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thelov3lybookworm · 3 days ago

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Comfort Her

Summary: primal instincts and punches

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Word Count: 2003

Warnings: beron being an asshole, Lucien being a tiny bit violent, proofread only once cus im sick😔

A/n: this didnt come out as i wanted it to, but i hope you all still like it. plus, im sick, so im trying to get as much rest as possible, but i did do my best to finish this fic before i go to sleep lol.

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

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Despite how vehemently they denied it, faeries were assholes. Being an almost four hundred year old fae and an emissary, Lucien knew this.

They would nod their heads and agree with people who talked about faerie equality and how lower faeries deserved more respect, but those same people would turn around and torture the lower fae they took as servants.

Illyrians still were a higher group of fae compared to a lot of others.

But still, they were lower fae.

Lucien could remember vividly how when he was a young male, his father had summoned him to his office and told him to never get involved with a lower fae. Even lying with them for one night was shameful, and Beron liked to think his sons could do better than the filth that was lower fae.

Lucien had been more rebellious than his older brothers, and so he had asked.

What about an Illyrian?

That night, he had gotten fifteen lashes for even having the audacity to bring up a lower fae after his father had explicitly forbidden him from them.

But it seemed to Lucien that he was made to love people who others considered filth. Not Lucien, not ever.

Lucien was the most compassionate out of all his brothers, but being fae, even he had been once disgusted by humans. But then he met Feyre, and he could not care less that she was not a fae, that she was something he should not have even interacted with.

Compared to a human, Illyrians were very easy to love. And so when Lucien found himself in love with an Illyrian woman, he was not surprised.

It was on a small mission to Illyria that he picked up, having asked Rhys to give him something to do because he was too bored by sitting on his ass all day. It was nothing big. Rhys had taken one look at him, offered him a knowing smile, and then told him he could accompany Cassian to the steppes. He was sure Cassian could use a friendly face while dealing with the pompous lords of Illyrian camps.

And Lucien had been all too eager, feeling confined in the beautiful but isolated city of starlight.

And then he had seen Y/n dragging a shit load of washed, soggy clothes in a too big bucket, and he couldn’t help himself. He had walked over to her while Cassian debated about the chore to training times for females, and had introduced himself to the skeptical gaze of his now beloved wife.

She had been reluctant to talk to him, continuously glancing behind him to make sure no one was watching or they’d punish her for being tardy. Lucien had insisted on carrying the bucket for her, and since that day, Lucien made it known that he would love to accompany Cassian to the steppes everytime he went.

No one, except Cassian, questioned his decisions. The Ilyrian, of course, figured it out just after the first trip.

"Lucien! I need a hand!"

Lucien caught himself grinning down at his tea, blinking, before he lifted his head to look at his mate, who waddled over to him from the kitchen, her lips pursed. "This thing isn’t opening."

She shoved a can of corn in his face, brows furrowed in frustration. Lucien set his cup aside and took the can in his hand, examining it before peeling away the metal covering. He smiled as he handed it back to his mate, to which she pouted.

"I hate this."

He shook his head, chuckling as he stood and pulled her into his arms. "My love, your tea is going to be cold if you don’t come and drink it with me, you know."

She huffed, pulling away from him. "I just have to mix this with the vegetables, and then I’ll be done."

He took the can back from her, pushing her down onto the couch. "Get rest, love. I’ll do it"

"But I want to do it!"

Lucien pecked her forehead. "Y/n, we’ve got to go to the high lords meeting in an hour. You need all the rest you can get before that. Let me do this. Yeah?"

She huffed, but didn’t protest as he placed her tea mug in her hands and walked into the kitchen. It always made him smile, her almost childlike anger that had taken root after she became pregnant. It only got worse as she got closer to birthing his child.

But as soon as the smile had come, it dropped as Lucien thought over his own words.

It was Rhysand’s idea to host a meeting again, this time in moonstone palace to discuss how to proceed after the war with Hybern had wrecked Prythian. Lucien had done his best to object, then tried to get Rhysand to let him and Y/n sit out of it, making the excuse of Y/n being pregnant. But of course, Y/n had insisted it was fine, and now they had to go.

Lucien couldn’t care less about what Beron had to say about him. But he didn’t want to hear anything untoward words aimed at his wife.

He knew if Beron opened his mouth, Lucien was bound to spill his father’s blood.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Beron was close. Lucien knew.

The high lords who had already arrived talked and laughed with Rhysand and the rest of the inner circle. Even Tamlin chatted with Feyre, though he seemed too wound tight for the conversation to be anything but polite. Y/n, too, engaged in conversations with Thesan, and while Lucien stood right next to her, his hand protectively wrapped around her waist, he did not know what the two were talking so enthusiastically about.

Everyone seemed calm. Normal, at ease. And when there was ease, Beron was never too far, the chaos revolving around him eager to disrupt peace.

Lucien was too wound tight to look at anything but the huge doors that were thrown wide open, letting in fresh air.

And then Lucien felt it. A group of people entering the wards. It was a gift he had gotten that he himself barely understood. After all, no one else in his family had such powers.

It wasn’t long before Beron, Eris and Lucien’s mother appeared in the doorway, all their eyes scanning the room. But they all had their own reasons for it.

Beron scanned the room, his eyes shrewd and looking for chaos.

Eris looked for possible exits and assessed threats. And maybe Lucien was seeing things but his eyes halted for a moment on Lucien, too.

And his eyes softened, maybe.

But Lucien’s mother? She only looked for Lucien.

The moment her eyes met his, she relaxed, the small tilt of her lips barely visible. Lucien smiled back too, hoping Beron wasn’t looking. And then he squeezed Y/n’s waist, making her turn to look at him, paused mid sentence.

Thesan had the courtesy to leave and find some other partner to converse with when he realised who had just appeared.

As Lucien smiled down at Y/n, his heart began racing, and he turned her slightly. His eyes fixed on his mother now, he saw the way her eyes filled with tears at seeing his son with his pregnant partner.

She hadn’t been allowed much, Lucien remembered from his time when he still lived in autumn court. The only news she got was heard through court gossip and her ladies in waiting. Or her sons, who didn’t visit her much except Eris and Lucien. So it came as no surprise when she stared at Y/n like she hadn’t known of her son’s mating bond.

