#coach james au

[loverangels]

coach!james x single mum!reader

series masterlist main

The whistle blew, and the hum of Saturday morning excitement filled the park. Kids were running around, kicking balls, giggling, and shouting to their friends, while parents mingled on the sidelines with coffee in hand. You were keeping an eye on your six-year-old son, Elliot, who was bouncing on his heels next to the rest of his football team, eagerly waiting for practice to begin.

“Mum!” Elliot called out, waving at you with the brightest grin. “Did you see me kick the ball earlier? It went so far!”

“I did!” you called back, smiling at his enthusiasm. “You’re going to crush it today, buddy!”

You loved this little park, and the fact that Elliot had a chance to be part of a team. He was too young to take it seriously, but his joy and determination made your heart swell. Plus, volunteering at the park gave you the perfect excuse to keep an eye on him without hovering too much.

As you adjusted the snacks on the table, you glanced back to find Elliot happily chatting with his teammates. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride watching him engage with the other kids, the same pride that made you pause and take a deeper breath of contentment. You’d built a life that was busy and full, and yet, the sight of your son thriving in this environment always made everything feel right.

It was then that you noticed him—James Potter, the team coach. He strolled onto the field, looking more effortless than anyone should. He wore a loose black hoodie, his messy hair perfectly complementing his casual attire. But what really caught your attention was how he moved with an easy confidence, shoulders squared, his dark eyes scanning the kids as they stretched, a soft but focused grin playing on his lips. There was something so genuine about him. He had an air of playfulness that could disarm even the most reserved, but also a depth, like he cared more than he let on.

His presence always had this effect on you, but today it felt stronger. Maybe it was the way the sunlight hit his messy hair or how his smile seemed effortlessly charming. You found yourself stealing a glance at him, unsure if he noticed, but your heart gave an unexpected flutter when his gaze briefly flicked toward you. He smiled, that grin that made his eyes twinkle with mischief, and you quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t caught you.

“Alright, team!” James shouted, clapping his hands to get the kids’ attention. “Who’s ready to show me what they’ve got today?”

The kids erupted in cheers, Elliot included. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their excitement—and at James, who somehow managed to look both effortlessly cool and completely chaotic at the same time. He just had that effect on people.

James bent down to Elliot’s level, holding up his hand for a high-five. “Elliot! You ready to score some goals today?”

“Yeah!” Elliot said, slapping James’s hand with all the strength his little body could muster.

“That’s what I like to hear,” James said, ruffling Elliot’s hair before turning his attention to the rest of the team.

You found yourself admiring the way he interacted with the kids. It was so natural, so warm. His patience and energy were impressive, and there was no denying that he had a way of drawing people in—especially the kids. It made you admire him more than you probably should, but you couldn’t help it. The way he was able to balance being fun with teaching them the right things—it was something rare. And that laugh of his? It was like music, an easy, carefree sound that made your heart skip a beat.

As the kids started their warm-ups, James glanced toward the sidelines—and caught your eye. His grin widened, a playful sparkle in his eyes, as he walked over to you, hands stuffed into the pockets of his track pants.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and friendly. “You’re Elliot’s mum, right?”

“That’s me,” you replied, extending your hand, introducing your name “Nice to officially meet you."

“James,” he said, shaking your hand. His touch was firm but not too strong, the kind of handshake that made you feel at ease. “Though I guess the kids have already made that pretty obvious.”

You laughed, nodding. “Elliot talks about you all the time. He thinks you’re the coolest person alive.”

James looked genuinely flattered, scratching the back of his neck. He had a slight blush on his cheeks as he rubbed his jaw. "Well, I try. But honestly, he’s got some real talent. Left-footed striker, right?”

You blinked, surprised he’d noticed such a specific detail about your son. “Yeah, he is. How did you—?”

James shrugged, his grin turning a little sheepish. “I pay attention. Plus, he’s always practicing that footwork drill I showed him. Kid’s got dedication.”

Your heart warmed at the obvious care he had for the team—and for Elliot. It was clear that James had a genuine interest in the kids beyond just coaching them. And as you looked at him now, standing in front of you, his messy hair, crooked glasses, and easy grin, you realized just how attractive he was. Maybe it was his effortless confidence or the way he didn’t try too hard—either way, there was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite shake.

“That means a lot,” you said, the words slipping out without thinking. “Elliot’s been so excited to play ever since he joined.”

“Well, he’s got a great cheerleader,” James said, gesturing toward you.

“Cheerleader slash taxi driver slash snack provider,” you joked, smiling. “It’s a whole package deal.”

James laughed, the sound light and genuine, before adding, “Parent life, huh?”

“Pretty much,” you said, glancing back at Elliot, who was now trying to dribble the ball while another teammate chased him. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

James followed your gaze, his expression softening. “He’s a good kid. You’ve done a great job.”

The compliment hit you unexpectedly, and you felt your cheeks warm, though you did your best to keep your cool. “Thanks,” you said softly. It meant more than you expected. "He’s my world.”

James paused, as if considering saying something else. But before he could, one of the kids called out to him, interrupting the moment.

“Coach! Timmy keeps stealing the ball!”

James sighed dramatically, throwing you an apologetic smile. “Duty calls. But, uh... I’ll see you after practice?”

“Sure,” you said, your voice suddenly feeling softer. You watched as he jogged back onto the field, his energy infectious, and you couldn’t help but feel a little warmth inside. Maybe it was the way he made everything seem so easy. Or maybe it was how you were starting to really notice just how much you liked him.

@tallysnest @jamesweather @lovebyaphrodite @lovelydeepresedkid @trulyyoursniki @miliokumura3 @youcouldstartacult @rebookii @yrluvjane @maximumcantrix @ilarp7 @virtualbuni @youngz00 @avvaaaaaaa @littlelunatica @roseanneeee21 @nightfiress @jpottercore @sturdiii

(for anybody missing on the taglist I apologise Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you!!)

to be added to the taglist reply

[codename-adler]

27.

Trojans Squad makes a strong comeback 💪! and it’s about time James Rhemann took the stage 😏

[hyperboleigh91]

Headcanon/hopes/dreams/fanfic idea? that Rhemann adopts Jean. Like actually adopts him.

Obviously, Rhemann is learning about Jean's trauma, and surely part of that will be him learning that Jean was trafficked. Jean never had anyone with authority in his corner, so he was left to the hellish whims of a sadistic teenager and the unforgiving, often cruel contempt of the coach who accepted him as payment from his family.

So, Rhemann advocates for Jean. News hits of Jean's family's crimes, and Rhemann throws himself into the fire to protect Jean from the storm that follows, offering Jean all the help he can to ensure that it never gets twisted that Jean was anything other than a victim, unwilling to let Jean face it alone.

Rhemann refuses to let the school bully Jean out of playing Exy because they think it's bad for their reputation. He tells the team that Jean is one of them now, and he expects them to stand up for Jean the way they would any of their other teammates if they see things getting out of hand on campus.

Finally, Jean actually begins to express his feelings, his grief, over the past five years of his life, and how alone and frightened he's been. The Rhemanns put the offer on the table, with no expectations, no strings, but it will always be there if Jean ever decides it's what he wants - to be adopted. They've promised nothing will ever change about the way they treat him no matter what his decision is, and Jean feels the familiar discomfort of the possibility of safety that seems too good to be true.

It's Renee that convinces Jean to accept it. Renee tells him that the Rhemanns sound like wonderful people, they have a reputation for being kind, and they've shown how willing they are to protect Jean. She tells him that going to California was starting a new chapter for him, but it doesn't have to be just one chapter, he's allowed to rewrite his entire book if that's what brings him happiness.

And Jean knows that Renee views her adoption as the best thing that could have happened to her. And so, after many months thinking on it and seeing that the Rhemanns truly won't pressure him either way, he says yes.

----------

Jean and Jeremy go to the Rhemanns' every Sunday for church and dinner, assuming they aren't out of town for games.

On one visit, the Rhemanns show Jean the room they made for him; they're always sure to stress that there's no pressure on him, but tell him the room is his if he ever wants to stay and of course he's welcome to bring Jeremy too. They say that if he wants to change anything, just let them know, but Jean, who is sentimental about any gifts he receives, sees a room that was filled with things that the Rhemanns handpicked just for him - to make him feel comfortable, and happy, and welcome - and the fact that this is all real hits him at once and he can't stop a few tears escaping as he lets them hug him.

The Rhemanns have a pet dog who quickly decides Jean is the best person it's ever met.

[cerenemuxse]

TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Special and Red

Journey Beyond Sodor (2017)

Word Count: 243

The story can be found at @tgr-2x5-roleswap-au for easier access.

~

"I really wished you guys hadn't said anything," scolded James once they were far away.

"But it's true!" they exclaimed in unison.

"You could've at least helped him get to the Mainland!" reprimanded the first coach. "Now you left him stranded at Maron!"

"The Main Line isn't that difficult to travel! It's fairly easy."

"To you, it is!" said the second coach. 

"That engine is a foreigner," followed up the third coach. "They don't know this railway as well as you do, James."

"Why are you guys so obsessed with that engine?" exclaimed James.

"And why were you so rude to him?" piped up the fourth coach.

"Because-!" James panicked, knowing that "because he's red" wouldn't fly by that easily. "Because what does he have that makes him qualified for the Great Race? He doesn't look fast or strong. The four-leader-four-drivers aren't as great as they once were, you know!"

The brake coach hummed. "Well, he did have a nice shade of red. Much nicer than yours, really."

James' eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched. "Excuse me?"

"You do have a bright color," said the fourth coach. "Too bright of a color."

"But he's still red!"

"Well if it bothers you so much, then how about you and get yourself repainted with a few decorations?" joked the brake coach.

And James had an idea.

He stopped suddenly, making the Honeypot coaches bump into one another before reversing down the line, back to Maron.

~

[spookyvalentine]

mass effect au: sports coach

During the nightmare on Akuze, N7 Mercy Shepard hears of a name--Cerberus. In the aftermath, Shepard joins Alliance Intelligence to lead the hunt for the terrorist group. Lately, children have been going missing from certain schools across the Citadel. Their next mission? Placed undercover at Presidium Academy as the new middle school coach

Nihlus, the high school coach, has never seen such a consistent turnout of parents to not just the games, but the practices too

ART BY ‼️🔥 @naarisz 🔥‼️

canon, crime lord, white collar

fic under the cut!

When James makes it to the park to meet his commander, someone has beaten him.

“I hope to see you around more, coach,” says a quarian that he is nearly very certain is Admiral Shala’Raan. He’d never forget that throaty voice.

“Please,” Mercy says, dimpling. “The kids call me coach. I’m just Mercy to you.” 

“Mercy,” she purrs, it’s insane, really. She gives James lingering once-over as well. “I see someone wants your attention.”

It feels nice, how much they perk up when they notice him.

“James!” They greet, and sling an arm around his shoulders. It takes a lot to make him feel short, and Mercy does it easily and comfortably. “This is James. He’s the coach at Citadel Institute.”

Shala’Raan nods at him, and turns back to Shepard. “I look forward to Tali’s next game.”

“See you then, Admiral,” they reply with a smile.

“Bro, are you serious,” James hisses, uncertain if he’s about to shake his commander like a ramen seasoning packet, or continue gaping after the outrageous set of hips on the quarian aunty swaying off the sports field.

“You should come to one of my practices sometime,” Mercy laughs. “I think there are more parents than kids.”

James believes it, oh boy does he believe it, as Mercy stands in front of him gleaming like a shiny trophy under the floodlights. Being out in the artificial sun has darkened their skin and the freckles have multiplied. They’ve been growing their hair out for this role—brightening into a surfer blonde, and waving thickly to their shoulders.

He’s not even going to comment on their silky little shorts.

“I’ve got my own practices, remember?” James says. “But let’s switch schools, hey? You’ve got the one with all the hot parents.”

Mercy opens their mouth to respond, when James notices Dr. Solus and Dr. Chakwas escorting Jack.

They dart from his side, and runs for her. 

With a holler, they slide to their knees in time for Jack to fling her arms around their neck for a hug.

The two clutch at each other, and Jack looks incredibly tiny in Mercy’s big hands. 

Abruptly Mercy stands, bringing Jack with them. They hold her out by the armpits, with their long arms fully extended to beam up at her, like some Lion King shit—and then swings her around. 

Jack shrieks with delight. 

Some pebbles and bugs rise from the grass in little blue bubbles. 

Mercy guides her into some simple stretches as Jack babbles about her week with the doctors. They correct her form easily, and well, it’s a lot to see such a big body be so flexible. 

He watches as Mercy leads Jack into running a lap together, admiring his commander’s easy loping athleticism. Jack laughs, giggling and tripping a little when they hoot out with joy and starts running circles around her with the ball.

Every time Jack laughs, it’s like a sip of good, cold beer with a fat slice of lime after a hard workout. The first time they finally got that kid to warm up and crack a smile, was also the first time James saw his commander cry.

The pair passes the ball between each other, Jack copying Mercy’s increasingly elaborate tricks sometimes so seriously she locks up rather than be loose—but she’s improved a lot since that last time James saw the kid. 

“Shepard would do well in this career,” Dr. Solus says, as they watch Mercy divebomb Jack with a shout and scoop her up. “If chose to retire from intelligence. Is very good with children.”

And his commander does look right, as they jog up to James and the doctors with Jack sitting on their shoulders. Their hands wrap around the kid’s chubby shins entirely. 

“Time for nachos, yes?” Dr. Solus says, and briskly taps his fingers together 

“Nachos, nachos!” Jack chants, Mercy quickly joining in and bouncing.  

“That can’t be the only thing for dinner,” Dr. Chakwas says, smiling too much to pull off stern. “What else?”

“Mangonadas!” Jack hollers, grabbing fistfuls of Mercy’s hair, which they gamely accept with a wince. 

“Tamales!” She leans down and shouts into their ear. 

His commander has turned down their hearing aid in time, judging by their serene expression. 

“Which ones, mija,” James asks. Is this paternal pride? He would lay the world down at this kid’s feet. “¿Cuáles quieres?”

“De rajas,” Jack says with relish, nailing the accent. “Con queso.”

“I like the ones with raisins,” Mercy hums.

“We’ll get those too,” Jack reassures them, patting their cheeks with her little hands.

[beuncle]

single dad roy au. i've been thinking about it

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, alcohol, brief talk of injuries/chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“Oi! What’s this?” 

You sit up from your stretch with a sheepish look on your face, legs spread out on either side of you on Sirius’ rug. 

“You know there’s no practice during lounge time,” he scolds. 

You roll your eyes but come out of your split, standing to take the drink Sirius holds out for you. “I just felt a little tight.” 

“Probably because of how hard you’ve been working at not jumping.” He clinks his glass against yours, taking a hearty sip. 

You copy him, and your face scrunches. “Oh, my god.” You sound like you’re fighting a gag. “What’s in this?” 

“It’s sangria.” Sirius’ voice is a bit wounded. Which feels appropriate, because you’ve just reacted to his sangria like it’s petrol. 

“You mean there’s a whole bowl of it?” 

“That’s how it typically works.” He takes another sip, swishing it around his mouth a bit. It’s really not bad. “I make drinks, babe. Not juice.” 

“I’m going to have to revoke your drink making privileges again after this,” you sigh, folding one leg under you as you sit down on the couch. You take another sip, tentative and with narrowed eyes like you’re suspicious of the liquid in your glass, but this time you swallow without complaint. “Do you really think I’m working hard at not jumping?” 

Sirius grimaces. He should have known better than to think he could breeze by a comment like that. 

“Listen,” he says, “he’s not wrong about everything. I mean, about most things, definitely—” you give a little smile, the reward he was seeking “—but he’s got a point on this one. I can feel you tensing right before the jumps. Before a lot of things, actually. You’re holding yourself back.” 

You rub your lips together, a nervous tic of yours that torments Sirius like nothing else. He fights the urge to lick his own lips in response. 

“Do you remember what Peter said about my jumps?” you ask him. 

Sirius feels his mouth twist with a malice not meant for you. He tries to quell it. But fuck—why are you still thinking about that wanker? 

Peter Pettigrew was a mistake in trust Sirius never should have made. His judgment has always been wonky where James is concerned; Peter was James’ friend, so he was Sirius’ by default, but Sirius still should have known better than to bring him around you. 

Before, there would have been three of you here. Peter used to like to sit on the couch with Sirius, and you were more than happy to lounge around on the rug and stretch, no matter how many times Sirius told you to lay off yourself and relax for once. He was totally prepared to have to shoot you down if you suggested inviting Remus tonight, but despite how comfortable you seem to have become with your new coach over the last couple of weeks, you haven’t seemed inclined to bring your relationship outside the rink. Sirius is grateful. Now that it’s just the two of you, he intends to keep it that way. It had more than stung to learn that Peter sold the both of you out, but it was worse knowing that Sirius could have avoided it had he simply used the acumen he’d always prided himself on to sniff out the rat before it happened. 

