and i-" should contact the ten-lords commission. but he doesn't want to. if he does, then you'll be taken from him and imprisoned with every other marastruck xianzhou native they've taken under his order.

his hands that were wrapped around your wrists grow slack and you easily slip free from his grasp. dropping one hand, the other raises to brush back the wild, white treses that always cover his right eye.

"we'll start with lady bailu, okay?" he just nods, not able to formulate words anymore. he had a letter sent to the alchemy commission announcing his visit along with you for the following day, giving him some time to compose himself. a single day would do you no harm after all.

"is there still nothing that can be done?" jing yuan knew the answer already. of course, there wasn't. there hadn't been for as long as he's been general- which was longer than most of his predecessors. the best 'solution' he had at this point was the small gourd gripped tightly in his fist. this had been his second time back to the alchemy commission, the first time had been with you but now he stands here alone.

"you know as well as i do," bailu's voice spoke as she stood in front of him with her hands on his hips, "this is the most advanced treatment i have. the alchemy commission is still no closer to finding a real cure, so please make do with this for now."

"i understand," there was no point in trying to converse longer. the longer he spent here the longer you waited for him back at home. he had contacted bailu with means on the downlow and had even attempted to keep who the afflicted person was if word did spread.

of course, that didn't work out like he wanted and just by his mannerisms alone, the young high elder knew it was you. she had never seen the luofu's general so disheveled before- normally able to keep a better lid on his emotions.

"you have my gratitude," he said before dismissing himself.

this small gourd could last a patient anywhere between a few days, a few weeks or at worst a few hours. your mara hasn't been active for long, just a day or two before jing yuan could get his hands on the elixir she uses for the marastruck soldiers she comes across.

"only administrator one ochoko of elixir a day! no matter how bad it gets, you cannot exceed that amount!" were bailu's specific instructions. he dares not go against them. at the very most he could stretch the treatment up to around 40 days if he was lucky.

and then there was the probability of you losing your mind quicker than he could treat you. so, he took another precaution.

when jing yuan returned back home, back to you, he had found you sitting on the wooden veranda surrounding the house. the breeze was something you always enjoyed. your head was angled up towards the sky, but you saw nothing behind the blindfold covering your eyes.

sensory deprivation. in cases of mara, cutting off senses of the body can slow the spread of it. surely with this and the dragon lady's elixir...

"y/n," he calls and you swivel your head towards his voice with a smile. one that was so innocent and warm he wished he could see your eyes.

"welcome back," you greet him as he pads softly over to you. running the pads of his finger across the skin just below your blindfold, his chest tightens. its not fair.

"i'm home." jing yuan is glad you cannot see his frown.

the time it took for the alchemy commission to finally find out jing yuan had been seeking bailu's guidance for a marastruck xianzhou native was more than his pessimism expected, but less than his desired yearned. he was cornered at the seat of divine foresight, surrounded by alchemy commission enforcers and yanqing who had been privy to the secret considering he lived with the general and you.

the general sat at his desk, his fingers weaved together and propped up by his elbows. his forehead lowered and resting on the backs of his hands with his scrunched-up expression hidden under his white mane of hair that had been tied up messier than usual- if one could believe it with the nest of hair he normally had.

hearing the underlings of bailu chew his ears off, he could only catch a glance of yanqing at his side. arms locked at his sides with his fists clenched- jing yuan could only imagine the face he was making.

"y/n must be apprehended and relocated to the shackling prison, general. you're aware of this."

"all too well," he whispers to himself, but with the heavy quiet everyone can hear him. "yanqing," he calls without lifting his head.

"general?" the general had never heard the boy so soft spoken before. all his bravado seems to have shrunk.

"i will be contacting the ten lords commission," he swallows. "please make preperation for it."

"yes, general." the painful swallow in the young boy's voice was enough to tell jing yuan that he understood.

'go spend time with y/n before they're gone.' that was what jing yuan really said.

soon, jing yuan's office was clear of all guests and he finally lifted his head and leaned himself back in his chair. letting out a breath, he knew it was coming. you had been coughing up more leaves than he had expected and despite everything he tried, the affliction was ruthless.

it wasn't fair.

the next day, jing yuan had decided to do one finally task. for himself and for you. instead of waiting for the ten lords commission to come knocking at his doorstep, he was going to take one last final measure. even if it changes nothing and you're still taken away from him- perhaps it could extend your sanity just a little while longer. that alone would give jing yuan the smallest peace of mind.

your body had been getting weaker, and patches of yellow gingko shaped markings had spotted all over your body. jing yuan had to practically carry you all the way to the divination commission to meet with fu xuan.