It wasn’t long before the meeting started, Lucien figured when the high lords slowly trailed towards the circular seating arrangements in the middle of the huge, mostly open sun room. But he stood still against the wall, his eyes keen on his mother as she slowly made her way closer, alert and cautious, until Beron was finally out of sight.

The moment she was close enough, Lucien let go of Y/n and pulled her into his chest, his own eyes prickling.

"Oh, Lucien. My boy." She sniffled, holding onto her son tight.

Lucien felt like a child again, running up to her after hours of studying with his brothers, smiling up at her as he clung to her lap. She used to smile down at him, combing his hair back from his head, and ask him how his day was. She’d then sit him down and feed him with her hands, making sure he ate every last morsel on the plate.

Not able to take more of the emotional turmoil clawing at his chest, Lucien pulled away, taking a step back and wrapping his arm around Y/n again. His mother pulled her into a quick hug too, before she glanced around.

Beron could come searching any moment.

Sighing, she patted Y/n’s cheek and walked away after kissing her forehead, throwing only a glance at Lucien before disappearing with her husband.

Lucien refused to look away until she vanished from his sight, and then he turned to Y/n.

"Let’s go, love."

She smiled sadly, nodding. "Are you okay, though?"

Lucien nodded, swallowing.

The next hour passed in a blur, with Lucien avoiding his father’s occasional sneer and his brother’s gaze, and trying not to look at his mother too long. Throughout it all, the one constant was his arm around his mate.

Comforting her. Protecting her.

It wasn’t until Rhysand stood, offering the high lords rest and refreshments before the ball at night that Lucien stiffened.

"I think I will pass on the invitation to the ball, Rhysand." Beron smirked, his gaze trailing leisurely to rest on Y/n.

Rhysand straightened, clearing his throat. "If that’s what you wish, Beron. But it would have been nice to have autumn court attend the night court’s revels."

Beron waved his hand, as if pushing away the bothersome words. "I would have loved to join, but you see, I barely tolerated your two illyrian dogs. And now my youngest has also bred a bitch-"

And Lucien was already standing, his teeth bared in a snarl.

"Don’t you fucking dare." His finger was pointed towards his father, the other fist clenched tightly.

Beron smirked. "Did I hit a nerve?"

Y/n took hold of Lucien’s wrist, pulling herself up to stand. "If you don’t shut up, my mate is going to hit more than a nerve on your ugly face, my lord."

How Y/n was so calm, Lucien could not fathom. He could almost feet his veins bulging, ready to burst as he stared at Beron.

Beron only snorted, standing. "You dare talk to me, you filthy low born? One carrying a mutt?"

Y/n let Lucien’s wrist go the moment she felt him moving. She knew not to stop a male drowning in his protective, primal instincts.

It was unlike Lucien to get violent, but he wasn’t interested in being like his own self anyway.

Lucien moved fast, too fast for Beron or even Eris to move. Lucien’s fist made contact with Beron’s cheek, pushing his head to the side. It was a good thing most high lords, except Rhysand and Helion, had departed before Beron began spewing his nonsense, or Lucien would have been labelled as violent.

Lucien couldn’t care less.

He grabbed Beron’s collar, getting all in his disgusting face as Lucien spat. "Not another word, father, or this will be the last meeting you ever attend."

Beron snarled, a muscle popping in his jaw. But he pushed Lucien off, eyes wild. And he walked away, without a word.

Maybe he saw how serious Lucien was about it being his last meeting, after all.

Lucien didn’t stay back either. He took hold of his mate’s hand, and then winnowed her away. The only thoughts in his head were to protect her, to comfort her.

And their baby.

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acciocriativity · 3 days ago

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A MOMMA'S BOY - K.H.J. ONE SHOT

Ateez Masterlist

Pair: Idol! Hongjoong x Non-idol! Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst; Slice of Life AU

Warnings: toxic mother and family in general (Hongjoong's side); implied emotional manipulation; descriptions of past emotional abuse; forced isolation; talks of fear of rejection and abandonment; Hongjoong is compliant with his family actions in a sense, he's neglectful at best.

WC: 1,2 K

N/A: This was supposed to be a reaction for all the members, then I got wayyy to excited with this idea, and the result... well, it's this. Anyway! Thank you so much for all the lovely people who read my stuff, Happy New Year!!

Hongjoong reassured you countless times his mother wouldn't mind your presence for dinner. But her to "not mind you there" wasn't enough for you at all. It was his family first night in Seoul after a long time apart, and you tried to do the sensible thing and give them alone time. He insisted they'd want your presence just as much as he did. It was hard for you to believe so.

In your eyes, his mom never made an actual effort to form a real relationship with you. Instead, she liked to see you try hard to earn your spot in her good graces. She was like the bridge of the family in a way, and your only point of contact to the rest of them, you knew, because she said so the first ever time you talked to her on the phone. It was an off-handed comment, and you didn't know what to make of it at that time. You learned later it was nothing but a simple warning. You had to earn her approval, or you were out. Hongjoong probably doesn't remember the first time she called in your presence, but you were fairly excited to talk to her. You remembered how fun and warm everyone said she was. Well, there was nothing fun and warm in the way she talked to you.

Her presence wasn't as constant as it became lately. Her influence never disappeared, but at the beginning of the relationship, it was the only thing you had to deal with. A mental tightrope that brought so many anxieties and bad thoughts became a real one with real-life consequences.

Hongjoong was tired of arguing about the same thing every single time. He understood to a certain point. You don't want to seem pushy, invasive, or bothersome to anybody, much less to his family. Those same words were used over and over to hurt you at some point in the past. You told him so in tears one night, almost a year ago. He was angry then. In his mind, you hated to talk to his mom, like it was a chore for you to become close to her. In reality, you were only scared to slip up and become that person you believed you were, needy, clingy, and inconvenient to others. Your fears and vulnerabilities were open to his eyes in a way that hadn't been before. He never understood why you had that kind of concern with his family, though. He never saw the pressure you were under. He never really saw his family, his mom, the way you did, the way she used your Achilles heel to keep you away from him and his family.