Fuck, the sangria is already going to Sirius’ head; he has half a mind to go to the pillock’s apartment and burn it down. If Peter’s half as smart as he thinks he is, he’ll have already moved. 

“No,” Sirius says, already tired with this conversation. He takes another lengthy sip from his glass. “What did he say?”

You curl your feet a little closer to you, and—yep, if Peter’s ever stupid enough to come within Sirius’ sight again, he’s going to knock his fucking teeth out. “He told the other coach that I was one bad jump away from injuring myself into an early retirement.” 

From your weary tone, Sirius can guess that you’ve memorized it verbatim. 

“He didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about,” he tells you firmly. 

Your voice gets smaller. “He usually did.” 

Your defeat hits Sirius right in the center of his chest. It makes his wrath fizzle. He doesn’t like to think about Peter’s better qualities, but you’re not wrong. He wasn’t always a complete idiot when it came to coaching. 

You lean your head on the couch cushion, and Sirius mirrors you unthinkingly. 

“You think you’re going to get hurt.” His voice comes out even softer than he intends. It’s a question, and also not. 

You nod anyway. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I know I’m messing us up, but I don’t want to fall and then not be able to compete.” 

Sirius’ mind flashes to Remus, to his grimace when he stands from the bleachers, the limp he tries to hide. From your expression, you’re thinking about him too. 

“You’re not messing us up, love.” The endearment slips out too easily, Sirius’ throat all buttered up by sympathy and booze. “Only yourself. You’re falling more now than you did before, you do realize that?” 

Your expression creases slightly, which is answer enough. 

“Every time you tense up or hold yourself back,” he says, “you’re more at risk for a bad fall than you would be if you committed. I’ve seen you fall more in the last couple of weeks than I think I ever have. Whatever Pete—Peter—was talking about, you’re only as much at risk of getting hurt as everyone else that’s as good a skater as you are—I mean, you have the skill to protect yourself, you’re just not using it. You trying to play it safe is less safe than when you didn’t worry about it.” 

You sit with this for a minute, rubbing your lips together thoughtfully. Sirius notices that at some point, you’ve nearly drained your glass as well. 

“Oh,” you say simply. 

He can’t help the grin that splits his face. “Oh?” 

“I hadn’t quite thought about it like that.” You take another sip, eyes stuck in the middle distance. 

“You can just say I’m the wisest person you know. It’s all right.” 

Your gaze cuts to him. “Would you like that engraved on a trophy?”

Sirius feels his smile grow. “Sure, I’ll add it to my collection.” 

“Oh, you are insufferable,” you chuckle. “Don’t think it was your original idea, though, was it?” A grin spreads across your face, one Sirius doesn’t like very much. “In fact, I think you’ve just agreed with Remus. Quite heartily.” 

Sirius feels his mouth pucker in distaste. “That was incidental.” 

Your laughter is diabolical. He wonders whether you were quite so wicked before you met him; it’s impossible to say, now. 

“Should I skip practice tomorrow?” you ask gleefully. “That way you two can spend the entire time waxing poetic about how right the other is.” 

He levels you with a dead stare. “Don’t fool yourself, doll. You like me too much to condemn me to such a cruel fate.” 

“You’re so full of it.” You roll your eyes with a smile, swirling your glass. “He is sort of your type, isn’t he?” 

Sirius’ throat nearly hurts from the force of his scoff. “What—dull, stubborn, and pompous? Fuck off.”

You hum, your gaze playful. “But also quite fit, right?” 

Sirius narrows his eyes at you, but that only makes yours twinkle more. He feels it like tiny little firecrackers in his gut. Even though you’re only teasing, he can see where you’d get the idea. When Sirius dates boys, he tends to go for ones taller than him, with Remus’ same lissom frame and enigmatic allure. But with Remus, there is no enigma; he’s a tosser, clear as day. And truly, Sirius hasn’t found anybody as lovely as you in some time. 

“Sounds like you’re the one who fancies him,” he says, keeping his voice light. He makes his expression go impish and teasing. “We can both do better, don’t you think?” 

You roll your eyes, but your expression is inscrutable as you take another sip from your glass. Until you take another sip, that is. Then, your lip curls. “Ugh, we can certainly do better than this. Do you have something I could add to it?” 

“You want me to let you sully my creation,” Sirius deadpans. 

“I want you to let me make your monstrosity potable.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “I’ll let you, but then no more shop talk for the night.” 

You grin, sitting up. “I promise.” 

“There’s orange juice in the fridge.” 

[carniferous]

one wip i haven't talked about (bc it isn't a wip it's just an idea i've always wanted to do) is a professional tennis player au.... solely because i'm a big tennis fan

[ellecdc]

Baby…my love…my obsession. While you’re working hockey!marauders I would die for enforcer!sirius black. Even just a little blurb 😌😌😌

I will never say no to a hockey au, I won't lie.

hockey player!Sirius Black x team medic!reader who is not at all pleased with Sirius' theatrics /sarcasm [859 words]

CW: gn!reader, hockey fight, swearing, blood, flirting/banter

Sirius was on his feet before Krum even hit the ice, and he was shouting (and cursing) by the time Krum looked towards the referee as if saying ‘did you not see that?’ as he fixed his goalie mask and reached for the stick that was knocked clean out of his hands.

“Fucking interference! That was interference!” 

“I know Black, I saw it too.” Coach grumbled from behind him; sounding far calmer than his most violent defenceman though he was staring daggers at the linesman currently skating away from his goalie that was just slammed into in his own crease. 

“Let me out.” Sirius barked as he kept his eye on the player - number seven - who dared to touch his goalie. “Come on! Let me out!” 

“Wait your turn, Black.” Coach barked back as the play continued. 

Fenwick raised his glove requesting to switch as Dearborn followed him toward the bench. 

“Alright, Black & Potter, you’re on.”

Sirius had hardly waited for Fenwick to make it to the bench before he was clearing the boards, hearing James’ skates seconds behind him as they moved towards the play.

Sirius hardly spared the puck a second glance as he made it to the other end of the rink, dropped his gloves and launched himself at the fucker who had checked his goalie moments before. 

He had the bastard's jersey tight in his fist as he swung his other into the side of his face. He’d landed one good punch before the Slytherin player clued into what was happening and then it was fair game. 

Sirius could hear the whistle of the referees as other players paired off with one another to keep them from joining the tussle. It was a riot of noise from the crowd as bells and horns sounded and fans banged on the glass lining the boards as Sirius and his opponent focused both on staying upright in their skates and knocking the other over simultaneously. 

Sirius’ helmet fell off with an elbow to his mouth that left his eyes watering, but he quickly had number seven in a headlock as the player fell back, Sirius landing on top of him and landing one more hit before the refs were pulling them off of each other. 

Sirius got two minutes for roughing, but so did number seven, so he felt it was rather worth it as he used one of the gatorade branded towels to clean the blood from his lips in the penalty box. 

His fight seemed to inspire a goal from his team, so he then felt it was very much worth it when the two minutes were up and he left the box to go back to the bench.

“Did ya like my fight, doc?” He asked you breathlessly as if he hadn’t just been sitting in a glorified time-out for the last 120 seconds; his wide, beaming smile only serving to further split his lip as his teeth started to taste like iron.

“For fucks sake, Black.” You muttered as you pulled out an alcohol wipe and dabbed at the cut on his lip; Sirius couldn’t even find it in him to wince at the sting of the alcohol when you were cradling his jaw with your free hand as though you were handling a baby bird; gentle, tentative, loving.

Maybe he was making that last one up, but he felt emboldened by the ghost of a smirk gracing your lips. 

“Always making more work for you, eh doc?” Remus teased from behind you; you rolled your eyes but didn’t bother gracing Remus with an answer as you leaned behind you to grab something.

“Maybe I just wanted you to kiss it better, yeah?” He asked when you turned back towards him. You seemed startled at first; not in a negative way, but rather like you hadn’t expected Sirius Black to be loudly and brazenly flirting with you. You schooled your expression quickly, however, when you narrowed your eyes at him playfully and slapped an ice pack in his glove-free hand.

“Ice it, Black.” You ordered.

“Good idea, gorgeous.” Sirius agreed as he did what was told, turning back towards the game. “Wanna make sure my lips are perfect for our first kiss.”

“Wait, don’t ice it! Some people pay big money for lips like that, Black!” Wood called from further down the bench. 

Sirius pretended to consider it as he squinted his eyes at you, watching as you worked particularly hard to not return his gaze. “No, no. If I ice it now, I’ll be in tip top shape for kissing after the game.” 

“You’re unbelievable.” You muttered as you watched Caradoc nearly toss a Slytherin player onto the Gryffindor bench, your tongue in your cheek as you tried not to smile at Sirius. 

“Thank you!” He accepted readily as the whistle blew - the lines were about to change.

“Try not to get into any more scraps, yeah?” You called to Sirius as he dropped the ice pack into your awaiting hand and lunged over the bench.

“For you, doc?” Sirius volleyed with a cheeky smirk as he skated backwards toward the face off. “Anything.”

[purple-goo-writes]

@starlightcat04 he would. You can't tell me he wouldn't and he would drag Rhodey into the madness as well. I need exasperated Rhodey having to carry the camera until Tonh invents a camera drone shaped like a dragonfly to fly around and record everything. And even then Rhodey gets dragged into the wilds looking for cryptids.

And what's worse in Rhodeys book (but epic in Tonys) while they never find the cryptid they set out to find, they end up finding a ton of other shit. Like magical creatures, portals to other worlds, actual aliens, once a God (who is now living on their couch).

Just crazy college antics with 14 year old Tony and 17 year old Rhodey, who is trying to keep the tiny white boy he adopted as a little brother from being eaten by some otherworldly creature...again.

All this happening before Tony is Ironman.

Cryptid hunter Tony would be fucking hilarious and no one will change my mind.

[fourmoony]

𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧

james potter x f!reader | modern!hockey au

cw: injury, language, use of pain medication (gas and air), exes reconciliation

summary - James is there for ex!reader when she has an accident on the ice.

2.8k

Took a break from writing ch3 of FOW to write this lil ficcy.

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The arena goes silent the minute the programme music starts, the lights a deep blue, the music soft and slow. He’s on the Gryffindor bench, helmet at his feet, bottle half empty and hanging limply from his hands – they’re cold now they’re out of his gloves. The rest of the team has eyes on the tunnel, the whole arena does, and when James catches sight of you, he understands why, would singlehandedly go into the stands and force anyone who wasn’t paying enough attention to just – look.

Look at the way you skate so softly, like every movement comes straight from your soul, the way your dress glitters under the light, the way it makes your skin glow. He thinks you’re ethereal, honestly. He always has. But he’s not exactly allowed to think that, anymore, is he?

You skid to a stop in the middle of the ice, getting into position. Remus places a supportive hand on James’ shoulder, gives his friend an understanding look. Everything you do is always so precise, so fluid and beautiful. The way you skate is pure elegance, unlike hockey, which is rough and fast, harsh movements and even harsher words. The music fades out, changes to the start of a song James has never seen you skate to, before. But then, he supposes – he hasn’t seen you skate in four months. He hasn’t watched you try, and try, fall, and try, and fall again until you get a new move, a new routine, a sense of achievement.

He hasn’t sat on the bleachers freezing his arse off after practice just to be in your presence, or took you to eat, after. He hasn’t made sure you’re eating, sleeping, taking time to look after and care for yourself, and not just your talent.

You look different. Still beautiful, still the girl James fell in love with. But you look different. He can’t pinpoint it, really. There’s just a difference in the way you look straight at the empty penalty box as you wait for your cue that doesn’t sit right in James’ chest. It’s clunky and a little painful, a broken promise of something. You’re not looking at him. Whenever you skate at Hogwarts Arena – you look for James. Whether he’s playing or in the crowd. A nod from him, and you’re off like a shot into whatever performance your coach has chosen. Now, though, you’re staring blankly at the penalty box, not James.

He gets it, he does. It’s over. Has been for a while. But he wishes you’d look over, knows how nervous you get, wants to give you a reassuring smile. James sees the way your knees wobble as you kick off, floating across the ice like you could be flying.

You make it look so effortless, skating. You look weightless as you twist and turn into jumps James could never imagine being able to pull off – and he’s been skating since he could walk. He admires the steady movements, the emotion on your face as you glide, and spin, and jump, and the emotion on your face as the music follows the highs and lows of your routine. You’re so focussed you don’t seem to notice how the pain, the heartache of the song, the weight of the routine, bleeds from you.

It’s beautiful, in a way.

You’re beautiful in every way.

James feels the weight of watching you crushing him like a building sitting on his chest. He’s been slammed into the boards eight times in the first two quarters – not once had it hurt as much as watching you out there, so lovely, so gentle, so sad, so close but so fucking far. James thinks perhaps Remus’ hand on his shoulder is to keep him in place, for if it wasn’t there, he’d be out on the ice following you, right now. Heart in his hand, begging you to take it, no matter what it costs you both.

He’s always been selfish with love. He knows that, now. He does.

James should see it coming a mile off. He knows everything about you, the way you skate. He has every breath change, every wobble, every movement you make on the ice memorised. So, when you jump off with your left pick instead of your right – James should know what’s about to happen. You spin once, and James realises, too late, that jumping with the wrong foot has thrown you off. You’re on the ice in less than a second, the music cuts off, the crowd and both teams make gasping noises, murmured concerns. James doesn’t hear any of it.

All he can hear is the ice shattering scream you let out.

You don’t get up. James waits several seconds, and you don’t get up. Remus shoves him, Sirius pulls open the board door and James, in only his under armour and protective trousers, skates loosened for the break, skates to you as fast as he can. There’s cheering from the crowd when James comes flying out of the team box, but James can’t hear any of it over the sounds you’re making.

He’s seen you fall hundreds of times. He’s seen you pull muscles and break ribs, bruise tail bones, sprain ankles and he has never heard you make noise like this in his life. The medics haven’t arrived yet, James skids to a stop, drops to his knees. You don’t look up, face tilted towards the ice – a media training stunt so the crowd can’t see how much pain you’re actually in. But he can tell your eyes are screwed shut, fists clenched so tight he’s concerned you might break your wrists.

He says your name, soft, gentle, and it sounds foreign coming out of his mouth.

You take a shuddering breath, head tilting in the cage your arms have made for it just slightly. Your eyes are filled with so much fear that James finds it hard to breathe, tears spilling out and onto your red cheeks, “My hip. My hip, Jamie, my hip.”

You sound terrified, broken, in agonising pain. James shouts for a medic, loud enough that he thinks the whole arena can hear. There’s refs and managers, your skating coach, all on the ice when the medics come running. James feels as though he could throttle every last one for taking so long. You’re crying, curled in on yourself, and James knows better than to touch you, like this. It makes the pain worse, makes you feel like you’re suffocating. And he thinks, maybe, that you just don’t want him to touch you, regardless, anyway.

The medics slide the board under you, roll you onto your back and the scream of agony you let out breaks James. He’s crying, and you reach for his hand, squeeze it so tight he feels his bones rub together.

“Potter!” Moody, his coach, yells after him when he starts to follow the medics off the ice with you.

“I’m not leaving her.” James doesn’t leave room for negotiation, doesn’t want Moody to challenge him on this because he might do something stupid and lose his place in the league all together.

His coach sighs, nods, and James is off like a shot. He catches up with you in the tunnel, headed straight for the Gryffindor PT room. You’re still sobbing, awful, throaty cries that are etching their way around James’ ribs, threatening to break and scratch and pull at them. It’s a flurry of noise and shouting and protests from you whenever someone comes close to touching your hip. It’s chaos.

James isn’t really all that sure if you’ve fully registered that he’s there, honestly, or if you’re in so much pain you don’t have it in you to argue over his presence. The medic gives James a look, a rather pointed one, when you refuse for the millionth time to let anyone touch your hip. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. You’re not his girlfriend, anymore. You’re not his, you don’t love him. He can’t comfort you the way he used to.

“Jamie,” You’re breathless, face red and blotchy, hand gripping his, looking up at him with fear, “Don’t let them. It hurts.”

And James feels like he’s drowning.

“Hey,” He gets close to your face, the thumb of his free hand swiping away the tears from your eyes, “They can’t help you if you don’t let them see what’s wrong.”

“It hurts.”

“I know,” He soothes, pushing strands of hair from your forehead, “But it’s gonna hurt a lot longer if you don’t let them fix it.”

You seem to consider, hiccupping breaths filling the silence. The medic makes an impatient sound and James throws him a cutting look.

“Short term pain, long term gain.” James murmurs into the skin of your forehead. It's a joke saying - something you used to say rather bitterly when you hurt yourself learning a new stunt.

You don’t flinch, don’t pull away or protest when he presses his lips to the heated skin. It provides the distraction the medics need to cut the seam of your dress and reveal the skin of your hip. A junior medic passes you a nozzle, wheels a tank to the side of the table you’re on, and passes you it, “Gas and air. You’re going to need it.”