"general," fu xuan's soft voice speaks as he undoes your blindfold but softly instructs that you keep your eyes closed for him. "are you sure you want to do this?"

"i've made my decision."

replacing your blindfold, the general places his palm across the span of your eyes. your hand reaches up to gently rest on his wrist and he can see the cursed yellow blotting you under your sleeves meant to keep it hidden. he grimaces.

"you're taking my memories... aren't you?" your voice had gone scratchy and distorted a few days ago, so you had refrained from speaking. another pointless suppression tactic.

"yes, my dear," he brings you down to your knees beneath the matrix that was ever turning. he kneels with you, keeping his hand over your eyes. "i am."

"yanqing?"

"he knows. i... i asked him not to come." he didn't want you to look that boy in the face and not know who he was. "after this, you'll be taken to the shackling prison." jing yuan closes his eyes and lets out a heavy breath. "i'm so sorry."

"i know." your gentle grasp on his wrist tightened and he wishes you'd rip off his gauntlet and embed your nails into his skin just so he'd have something left of you after the day's end. "it'll all be okay."

"no," he refutes, "it wont."

"general," fu xuan wistfully calls. "the ten lords commission will be coming shortly. if you're sure about this, then we must act quickly." the general nods, lifting off his knee to lean and push his forehead against yours one last time. his bangs still tickle your face, and his skin is warm. the way he smells of tea and the elixir you had been taking envelops you and you feel oddly at peace.

the next and last time jing yuan see's your eyes, they're stripped of everything he ever memorized about them. and you didn't recognize him.

the buzz about the general losing you was all hush, like a ripple that kept coming into contact with him. you were gone, taken away from him and all he wanted to do was find a way to get past it. get over it. accept it. but all the outside noise just kept reminding him about how much it hurt.

the buzz turned into murmurs, turned into static and as the days past public life returned to normalcy on the luofu. now, as welt, march and the trailblazer all walk around the divination commission they pass by a small jade plaque that had been placed there several years ago. it looked well-kept and there was a name inscribed on it.

"so, was this y/n person important or something?" march asks, unaware of the intensity that question could hold for some. fu xuan looks at the plaque that used to sit comfortably at the seat of divine foresight before it was moved.

"they were. a very important person who meant a lot to all of us on the luofu."

"did they...?" march's voice was sad, and welt tries to keep her from asking anything more. the plaque was obviously a memorial.

"they were stricken with mara a long time ago." fu xuan takes a deep breath and turns to the curious girl. "i'll be happy to answer any questions you have about them, but you must not bring the subject up to the general under any circumstances."

"the general? but why not?"

fu xuan's face falls and his lips curl over her teeth in a small frown that was biting back too many things she need not disclose to outsides ears.

"it would be pointless." was all she replies.

fu xuan looks longingly at the matrix and can picture the face of the general who had completely recovered from the loss of his partner. the general who will gaze out over his desk at the large star chess board in his office. the general who still entertains his young retainer in both combat training and chess games. the general who still had a bad habit of dozing off and slipping away from his seat and paperwork.

the general who doesn't remember he was ever in love to begin with.

sometimes, the general of the xianziou luofu finds himself starting out into empty space. the words 'it isn't fair' repeating in his subconscious bring a pain to him. he doesn't know what they mean. what wasn't fair? all he can do to shake the feeling and words is resume meditating.

jing yuan didn't know why he meditated. but he did know that he didn't want to remember why it hurts.

[harbours-lighthouse]

hello hello! thank you for sharing your writing with us. i’m here to drop a request into your lap if i may. could i please request an obi-wan x reader (of any size) about the first time he kisses you? i can see you working your magic. thank you kindly!

LOVE GREW IN BATTLEFIELDS

— PAIRING: Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader

— SUMMARY: In war, love can be found, but you never imagined your first kiss with Obi-Wan kenobi to be this unromantic. 