He never told you how he almost broke up with you, then. And thank God, because that would've been the biggest regret of his life. Deep down, he knew couldn’t be with someone who didn't get along with his mom or his family in general. Oh, but you knew. You noticed the look on his eyes weren't the same. Hongjoong's family were known to be kind, considerate, and generous. They had that in their eyes, some of the boys said so to you. Hongjoong was raised as such, but there wasn't any kindness or generosity towards you for a week or so until the moment he confronted you. It was your first big fight.

After you opened up your heart to him, he promised he'd never allow anyone to make you feel that way about yourself again. And you promised to try more. You didn't want to give up so easily with barely a simple tug on the rug beneath your feet by his mom.

And you tried, tried so much to remedy any bad impression they could have of you as well as make the effort to create good memories with them. But no matter how much you did try, his parents never engaged with you. The barrier was clear to you and you only. The consequences of passing through were rejection and abandonment, and you couldn't bear that.

To the unknown observant, your relationship with them improved drastically. You were explicitly welcomed in any space they were in and explicitly invited to every family function from that moment on. Of course, you had their number, but any conversation you tried to make, face to face or online, no matter the topic, were curt and dry on their end. The implicity message was clear, you didn't get the approval.

The whole way to the restaurant, you tried to calm yourself down. It was a familiar place, traditional in a sense, but warm and welcoming with great food to soothe anyone’s soul. Hongjoong chose it intentionally to make you feel comfortable in your skin. He was attentive to you, caring, thoughtful. That was the reason you couldn't bear the thought to lose him, even if his eyes turned blind when his family was involved. With you alone, he was an incredible boyfriend and friend, and that left you satisfied for a while.

The politeness game was a subtle one, and koreans played it really, really well. It was hard to master, but after so many years interacting with people in every step of the hierarchy ladder, you could say you learned it from the best. Did she just ignore you when you arrived? No, you couldn't say so. She smiled in your direction, but she only hugged her son. It wasn't a subtle move on her part, but it could be excused by many variants.

You checked to see Hongjoong's reaction, but he wasn't looking at you. He was glad to see his mom after so long. You sat instead of waiting for a warm reception from his father or brother. That would've been worse, humiliating even. Hongjoong were beside you, so maybe he hadn't noticed how uncomfortable you became after similar situations kept happening. That's the excuse you used for him up until now.

Whenever you commented on something that was said or asked about something they said, they would be polite but wouldn't engage with you further. His father did that many times, his mother only a few, and his brother barely directed words at you, so he did not have such an opportunity, but you didn't doubt it anymore. It was like the fluidity of the conversation met a brick wall the moment you spoke up. The water had no place to go further ahead, then it had no option but to slowly float along the edge in search for a way out. This was your punishment, their of way of telling you there wasn’t a place for you with them.

When Hongjoong left to go to the toilet, you almost got up with him. Instead, you stayed stiff on your seat as awkward silence filled the table. Well, awkward for you, of course. They didn't seem to mind your presence, unbothered, as they made small comments about the quality of the meat and whatnot.

You held yourself back, aware that confrontation would lead you nowhere but to your way out of this relationship and family. There's was no anger or resentment left in your heart against them, only the slowly realization that you wanted to leave on your own terms and the consequences that you wanted them to deal with.

That thought alone made you smile once again and casually agree that the meat was, in fact, delicious, but you'd rather have a colder meal in the near future.

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez masterlist #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez fics

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mandalhoerian · 9 hours ago

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Repost because tumblr's tags were broken yesterday and it ate my post up 😞 Spoilers and translation notes for Rafayel's intertidal zone & analysis because it kinda floored me, I was just as a blank page as he was throughout this. I had to watch it like 5 times to understand what the story was saying and dig into chinese and japanese versions of this to piece together what was really happening. It may be my idiot brain not getting it and maybe it was like the easiest thing to understand for you but. Yeah. I may be just dumb LMFAO AND!!!! There's also a theory of mine into how Rafayel is actually able to read mc's mind/wishes through their lemurian bond, so stay tuned for that I guess

EDIT: correcting some transcriptions of chinese characters and the translations. sorry about that! google couldn't transcribe it correctly. for clarity's sake i will also include original screenshots. please tell me if anything is wrong!

So Rafayel’s whole deal in this memory, I believe, is dependency. Like, too much intensity, too much need, too much fear -- about scaring her off, about what he sees himself possibly becoming in the future, overall just being too reliant on mc and getting scared by it.

Let's begin with this massive fear of being a taker, not just in the “I’m stealing someone’s fries” way, but in this existential, soul-deep kind of way where he’s terrified of turning everything he loves into something he exploits out of demand for his art. And yeah, it’s sad when you first hear him say it, but it’s also really interesting when you look at how this all ties into his relationship with MC and his inspiration source drying up because of her.

Before Rafayel became an artist, he looked at the world in this super pure, wholesome way. Sceneries and nature were just there, things to admire and feel awe over without needing to do anything about it. Like, imagine standing at the edge of a desert, looking at a sea that’s drying up. Sure, it’s tragic, but it’s also kind of beautiful in a raw, heartbreaking way. That’s how Rafayel saw things, he could appreciate them without feeling like he had to do anything.

But then Rafayel started creating, and suddenly, sceneries weren’t just sceneries anymore. They became inspiration. He wasn’t just admiring beauty, he was extracting something from it, its meaning, its pain, its soul, to turn into art for other people. And that made him feel all kinds of icky, because now he wasn’t just looking at the drying sea. He was taking from it. Just as he's using his people's pain in his art as well, that's also a thing.

Now let’s talk about MC. Rafayel loves her like he used to love those sceneries,,, in this pure, untainted way. There's a parallel here. But here’s the kicker, he’s not the same guy who can just admire something and leave it untouched anymore.

And suddenly, this is no longer only about losing inspiration for him.

This happens after he and MC get together, and it’s like all the pain and anguish that used to fuel his creativity just.. ... dries up. He can’t find that spark anymore because now his life is surrounded by love instead of suffering. In fact, his inspiration starts coming from her and it's starting to clash with how he makes art. In the phone call, he seeks her out and says he needs her so bad and she only needs to talk to help him out. This is the first wink wink nod nod of the story.