James wishes he could have some, too.

The medics work, you almost chew through the air nozzle when they try to push your hip back into place, and eventually, James has to murmur panicked and overly loud sweet nothings into your ear over the gut wrenching cries you let out when the medic yanks and then pushes your hip right back into place.

The game is long since over. Gryffindor won.

You’re limp on the table, waiting for the crowd to leave before the ambulance can make it to the player exit. James sits, watches you drift in and out of consciousness, begs his heart to return to normal because you’re not in pain anymore, not in danger. You’re here. In front of him. Okay.

Sirius appears a little after the game, freshly showered and in his suit.

“She okay?” He asks, hands stuffed into his suit trouser pockets.

You and Sirius are close. Still. James doesn’t hold it against either of you. You’ve both been such an intracule part of each other’s lives that he’d be evil for expecting that to come to an end just because you and James didn’t work out. You both deserve better than his jealousy.

“Dislocated her hip. They think she’s torn some ligaments; need to wait on the hospital scans to be sure.” James replies, eyes roving over your face.

You look so peaceful, asleep. So free of pain, of the fear and agony you’d been in only half an hour ago. His heart aches. He wants to coddle you, assure you you’ll be okay. He knows he can’t.

Sirius nods, “She’ll skate again? Or no?”

The medic hadn’t seemed hopeful. James doesn’t know who’s going to have the job of telling you, but he’s praying for them. You won’t take this news lightly, “Not at the level she’s at now.”

He watches the concern wash over Sirius. They both know what it’s like to skate. Sure, hockey and figure skating are different – but the mindset is often the same. James can’t imagine being told he couldn’t skate. It’s part of him – his soul. As it is, yours.

“You okay?”

James shakes his head, “No. I can’t stop hearing her. That scream, Padfoot - It hollowed me out.”

Sirius nods, like he understands. Perhaps he does, in some way. He heard it, too. “She’s okay. For now. You going in the ambulance?”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate that.”

“I’ll wait for you in the car, then.” Sirius leaves without another word but offers James an understanding look. He gets it. He knows what it’s like for love to hurt. He and Remus spent years hurting each other for no good reason.

The room is quiet when Sirius goes. Just the steady sounds of your breathing, the beeping of your monitor. James allows himself to press his palm to your cheek one last time. He wills himself to stand up, to leave. He can’t manage it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to walk away from you. Not like this.

“Stay. Please.”

You’re awake. He’s not sure how long you’ve been awake, but he has a feeling you heard his conversation with Sirius. His heart feels like it’s been kick started, like for the first time since you hit the ice, he can breathe.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises, thumb rubbing at your neck, hand cupping your jaw.

You nod, swallow, “I won’t skate again, will I?”

“You don’t know that.”

A noise akin to a scoff escapes your lips, which wobble as you speak, “Everyone knows how these injuries end, Jamie. I’ll be a coach, at best.”

He wishes he could tell you that you might make a full recovery, that you’ll go back to being the ethereal, elegant skater you’ve been since he met you all those years ago. He’s never lied to you before, though, so he won’t start now. You both know the statistics, the stories, how it goes. Rehab for six months, and if you’re lucky, you’ll skate in a straight line again.

“I’m so, so, sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You shush him, a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, “I should’ve looked for you. I should’ve, I knew I should’ve, but I thought if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming to you. From coming to tell you that I was sorry, that I was wrong, I should’ve…”

James takes his turn shushing you as the quiet sobs rack your body. You used to chide him for his superstitions, it breaks his heart that you think breaking one caused this. He leans over, lips to the skin of your forehead, pressing over and over as though it might make the weight of his love settle into your brain, “No. Please don’t do that, please. Don’t blame yourself. These things happen. Accidents, they happen, no one is a perfect skater, okay?”

“But it’s my fault we broke up.”

You sound so broken, so tired. James doesn’t know what to say, isn't sure what relevance that has to this, so he says nothing.

Time passes, the medics return, bring James his joggies and hoodie and his shoes. He changes quickly, comes in the ambulance to the hospital.

He waits with you, holds your hand, gives you as much reassurance as he can. The doctor tells you three hours later that you’ll never skate at the same level again, and James holds you. He’s careful not to crush you when he climbs into the hospital bed, and he holds you until there’s no more tears left for you to cry. He sits with you in the silence, is patient when you get angry, frustrated, blame yourself and the world, even him, and he’s there. He stays. He doesn’t allow you to push him away this time.

The sun creeps up over the trees, cuts through the fluorescent hospital lighting and casts its golden glow on you, and James remembers.

He remembers all the time away from the rink, the beach, his parent’s summer house, road trips, theme parks, early mornings in his apartment, coffees in the car after practice. He remembers that there, once, had been more to your relationship than skating. It became habit, after a while. Skate, fight, train, skate, fight, train. It got tiring. It got old, and it drove a wedge between you both.

But he remembers how freely you once loved each other, the person you are, not the way you skate. Your soul, bright and luminous, off the ice. You’re so much more than a pair of skates and a beautiful routine. You’re ethereal all on your own.

You wake not long after, the pain medication worn off and reality starting to set in.

If you’re surprised to find James in your hospital bed with you, you don’t show it. You offer him a gentle smile. A kind smile. A hopeful smile. He kisses the crown of your head, nestles as close as your hip will allow. You make a grateful humming noise.

"I'll survive this."

James notes that you don't sound all that sure. But he knows you will. He squeezes you gently, "You will."

"And you'll be there? I know it's selfish of me to ask..."

"I'm not going anywhere. Promise." James' thumb pulls your lip from where it's worrying between your teeth, and you look so soft, so scared. So. Lovely.

You seem happy with that answer, cheek rubbing happily against his shoulder, "We'll work it out."

"We will."

[loverangels]

coach!james x single mum!reader master list

meeting your son's very handsome soccer coach

part 2

part 3

like/reply to be added to the tag list

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - THE LOVE CLUB (pt.1)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ heir!rafe cameron ⋆ life!coach!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ love island au - in which love island contestants, you and Rafe, are drawn to each other despite being coupled up with other people, leading to heightened tension and drama in the villa.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ angst, drama, explicit language, suggestive language, sexual tension, love triangle, alcohol use, competitive/aggressive behavior, jealousy/possessiveness. mention of substance abuse. mention of family dysfunction, manipulation/deception, and pick me behaviors.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 15,791

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ this skips around a lot, it's not clear what day it is but according to people who actually go on the show that's accurate so whatever. part 2 coming out before or after Christmas. also, if you do celebrate christmas, hope you have a great time.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･The Love Club･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lorde)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The sun beams down on the pristine villa courtyard as the contestants gather for their first challenge. Rafe lounged on one of the plush outdoor sofas, his expensive designer swim shorts and carefully styled hair marking him as distinctly out of place among the more casual islanders. 

Sarah Hyland stepped onto the challenge platform, her heels clicking against the decorative tiles. "Islanders! Welcome to your first challenge - 'Spill the Tea'!" 

"Each of you will take turns reading a secret about someone in the villa," Sarah continued, gesturing to the ornate box of cards placed center stage. "If you guess correctly, you can pour this lovely pitcher of 'tea' over them. And trust me, these secrets are... explosive."

The ten contestants arranged themselves on the stools, Rafe's fingers drummed against his thigh, his other hand adjusting one of his gold rings.

"I'll go first!" volunteered Emma, a kindergarten teacher practically bouncing off her stool excitedly. Her cotton candy pink bikini matched her equally bubble-gum personality. She reached into the box, pulling out the first card with theatrical flair.

"Ooh, this is interesting," she giggled, clearing her throat. "This islander once crashed their father's luxury yacht while trying to impress a date."

Rafe's jaw clenched involuntarily, his eyes narrowing as several heads turned toward him. The memory of that particular incident - and the subsequent screaming match with Ward - flashed unwelcome through his mind.

"That's got to be Richie Rich over there," drawled Marcus, the personal trainer and chef, jerking his thumb toward Rafe. "Am I right?"

Emma clapped her hands together. "Correct! Sorry Rafe, but it's tea time!"

As she approached the pitcher, Rafe's entire body tensed. The cold liquid splashed over his shoulders, and for a brief moment, his mask slipped - revealing a flash of genuine rage before he forced out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Real mature," he muttered, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead. Lilly, the girl he’s coupled up with, reached over to sympathetically pat his arm, but he shrugged her off with barely concealed irritation.

"Next up," Sarah announced, maintaining her host's enthusiasm, "James, you're up!"

The motorcycle trainer moved forward, his tattooed arms flexing as he selected a card. He unfolded the card, a mischievous glint in his eye as he scanned the contents. 

"This islander," he read slowly, building suspense, "once got fired from their job for starting an unauthorized therapy session during a corporate team-building exercise."

Rafe's attention immediately snapped to you, his fingers absently twisting one of his gold rings. He watched as several other contestants shifted their gazes between you and the others, clearly trying to piece together who might've done something so boldly inappropriate.

"Got to be our resident life coach," Rafe called out before anyone else could speak, his voice carrying that distinctive entitled drawl he'd perfected over years of private school education. The corner of his mouth twitched into something between a smirk and a sneer as he adjusted his still-damp designer swim shorts.

"Correct!" Sarah announced, her voice carrying across the villa's outdoor space. "James, go ahead and serve that tea!"

As James readied the pitcher of cold tea, you let out a genuine laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well damn, you got me!" You stood up from your spot and smiled. "But for the record, that corporate team needed way more help than HR was willing to admit."

The other islanders chuckled as James approached the pitcher. You raised your hands in mock surrender, your black bikini already glistening with sweat from the sun. "At least make it quick!" You called out, closing your eyes as the cold liquid splashed over your skin.

"Fuck!" You gasp, wiping tear from your face while laughing. You glanced over at Rafe, still damp from his tea shower. "Good catch there, Cameron. I see you've been paying attention," you teased, wringing out your hair. "Though I'm starting to think these producers are just trying to get us all wet."

Lilly giggled from her position next to Rafe, her perfectly manicured fingers trailing along his forearm. "Babe, how did you know that one so fast?"

Emma leaned forward on her stool. "I mean, it kind of makes sense. Like, imagine being stuck in some boring meeting and suddenly someone's trying to psychoanalyze your childhood trauma."

"Some people just can't help themselves," Rafe drawled, his tone dripping with calculated disdain. His comment earned a few uncomfortable chuckles from the other contestants.

The game continued, with the social media manager Blake drawing the next card. "This islander," she read, "has a trust fund worth over fifty million dollars but has never held a real job."

Rafe's entire body tensed, his knuckles whitening around the edge of his stool. The familiar anger bubbled just beneath his carefully maintained surface, threatening to crack his composed exterior. He could feel the weight of the cameras tracking his reaction, waiting for him to snap - just like everyone always expected him to.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, his leg resuming its anxious bouncing. The morning had barely started, and already he could feel the familiar itch under his skin, the one that usually led him to make regrettable decisions back home. The kind that Ward would have to clean up with carefully placed phone calls and generous donations.

The tension in the air grew thicker as Blake's eyes scanned the group, clearly weighing her options. 

You sat perched on your stool. "Well, that's obviously Rafe," You spoke up, your voice carrying across the challenge area. Your eyes fixed on him with an amused glint. "I mean, the designer swim shorts kind of gave it away." You gestured toward his expensive attire, earning a few snickers from the other contestants.

"Time for more tea!" Sarah announced with exaggerated enthusiasm. As Blake approached with the pitcher, you couldn't help but notice how Rafe's jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening around the edge of his stool.

"Looks like someone's having a rough morning," You commented. His barely contained rage was evident in the way his eyes darkened, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

Emma leaned over to whisper something to Marcus, but your attention remained fixed on Rafe. As a life coach, you’d dealt with plenty of volatile personalities before, but something about the way he carried his anger - like a loaded weapon ready to go off - made you wonder what exactly was simmering beneath that carefully maintained surface.

"Oh, someone's feeling brave today," Lilly chimed in, tossing her platinum-blonde hair over her shoulder. The Instagram model's voice dripped with manufactured drama as she shifted closer to Rafe on her stool. "I mean, at least he earned his trust fund. What's your claim to fame? Giving pep talks?"

You rolled your eyes, wringing out the last drops of tea from your hair. "Honey, I help people become their best selves. But clearly, some need more help than others." Your gaze flickered meaningfully between Lilly and Rafe.

Finn the travel photographer let out a low whistle. "Damn, the life coach's got claws!" He high-fived Lee the accountant, their muscled arms flexing in the sunlight. "This is way better than watching rich boy sulk all morning."

"Can we just get on with it?" Rafe snapped, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. 

 "Ooh, my turn!" Lilly reached for a card, "This islander once..." she trailed off, eyes widening. "Oh wow. This islander once punched a hole through their bedroom wall after losing a golf tournament.

Aish the research chemist gasped dramatically. "Another Rafe special?" She turned to you with an exaggerated whisper. "Girl, I think your professional services might be needed here."

All eyes turned to Rafe. You watched as his fingers pressed harder against his chest, his breathing becoming more rapid. You recognized the signs of an impending anxiety attack, but before you could say anything, Rafe stood up abruptly, knocking his stool backward.

"Fuck this," he snarled, storming away from the challenge area. He disappeared into the villa, leaving a wake of stunned silence behind him.

Sarah cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, islanders, let's take a quick break, shall we?"

As the other contestants dispersed, whispering among themselves, You remained seated, your eyes fixed on the villa entrance where Rafe had vanished. 

"That was intense," James commented, moving to stand beside you. "You really got under his skin."

You shook your head slightly, your wet hair leaving droplets on the tiles. "That wasn't about me," you reply softly. "That's about something much deeper." You stood up, adjusting your bikini. "And I think it's about to explode."

You lounge by the pristine infinity pool, your skin glistening with a light sheen of tanning oil. James sat beside you on the adjacent lounge, his tattooed arms flexing as he adjusted the umbrella to better shade you both. 

"I'm just saying," James continued your discussion about the morning's drama, his voice low enough that the microphones would struggle to pick it up, "the way he stormed off was intense. Like, who gets that worked up over a game?" His fingers absently traced patterns on your shoulder, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the figure aggressively lifting weights nearby.

Rafe's jaw clenched as he watched the interaction, nearly dropping the dumbbell he was curling. Lilly hovered around him like an attention-starved butterfly. "Babe, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep lifting that heavy," she pouted, reaching for his arm. "Besides, I thought we could maybe go somewhere more... private?"

Your trained eye caught every micro-expression that crossed his face. The way his nostrils flared slightly when James leaned closer to whisper something in your ear. The tightening of his grip on the weights when you laughed in response.

"You know what's funny?" James mused, his fingers now playing with a strand of your hair. "I don't think he's actually interested in Lilly at all. Man's spent more time staring over here than at his partner." He paused, studying your face. "Unless it's not me he's watching."

Rafe abandoned his workout entirely, stalking toward the pool with Lilly trailing behind him like a designer-clad shadow. His blue eyes locked with yours for a brief, electric moment before he dove into the water, the splash deliberately sending droplets toward their loungers.

"Real mature," You called out, but there was an undercurrent of amusement in your voice that made Rafe's eyes narrow as he surfaced. Water ran down his chest, his wet hair falling into his eyes in a way that somehow managed to make him look even more attractive – and he knew it.

"Oh my god, Rafe!" Lilly squealed, hovering at the pool's edge. "You got my new bikini wet!" She shot a venomous glare at you as if somehow this was your fault. "This is designer!"

James snorted, pulling you closer in a possessive gesture that made Rafe's hands curl into fists beneath the water. "Everything here is designer, babe," he says. "Including some people's personalities."

Rafe hoisted himself out of the pool, his eyes never leaving your face, even as Lilly rushed to hand him a towel. 

"At least my personality didn't get me fired," Rafe shot back, his voice carrying that distinctive mix of arrogance and barely contained aggression. "Some of us actually know how to maintain professional boundaries."

"And some of us," you replied smoothly, "know how to process our emotions without putting holes in walls." Your eyes sparkled with a challenge as you watched his jaw clench at the reference to the morning's revelation.

James's arm tightened around your waist, his expression falling as he watched the exchange. "Babe," he murmured in your ear, just loud enough for the microphones to catch, "maybe we should take this somewhere more private?" His suggestion was clearly meant for Rafe's benefit, and judging by the way the other man's knuckles whitened around his towel, it had the desired effect.

"Actually," You stood up, stretching languidly, "I think I need a swim too." You moved toward the pool with fluid grace, very aware of how Rafe's eyes tracked your movement. "Unless someone's afraid of a little competition?"

"Afraid?" Rafe scoffed, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he took a step closer to the pool's edge. "Of what exactly? Your amateur lap swimming?" His blue eyes raked over your form with barely concealed interest, despite Lilly's attempts to recapture his attention.