— AN: Oh, Kara :') You've made me so happy by sending in a request, I really hope I did it some measure of justice. I've been struggling to write anything while dealing with whooping cough and writer's block (lame, I know), but I was super keen on writing this for you. Thank you so much for all the support you've given me, both here and on my side-blog. You are simply wonderful and I sincerely hope you enjoy this!

cw: depiction of war; minor descriptions of physical injury and gore; mild angst. proceed with caution is any of those things are triggering for you. wc: 7.1k

Lightning cracked overhead, and you were frantic. Inside your chest, your heart became a thundering bird beating furiously against your ribcage. Explosions rang out, rock and mud thrown into the air as screams rattled inside your ears. You could hardly tell what was happening around you, and at the same time, it felt as if you were watching everything with a bird’s eye view, witnessing every horrific death unfold in cruel detail.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. No one had anticipated the sheer size and force of the Separatists—no one knew that what awaited you and your battalion on this small planet was not a small force, but fleets of hundreds of battle droids, and thousands to replace each one that fell. 

And you’ve lost Obi-Wan in the mess of it all. 

Carving through the field with mud pulling at the soles of your feet, you staggered forward in search of the blue-eyed jedi, your lightsaber humming inside your tight-fisted hand. 

The ground shook beneath you, and you stumbled across broken bodies. Inside your ear, the clones shouted and screamed, and you tried your hardest to ignore the way their voices cut off abruptly, replaced with static and fifty more identical voices. 

You ripped out the earpiece, a stupid thing fueled by panic, and chucked the device into the mud as you pushed forward. With a flick of your wrist, you deflected a stray blaster shot, the red bolt bouncing off the glowing weapon with a burst of light and a sharp buzz. 

You need to find Obi-Wan. 

It was ludicrous the way you were searching for the man, and you knew that the fear lodged inside your chest was not worry for a friend—no, this was something more, and something you could not utter out loud, no matter how much you wanted to. 

A flash of blue caught your eye, and you watched as Obi-Wan’s distant figure faced a horde of battle droids. He swung his lightsaber in a graceful arc, and their metal bodies clattered to the ground. Obi-Wan hadn’t seen you yet, and you stared with growing panic as you caught the stagger in his step, the way his hand flew to his side. 

“Obi-Wan!” your voice rang out clearly, but the drone of star-fighters soaring overhead drowned you out. Cursing beneath your breath, you hurried towards Obi-Wan as he fell against the side of a downed Separatist shuttle. 

As you got closer, you broke out into a sprint, ignoring the ache in your thighs. You slid to your knees in front of Obi-Wan, spraying mud, and the jedi startled, blue eyes locking with yours. Obi-Wan visibly sagged in relief as your hands flew to his shoulders, keeping him upright against the ship. 

“Are you alright?” you asked breathlessly, and Obi-Wan nodded his head, as if he didn’t look like death. His skin was ghostly, and his hands shook.

“I’m quite alright,” Obi-Wan leveled out, but the hitch in his voice had your pulse spiking. 

“Where are you hurt?” you asked, knowing that something was wrong, and hating the way your voice trembled. You were terrified, and Obi-Wan could see it as plain as day. 

His eyes locked with yours as his head lulled against the metal, blond hair stuck to his forehead, and his lips parted as ragged breaths left him. 

“I’m fine, Y/N,” Obi-Wan tried to comfort, smiling weakly as your hands dropped to where his rested at his side, and the icy touch of your fingers against his was both grounding and unexpected. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, your heart leapt as you pried away his hands and peeled back the torn sides of his robes. You stared at the festering wound in his side, and felt your throat seize. 

“Trust me,” Obi-Wan said with a strained chuckle, “it looks worse than what it is.” 

You shook your head, lips pressed firmly into a thin line. 

“This isn’t good, Obi.”

“It’s all right—”

“No, it’s not!” 

Tears were welling inside your eyes hotly, threatening to spill. You couldn’t bear the sight of Obi-Wan like this, and your hands shook as you tried putting pressure on the weeping wound. 

Grunting under the weight of your hands and the searing pain bursting along his ribs, Obi-Wan tried not to drown in the panic that flooded from you. 

He said your name softly, his voice wrapped around each syllable like a melody. Tiredly, your glossy eyes locked with his, and Obi-Wan’s heart broke. 

You looked utterly defeated, with crimson blood staining your fingers, and your mouth pulled into a tight frown that threatened to give away your overwhelming despair. 

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan murmured, tilting his head, “my dear, I’ll be alright. It’s not the worst that I’ve had—you know this.”

It was true, and you knew it. Despite the thin river of red that trickled from the gash in his side, it wasn’t as severe as some of the other injuries he sustained in the past. But there was something different about this, and it prompted everything inside you to rear its ugly head and show itself. 