So what does Rafayel do? He goes on this big, dramatic trip to "find inspiration" (or at least his muse), but it’s not just about his art. He’s not just looking for inspiration, he’s trying to figure out how to be less dependent on her and becoming increasingly more restless over this. The temparature and physical discomfort is making things worse, he's anxiously overthinking, and imagine trying to fight this and the longest art block as of late off when all you want to do is indulge in this special person and be comforted like a lap cat all day every day.

He understands that if he lets himself indulge without restraint, one day his love for mc will turn into pure need. He’ll become more and more greedy, and he doesn’t want that and is afraid of being abandoned because of that growing neediness and dependency.

This is in relation to his art, because as @/dat-silvers-girl put in the comments, he's struggling with "the genuine fear of not being able to enjoy anything in life because all you're thinking about how to use it (as an artist)" . what if he starts doing this to her? to their love and relationship? take from her, and become someone who only takes in every area of life -- like someone who only exploits things by extracting what he feels about them to use it for his art. he's afraid of that, he doesn't like that and possibly doesn't like himself who does it. so why should she? she would leave him for sure, in his head, that's a solid reason to.

The first time around he brings up his anxiety about MC leaving him out of the inner realization of his dependency, the possibility of just what he can become, and fear of abandonment. she effortlessly soothes his worries. It's heavily implied they did it afterwards and after hearing "her life has already been consumed by him" he tweaked out a little bit and his "obsession" seeped through.

After it fades to black, he says ほら……僕もとっくに……君に侵食されてしまっているんだ…… which means "See... I've already been completely consumed by you too" in Japanese instead of the life being made a chaotic mess localization. While I think MC's line was jokey and lighthearted, I don't think this man is joking at all. Rafayel didn't say his life was consumed by her as well, he said HE was consumed. Ouh.

This took the edge off from him for a while but they hadn't gotten to the root of the problem yet, so he was back to square one after the memorial hall, because remember, he's trying to find inspiration as an act of making this dependency of his better. Pain and suffering are all around him here, which his inspiration feeds off of. The dried up ocean he could hear weakening, the skeleton of the whale, the burden of his people and homeland more prominent than before. And what does MC do? Tear through the perspective of pain and introduce a hopeful alternative, "Isn't it a surprise to see an ocean in the middle of the desert?"

This is a place that gave Rafayel the height of helplessness and suffering when he visited by himself before despite momentarily being hopeful after the locals told him such a place existed. But now, she was there to comfort him through his loneliness and pain, hug him, and give him hope yet again. He brings up how he wanted to come here with the most important person to him when he was still hopeful about it before consumed by the pain of it all, and that wish has been granted. That moment has to be so powerful for Rafayel. Literally light at the end of the tunnel.

It had me reeling that he just sat in the car after all that, staring at her for god knows how long until she woke up. He was probably overthinking again, but my interpretation that it was heavily emotional for him (it could have meant so little for MC but the world for him, she doesn't even know) and he wanted to be in that moment with her, just feel and look without restraint. Indulge a little. (I can just imagine him going just a little bit more, I'll go after she wakes up.) And like. His eyes are shining in the darkness is the description here. Perhaps he was feeling so much here. So much love. So much happiness. And he's about to go in for a kiss (heavy breathing and everything) after that, but holds himself back and actively has to pry himself away. He's feeling the neediness again.

That’s why he makes an effort to actively wean himself off and says he'll be okay on his own. What he says to her after MC is like "spoiling him" being all "hey you're sick maybe don't go? or let's go together?" (which is NOT helping Rafayel at all) is even more meaningful in Japanese and I didn't know why they left out this context, but the rearranged line would be "Do you want me to become a sea creature beached on the sand after the sea recedes, unable to breathe on my own ever again?"

Yeah. YEAH. This is about dependency. (He's saying don't coddle me I'll literally become that wolf tearing his shirt meme 😭)

So of course his stubbornness and anxiety force him to do things without MC and distance himself, he can do it. He’s determined to prove to himself that he can endure it on his own.

I also feel like part of the reason he insisted on going to the salon alone is that he’s still worried mc might come to dislike the version of him who's someone he's so sure she will leave, who isn't perfect and he hides behind the persona he's put up just for her. If he truly becomes addicted to her and shows her everything/his true self, and she ends up leaving him, it would completely break him. He's trying to be like "im so normal about her haha" but he's so not normal about her at all. He's literally obsessed I feel like, and perhaps this is him fighting it knowing it's not healthy.

and OOOH about why he ends up coming back from the salon all hot and bothered.

I have strong context that she flicked the bean in there after he left her high and dry in the car ("hot water washes away the stickiness from my body and his stifled breaths still echo in my ears, enveloping me along with the steam in the bathroom. The warmth from his fingertips lingers in the places where he touched me..." is the english. however, in chinese, it goes "熱水洗去身上的黏膩，壓抑的喘息迴盪在我耳畔，和浴室裡氤氳的水氣一起包裹著我." stating "the suppressed breathing" -- which doesn't have any possessive adjectives when I translated it on google and later explicitly asked chatgpt if it had any his/my adjectives involved, just to be sure. it said no but i'd like it if a real chinese speaking person could give their input on this !!! PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME WITH CHATGPT

so um. if the context is in fact the case that he heard her masturbating to him, the intensity with which he attacked her would be normal, I think 😭

I have belief that MC unconsciously shatters his "training himself to be without her" determination through their bond. She just keeps thinking about him the entire time. about him reading her thoughts, though. we still don't know all about the lemurian bond they share. I’d say it grants him some sort of mind/heart reading ability or connects their minds together (when she was thinking about whether she should hug him, he answered “yes”).

At the salon, I imagine Rafayel was already thinking about her like crazy. Then he realized, or perhaps, "heard" she was still worrying about him and thinking of him (as much he thought about her) and decided to go back. Rafayel probably felt that suppressing himself was only making her more anxious and unsettled. She's thinking all about him, unconsciously calling to him to come to her, she didn't want to let him go at all, wanted to go with him, etc...

but even if it was his own decision and no mind reading was involved... uh. If you ask me. He did quite literally hear her after coming back. That's also something that might make him think she wants him as much as he wants her, which made his self-restraint utterly meaningless from the start.