You gracefully slipped into the water, the cool liquid a welcome relief from the afternoon heat. "Amateur? Please," you laughed, pushing your wet hair back from your face. "I was captain of my college swim team. But hey, if you're not up for it..."

"Y/N, babe," James called from his lounger, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest. "Don't waste your time. Richie Rich never had to actually compete for anything in his life."

Rafe's jaw clenched at the comment. "First one to the other end and back," he said, diving into the pool with practiced precision. "Unless you're all talk, life coach."

"Rafe!" Lilly whined, stamping her foot. "We were supposed to go get ready for dinner!" Her complaints fell on deaf ears as you and Rafe lined up at the pool's edge, your bodies coiled with competitive energy.

Other islanders began gathering around the pool, drawn by the mounting tension. Emma clapped excitedly from her spot next to Marcus. "Oh my god, this is like the Olympics but with sexual tension!"

"On your mark," James called out, his voice tight with irritation. "Get set..." He paused, watching as you both swimmers tensed, ready to spring forward. "Go!"

Water exploded around you as you pushed off, your bodies cutting through the crystal-clear pool in powerful strokes. You matched Rafe stroke for stroke, your competitive energy is palpable even underwater. You reached the far end, executing near-perfect turns within split seconds of each other.

"Come on, Rafe!" Lilly's shrill voice carried across the water. "Show her what you've got!"

The return lap was even more intense, your bodies practically parallel as you both surged toward the finish. You could feel Rafe's presence beside you, the water churning between you as you both gave everything you had. Your hands slapped the pool's edge simultaneously, sending a spray of water over the gathered crowd.

"It's a tie!" Finn shouted, earning a chorus of excited reactions from the other islanders. "Holy shit, that was intense!"

You and Rafe trod water, both breathing heavily as you stared at each other. Droplets ran down Rafe's face, his eyes with something that wasn't just competitive spirit. 

"Not bad for an amateur," You teased as you moved closer to the pool's edge, "Beginner's luck," Rafe shot back, but there was a new note in his voice that made James shift uncomfortably on his lounger. "Best two out of three?"

Before you could respond, Lilly's voice cut through the tension. "Seriously? We have to get ready for dinner!" She grabbed Rafe's towel, holding it out like a peace offering. "Come on, babe. You've proved your point."

The moment shattered as reality reasserted itself. The other islanders began dispersing, chattering about the impromptu race. James appeared at the pool's edge, offering you his hand.

"Thanks," you murmured, accepting his help but not missing how Rafe's expression darkened at the gesture. Water ran down your skin as you stood, the late afternoon sun casting golden highlights across your shoulders.

"Whatever," Rafe muttered, hauling himself out of the pool with fluid grace. He snatched the towel from Lilly's hands, his jaw working as he watched James wrap his towel around your shoulders. "Dinner it is."

The glam room buzzed with excited chatter and the whir of hair dryers as the five girls prepared for dinner. Lilly perched at the main vanity, meticulously applying her third coat of mascara while boring everyone with tales of her poolside encounters with Rafe.

"And then he just, like, totally showed off his muscles during that workout," Lilly gushed, adjusting her hot pink mini-dress. "I mean, did you see how he was looking at me? He's obviously totally into me."

You sat cross-legged on one of the plush ottoman chairs, applying a light coat of mascara to your lashes. The reflection in the mirror caught your subtle eye roll as Lilly continued her monologue. You’d chosen a simple but elegant black dress maintaining an air of sophistication.

"Girl, are you sure about that?" Blake interjected, pausing in the middle of curling her dark hair. "Because from where I was sitting, he seemed more interested in..." she trailed off, shooting a meaningful glance at you through the mirror.

Emma, who was struggling with her false eyelashes, piped up from her spot on the floor. "Oh my god, that pool race though! The tension was, like, totally insane!" She giggled, nudging your leg. "James looked ready to throw hands!"

"Please," Lilly scoffed, now aggressively applying lip gloss. "Rafe was just being competitive. He likes to win, that's all. Right, Aish?"

Aish, who had been quietly perfecting her winged eyeliner, looked up with a knowing smile. "If by 'competitive' you mean 'eye-fucking Y/N the entire time,' then sure, honey."

"What?!" Lilly spun around so fast that she nearly knocked over her makeup bag. "That's ridiculous! Tell them, Y/N. Nothing is going on there, right?"

You carefully applied a coat of lipstick, taking your time before responding. "I don't know what you want me to say, Lilly. I'm coupled up with James, remember?" You stood up to smooth down your dress, the fabric clinging in all the right places.

"Besides," Blake added, unplugging her curling iron, "didn't Rafe basically ignore you the entire time you were trying to get his attention at the pool?"

"He was focused on his workout!" Lilly protested, but her voice had taken on a slightly hysterical edge. "And anyway, he chose me at the coupling, so obviously-"

"Because Y/N was already coupled up with James," Emma pointed out, finally managing to attach her second eyelash. "Come on, Lilly, even the cameras caught those looks they were giving each other."

"You're all just jealous," Lilly snapped, gathering her makeup with shaking hands. "Rafe and I have a connection. You'll see at dinner tonight. I'm wearing his favorite color and everything!"

You caught Aish's eye in the mirror, both of you sharing a knowing look. Lilly stormed out, her pink dress flouncing dramatically.

"Well," Blake drawled, applying the finishing touches to her hair, "dinner should be interesting." She turned to you with a sly smile. "Especially since you look absolutely killer in that dress, hun."

"James is a lucky man," Emma agreed, but her tone suggested she wasn't thinking about James at all.

You finished touching up your makeup and couldn't help but wonder what Rafe would think of your outfit choice - not that it mattered, of course. You were coupled up with James, after all.

But as you gave yourself one final look in the mirror, adjusting the delicate gold necklace that drew attention to your collarbone, you couldn't quite silence the small voice in your head that wondered if Rafe would notice.

The kitchen buzzed with activity as the guys prepared dinner, pots clanging and the sizzle of food filling the air. Rafe leaned against the marble counter, his fitted black button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, watching the others work with barely concealed disdain.

"Mate, you could actually help instead of just standing there," Marcus called out, chopping vegetables with practiced precision. His chef's background was evident in the way he coordinated the meal preparation. "Or is cooking beneath the trust fund baby?"

James snorted from his position at the stove, stirring a pot of sauce. "Probably never had to cook a day in his life, right Rafe?" He shot a challenging look over his shoulder, his tattooed arms flexing as he worked.

"I have people for that," Rafe drawled, taking a long sip from his wine glass. His eyes tracked the movement in the kitchen with calculated disinterest. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't poison everyone."

Lee, who was attempting to plate appetizers, rolled his eyes. "Right, because standing there looking pretty is such hard work." He carefully arranged prosciutto on a platter, his focus intense. "How does Lilly put up with your attitude?"

"Speaking of putting up with people," Finn chimed in, pausing in his task of chopping herbs, "what was that pool situation about earlier?" His eyes darted between Rafe and James, testing the waters.

The tension in the kitchen shifted immediately. James's grip on the wooden spoon tightened noticeably, while Rafe's casual posture became more rigid. "Just a friendly competition," Rafe replied, but there was an edge to his voice that suggested otherwise. His fingers absently played with one of his gold rings, a sign of his agitation.

Marcus laughed, the sound cutting through the tension. "Friendly? You looked ready to drown each other." He pointed his knife at James. "And you weren't exactly thrilled about your girl getting cozy with Mr. Wall-Puncher here."

"Watch it," Rafe snapped, his composure cracking slightly. He set his wine glass down with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

"Or what?" James turned from the stove, his expression challenging. "Gonna put another hole in the wall? Maybe throw a tantrum and storm off again?"

Lee stepped between them, holding up his hands. "Guys, come on. The girls will be down any minute. Can we not turn dinner into a testosterone-fueled disaster?"

"Too late," Finn muttered, just as the sound of heels clicking on tile announced the arrival of the girls. James immediately moved to greet you, but not before catching the way Rafe's breath hitched slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. Lilly bounced in behind you, her pink dress a stark contrast to your choice.

"Something smells amazing!" Emma exclaimed, trying to break the obvious tension as she entered with Blake and Aish.

"Yeah," Marcus drawled, his eyes moving between Rafe and you. "Something definitely does."

The kitchen fell into an awkward silence, broken only by the bubbling of pots on the stove. Everyone gathered around the long dining table. Marcus proudly presented his carefully crafted main course - a perfectly seared sea bass with roasted Mediterranean vegetables.

"Alright everyone, dig in!" he announced, beaming with pride as plates were passed around. "And yes, before anyone asks, I did most of the actual cooking while some people just supervised." He shot a playful glance at Rafe.

Emma clapped excitedly as she took her first bite. "Oh my god, Marcus! This is incredible!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, drawing genuine smiles from around the table. "You could totally be on MasterChef!"

"Please don't inflate his ego more than necessary," Blake teased, reaching for the wine bottle. "He already thinks being a professional chef makes him Gordon Ramsay."

The evening continued with stories, laughter, and several bottles of wine. As dinner wound down, Emma suggested they all play a game of Never Have I Ever, earning both groans and excited agreements from around the table. 

"Never have I ever..." Emma giggled, holding up her wine glass. "Had sex in public!"

The villa's outdoor dining area erupted in a chorus of groans and laughs as several islanders, including you and Rafe, took long sips from your glasses. 

"Okay, spill!" Blake demanded, pointing at you. "Where was it?"

Before you could answer, Rafe's voice cut through the chatter, his eyes fixed intently on you. "Let me guess - some corporate team-building exercise got really out of hand?" His smirk was challenging, provocative.

"Never have I ever," Marcus interrupted quickly, sensing the mounting tension, "hooked up with someone just for their money."

Lilly's perfectly manicured hand hesitated halfway to her glass, earning several raised eyebrows. Rafe didn't move to drink, but his jaw clenched noticeably.

"Never have I ever," Aish continued, her dark eyes sparkling mischievously, "fantasized about someone else's partner in here."

The silence that followed was deafening, Rafe's fingers tightened around his glass before he deliberately raised it to his lips, maintaining eye contact with you as he drank.

James's arm around your waist tightened as Lilly's voice rose to a shrill pitch. "Rafe! What the hell?"

"It's just a game, babe," His eyes never left your face. "Besides, everyone's thinking about it. I'm just honest enough to admit it."

"Never have I ever," Lee jumped in, trying to diffuse the situation, "gotten fired from a job." He shot an apologetic look at you. "Sorry, but that story was too good not to bring up again."

"Never have I ever," Finn announced, "wanted to punch someone in this villa." His eyes darted between Rafe and James meaningfully.

Both men drank without hesitation, their mutual animosity barely concealed beneath the surface of forced civility. The other islanders watched with bated breath, waiting to see if this would be the moment the tension finally snapped.

"Never have I ever," Blake declared, her voice cutting through the thick atmosphere, "kissed someone just to make someone else jealous."

The game paused as everyone waited to see who would drink. The cameras captured every subtle glance and loaded moment as glasses were raised or remained untouched, telling stories without words.

The Love Island bedroom was dimly lit, filled with the soft sounds of sleeping contestants and the occasional rustle of sheets. Rafe lay rigid in his bed, hyper-aware of Lilly's presence beside him as she slept soundly, one arm draped possessively across his chest. The white silk sheets felt suffocating in the warm night, but that wasn't what kept him awake.

His eyes fixed on the ceiling, tracking the shadows cast by moonlight filtering through the villa's windows. Three beds over, he could make out your silhouette, your hair spilling across your pillow. James's muscled arm was wrapped around your waist, and the sight made Rafe's jaw clench involuntarily. His fingers twisted in the sheets, fighting the urge to get up and pace - a habit he'd developed during particularly bad nights back home.

You shifted in the bed, careful not to wake James as you adjusted your position. The thin black silk nightgown you wore rode up slightly, drawing Rafe's attention before he forced his gaze back to the ceiling. 

Lilly stirred beside Rafe, murmuring his name as she pressed closer. He resisted the urge to push her away, instead lying perfectly still as memories of the day's events played through his mind. The pool race, the loaded glances during dinner, the way your dress had clung to you.

Across the room, you found yourself equally restless. James's arm felt heavy around your waist, his breath warm against your neck. But your thoughts kept drifting to blue eyes and gold rings, to the way Rafe had looked at you during the drinking game. You could feel his gaze on her even now, burning through the darkness that separated your beds.

The night stretched on endlessly, filled with unspoken tension and desires that couldn't be acted upon. 

The morning sun streamed through the glam room windows as the girls went about their usual routines. You sat cross-legged in front of your vanity, carefully applying eyeshadow while Blake and Emma debated the merits of different self-tanner brands. Aish was attempting to teach Lilly how to properly contour when Rafe appeared in the doorway, a plate of elaborately prepared avocado toast in hand.

"Special delivery," he announced, his voice carrying that familiar hint of arrogance. He was already dressed for the day in fitted swim shorts and an unbuttoned linen shirt that showed off his chest. His gold rings caught the light as he handed Lilly the plate.

"Oh my god, babe!" Lilly squealed, abandoning her makeup to inspect the breakfast. "You actually cooked? This is like, so totally romantic!" She bounced excitedly, her pink silk robe fluttering around her thighs.

You caught Rafe's reflection in your mirror as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes flickering between Lilly's excited chatter and your carefully neutral expression. 

"I thought you didn't cook," Blake commented innocently, though her tone suggested nothing innocent about the observation. "Wasn't it just yesterday you were too good to help with dinner?"

"Maybe he's turning over a new leaf," Emma giggled, nudging Aish with her elbow. 

Lilly took a big bite of the toast, making exaggerated sounds of appreciation. "This is amazing! See? My man can do anything he sets his mind to." She preened under Rafe's attention, though his gaze seemed more focused on the way your silk robe had slipped slightly off one shoulder.

"Anything?" Aish raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with suggestion. "Like staying faithful to his partner, perhaps?"

Rafe's jaw clenched, his fingers drumming against the doorframe in that nervous tick of his. "Just wanted to make sure my girl was taken care of," he drawled, but his eyes betrayed him as they drifted once again to your reflection.

"How thoughtful," You finally spoke, your voice carefully neutral as you applied some lip gloss. "Though I have to wonder what inspired this sudden domestic gesture."

The unspoken challenge in your words hung heavy in the air. Lilly's excited chatter about the breakfast faded into background noise as Rafe and you held each other's gaze in the mirror, the intensity of your eye contact making the other girls shift uncomfortably.

"Sometimes," Rafe replied, his voice low and loaded with meaning, "a man just wants to show his appreciation." His emphasis on the word 'his' was subtle but unmistakable.

Blake coughed dramatically, breaking the moment. "Well, this has been fun, but I think we should finish getting ready. The boys are probably waiting by the pool."

"Right," Rafe straightened, his casual demeanor returning like a mask sliding back into place. "Enjoy your breakfast, babe." He dropped a quick kiss on Lilly's head before leaving, but not before one final glance at your reflection.

As his footsteps faded down the hallway, Emma let out a low whistle. "Girl," she addressed Lilly, who was still happily munching her toast, "I don't think that breakfast was meant for you."

You carefully closed your lipgloss tube, your expression unreadable.

The villa's backyard had been transformed into a makeshift stage, complete with a single chair positioned center stage and colorful strobe lights. The men sat lined up, shirtless and wearing heart rate monitors strapped to their chests, their nervous energy palpable. Rafe lounged in his designated spot, affecting an air of casual indifference despite the slight tension in his jaw.

Sarah stood beside an oversized wheel adorned with all the girls' names, her enthusiasm infectious as she addressed the group. "Alright, islanders! Time for our sexiest challenge yet - the Heart Rate Monitor! Let's see who can get these boys' hearts racing!"

James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest as he watched the wheel spin. The tension mounted as it slowly came to a stop, landing on your name.

"And our first dancer will be... Y/N! And she'll be dancing for..." Sarah spun a second wheel with the boys' names. The wheel turned seemingly endlessly before landing on Rafe's name with a decisive click. "Rafe!"

You walk over wearing a black lace bodysuit your skin gleamed under the stage lights. "Remember," Sarah announced, "the boy with the highest heart rate spike wins a special prize for himself and the girl who caused it!" 

His eyes locked onto you with an intensity that made the air crackle with electricity, his hands gripping the sides of the chair with barely contained tension.

The opening notes of "Pony" by Ginuwine filled the air as you began to move. The heart rate monitor's steady beeping began to increase as you circled his chair, your fingers trailing across his shoulders.

"Oh my god," Emma whispered loudly enough for the microphones to catch. "His heart rate is already at 90!"

You move with fluid grace as you position yourself between Rafe's legs. His breathing visibly hitched as you rolled your body against his chest, your hands sliding up his arms to pin his wrists to the chair.

The monitor's beeping increased rapidly as you lowered yourself onto his lap, grinding slowly to the music. Rafe's mask of indifference cracked as you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging his head back to expose his neck. His heart rate spiked to 120 when you traced your lips along his jaw, never quite making contact.

