#i miss these days. is it selfish for me to say so?

[promiscuousg1rl]

LOVE ME NOT — ONE

Rafe Cameron x Childhood!Bestfriend!Reader Social Media AU

Summary: Since sandbox days, it has always been you and Rafe. The only person who can put up with his selfish bastard ways, you became one of the boys. However as the two of you grew older, you started to realize you don’t see him as another one of the guys. Harboring a crush on someone is universally awful, but having a crush on your best friend is worse. Especially when he doesn’t reciprocate. Deciding to save your friendship, you settled on time apart, spending your summer in the Bahamas. When you return, you are a whole different person—jewelry, makeup, and chic clothes—you became an ugly duckling story turned right. But time apart have given you insight, and you aren’t sure if you still love Rafe.  While he realizes he's loved you this whole time.

Content: social media au, unrequited love trope, inspired/based on Love Me Not by Ravyn Lenae

Rafe's sure he broke every speed limit and ran every light to get the Boneyard after that picture was sent to him.

And it wasn't just JJ's arm being around your shoulder that made him immediately jump up and grab his keys; it was that pathetic excuse of bikini top you had on.

The last time he saw you, you'd been decked out in a t-shirt that was two sizes too big and a pair of knee length jean shorts. But as he stares at you from his spot next to Topper and Kelce, he wonders what exactly happened to you in the span of three months.

Now Rafe really isn't into fashion and girly shit like that (and he thought you weren't either), but he's ninety-nine percent sure the mini skirt you have on is designer. It's pink, a color he's never seen you wear in the ten years he's known you; not even when your mom tried to force you wear that pink fluffy dress for your birthday that one time.

It all just...wasn't you. The clothes, the jewelry, the perfect curls your hair was styled in.

"Dude we almost didn't recognize her at first glance," Kelce nudges Rafe's arm. "I've never seen her look like an actual girl before, it's freaking me out."

Topper snorts around the rim of his solo cup. "I forgot she even had boobs."

Kelce nods his head while they watch as she giggles at something JJ says to her.

Since when are they so fucking chummy with each other? Rafe asks himself. The way you were leaning into his side and letting your head rest on his shoulder as whatever bullshit he was spewing to you made you cackle.

"You're not gonna say anything?" Topper quirks a brow at Rafe's seemingly catatonic state.

"I—, she didn't even tell me she was back."

Kelce and Topper exchange a look before looking back to their best friend. "What, did you manage to piss her off all the way from North Carolina while she was in the Bahamas?"

Rafe's brows furrow. "Of course not. And even if I did, she still would've let me know that she and her folks were flying back in."

You would...wouldn't you?

He thinks about Topper's borderline accusation. Things between you two were fine when you left for your vacation with your parents. Hell, you came to see him right before you headed for the airport.

You joked like you always do, telling him not to miss you too much and he bantered back saying that he was counting down the minutes until your flight left. Your usual back and forth.

So what the hell had changed between then and now?

"Aye, y/n!"

Rafe is glad that it's Kelce that does it before for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to. But whatever, things were about to go back to normal. Now that you'd know that the three of them were here, you'd ditch your new "friends" and come back to your real ones.

He's not sure what sparked your friendly behavior but it was all about to be straightened out.

Hearing your name being called from across the beach, you turn to look in their direction. And instead of pushing JJ's arm from around your shoulder and coming over to them like Rafe thought you would, you settle for one of your bright smiles and an eager wave. And that's it.

You turn right back around and continue talking to Kie and the rest of them like nothing even happened.

Rafe glances over at Kelce and Topper, finding them to be just as confused as he is.

He's positive you'll make time for him as the party goes on. You're not just going to go without speaking to him after three whole months of nothing being around each other. That'd be nuts and frankly, really unlike you.

After you finish dancing with Kie is when he thinks you'll finally give him the time of day. However right after that is when you do a couple of shots with John B and Pope. So he waits, and waits, and waits...and you still don't acknowledge him.

No, it seems JJ Maybank of all people has your attention. Record him doing stupid shit on your phone and in his opinion, standing a bit too close.

Rafe can't help but think that you and everyone else at this party are lucky he's not drinking. Because his temper and alcohol did not mix and as he sees your hand on JJ's bicep for what feels is the hundredth time tonight, his eye starts to twitch.

Kelce and Topper are long gone; Kelce finding some touron to hook up with while Topper had to go be at Sarah's beck and call for the rest of evening. Now it was just him.

When you and Kie start seeming to be heading out, he now knows that he has to be the one to make the move if you won't.

"Hey," he intercepts you as soon as you're near, earning an eye-roll from Kiera.

"Hey!" You smile up at him. "You're still here?"

"Uh," he looks from you to an obviously annoyed Kiera. "Yeah, I was actually waiting around for you,"

He can hear the hopefulness in his voice and wonders if you can too.

"Oh," your smile falls a little, bottom lip poking out slightly.

Are you wearing lipgloss?

"We were actually about to leave," You wince.

"Stay then," He hears an obvious scoff coming from your left but doesn't bother acknowledging her.