Disregarding this theory of mine proven wrong until a Chinese speaker helps me out here, MC returned to Rafayel's room. A translation omission happened here from what I saw. There are no possessive adjectives in the Chinese text about the room she returns to, and the Japanese one states she returned to the guest room (doesn't specify which one. She was also able to enter Rafayel's room without needing to knock before.)

so uh. she went into rafayel's room y'all. the line "this is my room, you're the one who walked in here" MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE. (SO LIKE. NOT ONLY DID SHE GO INTO HIS ROOM, SHE FLICKED THE BEAN THERE AND HE POSSIBLY HEARD IT. SHE'S MORE OF A FREAK THAN HE IS, I UNDERSTAND WHY HE LET GO AFTER THAT LMFAO)

I don't put it past him to get worked up after he finds her in his room post-bath even without my theory lmfao (idk why they put her in a dress when she should be in a bathrobe or something 😭)

His conclusion at the end of this memory that "he finds inspiration in pain and the art of creation is a part of his life. mc made him realize love and art are so alike. even if they don't complete him but burn him instead he wants them (love and art) with every fiber of his being" and MC says she doesn't like that, rightfully so.

So like. There's SO MUCH to unpack in here.

When Rafayel says he finds inspiration in pain and that creation is a part of his life, he’s admitting something raw and essential about himself: pain isn’t just a byproduct of his art, it’s intrinsic to it. For Rafayel, pain and art are intertwined in a way that’s almost inseparable. It’s like his muse isn’t just beauty, but beauty that hurts.

But then he takes this further by connecting art to love. He’s realized that both art and love demand the same from him: vulnerability, passion, and sometimes suffering. They don’t necessarily complete him (he’s not romanticizing them as salvation), but they burn him, wear him down, consume him (coincidentally, this is something he said to MC in the JP dub of this memory, that she consumes him), but also give him life. And for Rafayel, that’s the crux, even if they burn him, he wants them with every fiber of his being.

This is such a Rafayel thing to say. It’s dramatic, it’s tortured, but it’s also deeply SUBTLE. He doesn't spell all of these out, mind you, I got a headache trying to understand him. Or I'm just slow, I don't know. It shows how much he values creation and connection, even if they come at a cost.

MC, on the other hand, challenges this perspective. When she says she doesn’t like that he views love and art as things that burn him, she’s pushing back against the idea that suffering is a necessary part of creation, or love. MC doesn’t want Rafayel to see their relationship as something that requires him to hurt. She’s telling him, “You don’t have to destroy yourself to love me.”

When MC says, “You’ll never have to burn for me,” she’s giving Rafayel an alternative to his destructive mindset. She’s saying that love doesn’t have to hurt, that their relationship can exist without him sacrificing himself on the altar of passion. It’s a refusal to let Rafayel romanticize pain as the price of love.

And I love that Rafayel goes, "Will you help me look for other parts in life outside of pain?" in response. This is NOT about art or inspiration anymore, and the way the dialogue is written is just AUGH. Again I had to rewatch this over and over again for the nuances and subtext.

I love MC's response, she knew exactly what to say. “I’ll always be the one who walks along the shore with you. Of course, diving into the sea bed is fine too. If it can snow in the desert, there will be a day when the ocean returns.”

MC’s response is layered with metaphors, but at its core, it’s about unwavering support and hope::

Walking along the shore: This represents safety and companionship. MC is saying she’ll be with Rafayel in the calm, in the moments where they’re just observing life without diving into its depths. She’ll be his steady presence, his grounding force.

Diving into the sea bed: This is an acknowledgment that life and love sometimes require going deeper and they may go through hardships, into the unknown, the murky, the challenging. MC isn’t afraid of this, she’s willing to go there with him too.

Snow in the desert and the ocean’s return: This is a symbol of hope and transformation beyond being a nod to The Sea of Golden Sand. Snow in the desert seems impossible, just like the idea of Rafayel finding inspiration outside of pain might feel impossible to him. But MC believes in the extraordinary, in change, and in the possibility that beauty and creation can exist outside of suffering.

Her words are a promise: she’s willing to stand by him, to face the unknown together, and to hold onto the belief that a new way of seeing the world is possible.

And Rafayel LOWKEY PROPOSES IN RETURN.

By saying “let’s watch the sea together,” he’s accepting MC’s offer of companionship and hope in the long run. He’s recognizing that life doesn’t have to be about diving into the depths alone, it can be about sharing the experience with someone else, even if it’s just standing on the shore and watching.

“Every sea”: This phrase is key. Rafayel isn’t just committing to one kind of life or one kind of inspiration, he’s opening himself up to all possibilities. Watching every sea means embracing all facets of life, whether they’re calm or turbulent, painful or beautiful. It’s a marriage proposal declaration that he’s ready to explore the world beyond pain, with MC by his side.

So. I love that his inspiration returns after his freak is accepted by MC because he literally feels the acceptance through the bond.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. This memory DRAINED me. They were just supposed to bang what the fuck happened. Why did I have to go treasure hunting to find what was going on in this card. anyway...

#love and deepspace #rafayel #lads #lads rafayel #rafayel lads #l&ds #l&ds rafayel #qi yu #rafayel qi #fandom: lads

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baronessvonglitter · 2 days ago

Text

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 5

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner!Javier Pena)

Word count: 4,200

Summary: Dealing with emotions is difficult when you and Dave realize how you really feel about each other. When a night in turns sour, you seek help from an unexpected source.

(spoilers beneath the cut so beware)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for smut. Feelings of angst about failed relationship. Fantasizing. Dave in gray sweatpants OML. Fix-it Dave ooh la la! Mention of sex toys/masturbation (f & m). Reader and Dave are down so bad for each other and feeling extremely guilty over it. Pineapple on pizza is its own warning. Fluff. Soft!Dave. Tipsy kissing/making out. Dry humping. You and Dave have your first big fight. Shower self-love. Sex with an Ex. (Sorry about that, but we all make mistakes, right?)

Author's note: We've reached the angst-y part of the story. The course of true love never runs smooth round here, folks. Thanks for everyone sticking through!

Series Masterlist

Despite your blossoming friendship with Dave, who's been a rock and a safe space for you post-divorce, sometimes intrusive thoughts come in the form of your ex-husband Javier.