"Fucking hell," Marcus muttered, watching the numbers climb on the display. "Man's about to have a heart attack."

James's expression darkened as you executed a perfect body roll against Rafe's chest, your back arching as you pulled away only to drop back down onto his lap. The monitor hit 135 as Rafe's hands instinctively moved to your hips before you quickly pinned them back to the chair.

"No touching," you whispered, loud enough for the microphones to pick up. The smirk in your voice was evident as Rafe's heart rate jumped to 140.

Lilly stood fuming at the side of the stage, her face growing redder with each beep of the monitor. "This is ridiculous! She's obviously trying too hard!"

The song reached its climax as you performed one final grinding motion against Rafe's lap before pulling away completely, leaving him visibly affected in his seat. The monitor showed a final spike of 150 before beginning to slowly decrease.

"Well!" Sarah announced, barely containing her excitement. "I think we have our number to beat! Rafe's heart rate peaked at 150 - that's our highest spike yet!"

The cameras captured every reaction: Rafe's attempts to regain his composure, James's barely contained anger, Lilly's outrage, and your satisfied smirk. As the challenge continued, the tension in the villa's backyard reached a fever pitch. Lilly was up next, strutting onto the stage in a purple lingerie that left little to the imagination. Her dance for Rafe barely registered a 95 on the heart rate monitor.

"Next up," Sarah announced, trying to maintain the show's energy despite the growing drama, "let's see who's dancing for James!"

The wheel spun again, landing on Blake. Her performance was sultry but safe, earning a respectable 110 on James's monitor. But everyone noticed how his eyes kept drifting to where you stood with the other girls, your black lace bodysuit still drawing attention.

"This is such bullshit," Lilly hissed loud enough for the microphones to catch. "She obviously practiced that routine beforehand. Like, who even moves like that naturally?"

Emma, who had just finished a playful routine for Marcus that earned a 105, patted Lilly's shoulder sympathetically. "Hun, I don't think practice was what got his heart racing..."

The challenge continued with each girl taking their turn, but none came close to matching the spike you had caused in Rafe's heart rate. 

"And now," Sarah declared as the final performances wrapped up, "it's time to announce our winners! With a heart rate spike of 150 beats per minute, Y/N and Rafe have won tonight's challenge!"

Rafe maintained his casual stance, but his eyes burned with intensity as he watched James's hands on your waist.

"Your prize," Sarah continued, "is a romantic dinner for two in the private dining area!" She paused for dramatic effect. "However, you'll each be taking your current partners, not each other."

The relief on James and Lilly's faces was palpable, but the cameras didn't miss the flash of disappointment that crossed both Rafe and your expressions. 

"Congratulations," Rafe drawled as he passed you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Nice moves, life coach. Didn't know they taught that in corporate training."

Before you could respond, Lilly appeared at his side, practically dragging him toward the villa. James's arm tightened around your waist as he watched them go, the muscle in his jaw twitching with barely contained anger.

"Well," Blake commented to no one in particular, "dinner should be interesting."

Later that night after your dinner with James you made your way toward the outdoor daybed. The cameras tracked your movement through the darkness, catching the slight hesitation in your steps as you approached the familiar figure already lounging there.

Rafe sat with one leg propped up, his gold rings glinting in the moonlight as he absently twisted them around his fingers. He wore black silk pajama pants and a thin white t-shirt that did little to hide his frame. His blue eyes followed your approach, taking in your oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked, his voice lacking its usual arrogant edge. The night seemed to have stripped away some of his carefully maintained facade, leaving something more raw and vulnerable in its place.

You settled onto the opposite end of the daybed, tucking your legs beneath you. "Too many thoughts," you admitted, your eyes studying his face in the dim light. "That dinner was..."

"Fucking awful," Rafe finished, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Lilly wouldn't stop crying about the heart rate thing. Like I could control it or something." He paused, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Though I guess James wasn't much better?"

"He kept trying to prove something," you sighed, absently playing with the hem of your shirt. "Making sure everyone saw how 'together' we are. It was exhausting."

"My dad would love this," Rafe suddenly spoke, his voice taking on a harder edge. "His fuck-up son making a mess of things on national television. Another disappointment to add to the list."

Your training as a life coach kicked in automatically. "Tell me about him," you encouraged softly, recognizing the pain beneath his sarcasm.

Rafe was quiet for so long you thought he wouldn't answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Nothing's ever good enough for him. Sarah - my sister - she's the golden child. Can't do anything wrong. Me?" He laughed humorlessly. "I'm just the family embarrassment he has to keep cleaning up after."

"Is that why you..." you gestured vaguely at his chest, where his hand often went during moments of anxiety.

"The panic attacks?" Rafe's jaw clenched. "Started after Mom died. Dad remarried within a year - couldn't have the press thinking the great Ward Cameron was anything less than perfect." His fingers unconsciously moved to his chest as he spoke. "Rose tried, I guess. But she wasn't Mom."

The vulnerability in his voice made you shift closer instinctively. "My dad left when I was eight," you offered quietly. "Just... walked out one day and never came back. Mom had to work three jobs to keep us afloat."

Rafe's eyes met yours in the darkness, something shifting in their depths. "Is that why you became a life coach? Trying to fix broken people?"

"Maybe," you admitted. "Or maybe I'm just trying to fix myself."

"Sometimes," Rafe confessed, his voice rough with emotion, "I think about just walking away from all of it. The company, the expectations, the whole fucking Cameron legacy." His hands shook slightly as he ran them through his hair. "But then what would I be?"

You reached out without thinking, your hand covering his. "Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is choose ourselves."

The touch sent electricity through both of you, the chemistry you’d been fighting suddenly impossible to ignore. Rafe's fingers intertwined with yours, neither of you pulling away despite knowing you should. You listen intently as he talks about his drug addiction.

"It started after a particularly bad fight with Ward," he finally spoke, his voice rough. "He'd just promoted Sarah to junior executive, completely bypassing me. Again." His bitter laugh cut through the darkness. "Barry - this dealer I knew from college - he was at this party I went to. Said he had something that would make everything stop hurting for a while."

You remained silent, your thumb unconsciously stroking the back of his hand as he continued. 

"First time was... fuck, it was like everything finally made sense, you know?" His eyes looked almost black in the darkness. "All the pressure, all the disappointment, all of Ward's fucking expectations - they just disappeared. For a few hours, I could breathe."

He pulled his hand away to run it through his hair. "But then you need more. And more. And suddenly you're calling Barry at 3 AM because you can't handle being in your skin without it."

"The holes in the walls," You spoke softly, understanding dawning in your eyes. "They weren't just about anger, were they?"

 "Cocaine's a hell of a drug. Makes you feel invincible one minute, then you're punching walls the next because the crash is so fucking bad." His hands were shaking now, the gold rings catching the moonlight as he twisted them. "Ward tried to buy Barry off, of course. Throw money at the problem like always. But by then..."

"You were already addicted," You finished gently.

"Seven months clean now," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not that anyone in there would believe it." He gestured toward the villa where your fellow islanders slept. "Easier to just be the rich fuck-up everyone expects."

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air between you. You shifted closer, drawn by an instinct to comfort that went beyond your professional training. The daybed creaked slightly under your combined weight.

"Is that why you came here?" You asked softly. "To prove something?"

"Maybe," he admitted, his vulnerability striking in its rawness. "Or maybe I'm just trying to escape Ward's shadow for a while. Fat lot of good that's doing." His bitter laugh held an edge of self-loathing. "Still fucking everything up, aren't I?"

Without thinking, you reached up to cup his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. "Hey, you're seven months clean. That's not nothing, Rafe. That's strength."

The touch seemed to break something in him. His hand came up to cover yours, his eyes intense with a mix of vulnerability and desire. You sat frozen in that moment, both of you acutely aware of how close you’d gotten.

The night stretched on as you continued talking, sharing pieces of yourselves you’d kept hidden from the cameras and other islanders. The weight of your respective partners sleeping inside the villa seemed to fade away.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the villa's kitchen windows as you and Rafe moved around each other with surprising synchronicity. 

"Pass me those eggs," Rafe murmured, his voice still rough with sleep. He wore sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair adorably mussed from the few hours of sleep you’d managed after your late-night conversation.

You reached across him to grab the eggs. "I thought you didn't cook," you teased, referencing his earlier claims. 

"I said I had people for that," he corrected, a genuine smile softening his usually sharp features. "Didn't say I couldn't." His hands moved with unexpected confidence as he diced vegetables for an omelet.

The kitchen was filled with the sizzle of bacon and the rich aroma of brewing coffee. 

"You're doing it wrong," Rafe commented, moving behind you to adjust your grip on the whisk. His chest pressed against your back as he guided your hands in a circular motion. "Like this - it makes the eggs fluffier."

"Where did you really learn to cook?" You asked softly, aware of the sleeping islanders and not wanting to break the peaceful morning atmosphere. You began plating the first batch of omelets while Rafe handled the bacon.

His jaw tightened slightly before answering. "Mom taught me," he admitted quietly. "Before she got sick. Sunday mornings were our thing - just us in the kitchen while everyone else slept in."

Your hand found his arm, squeezing gently in understanding. The touch lingered longer than necessary, both of you hyper-aware of the contact.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by footsteps on the stairs. You moved apart naturally, though something intimate remained in the air between you both. Emma appeared first, her eyes widening at the spread of food.

"Oh my god, this smells amazing!" she exclaimed, though keeping her voice low for the others still sleeping. 

More islanders began trickling in, drawn by the smell of breakfast. James appeared and Lilly wasn't far behind, immediately attaching herself to Rafe's arm.

"Babe, you made breakfast?" she squealed, too loud for the early hour. "That's so sweet!"

"Actually," You started, but Rafe caught your eye with a subtle shake of his head. You understood - let Lilly have this moment. Some truths were better kept between you like whispered confessions under starlight.

"Morning lovebirds," Finn called out as he descended the stairs, his camera dangling from his neck as usual. His eyes took in the domestic scene before him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Something smells amazing."

Marcus followed close behind, already in his workout gear. "Damn, who knew Richie Rich could cook?" He grabbed a plate, piling it high with eggs and bacon. "This is actually good, man."

"Don't sound so surprised," Rafe drawled, though his usual sharp edge was softened by the early morning atmosphere. He moved around you to reach the coffee pot, your bodies brushing in a way that didn't go unnoticed by the newcomers.

Aish entered next, her silk robe trailing elegantly behind her. "Mmm, proper breakfast for once instead of protein shakes," she teased, nudging Marcus playfully. Her dark eyes tracked the subtle dance between you and Rafe as you navigated the kitchen space.

"Is that fresh coffee?" Blake appeared, making a beeline for the pot. "Thank god. I thought I was going to have to suffer through another morning of instant." She accepted the mug Rafe handed her, raising an eyebrow at how naturally he and you worked together.

Lee stumbled in last, still half-asleep. "Food," he mumbled, dropping into a chair at the kitchen island. "Need food."

"Here," You handed him a plate of perfectly fluffy eggs, your movement bringing you close to Rafe again. Your fingers brushed as you reached for another plate, "So," Finn spoke up, his photographer's eye missing nothing, "how long have you two been up? Must have taken ages to prepare all this."

Lilly's grip on Rafe's arm tightened possessively. "My baby just wanted to do something nice for everyone, didn't you?"

"Actually-" You started again, but this time it was Blake who cut you off.

"Please, Lilly. We all know Rafe wasn't alone in this kitchen this morning." She took a deliberate sip of her coffee, her eyes moving between the two of you. "The question is, were you two up early... or just never went to sleep?"

The tension in the kitchen shifted as James's fork clattered against his plate. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Aish intervened smoothly, though her expression suggested otherwise. "Just that it's nice to see people getting along, isn't it?"

Marcus snorted into his orange juice. "Yeah, 'getting along' is one way to put it."

You busied yourself with cleaning up, very aware of Rafe's presence as he moved to help you despite Lilly's attempts to keep him by her side.

"These eggs are perfectly seasoned," Lee commented, oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. "What's your secret?"

"Just something my mom taught me," Rafe replied quietly, his eyes meeting yours across the kitchen. The shared memory of your early morning conversation hung between you, invisible but palpable to everyone in the room.

"Your mom?" Lilly's voice rose an octave. "You never talk about her!"

The muscle in Rafe's jaw ticked as he turned away, focusing intently on wiping down the counter. You instinctively moved closer, your presence offering silent support that didn't go unnoticed by the others.

"Well," Finn broke the awkward silence, raising his coffee mug. "Here's to unexpected culinary talents and..." he paused meaningfully, "new connections."

The kitchen buzzed with unspoken tensions and growing suspicions as the islanders enjoyed their breakfast, each of them watching the subtle dance between you and Rafe with varying degrees of interest and concern.

The makeshift gym area buzzed with energy as the islanders gathered for their morning workouts. The sun catching the sweat is already beginning to glisten on toned bodies. Marcus had claimed the weight bench, showing off as he spotted for Lee who struggled with his final rep.

"Come on, man! Push through it!" Marcus encouraged his muscles on full display in a tight tank top. "You got this!"

Rafe occupied the pull-up bar, his movements controlled and precise as he executed perfect reps. His white tank clung to his chest with sweat, gold rings glinting as he gripped the bar. His eyes kept drifting to where you struggled with adjusting the resistance bands, clearly frustrated with the equipment.

"Here," Blake offered, moving to help you. "These things are tricky. You have to..." She demonstrated the proper technique, her athletic background evident in her form.

James paced near the dumbbells, his tattooed arms flexing as he curled weights that were clearly too heavy for proper form. His jaw clenched each time Rafe's gaze wandered toward you.

"Babe, can you help me?" Lilly whined from the yoga mat, her pink workout set more suitable for Instagram than actual exercise. "I can't get this pose right."

"Kind of busy," Rafe grunted, dropping from the bar with fluid grace. He grabbed his water bottle, deliberately moving past your station. "Your form's off," he commented, his voice low. "You're going to hurt your shoulder like that."

Emma bounced between machines, her endless energy making everyone else look lazy in comparison. "This is so fun! It's like we have our own private gym!" She attempted a burpee, nearly colliding with Finn who was trying to get the perfect shot of everyone working out.

"Watch it!" Aish called out, stepping back from her kettlebell swings. "Some of us are actually trying to exercise here."

The air grew thick with tension and sweat as the morning workout continued. 

"Fuck!" You swore as the resistance band snapped back, catching your arm. The sharp sound drew everyone's attention, especially Rafe who moved instinctively toward you before catching himself.

"Let me see," James stepped in quickly, his possessive concern obvious. "You need to be more careful, babe."

"I'm fine," You brushed him off, irritation clear in your voice. "I can handle myself."

"Clearly," Rafe muttered, just loud enough to be heard. His smirk earned him a glare from James and an eye roll from you.

The workout continued, the villa's gym equipment getting a thorough use as the islanders pushed through their routines. Rafe and you kept finding reasons to occupy the same space, your respective partners grew increasingly agitated with each interaction.

Rafe had moved to the cable machine, deliberately positioning himself with a clear view of your struggle with the resistance bands. "You're still doing it wrong," he called out, his voice carrying that familiar mix of arrogance and amusement.

"Then why don't you show me?" You snapped back, frustration was evident in your voice as you untangled yourself from the equipment.

"Babe," James interrupted, stepping between them with dumbbells still in hand. "I can help you. You don't need-"

"Jesus!" Marcus's strained voice cut through the tension. The barbell wavered dangerously above his chest as Lee scrambled to help him. "Little help here?"

Rafe moved first, his quick reflexes getting him to the bench before anyone else. Together with Lee, they helped Marcus rack the weight safely.

"Fuck," Marcus gasped, sitting up with a sheepish grin. "Maybe I should stick to cooking."

"Maybe you should stick to your own workout," James muttered, still hovering near you who had returned to fighting with the resistance bands.

Lilly's voice carried across the gym, high-pitched and demanding. "Rafe! Come show me how to use these weights properly!"

"In a minute," Rafe replied absently, his attention still fixed on your increasingly frustrated attempts with the equipment. Without warning, he moved behind you, his hands covering yours on the bands. "Like this," he demonstrated, guiding you through the proper motion.

The air in the gym grew thick with tension as James watched Rafe's hands on your waist, adjusting your stance. 

"I said I can handle it," You insisted, but you didn't pull away from Rafe's guidance.

"Clearly," Rafe's breath ghosted across your neck as he corrected your form again. "Just like you handled that band snapping earlier?"

"Rafe!" Lilly's voice had taken on a whining edge. "I need help too!"

"Better go," you murmured, finally stepping away from his touch. "Your girlfriend's calling."

The muscle in Rafe's jaw ticked as he watched you move to the other side of the gym, deliberately putting space between you. He turned back to the cable machine, his movements more aggressive than necessary.

"Show-off," Blake commented under her breath, but loud enough for the cameras to catch. She exchanged knowing looks with Aish as they continued their workouts.