"Honestly, I'm pretty worn out." You look around the party with a shrug. "Nothing really keeping me here anyways, so we're gonna go chill at John B's."

"John B?" Rafe scoffs. “On a first name basis with those Pogues?”

You frown. "They're not all that bad."

"Is that what they tell you?"

Kiera's scoff is louder this time. "No one needed to tell her anything Rafe, y/n can think for herself."

"Stay out of this Kie."

"Fuck off, Rafe."

The glare they exchange is so intense you find yourself subtly easing in between them.

"Rafe, maybe another time...okay?"

When he looks back at you, his eyes immediately soften. But just as quick the gentleness he aims at you is replaced with a look only you can recognize as hurt.

And you almost want to tell him you change your mind, that you'd love to stay and update him on the changes your sure he's noticed.

However it's almost as if Kie can see your resolve weaken and she squeezes your hand. Willing you to remember the conversations you had.

So instead of being the same weak-willed person you usually were when it comes to Rafe Cameron, you don't bother waiting for him to even respond.

"I'll see you around."

With that, Kie doesn't hesitate to pull you away from him, all while you let her.

pls let me know if you'd like to be tagged 🩵!

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

The Tape - Part 2

Christian Yu x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Part 1

Masterlist

Warnings: hurt comfort, fluff, bold = flashback

--------------------------------

Christian reread the speech his company had given him for the press conference to address the leaked tape from a month ago. When he entered the hall flashing lights blinded him. As he took the podium all he could hear was the whispers of judgement from the press. 

“Hello everyone, I appreciate you all coming today.” he began. 

The speech was all apologies, all shame. With what he was hearing he could not stand by and apologize for something that was done to you both. You were the victims, why should you apologize?

Christian put the speech cards down, “I would like to begin by saying this was not only an attack on me but an attack on my partner Y/N. She is the most lovely person… neither of us deserved this and the man identified as the one who put the camera in the room is currently being prosecuted to the full extent of the law. The comments on my partner during this situation have been nothing less than vile, all who said such things should feel nothing but shame.” he said with confidence. 

He could see his manager sweating out of the corner of his eye as he did not follow the script. Honestly, he couldn’t care less. 

“The effect this has had on our lives and mental health has been detrimental… I ask for all of you to consider this - How would you feel if this was happening to you? Having sex with the love of my life is not a crime and I will not apologize for it. We are the victims in this. My wife and I will be taking an extended leave from the media to focus on what is most important, ourselves. Thank you.” he said before walking out of the room and straight back to the apartment.

You had become a husk of yourself over the last month. Pale and weak, withering away. You hardly spoke or ate. All you did day in and day out was sleep or cry into the pillows of your shared bed. Christian hadn’t been able to touch you in any way, you always flinched away from him for who knew if there were cameras in here as well?

“Y/N? Honey?” Christian said, knocking on the bedroom door lightly before walking in. The room was gloomy, hardly any light snuck into the room for the closed curtains draped themselves in a way that filled the room with despair. 

You laid on your back, eyes closed. You looked peaceful when you were like this. Unable to worry about the nightmare at hand. Christian sat on the edge of the bed next to you. He traced his fingers softly over your angelic face, moving the hair from your eyes gently. 

“I told the world what must be said. I made no apologies, I have no shame in this regard… the only thing I feel is sadness. Not for myself, but for you. I have dragged you into something that would never happen with someone else. And for that, I am so unbelievably sorry. However… I am a selfish man. I cannot bear to think of life without you, I won't.” Christian slid a ring onto your finger slowly so as to not wake you. “I want you with me always, I love you.” he said, kissing your knuckles. 

You fluttered your eyes open at his proposal. The hand he was holding moved to cup his face, “Do you think we can beat this?” you asked with a scratchy tone, as if you hadn’t talked in days. 

“I do.” he said immediately.

“That's my line.” you said, giving the gentlest of smiles. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone before you pulled him down to kiss you. You kept it short and sweet, still paranoid about the cameras. “I miss the sun on my skin…” you whispered against his lips. 

Christian didn’t miss a beat, he picked you up bridal style and took you outside onto the balcony. The sun was setting, turning the sky into the most beautiful shades of pink and orange. The warmth of the summer air caressed your skin, shooing the cold of the dark bedroom away. Christian kept you in his arms, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck.

Christian rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, avoiding the bandages placed there. You had succumbed to an old nasty habit with everything going on - you cut yourself. None of it was enough to kill you, you just wanted to focus on something. Feel a different kind of pain. 

“I love you.” you whispered.

“I love you.” Christian replied before kissing the top of your head. 

You stayed like that until the sun was down and only the city lights of Seoul illuminated the sky. “They arrested the hotel staff who hid the camera… our lawyers are seeking the max penalty.” Christian said, trying to ease your tension. 

You nodded. “Maybe one day we will joke about all this.” you muttered.

Christian chuckled before he let out a sullen sigh, “I’m so sorry all this happened.” he said with the utmost sincerity.