You really can't help it - you'd been with him so long and he'd been the main man in your life, your first, your only. It still feels like infidelity when you try out a dating app just to test the waters. You imagine him doing the same thing then chastise yourself for thinking that Javier would even need to advertise himself just to get a woman. He's probably forgotten all about you by now, probably fucking every cocktail waitress in his establishment, not a thought or care for you while he's chasing tail.

It makes you angry when you linger on who's been in the bed you shared with him, rolled around in the sheets you picked out, whose moans were muffled by the pillows you'd bought specifically for their perfect fluffiness.

Whenever you get an intrusive thought about Javier, you simply think of Dave, and the first detail that comes to mind is his eyes.

You've noticed the subtle way they scan you from head to toe, making you hyper-aware of your chosen outfit of the day. He doesn't linger on any certain part, and you're grateful he can hide whatever thoughts he has. When you speak he seems to truly listen instead of waiting for you to finish so he can talk. And when he smiles or laughs, his eyes have the most adorable crinkles in the corners. You've caught yourself staring too long more than a few times.

If you let your imagination drift even further you think about his lips, how soft they look, the way his tongue swipes across them after a sip of your freshly brewed coffee.

It's easy to forget that he's married, especially when it's just so easy between you, so natural. You tell yourself not to get too sentimental over someone who has a wife and kids, an entire life separate from you that existed before you knew him.

Trying to put your new bed frame together, you realize you don't have you don't have the right tools to complete it. When he finally calls you back you can hear him out of breath on the other line.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" you ask, a little flustered.

"No, just finished my run," he says.

You explain about your task, and lack of tools for it. He offers his own toolkit and says he'll meet you at your place in twenty.

When you answer the door for him, you're taken aback. Usually in a suit, or at the very least, trousers or jeans and a button-up, it's a strange thrill to see him so casual in dark blue t-shirt and gray sweatpants, toolbox in his hand.

...gray sweatpants.

Your eyes drift downward of their own accord, the quintessential female gaze. Dave waits patiently for you to let him in.

"Sorry!" Heat rushes to the surface of your skin as you lead him to your bedroom, offering water or anything else to drink. Less than an hour later you have the bed frame put together, boxspring, mattress, and sheets on top.

"You can shower here, if you want," you offer, bringing him a green apple Gatorade. He hesitates at first, then admits it'd probably be easier than having to drive back home in sweaty clothes.

While he's in the shower you wash his clothes, trying not to think about him under the hot spray. Has he left the door unlocked? Do you dare to test it? You tell yourself these are irrational thoughts, brought on because he's a new friend and you find him attractive. Once he leaves you're going to put your rose toy to good use for the rest of the night.

Of course he's perfect. He's a lawyer for god's sake. And he's kind, and gorgeous, and so smart, and funny. He likes old movies, he's a good dad, he remembers little things about me, he really listens when I'm talking, and of course he has a perfect cock. I haven't seen it yet, but I know it's big. Maybe even bigger than Javier. Ugh, don't think about him. Think about those gray sweatpants and how good they'd look on my bedroom floor, or maybe even slid down just low enough for him to slide right in-

"Sweetie?" your mom's voice cuts through your fantasy.

"Hm?" You sit up in your chair, swallowing the saliva that's pooled in your mouth, along with the tanginess of the mimosas your mom had made for brunch. Your mom and sister chuckle, exchanging a glance.

"You're on another planet," your sister remarks. "Mom's got a menopausal snail trail going. You're better off tuning out."

Your mother swats at your sister's arm. "I was just talking about that gorgeous Idris Elba. He's my hall pass, you know."

"Mom," you groan. "I don't think we need to know everything about you."

The Sunday morning conversation has turned to men, and you wonder if you've given off signals of your own romantic confusion. You cheeks feel hot and you blame it on the champagne cocktails.

"You've hardly touched your crepes," your mom says, fussing over you. "I hope you're not running a fever." She checks for a temperature on your forehead.

"I'm okay, I promise," you tell her.

"I hope you're not overworking yourself, dear."

You don't want the attention on you because you're sure your mother will tap into her trusty intuition and notice something's off, maybe even read your thoughts.

Luckily your sister takes over, talking about the art program she's starting next semester, and you mouth a 'thank you' as your mother gives her attention instead.

To properly thank Dave for his help, you invite him over for homemade pizza. You hold your own little contest to see whose toppings are better, You allow him the win, simply because he's the only other person you know who adores pineapple on pizza.

Dinner turns into a movie night, and you open up to him in a new way as you scroll through the streaming service app, giving him a glimpse of tv shows and documentaries you've not caught up on, and ones you listed as to-watch.

Over a bottle of moscato and a shared bag of Starburst (you disagree on your favorites when he says strawberry is best, when clearly cherry is the winner) you settle in in front of the warm glow of the tv as you play a movie.

You lean your head on his shoulder and Dave tries to ignore the way his body reacts to your closeness, the way your soft hair brushes against his skin, the subtle scent of your shampoo rising up to greet him, to tease him. He wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I really like this.. spending time with you," you murmur, eyes on the tv before they flicker up to meet his. "I mean it."

"I like spending time with you too. You seem happier," he notes, eyes taking in every feature of your face from the sparkle in your eyes to the chicken pox scar right above your eyebrow that he finds so endearing. Technically, his words are a lie. He loves spending his time with you. The more he's with you the more he realizes the small things in life he's been missing out on, like seeing a painting for the details for the first time rather than the big picture as a whole.

You shrug. "I'm happy for the most part. I have mostly everything I want. I should be really happy with 'mostly.' Not everyone gets to have a 'mostly.'"

"That's true," he responds, feeling as if you're talking about his own life, the missing pieces somehow missing when you're together. "Maybe all life is, is just enjoying the 'mostly.'" Without thinking about it he brushes a loose strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The small simple gesture makes you shiver as the air between you thickens with tension.

"More wine?" you ask in hopes of breaking the spell

He accepts, and you refill both your glasses, clinking your glasses together in a quick toast. For one brief moment as your lips touch the wine you allow yourself the audacity to think about his wife.

You open your mouth to speak then shut it, thinking better of it.