The villa's backyard had been transformed into a spicy challenge arena. A long table was set up with ten chairs, each place setting containing a row of increasingly intimidating hot wings and a glass of milk. The cameras captured the nervous energy as the islanders took their assigned seats, Sarah Hyland standing at the head of the table with a stack of cards.

"Welcome to 'Spicy Confessions'!" Sarah announced, her enthusiasm infectious. "The rules are simple - answer the question truthfully, or eat a wing. Each round, the wings get spicier, and the questions get... spicier too!" She winked at the cameras.

Rafe lounged in his chair, affecting his usual air of casual indifference despite the way his fingers drummed against the table. He was seated directly across from you.

"First round!" Sarah held up a card. "These wings are seasoned with jalapeño - barely a warm-up. The question is... What's the most public place you've ever hooked up?"

Emma giggled nervously, eyeing the first wing. "Do we go in order, or...?"

"Let's start with..." Sarah made a show of choosing, "Rafe! Set the tone for us."

Rafe leaned forward, that familiar smirk playing at his lips. "Easy. The Met Gala bathroom, last year." His eyes locked with yours across the table. "Sometimes the most exclusive venues provide the best... opportunities."

"Babe!" Lilly squealed, hitting his arm playfully. "You never told me that story!"

"Probably because you weren't there," Blake muttered under her breath, earning a sharp look from Lilly.

"Y/N," Sarah continued, "your turn! Answer or eat?"

James's hand found your thigh under the table, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the cameras - or by Rafe, whose jaw tightened slightly.

"Well," your voice carried across the table, a challenging glint in your eyes as you met Rafe's intense stare. "There was this corporate retreat in Aspen. The CEO had this private ski lodge with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the mountains..."

"Oh my god," Emma leaned forward eagerly, nearly knocking over her milk glass. "Please tell me you didn't!"

"Let's just say," You continued, your lips curving into a knowing smile, "the view wasn't the only thing that was breathtaking that weekend."

"Next question!" Sarah announced, flipping to a new card. The second row of wings glistened ominously with a deeper red sauce. "These babies are made with habanero peppers. And the question is... What's your biggest turn-on that you've never told your current partner?"

"Pass," Lee immediately reached for a wing, taking a brave bite before his eyes widened in panic. "Holy shit!" He grabbed for his milk, chugging it desperately as the others laughed.

"Rafe?" Sarah turned to him again, the cameras zooming in expectantly.

Rafe absently twisted his gold rings as he considered the question. "Power," he finally said, his voice low and deliberate. "I get off on having complete control." 

Lilly shifted uncomfortably beside him. "But baby, I thought you said-"

"Moving on!" Sarah interrupted smoothly. "Blake?"

"Easy. Watching," Blake smirked, shooting a meaningful look between Rafe and you. "Especially when the people being watched don't know they're putting on a show."

The tension around the table thickened as more confessions spilled out. Marcus admitted to a thing for rope play, while Emma surprised everyone by confessing her love of public exhibition.

"Y/N," Sarah's voice cut through the charged atmosphere. "Your turn. What's that secret turn-on?"

"Control," you answered, your eyes meeting Rafe's directly. "But not having it - losing it. Completely." You paused deliberately. "To the right person."

"Next round!" Sarah's voice was almost too bright as she held up another card. The third row of wings glowed an alarming shade of orange. "These beauties are made with ghost peppers. And your question is... What's the most inappropriate thing you've ever fantasized about someone in this villa?"

"Fuck that," Marcus reached for a wing immediately but froze with it halfway to his mouth. "Actually... there was this one time in the shower when-"

"Just eat the damn wing," Aish interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Some of us would like to keep our breakfast down."

"Next question..." Sarah held up a new card, the late afternoon sun catching the sweat beading on everyone's foreheads from the previous rounds of spicy wings. "If someone other than your current partner is actually your ideal type in here - who is it and why? Or face the ghost pepper wings."

"I'll go first," Blake offered, breaking the awkward silence. "Marcus, sorry babe, but Lee's actually more my type. Those surfer vibes just do something for me." She shrugged apologetically at Marcus, who took the confession with good humor.

The question continued around the table, some islanders choosing to brave the wings rather than admit their true attractions. Emma confessed to having a crush on Finn, while Aish admitted she found Marcus's chef skills irresistibly attractive.

When it came to your turn you straightened in your chair, very aware of James's presence beside you. Your eyes met Rafe's across the table, holding his gaze as you spoke.

"Rafe," you stated simply, your voice steady despite the way James's entire body tensed beside you. "He's exactly my type - damaged, complicated, with just enough danger to make it interesting." 

"Plus, I've always had a thing for guys who think they're unfixable."

The silence that followed your confession was deafening. Lilly's face had turned an alarming shade of red, while James's grip on his glass was so tight it looked in danger of shattering.

"Your turn, Rafe," Sarah prompted, the cameras catching every nuance of the charged moment. “Tell us who’s your type or what’s your biggest regret so far?”

His eyes never left your face as he spoke. "My biggest regret here was the safe choice instead of going after what I really wanted."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lilly's voice had risen to a near-shriek. "I'm right here!"

"It means," Rafe continued, still holding your gaze, "that sometimes playing it safe isn't worth the price of denying what you really need."

"Well!" Sarah's voice was overly bright as she tried to diffuse the situation. "That was... enlightening! Next question-"

"No," James stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the patio tiles. "I think we've heard enough 'enlightening' confessions for one day." His voice was tight with barely controlled anger as he stormed away from the table.

"James!" You called after him but made no move to follow. Your eyes returned to Rafe's, the heat between you palpable even across the table.

"Drama!" Emma stage-whispered to Finn, who was busy capturing every moment with his camera. "This is better than any reality show I've ever watched!"

Lilly tugged desperately at Rafe's arm. "Baby, you didn't mean that, right? Tell me you didn't mean that!"

But Rafe's attention remained fixed on you, his expression intense with something that went beyond mere attraction. It was clear that the real heat in the villa had nothing to do with ghost peppers.

That night, the flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the villa's fire pit area as the islanders gathered for what Sarah had cryptically called a "special surprise." The men sat blindfolded, their partners beside them on the curved benches. 

"Islanders!" Sarah's voice carried across the space. "Tonight, we're shaking things up. Boys, keep those blindfolds on tight!"

The sound of heels clicking on stone drew everyone's attention to the villa entrance. Tessa emerged, dressed in green lace lingerie. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, catching the firelight as she moved with deliberate sensuality.

"Holy shit," Blake whispered, loud enough for the microphones to catch. "She's not playing around."

You shifted uncomfortably next to James, very aware of how Rafe sat directly across from you, his blindfolded face turned in your direction despite not being able to see. Lilly's grip on his arm had become almost desperate.

"Boys," Sarah continued, "you're about to meet our newest bombshell. Tessa, why don't you tell us what brought you here?"

Tessa's voice was honey-sweet with an underlying edge as she circled the fire pit, her fingers trailing across each blindfolded man's shoulders. "Well, Sarah, I've had my eye on one particular islander from the start." She paused behind Rafe, her hands sliding down his chest. "I always get what I want, and what I want is sitting right here."

Tessa leaned down to whisper something in Rafe's ear, her lips brushing against his skin. The muscle in his jaw ticked, but he remained still under her touch.

"And what exactly do you see in Rafe?" Sarah prompted, though the question seemed redundant given how Tessa's hands continued to explore his shoulders.

"Where do I start?" She moved to stand in front of him. "The bad boy exterior hiding daddy issues? The complicated relationship with authority? The addiction struggles?" She smiled predatorily. "I work in addiction counseling. I know exactly how to... handle cases like his."

Your hands clenched in your lap, your professional mask slipping slightly at Tessa's casual mention of Rafe's personal struggles. "You can remove your blindfolds now, boys," Sarah announced with barely contained glee.

The reaction was immediate. Lee whistled low under his breath while Marcus muttered a quiet "damn." But all eyes were on Rafe as he took in Tessa's appearance, his expression unreadable behind his usual mask of indifference.

"Like what you see?" Tessa asked, deliberately positioning herself between Rafe and your line of sight.

"Seen better," Rafe drawled, but his voice held an edge that the cameras quickly focused on. His eyes kept trying to find you around Tessa's deliberately positioned form.

Tessa made herself comfortable on the bench next to Rafe, forcing Lilly to scoot over. "Well," she smiled, "you'll be seeing a lot more of me. Sarah, should I tell them the best part?"

"Go ahead," Sarah encouraged, clearly enjoying the mounting tension.

"Tonight," Tessa announced, her hand finding its way to Rafe's thigh, "I get to steal one of you for a private date in the Hideaway. And I think we all know who I'm choosing."

"Rafe," Tessa's voice cut through the night air as she stood from the fire pit, extending her manicured hand toward him. "Let's have that chat, shall we?"

"This is bullshit!" Lilly exploded the moment they were out of earshot, her voice rising to a pitch that made several people wince. "She can't just come in here and-"

"And what?" Blake cut in, raising an eyebrow. "Do exactly what you did to Y/N when you picked Rafe at the first coupling?" The cameras caught you slightly flinching at the reminder.

Emma tried to diffuse the situation, her perpetual cheerfulness somewhat strained. "Come on, guys. It's just a chat. It's not like-"

"Not like what?" Lilly snapped, mascara already starting to run. "Not like she's practically naked? Not like she's obviously trying to steal my man?"

James shifted closer to you on the bench, his arm sliding around your waist in what appeared to be comfort but felt more like possession. "Maybe some people's men are worth stealing," he muttered, just loud enough for the microphones to catch.

Tessa led Rafe to the day beds, her body language deliberately seductive as she settled beside him. Even from a distance, the islanders could see how she kept touching him - a hand on his arm, fingers trailing across his chest, playing with his gold rings.

"I can't watch this," Lilly stood abruptly, wobbling slightly in her heels. "This is... this is just..."

"Karma?" Aish suggested sweetly, earning a death glare from Lilly.

You remained silent, your eyes fixed on the scene unfolding at the day beds. 

"You're being awfully quiet," Blake observed, studying your face. "No professional insight into this situation, life coach?"

Before you could respond, a burst of laughter carried across from the day beds - Tessa's, high and deliberately performative. The sound made Lilly sink back onto the bench, tears now flowing freely.

"I mean," Marcus spoke up, trying to be diplomatic, "she is fit. And she seems... interested in helping with his issues."

"Oh please," Blake scoffed. "The only thing she's interested in 'helping' with is getting him out of those shorts."

Your fingers tightened around your glass at Blake's words, though your face remained carefully neutral. "Well," Finn mused, his photographer's eye taking in the whole scene, "this should make for some interesting footage. The addiction counselor and the recovering addict - it's like a bad romance novel."

"Or a tragedy waiting to happen," You muttered, speaking for the first time since Tessa had arrived. 

The daybed creaked softly as Tessa shifted closer to Rafe, her perfume - something expensive and deliberately chosen - filling the space between them.

"So," her voice has an underlying edge, "tell me about your recovery. It must be so hard, being in here with all these... temptations." Her emphasis on the last word made it clear she wasn't talking about substances.

Rafe's jaw ticked, but his usual sharp retort died on his lips as Tessa's hand found its way to his thigh. Her touch was different from Lilly's desperate clutching - more assured, more knowing. "What makes you think you know anything about my recovery?"

"Please," Tessa laughed, the sound carrying deliberately across to the fire pit. "I've worked with enough addicts to recognize the signs. The way you fidget with those rings when you're anxious, how you rub your chest during moments of stress..." Her fingers trailed up his arm. "The constant need for control, yet the desperate desire to lose it with the right person."

Rafe's eyes flickered toward the fire pit, seeking your silhouette before Tessa deliberately blocked his view. "And you think you're the right person?" His voice held its usual sarcasm, but there was something else there too - a hint of genuine curiosity.

"I know how to handle men like you. The ones who push everyone away because they're scared of being seen. The ones who use anger and arrogance to hide their pain." 

"The ones who need someone who understands their demons." Rafe's breath hitched slightly as Tessa's hand moved higher on his thigh. Her words were hitting closer to home than he'd like to admit, striking chords that you had first exposed during their late-night conversation.

"And what about Lilly?" He asked, though his tone suggested he didn't really care about the answer.

Tessa's laugh was dismissive. "Please. We both know she's not equipped to handle someone like you. She wants the bad boy image without the complicated reality behind it." Her fingers found the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. "I, on the other hand, specialize in complicated realities."

Her words were perfectly chosen, each touch deliberately placed to break down Rafe's defenses. 

"I could help you," she murmured, her lips dangerously close to his. "Really help you, not just play at being your savior like some people." Her pointed glance toward the fire pit made it clear who she meant.

Rafe's hand found her waist almost unconsciously, drawn in by her promises of understanding and acceptance. Tessa had done her homework well, knowing exactly which buttons to push, and which wounds to probe. And despite himself, Rafe found his carefully constructed walls beginning to crack under her expert assault.

Time passed as Tessa made her way over as the tension around the fire pit crackled. The islanders watched as she positioned herself next to Sarah, her lingerie still managing to catch every eye despite the hours that had passed.

"Well," Sarah's voice carried across the space, heavy with anticipation. "Tessa, you've had the chance to chat with all our boys. Time to make your choice for that private date in the Hideaway."

Lilly had practically melded herself to Rafe's other side, her mascara-stained face a stark contrast to Tessa's perfectly maintained appearance. You sat rigidly beside James, your eyes fixed on some point in the distance as if trying to detach yourself from the situation.

"It's not really much of a choice, is it? From the moment I walked in, I knew exactly who I wanted."

 "Rafe, obviously."

"Rafe," Sarah turned to him, "How do you feel about spending the night in the Hideaway with our new bombshell?"

His blue eyes flickered briefly toward you before settling back on Tessa. "Why not?" His trademark smirk slid into place, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Could be interesting."

"Interesting?" Lilly's voice rose several octaves. "That's all you have to say? After everything we've-"

"Babe," Tessa cut her off smoothly, "it's just a date. Though..." her hand trailed down Rafe's chest suggestively, "I can't promise we'll stick to just talking."

"Well then," Sarah clapped her hands together, clearly delighting in the drama. "Rafe, why don't you go get ready? Tessa will meet you in the Hideaway in thirty minutes."

As Rafe stood to leave, Tessa pulled him down for a deliberately passionate kiss, making sure everyone - especially you - had a clear view. His hands remained at his sides, not quite participating but not pulling away either.

"Don't keep me waiting too long," She released him, her voice carrying clearly across the fire pit.

The night air grew thick with tension as Rafe disappeared into the villa.

The islanders gathered for breakfast, the tension from the previous night still hanging heavy in the air. Lilly sat at the counter, her eyes red and puffy from crying, while the others tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

"This is all your fault," Lilly suddenly spat, her voice cracking as she pointed an accusatory finger at you. "If you hadn't been throwing yourself at him during that stupid spicy challenge-"

"Excuse me?" You set down your coffee cup with deliberate control, though your hands shook slightly. "I'm not the one who chose to go to the Hideaway with someone else."

Blake and Emma exchanged worried glances while Marcus continued flipping pancakes, trying to appear absorbed in his cooking.

"Oh, please!" Lilly's voice rose higher. "We all saw how you've been looking at him! Those late-night conversations, the workout flirting, the breakfast cooking together - you've been trying to steal him from day one!"

"That's rich," Blake interjected, coming to your defense. "Considering how you coupled up with him in the first place. Or did you forget snatching him away from Y/N on day one?"

James, who had been silently brooding beside you, suddenly spoke up. "Maybe if Rafe wasn't such a fucking player, none of this would be happening."

"Don't you dare," Lilly whirled on him. "This isn't about Rafe! It's about your girlfriend being a homewrecking-"

"Careful," Your voice cut through the kitchen like ice. "Think very carefully about what you're about to say."

Aish leaned against the counter, watching the drama unfold. "Oh honey, if anyone's doing any homewrecking, it's that blonde bombshell upstairs currently wrapped around your man."

"She's not wrapped around anyone," Finn corrected, unable to help himself. "Rafe came back down after an hour. Apparently, they just talked."

"Then why isn't he down here?" Lilly demanded. "Why is he avoiding me?"

"Maybe because you're acting crazy?" Lee suggested, immediately regretting his words as Lilly turned her fury on him.

"I'm acting crazy? My boyfriend just spent the night with another woman, and everyone's acting like I'm the problem!" Tears started flowing again. "And it's all because she," she jabbed a finger at you again, "had to go and admit he was her type!"

"At least she was honest," Blake shot back. "Unlike some people who pretend they're okay with their partner clearly wanting someone else."

James stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on," Emma finally joined in, her usual cheerfulness replaced with exasperation. "We all see how Rafe looks at Y/N. And how she looks at him. And how you and Lilly are both trying to pretend it's not happening."