You were tired, and this was just too much.

“I can’t do this,” you said brokenly, your voice close to a whisper. 

Confusion twisted Obi-Wan’s dirtied features, and concern fluttered in his chest.

“What can’t you do?” 

“This,” you cried softly, “seeing you like this—I can’t.”

“My darling—” he tried.

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “You can’t call me that, Obi-Wan.” 

His confusion was only heightened, and his hands found yours. Compared to your own, Obi-Wan’s fingers were warm as they encompassed yours, his palms calloused but gentle enough to remind you of soft cotton. 

“Why not?” Obi-Wan whispered, and he watched your face carefully as the ground trembled beneath you with explosions that seemed far away. 

Swallowing around the fear wrapped around your throat, you answered shakily. 

“I shouldn’t,” you glanced down, “I shouldn’t be feeling this.”

You knew that Obi-Wan understood. He had to know, because he knew you better than you knew yourself. 

You nearly flinched when his forehead dropped gently against your own, and the lack of space created a haven away from the battle around you. Gunfire was only a distant prattle, the blaze of fire nothing but a distant warmth that couldn’t touch you. There was only Obi-Wan.

“What do you feel?” Obi-Wan asked, the words lingering, quiet.  

You couldn't bring yourself to lie. Not anymore.

“You,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “I feel you.” 

You shouldn’t—nothing about this was right, and you both knew it. But as lightning forked violently through the sky, and shells slammed into the earth, you couldn’t bring yourself to create that barrier again—the one you’ve kept between you and Obi-Wan for years. For so long, you’ve held him at arm’s length, no matter how much he called you ‘his darling’, no matter how softly he said your name. 

But life is fleeting, and this battle had taken a turn for the worse in seconds. Was that not reason enough to let that barrier fall? To let in the man who knew you like an open book, who could read the tiniest of differences in your face throughout the day? Who wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to you, despite knowing he shouldn’t?

Obi-Wan has loved you for years, and you've held yourself back from loving him in return. You were tired of the lingering ache left behind when you didn't say what was on your heart—tired of the what if's that haunted you.

You lifted your hand to cradle the side of Obi-Wan’s face, and the soft hair along his jaw scratched pleasantly against your fingers. You could feel his cheek shift beneath your palm as a smile pulled gently at his lips.

“We can’t win this,” you murmured. You didn’t want to open your eyes. You weren’t sure if you could handle Obi-Wan’s tender gaze. 

“We will,” Obi-Wan assured, and something in you eased,  your shoulders dropping. 

“You swear it?” 

“I swear it.” 

For a moment, there was only silence as the two of you breathed in the small space between you, and perhaps you could remain there and pretend that war was not something that consumed your days and surrounded you on all fronts.

Opening your mouth to speak, you were cut short when a deafening crack echoed in the dark sky, and a faint smile tugged at your lips as the familiar sound of x-wings jumping out of hyperspace reached your ears. You heard the familiar rumble of their engines, and Obi-Wan’s forehead shifted away from yours as he leaned closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

His voice was quiet, barely audible, but you caught it all the same. 

“I love you, too,” you replied, and your eyes fluttered open to find Obi-Wan already looking at you. Despite the dried mud splattered across his cheeks, the lines beneath his eyes, he'd never looked more handsome as his eyes shone with boyish joy, and you knew that you could love him. You could love him without being afraid.

So you let yourself fall forward, your pulse singing as Obi-Wan met you halfway. His lips were soft, pressing against yours with a gentleness that stole your breath away more than any frenzied kiss ever could.

Nothing around you mattered, only that Obi-Wan’s fingers were threading through your hair, and he was kissing you with his brow slightly furrowed and his nose pressed against your cheek. There was only him and the finality of letting something inevitable happen, the freedom that came when you shared your deepest secret.

Pulling back with only a sliver of space between you still, Obi-Wan’s lashes fluttered with the effort of opening his eyes again, and he could only see you—you and your heart, you and your courage, you and your brilliance. You’ve had his heart for years. 

“My darling,” Obi-Wan whispered, and a grin split across your face, and something inside you broke open, as if the sun had imploded inside your chest. 

So you whispered it back as enemy forces were steadily pushed back, Republic ships snapping into the sky like vengeful guardian angels.

“My darling.”

Thank you for reading! God bless <3

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