"No, say it," Dave smirks. "What's on your mind?"

Guilt, the kind only truly innocent people can feel, keeps you from looking at him when you ask, "Does Carol ever accuse you of anything going on between us?"

He honestly hasn't expected that question, the wine dulling his usually sharp perception. "No, she doesn't. I don't think she knows about 'us' at all."

"Okay," you nod. "Good.."

"Why'd you ask?"

"I just think if she had any suspicion then we'd have to take a step back, out of respect, you know?"

Suddenly the thought of stepping back into anything resembling the life he had before he met you sounds unpalatable. "Do you want to take a step back?"

"No, I don't," you're quick to reply. "But if she ever thought.." you sigh, leaving that thought unfinished. "I'm just projecting my trust issues where they don't need to go.."

"I see where you're coming from," Dave says. "But I'm telling you, I could leave town for a week and Carol wouldn't question it, so long as the money shows up in our joint bank account and as long as I'm on time for whatever black tie charity event she's spearheading that week."

You smile, stroking his arm. "See? This is why I like you. We hold our own little pity parties and drink wine and watch old movies." And when you rest your head on his shoulder again, it takes everything in him to keep from pressing his lips to the top of your head.

"Do you want to watch another one?" you ask. "Or do you have to get home?"

He's tempted, so tempted to stay, to bask in the lovely warmth that is you. But now you've put Carol in his mind and he's starting to sober up just a little. "I should probably get going. I've got a meeting tomorrow morning."

"Oh.." you try to hide your disappointment. "Of course. I understand."

Dave takes a breath to clear his dangerous thoughts, downing the last of the wine in his glass before he focuses on ordering an Uber. Though you'd promised you could drive him home, he didn't want to risk it as you'd also been drinking. "Should be here in fifteen minutes," he says, stumbling forward as he tries to stand.

"Whoa.. hey," you chuckle, holding him steady. He manages to stay on his feet, holding onto your shoulders. He feels the heat radiating off you, he can smell the freesia of your perfume. His body reacts on an instinctual level, one he hasn't allowed in so long. He needs to have you. Right now.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, steadying him. "I can drive you home. Cancel your ride." Your hand cups his cheek.

The heat that's been building up in his chest has moved further down towards his groin, your touch only furthering his struggle to control his thoughts. "No, no.. better not risk it. We've both been drinking," he says, the one principle that hasn't been clouded by your proximity.

"I guess wine sneaks up on the best of us," you admit, feeling the effects after all. "I just want to make sure you'll get home okay."

His hands travel down, landing at your waist as he leans his head on top of yours. "I am home.."

Your eyes close, body heating up with the closeness of him, the familiarity that you've thought about but never acted on. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, bringing you close together, the beat of your hearts nearly tangible.

"No one's touched me since.." Since Javier is what you mean to say, but uttering his name feels sacrilegious in the intimacy of the space you share, and a sweet chill goes through you when Dave's hands wander down to your hips. His voice is husky as he says, "I don't know how anybody could keep their hands off you."

Lips parted as you gasp, you try to explain. "I meant touched as in something simple and nice.. like this.." You realize how needy you must sound to him. "..like, how you're holding me now. Just.. friendly."

There's a tightness in his chest at your word. Friendly. That word alone should calm him down, but it has the opposite effect, exciting him further. He wants to give you more than just a friendly touch. He wants to do more than just be friends with you. "Friendly? Is that what you want me to be? Just friendly?"

You nod. "You're my best friend, my only friend these days."

That word is like a knife in his chest, taking away all his restraint. Suddenly both his hands grip your ass, pulling you into an embrace that is more than just friendly. "Is that all you want me to be?"

"Dave!" you gasp as you're pressed close to him. And fuck he's hard. Maybe this was what you needed to finally cross the line, not just blur it. Desire pools in your abdomen, slick suddenly coating your panties as your mouths finally meet in a hot and hungry kiss, tasting of wine and candy as you roll around on the couch.

Every part of Dave's body that isn't touching yours feels empty. His tongue invades your mouth, hips settling between your thighs, grinding himself against you. Your fingers card through his hair, tongue dueling against his. He'd imagined this for weeks now, but was never sure he'd ever feel this with you. He wants more, he wants all of you. This fact is cemented as you pull his tongue into your own mouth, sucking on it.

"Wait.. wait.." you groan, pushing him away. "We can't."

He groans as well, all rational thought foreign to him as most of his blood has journeyed south, evident in the unmistakable bulge you'd just enjoyed him teasing you with. He gives himself some time to cool down as you move away from him. "Yeah.." he says eventually, head in his hands. "You're right, we can't."

Still worked up, you sigh deeply, still tasting him on your tongue, still feeling the rocking of his hips. "If I sleep with you then I'm no better than any of those bitches who slept with Javier."

There's a sharp look in his eyes as he pins you down with his stare, his pride wounded. "Hey. Don't ever compare me to that bastard. I am nothing like him."

"Dave, I didn't mean-"

He knows it's probably the blue balls talking, all the heat of the moment soured from its initial passion. He holds up his hand to stop you from saying anything further, from explaining what he doesn't want to hear. His mind starts to clear. He'd let himself get carried away. He's in your home, drinking your wine, sitting on your sofa, and getting ready to fuck you the way he'd imagined it so many times before. He stands and steps away from you. "If I was just like him I wouldn't give a damn about you. I'd have taken what I wanted and left without a single thought for you." To add salt to the burn he adds, "It would have been that easy."

Anger and hurt flares within you. "Careful, Dave. You're on the same path he started on, and it's a slippery slope for cheaters."

His eyes widen in surprise at your coldness, forgetting how icy his own words had been towards you. He'd come to you for fun and comfort, to shed the stress of work and life, not to get in your pants, though he's not upset it had nearly gone that way. "You think I came here tonight to cheat on my wife? You think I'm trying to be the next scumbag to break your heart?"

"You spend all this time with me instead of your own wife. And just now.." you release a shuddering breath, "you mean to tell me that if I hadn't stopped you we wouldn't be rutting against each other like wild dogs?"

Dave's anger dissipates, replaced by a sense of shame. You're calling him out big time, and he doesn't really have a response. He's spent more time with you in the past few months than he has with his wife in over a year. With a frustrated sigh he lets his head hang.