The kitchen erupted into chaos as everyone started talking at once. The cameras panned frantically between faces as accusations flew and alliances formed. Marcus abandoned his pancakes to hold back Lee, who looked ready to physically intervene as James stepped threateningly toward Finn.

"Enough!" Your voice cut through the noise. You stood slowly, your composure cracking slightly. "I'm done being everyone's scapegoat. Rafe made his choice last night - multiple choices, actually. None of them involved me or you," you looked pointedly at Lilly. "So maybe instead of blaming everyone else, you should ask yourself why he's so eager to explore other options."

The silence that followed your outburst was deafening. Your hands trembled slightly as you walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind a group of stunned islanders and a breakfast that had gone cold in the wake of their confrontation.

The sound of footsteps on the villa's stairs drew everyone's attention as Rafe appeared in the kitchen doorway, his hair still messy from sleep. He wore sweatpants and no shirt, his gold rings catching the morning light. Tessa followed close behind, wearing one of his t-shirts like a trophy.

"What the fuck is going on down here?" Rafe's voice cut through the tense atmosphere as he took in the scene - Lilly's tear-stained face, James's aggressive stance, and the obvious divide among the islanders. "I could hear the shouting from upstairs."

"Oh, just your girlfriend having a complete meltdown," Blake supplied helpfully, earning a death glare from Lilly. "Apparently, it's Y/N’s fault you chose to spend the night with Barbie over there."

Tessa's perfectly manicured hand found its way to Rafe's bare chest, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed. "Where is Y/N, anyway?"

"She left," Emma explained, fidgeting nervously with her coffee cup. "After Lilly accused her of trying to steal Rafe and-"

"She what?" Rafe's voice dropped dangerously low, the muscle in his jaw ticking. His eyes fixed on Lilly with an intensity that made her shrink back slightly.

"Baby, I can explain," Lilly started, her voice wavering. "It's just... the way you two are always looking at each other, and then that confession during the challenge-"

"So you decided to attack her?" Rafe stepped forward, shrugging off Tessa's touch. "Make her responsible for your insecurities?"

Tessa’s confident smile faltered slightly. This clearly wasn't how she'd planned the morning going."I'm not insecure!" Lilly protested, fresh tears spilling. "I'm trying to protect what's mine!"

"Yours?" Rafe's laugh was harsh. "When exactly did I become your property, Lilly? When you picked me first? When you decided to ignore every sign that this wasn't working?"

James pushed off from the counter where he'd been brooding. "Rich coming from you. Playing with both of them while you've got a new toy upstairs."

"Careful," Rafe's warning was soft but deadly serious. "You might want to think about why your girlfriend's name keeps coming up in conversations about me."

Marcus and Lee moved closer, ready to intervene if necessary. "Nothing happened upstairs," He continued, his voice carrying clearly. "We talked. That's it. Because, unlike some people, I actually give a fuck about not hurting people unnecessarily."

"Could've fooled me," Lilly sniffled. "You didn't seem to care about hurting me when you were confessing your regrets during the challenge."

"Maybe because they were true?" Rafe's words fell like bombs in the quiet kitchen. "Maybe because I'm tired of pretending this is something it's not?"

Tessa stepped forward, trying to salvage the situation. "Rafe, baby, let's go back upstairs and-"

"Don't," he cut her off sharply. "This isn't about you. This isn't even about Lilly anymore." His eyes scanned the kitchen. "Where did Y/N go?"

"The beach," Finn supplied, ignoring the warning looks from several islanders. "She headed down to the water."

Without another word, Rafe turned and strode toward the villa's exit, leaving behind a stunned kitchen full of islanders. 

"Well," Blake broke the silence, reaching for the coffee pot. "I guess we know whose side he's on."

The sound of waves crashing against the shore provided cover as Rafe reached behind his back, yanking off his microphone pack and tossing it onto the sand. His eyes fixed on you near the water's edge, your hair whipping in the ocean breeze.

You stood with your arms wrapped around you as you stared out at the horizon. You didn't turn when you heard his footsteps in the sand, but your body tensed slightly, recognizing his presence.

"If you've come to defend your girlfriend's tantrum, save it," Your voice carried over the sound of the waves, deliberately steady despite the emotion underneath. "I'm not interested in being everyone's villain."

Rafe moved closer, positioning himself beside you but not touching. 

"She's not my girlfriend," he stated simply, his voice rough. "Not anymore. Maybe she never really was."

The wind whipped around you, carrying the salt spray and the weight of unspoken words. You finally turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his blue ones with an intensity that the cameras, even from their distance, couldn't miss.

"What are you doing, Rafe?" Your question held layers of meaning - about Lilly, about Tessa, about the growing tension between you that neither could deny.

"Something I should have done from the start," he moved closer, his body angling toward yours like a compass finding north. "Stop playing it safe. Stop pretending I don't feel what I feel."

The ocean crashed behind you, providing a dramatic backdrop as Rafe reached out, his hand hovering near your face but not quite touching. The sun caught his gold rings, creating patterns of light that danced across your skin.

"And what exactly do you feel?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, your body moved slightly toward his, drawn by the same magnetic pull that had been there since day one.

"You know exactly what I feel," Rafe's voice dropped lower, more intense. "You've known since that first night. Since every fucking moment after." His hand finally made contact, fingers brushing your cheek with a gentleness that contradicted his usual sharp edges.

The beach stretched empty around you, the distant villa forgotten as the space between you charged with electricity. 

"This is a mistake," You breathed, but you didn't pull away from his touch. "The villa, the cameras, James, Lilly, Tessa-"

"Fuck the villa," Rafe cut you off, his other hand coming up to frame your face. "Fuck the cameras. Fuck all of it." His thumbs traced your cheekbones as he held your gaze. "The only mistake was denying this for so long."

The waves provide a rhythmic soundtrack to your moment of truth. But was soon interrupted by a text about a new challenge.

The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink as the islanders gathered in a circle on the beach. The tension from the morning's drama still lingered in the air as they settled onto the sand, carefully maintaining space between certain couples.

"Alright, islanders!" Sarah's voice carried across the beach. "Time for Beach or Deep! The rules are simple - when the bottle lands on you, you choose Beach for light and flirty, or Deep for the real tea!"

The glass bottle glinted in the sunset as it spun, eventually slowing to point at Blake. The cameras zoomed in on her confident smirk as she considered her options.

"Deep," she declared without hesitation. "Let's start this right."

Sarah pulled out a card. "Who in the villa do you think is playing the biggest game?"

Blake's eyes swept the circle deliberately before landing on Tessa. "Our newest bombshell, obviously. Coming in here pretending to be some sort of addiction counselor savior when we all know she's just trying to create drama for the cameras."

Tessa's perfectly maintained smile tightened slightly. "Interesting theory from someone who's been trying to get with Lee behind Marcus's back."

The bottle spun again before the argument could escalate, landing on Emma. "Beach!" she chirped quickly, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Give your best cheesy pickup line to the islander of your choice," Sarah read.

Emma turned to Finn with an exaggerated wink. "Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile!"

The groan that went around the circle was interrupted by the bottle's next spin, landing on Rafe. "Deep," his voice carried that familiar edge of danger. The other islanders shifted nervously, aware of the morning's unresolved drama.

Sarah's smile was almost predatory as she read the card. "Have you caught feelings for someone else's partner?"

The beach seemed to hold its breath as Rafe's blue eyes locked with you. 

"Yes," he stated simply, his voice carrying clearly across the circle. The bottle spun again, this time landing on you. The sunset cast dramatic shadows across your face as you considered your options, very aware of Rafe's intense gaze.

"Deep," you finally decided, your voice steady despite the charged atmosphere.

"Reveal your biggest villa secret," Sarah read, barely containing her excitement.

Your eyes met Rafe's across the circle as you spoke. "The night after the heart rate challenge, I couldn't sleep. I went outside and found someone else there too. We talked until sunrise about things we've never told anyone else." You paused deliberately. "And every night since I've gone back hoping to find them there again."

The game continued as the sun sank lower, the bottle spun again, catching the last rays of sunlight as it landed on Rafe. The tension around the circle thickened as he leaned forward, his gold rings glinting in the dying light.

"Beach," he drawled, though his blue eyes held something deeper as they fixed on you across the circle.

Sarah's smile was wicked as she read the card. "Kiss the islander you find most attractive. And make it count - we want to see some real passion!"

"Finally," Blake muttered under her breath, loud enough for the microphones to catch. "About damn time."

Rafe crossed the circle with deliberate steps, his intention clear in every movement. James started to shift protectively closer to you, but your hand on his arm stopped him. The sunset painted everything in shades of gold and red as Rafe reached down, pulling you to your feet.

"Been wanting to do this since day one," he murmured, just loud enough for the nearby microphones to pick up. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone with unexpected gentleness.

The beach seemed to hold its breath as Rafe leaned in, his other hand sliding into your hair. The kiss started soft, almost tentative - a stark contrast to his usual aggressive demeanor. But as your hands found their way to his chest, something shifted.

The kiss deepened, becoming something raw and desperate. Rafe's fingers tightened in your hair as you pressed closer, both of you forgetting about your audience, about your partners, about everything except this moment you’d been denying yourself.

"Jesus Christ," Emma whispered, fanning herself. "Is it getting hot out here?"

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, the sunset had painted the sky in deeper shades of purple and red. Rafe's forehead rested against yours for a moment, his hands still tangled in your hair.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. The microphones barely caught his next words, meant only for you. "This changes everything."

"Well," Sarah's voice carried across the beach, heavy with satisfaction. "I think that answers quite a few questions, doesn't it?"

The night was settling in around you as Rafe and you returned to your spots in the circle, though something fundamental had shifted in the villa's dynamic. The game continued, but no one could focus on the questions anymore - not after witnessing what had clearly been more than just a dare.

Rafe's eyes kept finding yours across the circle and you touched your lips unconsciously throughout the rest of the game.

The villa's glam room buzzed with nervous energy as the girls prepared for the recoupling ceremony. The air was thick with hairspray and perfume as they flitted between mirrors and makeup stations, their conversations a mix of excitement and anxiety.

You stood at your designated area, rifling through your suitcase with uncharacteristic excitement. Your fingers brushed against the silky material of your chosen dress - a deep burgundy number that hugged you. The kiss on the beach still lingered on your lips, making you smile softly at your reflection.

"Someone's in a good mood," Blake observed, applying another coat of mascara. "That kiss must have been even better than it looked."

Tessa's perfectly manicured hand paused midway through applying lipstick. "Don't get too excited, honey. The night's not over yet." Her voice carried a sharp edge beneath its sweetness.

"Oh please," Emma chimed in, wrestling with her curling iron. "After that beach display, we all know where this is heading. Even Lilly must see it by now."

As if summoned by her name, Lilly emerged from the bathroom, her eyes still red and puffy despite layers of concealer. "You're all acting like it's some great love story," she sniffled. "When really, it's just Y/N stealing someone else's man. Again."

Your hands stilled on your dress. "I haven't stolen anything," you replied calmly, though your grip on the silk tightened. "And maybe if you spent less time playing victim and more time actually seeing what's in front of you-"

"What's in front of me?" Lilly's voice rose sharply. "You mean how you've been throwing yourself at him since day one? How you manipulate him with all those late-night talks about his addiction?"

"That's enough," Blake stepped between you two, her dress half-zipped. "We all saw what happened on that beach. That wasn't manipulation - that was something real."

Aish nodded from her position at the vanity. "Girl, that kiss had more chemistry than my entire science degree. And trust me, I would know."

You turned back to your suitcase, pulling out your heels as the other girls continued their debate. Your hands trembled slightly as you laid out your outfit - the dress, the shoes, the delicate gold jewelry that would complement Rafe's rings.

"You know," Tessa spoke up again, her voice carrying clearly across the room, "it's interesting how quickly some people forget their partners when something shiny and new catches their eye. James has been nothing but loyal to you, Y/N. But I guess that doesn't matter when there's a bad boy to fix, right?"

The room fell silent as you slowly straightened, meeting Tessa's gaze in the mirror. "You want to talk about loyalty? How about coming into the villa specifically targeting someone else's partner? At least I didn't have to strip down to my lingerie to get Rafe's attention."

"One of us is definitely going home tonight," Emma voiced what they were all thinking, nervously adjusting her dress straps in the mirror. "With Tessa here now, someone's getting dumped."

You smoothed down your dress, watching the other girls' reactions in the mirror. "It won't be Y/N," Blake stated matter-of-factly, applying another coat of lipstick. "Not after that kiss. Rafe's made his choice pretty clear."

Tessa's laugh was sharp as she adjusted her deliberately revealing white dress. "Has he though? Men say a lot of things in the heat of the moment. Trust me, I know exactly what kind of conversation we had in the Hideaway last night."

"Oh please," Aish rolled her eyes, fastening her earrings. "You mean the conversation that lasted all of an hour before he came back downstairs? That really sounds like true love."

"This isn't fair! I've been with him since day one. We were happy before she," Lilly jabbed a finger at you, "started playing her mind games!"

"Happy?" Blake scoffed, turning from her mirror. "Girl, he's been looking at Y/N like she hung the moon since the moment she walked in. The only person who couldn't see it was you."

Emma tried to diffuse the situation, ever the peacemaker. "Maybe we should focus on looking our best? I mean, it's not just about Rafe. Any of the guys could switch things up tonight."

"Right," Tessa's smile was predatory as she adjusted her cleavage. "James seemed pretty interested in our chat earlier. Maybe he's ready for someone who won't abandon him for the first broken bad boy that comes along."

Your hands stilled on your jewelry. "Careful, Tessa. Your desperation is showing." Your voice was calm but carried an edge that made the other girls shift nervously.

"At least I'm honest about what I want," Tessa shot back. "I don't pretend to be some noble life coach while stealing other people's partners."

"The only thing you're honest about is your push-up bra," Blake muttered, earning a few nervous giggles.

Your confidence seemed to grow with each passing moment, while Lilly's anxiety manifested in increasingly frantic makeup touch-ups.

"Ten minutes, ladies!" A producer's voice called through the door.

"Well," Aish stood, smoothing down her dress. "I guess we're about to find out who's going home and who's staying to fight another day."

"May the best woman win," Tessa's voice carried across the room as they prepared to leave, though her eyes fixed challengingly on you.

"Oh honey," Blake linked arms with you as you headed for the door. "I think she already has."

The fire pit crackled with tension as the islanders gathered for the recoupling ceremony. The girls stood in a line, their evening wear glinting in the firelight while the boys sat on the curved benches, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. Sarah stood at the head of the fire pit, her expression promising drama.

"Islanders," Sarah's voice carried across the night air. "Tonight's recoupling will determine who stays in the villa and who goes home. Boys, you have the power. When I call your name, please stand and tell us who you want to couple up with, and why."

"Rafe," She called first, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "You're up."

The fire cast dramatic shadows across Rafe's face as he stood, his blue eyes intense in the flickering light. His gold rings caught the flames as he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of barely contained emotion rather than his usual arrogance.

"The girl I want to couple up with," he began, his voice carrying clearly across the pit, "is someone I should have chosen from the start. Someone who sees past all my bullshit, who isn't afraid to call me out when I'm being an ass." His eyes found you across the flames. "Someone who makes me want to be better, even though that fucking terrifies me."

"She's the first person I've ever met who makes me want to face my demons instead of running from them. Who doesn't try to fix me, but makes me want to fix myself." He paused, his intensity making the moment electric. "The girl I want to couple up with is Y/N."

The fire pit crackled in the silence that followed as you stepped forward, your eyes never leaving Rafe's. The burgundy dress caught the light as you moved, creating the illusion of flames dancing across your skin.

"Took you long enough," You murmured as you reached him, just loud enough for the nearby microphones to catch.

Rafe's hand found your waist as you settled beside him, his touch possessive yet gentle. The cameras didn't miss how perfectly you fit together, or how his thumb traced small circles on your hip - a gesture that seemed unconscious yet intimate.

"James," Sarah's voice cut through the moment. "You're next."

The tension ratcheted up another notch as James stood, his expression barely contained with fury. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before sliding to where Tessa stood, her white dress practically glowing in the firelight.

"Well," his voice carried an edge that made several islanders shift uncomfortably. "Seems like loyalty doesn't mean much here anymore." His gaze lingered pointedly on you, who remained steady under Rafe's protective arm.

"The girl I want to couple up with," James continued, his tone shifting to something calculated, "is someone who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it. Someone who understands the value of... professional expertise." His eyes fixed on Tessa, whose white dress seemed to glow against the night sky.

"I choose Tessa," he declared, watching your reaction from the corner of his eye. "At least she's honest about her intentions."

"Thanks, baby," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I promise you won't regret it."

The recoupling continued as Marcus chose Blake, Lee picked Emma, and Finn selected Aish, leaving Lilly standing alone in her pink dress, mascara-stained tears tracking down her cheeks.