Through the living room window you see a pair of headlights pull up to the curb outside your house. "You should go. Your Uber's here."

"Yeah," he mutters, getting his jacket before he heads for the door. You watch him leave, so many other things you want to say are on the tip of your tongue, but you don't dare let them loose. You've already crossed a line with him, and you can't forgive yourself for the way you feel about him. His leaving is for the best.

The air is cool outside, letting the heat dissolve in his system, bringing some lucidity to his situation. But it doesn't help the gnawing feeling inside, his anger at himself for speaking that way to you. He's a ball of emotion right now. Before getting into his ride he casts one last glance at your window. There you are, the most beautiful woman he's ever known, the one he's fantasized about and lost sleep over. He came so close to having you to himself tonight, but you were right to stop him. It was a mistake.

He tries to compose himself in the backseat of the Uber, to make sense of who you are and what you mean to him. Of course you would attach yourself to the one man who'd been there for you to sever your connection to your ex. Maybe you had an innate gratitude, maybe you saw him as a hero. That's all it could be.

Suddenly his cell phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. Carol's name flashes on the screen.

"Honey, where are you?" she asks when he answers.

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose. "Hey, babe. I just went for a drink after work. What's up?"

"I just miss you," she says.

A wave of guilt courses through him, sharp and hot. Nauseating. "I miss you too, babe. I'll be home soon."

It's a surprise for him to be greeted by her as soon as he comes through the door. Even more so when she reaches up to kiss him. "You taste sweet. Like candy," she comments with a smile.

Her lips are soft, familiar, but they cause no reaction in him like they used to. Not like how kissing you felt. He gently pulls away, removing his jacket and putting it on the coathanger. "I had some jello shots at the bar," he lies.

Behind him, she puts her arms around his middle. "The girls are asleep. Want to come upstairs?"

Dave's body and his mind recoil, his guilt piloting his next move. Does she know? Can she sense it? "I'm a bit tired," he answers. "I think I'm just going to shower and go to bed."

"I could join you.."

A rush of heat is sent straight to his dick at her persistence. The thought of getting any type of action tonight is intriguing. But for some crazy reason he can't find the will to say yes.

"Not tonight, babe. I can barely stand straight as it is.."

"Oh." Carol is disappointed. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "Next time, yeah?"

"Yeah. Fine." She moves past him to the kitchen.

Once again he's disappointed her. What if it was a test? Things haven't been great between them, yet she's never accused him of having an affair. Not that he hasn't been tempted, heaven knows he's only a man. But you're the first person to actually make him want to cross that line.

He hates himself and he hates disappointing you and Carol.

Your scent is still on his clothes as he discards them before getting in the shower. He lets the water beat down on him, grabbing the soap and washing away any trace of you on his skin. But if only it could wash away the memory of the way you kissed him back, your body pliant beneath his on the sofa, the way he fit so perfectly between your parted thighs-

Without thinking about it his hand is already fisted around his cock, the soft suds a sad replacement for what he imagines the glorious slipperiness of your tight channel must feel like.

Carol's voice comes through the door, knocking him from his fantasy. "I have to go into work for a little while. I'll see you later."

He rinses the last of the soap off him before turning off the spray. "You're going in now? At this hour?"

"Dave, it's a hospital. They never close. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay.. bye. Be safe," he says, getting out and drying off his hair.

It's hours later and Dave still hasn't caught a wink of sleep. He's tossed and turned, punched his pillow, flipped it, punched it again. Carol is still gone. Once, Alice wakes up and asks him for a glass of water, which he happily obliges as it allows him to do something other than thinking. But as soon as she's had her drink she goes back to sleep and he's left alone with his thoughts again.

It's a few hours before dawn when he gets a text from you:

Hey, I'll pick you up later today to get your car from my place.

Dave exhales deeply. He can't just ignore you. He really does need his car back. But distance is the only way he can control himself right now.

Don't worry about it. I'll get Carol to drop me off and get it. Thanks though.

He waits for the read reply and gets no response from you. In this he feels more regret than satisfaction. Yet his thoughts still drift to the taste of your mouth, your body crushed against his, your hands in his hair. Desperate for release, the only way he's going to get any sleep is to take care of himself, to finish what he'd started in the shower earlier.

He'd left you so on edge, but it wasn't his fault. As Dave's Uber left with him in it, you hated yourself for what you did next. You picked up your phone and called the one person you shouldn't have.

Still wrapped in the bedsheets, you watch as Javier lights a cigarette and exhales a puff of smoke as he rests against the headboard. Both of you are still sweaty, the pleasure fading to a gentle throb between your legs as your breathing slowly returns to normal.

"I miss you," he says, running a finger along your bare arm.

"This was a mistake," you tell him, shaking your head. You never imagined that you'd feel disgust and shame after such a passionate encounter, but the life you've lived since leaving your husband has shown you a million more possibilities, and you're ashamed that you've fallen back into one that's already been proven not to bring you happiness.

"Don't say that, mi amor" he begs, stamping out his cigarette and reaching out for you as you reach over for your clothes on the floor. "You came to me for a reason. You must still have love for me in your heart."

"I came back to familiarity," you correct him, cursing when you can't find your underwear. Just moments before he'd had you in every position and even a few ones you didn't know existed. He'd counted out loud each time your cunt quivered around him, as if taunting you. "And now I'm truly done."

"Done? With me?"

"Javi, honey, you're only good for one thing," you tell him, shimmying into your panties.

And just to prove the universe has a sense of humor, in walks Cindy, the woman you'd found Javi cheating with in this very bed.

"Great.. just great," you mutter, getting the rest of your clothes on. "Don't worry, Cindy, I'm not staying, Not ever again, I hope you enjoy the house. I did all the decorating. But a little word of advice: give your relationship a second thought. If he cheated on me, he'll do the same to you. You can't build your house on another woman's tears and expect it to stand."

Cindy is still speechless at your presence, and Javi just hangs his head.

"Everything that's attractive and charming and fun about him now will eventually wear off. Cindy, you're young and beautiful. Find someone who isn't going to ruin that."

With one more look around, you leave, more confident than you've ever felt in your life.

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

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