"Lilly," Sarah's voice held false sympathy. "I'm sorry, but as you weren't chosen, your time in the villa has come to an end. You have thirty minutes to pack your bags and say your goodbyes."

Your slight flinch of guilt was quickly soothed by Rafe's tightening grip on your waist, Tessa's had a triumphant smirk as she pressed closer to James, and the varying expressions of shock and satisfaction among the other islanders.

"This isn't fair," Lilly's voice cracked as she looked pleadingly at Rafe. "We were happy. We were good together until she-"

"Don't," Rafe cut her off, his voice firm but not unkind. "We both know that's not true. We were never really together, Lilly. Not in the way that mattered."

The night air grew thick with tension as Lilly's sobs echoed across the fire pit. The other islanders began to move, some following Lilly to help her pack, others lingering to watch the aftermath of the dramatic recoupling.

"Well," Blake muttered to Emma as they headed inside. "I guess we know who the real player in the villa is now." Her meaningful glance toward Tessa and James.

You turned in Rafe's arms, your eyes meeting his blue ones in the firelight. "You okay?" You asked softly, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

"Better than okay," he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "For the first time since coming here, everything feels... right."

[cerenemuxse]

TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Maron Station

Gordon and Rebecca, Coming Through! (Season 24 Episode 17)

Word Count: 384

The story can be found at @tgr-2x5-roleswap-au for easier access.

~

Later, James pulled into Maron with the Honeypot, and that's when he saw him.

"Oh, not him!" he hissed loudly.

"Who?" asked the coaches, who were typically quiet. The first coach peaked over the engine's tender out of James' cab. His eyes landed on the approaching tender engine.

"H-Hello?" exclaimed Edward. His eyes brightened with relief. "James!" The other red medium-sized tender engine came to a gentle halt at the station, exhausted. "H-Hello!" he huffed out tiredly with as much energy as he could muster.

"Hi," James replied bitterly, immediately looking away. "Aren't you supposed to be heading to the Great Railway Show?"

"Aye," began Edward with a small weak smile before quickly looking down with sorrow, "I got left behind. I wis… I wis hopin you could… m-maybe show me tae the Mainland."

Immediately, the Honeypot coaches chimed in. "James wants to go to the Great Railway Show! He can show you the way!"

Edward's interest was piqued, smiling at the bright red medium-sized tender engine.

“No!" James immediately replied, startling Edward who revved backwards. "I don't want to participate in something silly. I don't need to prove that I’m good at something. I would rather be a really useful engine than a pretty pony." Much to his relief, the guard blew their whistle. "Besides, I'm clearly busy so you'll just have to find another engine!" he hollered as he quickly departed the station without so much of a whistle, leaving Edward behind.

Edward's face dropped. He had been very lucky that the dockside diesel, Salty, had been willing to take him to the Main Line, as it turned out that he was on a branch line called the Brendam Branch Line. Salty had told him to just go east on the Main Line and that he would eventually reach the Vicarstown Drawbridge. Unfortunately, Edward nearly got lost at the West Maron Junction, almost heading into the goods tunnel that went through what was called Gordon's Hill. Thankfully, the signalman had stopped him and geared him in the right direction. He had been hoping another engine could show him the way but he hadn't come across any until then.

His mind swarmed with worry as he puffed along the line.

~

This is the only chapter that has been slightly edited. There was a section at the end that I cut off as it wasn't really going anywhere. At the time that I wrote it, there was going to be a different ending than you'll see.

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 04:01 ⏤ALWAYS SAFE

SUM. : you bring james his lunch that you cooked yourself and almost get injured

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james ; girlfriend reader ; very angry james ; protective james ; team training ; drill accidents ; reader being caring and sweet ; reader is wifey material ; james is husband material

LENGTH : 0.8k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“James!” you shout across the rink, standing by one of your boyfriend’s coaches, Richard, who’s become like an uncle to you. The hockey captain doesn’t stop, however, unable to hear past the whistling wind by his ears atop his thick and sturdy headgear.

“Gonna have to shout louder than that, little lady ,” the older man chuckles, adjusting the cap on his head of silvering hair. 

You ponder to yourself for a moment before smirking, which makes Richard arch a curious brow at you, “Darling!” The instant you call across the ice rink, you see James’ head whip towards you before he grins widely behind the front guard of his head gear. Behind him, the rest of his team come to a skidding halt and also look over to your waving and cheering figure. You’ve become quite familiar with all of his teammates and they love to tease their captain for being so head over heels for you so the team begin snickering to themselves, some even cheekily whistling and nudging at James who pays them no mind, his sole focus fixed onto you.

“Baby!” he cheers, delight and excitement evident in his voice before he speeds his way over to you. Richard whistles for the rest of the team to run short drills while the ‘lovely couple’ have their lunch. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you gnaw at your bottom lip regretfully, a guilty look taking over your expression as James hurriedly takes off his headgear and gloves, revealing his sweat-soaked locks matted down and clinging onto his forehead, “Richard told me you didn’t eat anything-” because you wanted to wait for me…

“Don’t worry about it,” James says gently, his smile just as bright but much softer as he takes in your sweet expression. There’s so much love in his gaze, you feel your own heart bursting at the seams to attempt at reciprocating his adoration. James brings a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his kind stare; even though he appears sweaty, dishevelled and rugged from training, he’s just as handsome as ever, “you sounded really excited over the phone about cooking my lunch for me,” a heat crawls up your neck and explodes across your cheeks as James grins, his eyes staring lovingly at you, “and I was just as excited to eat what you so graciously cooked instead of the canteen food here,” James giggles to himself, dopey and carefree, “you cooked it just for me~ I’m so lucky~” 

You returned his wide grin and felt yourself losing your will to hide his surprise. He didn’t know it but you were only late because you went and bought his favourite treacle tart from his favourite bakery across town.  

“Actually~” you begin to reach down so that you can present the bakery take out box when you suddenly see James pull back, his spine fully erect as his eyes and ears become fully alert. The words were on your tongue, ready to question his odd behaviour when he suddenly shoots his arm up to the side; just as you were beginning to register a faint whistle in your ear, it was followed by a resounding WHHHIIIIP!

In James’s stretched out hand was a hockey puck. And it was on a one way course of high velocity towards you. Seeing this, anger flares up like the fuse of an explosive ready to violently detonate in James’s eyes.

“SHE’S! MY! FUCKING! GIRLFRIEND! WATCH IT! YOU FAT FUCK!” James’s booming voice cuts through the air and silences all activity on the rink, not only that but he was easily able to narrow down the perpetrator of the hazardous stray puck, “...WELL?!! SAY SOMETHING YOU DICK!” you look past James’s figure and lock eyes with guilty brown pools, likely the offender of your potential accident.

“S-sorry,” you hear his teammate stutter, which you accept with a small nod and place a gentle hand on James’s arm, attempting to calm him down and bring his attention back to you. As he slowly turns to you again, James slams the puck to the ground and kicks it away with his ice skate. 

“Are you okay, angel?” James asks, his voice soft and kind, a complete contrast to the booming, angry shout he just projected. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” your warm voice visibly soothes the hockey team captain and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh of relief, “...accidents happen James, please don’t lash out on the poor g-”

“Accident or not, hurting you— almost hurting you is deserving of a beat down from hell,”

Looking into his hostile but worried hazel eyes, you silently express your objection alongside some appreciation too. You’re thankful for his worry, his aggression over your safety even makes your heart flutter but he’s better than any violence. It takes a moment but James finally sighs and nods, a silent promise to watch himself and stay civil. 

Smiling softly, you lean up to kiss his lips, “thank you for saving me,” his lips smile against yours. 

“You’re always safe with me, princess,”

NAVI.

A/N : im a bit rusty on writing since i haven’t been able to write for a while from stressful home stuff but here’s me trying to get back into it with another ice hockey james au (inspired by another tiktok). hopefully, this will get me in the headspace to write good requests from my milestone event.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[daenysx]

hii!! i just noticed you're receiving requests, so here's mine!!

a smutty one shot with sub!james potter maybe? it can be any plot, I just can't get enough of him being subby🤭 please and thank youu🤍

thank you for requesting, this is my first time writing for james [and a sub!male character, so i'm not sure if this is good enough :) ] i hope you enjoy! nsfw. requests are open!

modern au. james potter x fem!reader

glossy eyes of a pretty boy

you are almost asleep when something starts buzzing on your nightstand. you try to blink the sleep away by sitting on bed and taking your phone in your hand. james's name is shiny on the dark screen, you answer his call quickly, and put the phone on your ear.

"jamie?" you ask sleepily.

"hey, angel." he says, he sounds tired. "i'm sorry, were you sleeping?"

you rub your eyes, sleep fades away when your boyfriend sounds so unlike himself. "no, no, that's fine. are you okay?"

james almost stammers, unsure for the rest of this conversation. suddenly he doesn't feel so confident to act like his usual self at the moment. "can i come over?" he asks, avoiding the last minute hesitation. "it's just- you can say no of course, it's late, but i'm-"

"no, no." you're quick to shut him up, he's just being lovely. "please, come over."

he thanks you silently and you end the call with a frowny look on your face. there is something wrong with james's voice. you leave your bed, he won't take long to be here, and you wait for the doorbell in the living room.

you open the door as you hear his footsteps outside, and there he is. your lovely boyfriend walks into your apartment with tired legs, he doesn't even seem to have his usual strength as he takes you in his arms for a hug. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers are quick to rub the back of his neck. you press gentle nails on his skin, right where his skin meets his hair, and he melts into the hug.

"are you okay, baby?" you ask, trying for an eye contact. "you're worrying me, what's wrong?"

james kisses your cheek before he closes the door and leans his back to it. "i had an argument with the coach." he says, quietly. "it was awful. he thinks i'm not giving my best to the team. he thinks i have the potential to be better but i'm not trying enough."

you cup his cheeks instantly, eyes wide and heart clenching. "no, baby, no." you want to beat his coach even though the guy is twice your size. "you know none of it is true."

they are not true, and james should know that. he is doing his best, always working together with the rugby team, he is constantly at practices, he gives the strength of his mind and body to the sport he loves. you are sure it was just an argument made of his coach's strict strategies to get his players motivated, it has happened to another guy on james's team before, but it doesn't make any excuses for your boyfriend's poorly state right now.

you stroke james's cheeks and he gives in to your touch. you raise on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss on his upper lip. you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. he kicks his shoes quickly, following your steps.

you sit on the edge of the bed as you pull james in front of you, he stands between your legs as he takes his glasses off and puts them on your nightstand. you push his shirt upwards, kissing his abdomen fondly, your lips curling on his skin as you suck a little spot. you pull him from his belt loops and james almost loses his mind.

you tug on his shirt. "can you take this off for me?"

he nods, streching his muscles to take off his shirt. he looks back at you, you're unzipping his pants as you press kisses on his skin. his muscles tighten under your lips, you are in control. you pull his pants down and he takes them off too.

he stands in front of you, melts under every kiss and every touch. "can i-" he takes a breath. "can i take this off?" his fingers are on the sides of his boxer, waiting for an approval before he acts. you look up to him, asking for a simple word. "please, angel."

you nod, smiling. he is your perfect boy. "of course, jamie, go ahead."

he listens, taking off his underwear and his socks before you pull him into bed with you. the sheets are still warm from your earlier slumber, james exhales tiredly as he lays facedown on your bed. you rub his back, fingertips grazing his skin rather playfully. you kiss the side of his neck, his curls spread on your pillow. he looks so, so beautiful.

you keep touching him, realizing he is lifting his hips and pressing them back to bed for a little friction. you smile, letting him look at you. "come here, baby." you pull james on your body and he leans into your touch. he is lying on his side, looking at you through glossy eyes. "let me treat you right." you say, fondly. "you deserve it, right? tell me you deserve it, jamie."

he nods, getting even closer to you in bed. "i deserve it." he is quiet but you can do with it.

"there you go." you kiss his forehead. "i'll take care of you until you forget everything he ever said. he's lying anyway, why should we care what he says, right baby?"

he nods. "yeah." you nod encouragingly. "yeah, none of it was true."

"you don't have to think about anything now." you whisper. "just focus on me."

he nods obediently. you find a comfortable position on bed, you can hold james and touch him with your free hand. you bring your hand to his chest, his abdomen, and between his legs. he is getting harder with the passing seconds, begging silently for a relief before he falls asleep.

you take his achingly hard cock in your hand, softly stroking it. he is quiet when he moans, just leaning into your touch. you keep stroking him gently, until you get a word from his lips. "please."

"you're okay, baby." you say. "everything's okay."

he nods, moving his hips against your hand. your other hand strokes his hair, and it's so gentle. he gives in, your touch brings him back. you keep moving your hand, soft and rough. your fingers graze the tip of his cock, he's sensitive, and he moans your name.

you touch him, his hands grab your waist as he holds onto you. "you're doing so good for me." you kiss his hair. "you're being so good. always the best."

james buries his face to your neck, inhaling your scent and looking for something to keep him steady. he moves his hips to your hand again, muscles streching in the warmth of the bed, your soft hand grabbing him gently. he wants to stay in the moment, he wants to stay here forever. he feels so safe and secured, trusting you to take care of him.

"i'm-" he kisses your neck, tries for words. "i'm so close."

"i know, baby." you say. "will you be good for me? will you come for me?"

he nods. "yes, yes, i will." he buries himself closer like it's possible. "i'll be good, please."

you move your hand a little faster. he deserves to finish, deserves to relax with you. you twist your hand like you've been doing for minutes, one last stroke, one last touch on the tip of him. james arches his back to you, he doesn't have any control of his movements anymore. he comes to your hand, white cum drips down on his belly and your leg a little bit. you help him ride through his orgasm, last drops of the liquid as you milk him dry.

james gives you a sound of moaning as you push him gently to lay on his back. he tries to catch his breath, the moment of intimacy is never lost on him as he holds your waist. he blinks, watches the ceiling. you sit on the bed slowly, leaning in to give him a kiss on his lips.

"can you close you eyes for me?" you ask with a lovely voice. "i'll be here in a minute."

he closes his eyes but doesn't let go of you. "don't leave me, please."

you give him another kiss because he's just so, so pretty when he begs you to stay. "i'll clean us up, and i'll get you some water baby." you push his hair back from his sweaty forehead. "i'll be back really fast, okay?"

james hums, you are quick on your steps as you clean your hands and your leg in the bathroom. you get him a freshly washed towel and help him clean himself though you were the messier one just a minute ago. you toss the towel into the washing machine before you leave for kitchen. you lean to the counter, trying to get yourself calm. your heart beats so fast, the waves of arousal from a moment with your boyfriend washes over you. this isn't about you tonight, you will not ask for james to return the favor. you should relax a little before getting into the bed with him again.

you fill a huge glass of water for james, after you drink one yourself. you go back to your bedroom, sitting next to the spot james is lying. his eyes are still closed, you worry he fell asleep for a second.

he blinks when you cup his cheek. he gives you a perfect smile, turning his face to kiss your hand. "i thought you fell asleep." you say.

james shakes his head. "i was waiting for you."

you give him a proud smile. "would you like some water?"

he nods, and you help him sit. he takes the glass from your hand and sips greedily. you can't help but smile at him, he finishes the glass quickly. "thank you, angel." he says, getting closer to your face to give you a kiss. you part your lips for him as he kisses you breathless.

you pull yourself back, looking at his pretty eyes. "you know, i really do believe your coach is not true in his words. i know how hard you try and how good you are in the field." you stroke his cheek. "i hope you believe in me. i never want you to be upset or doubt yourself when you're so good."

he nods, grateful and sweet. "it means a lot to me. your opinion, i mean. i'm glad for your support, my love, i really am."

you give him another smile, he puts the empty glass next to his glasses and you move to your side on the bed. "i can get you a shirt if you want, maybe you'll get cold." you say before laying down properly.

he shakes his head. "it's fine." he hesitates before he asks for something else. "would you- would you like to take your shirt off? so that i can feel you closer."

he is so gentle like he always is, you nod. "of course, i'd like that."

you make a quick work of your clothes, taking off everything. skin to skin contact makes everything better and james is so, so big and warm. you pull him to your naked chest as he presses a kiss on your skin. he gently holds your waist as you stroke his curls in your hand, brushing his hair back, helping him bury himself closer to your body. "you are okay, hmm? you are okay, baby."

"you didn't get to come." he murmurs, sleepily. "i promise, in the morning." he whispers disconnected words.

"i'm fine, that was for you." you lead his thigh to stay between your legs, pressing your warm cunt on his muscular leg to remain steady until the morning. "can you keep your leg here, sweetheart? i'll be okay than."

he nods, kissing you one last time on the skin below your nipple before sleep takes him. "of course. thank you." he streches like a kitten, and he settles down. "i love you."

you whisper the words back to him, holding him close to your chest until he finally falls asleep. the bed is warm and james's leg helps you when you can close your eyes. your pretty boy takes a sleepy breath, and you keep him under the covers, forever keeping him in your arms.