You kissed his neck, “It’s not your fault. It's something that never should have happened but it did and everyone who watched it, commented on it - they are the problem, not us.” you said with conviction. 

“We should go to Italy.” Christian said.

You sat up, “What?”

“Let's leave for a while. Leave all this behind us and go enjoy paradise. We will come back when we are ready, on our own terms.” he smiled down at you.

“I guess I need to go pack.” you smiled back at him.

“I guess so Mrs. Yu.” he said, loosening his grip on you so you could stand. 

“What if we eloped there?” you said, walking back into the apartment.

Christian hugged you from behind, picking you up. You squealed, letting out a giggle that was like music to his ears.

“Whatever you want my love.” he said before putting you down.

You turned, leaning your forehead against his. “Us against the world?” you asked, repeating the words you spoke to him on the day you met. 

You had snagged the last pastry at the coffee shop, Christian chatted you up and you ended up sharing with him. 

“What happens if they run out again?” he asked.

“I guess it’s just us against the world then.” you smiled with a shrug before laughing.

-------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello :) I hope you guys like this, i feel iffy about it. I'm currently rocked off of muscle relaxers and am gonna have such a good sleep like right after I post this. I got a couple Christian requests so I will be getting those out as soon as I can. Thank you!!!! XOXOXOXOXOX

[hvninureyes]

𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇. . . | luka dončić

summary | you’re trying to adjust to your new life in la, bottling up your feelings despite the hurt you feel. too bad luka won’t let you.

warnings | none! just an angst to fluff fic <3

author’s note | this is basically my own way of coping. luka please we miss you 💔

the past few days haven’t felt real.

one day, you were celebrating after purchasing your new home with your husband. next thing you know, you’re on a one way flight to los angeles, hand and hand with luka. deep down, as the camera lights flashed from the paparazzi, you hoped that maybe, adam silver would pop out of nowhere with a whole camera crew, yelling out “it’s a prank!”

maybe your plane ticket would magically turn into a roundtrip back to dallas, where all your friends, family, job– your life was. yet two weeks later and still nothing. you feel horrible thinking it, knowing that he’s going through so much more, but it’s not fair. the way he found out, the way you watched him hold in everything for hours until he broke down in front of you, leaving without a proper goodbye, and the fake, soulless smiles for the camera.

give it time, they say, you’ll get used to it– yet everything you do, you say, those rare moments of silence where you’re alone with your rushing thoughts, you think of dallas. you think of home and how it was ripped away from you in seconds. you never thought this would ever happen to him, but here you are.

it's a party hosted by the laker’s organization. they wanted to “welcome him to LA!” the “right way”, with a bunch of shareholders and names of people you can’t bother to remember. the whole team is present as well, also some wives and girlfriends. you’re sitting alone with your glass of…something, when a voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“you okay?”

not just any voice, but his voice. the only one that matters. luka doesn’t hesitate to sit next to you, grabbing your hand and tracing circles on your skin. you know what this is, he’s trying to comfort you. a pang of sadness hits you, making you realize your selfishness. this is the last thing he should be worried about. this isn’t about you, you think. you signed up for this.

“i’m fine,” you smile, tightly, trying to convince him (and yourself). it’s obvious it doesn’t work, because luka just sighs and deadpans. “be serious.”

“i am!” he scoffs at your protest, rolling his eyes. “i’m your husband, you know. you’re not fooling anyone but yourself.”

you don’t say anything back because he’s right. painfully right. but still, you put back on your smile and reassure him once again.

because that’s what a “good and supportive” wife does. smile through it all.

it doesn’t feel suffocating in your new house anymore– just unfamiliar. like every hallway and room isn’t really yours.

sitting down on your shared bed, you take each heel off, finally feeling something throughout your body. exhaustion. but that’s better than feeling nothing at all. when’s the last time you felt actually at peace? you can’t remember, and don’t bother to. it’ll cause more problems. you can see luka enter from the corner of your eye, a determined look on his face.

you can already feel what’s coming next.

“you haven’t gotten away with this.” he sits next to you with a soft ‘thud’, “really, talk to me, baby.” you smirk, looking up at him. “was there something to get away with in the first place?” obviously, luka isn’t amused at all, seeing past your act. he stares you down with a serious look, expecting the truth. but you don’t know if you have the strength to tell him.

“i…” you trail off, thinking to yourself. “i just need time to process things. i’ll be fine.”

“but you don’t have to be fine.” you frown, looking at him confused. what? he continues,

“i don’t expect you to immediately get used to everything.” he says, softly, “that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“but this whole situation hasn’t been fair to you, luka. this isn’t about me–”

“that’s exactly what i mean. yes, this has been the craziest past few weeks for me and you. it’s about us. you can’t–” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to find the words to say. “you can’t act like this isn’t hurting you. i see you, all the time, lost in thought. i know what you’re thinking about and i feel the same way. but you’re taking this on by yourself and you shouldn’t have to.”

you don’t say anything, simply listening to him. even after his rant, he doesn’t press you for answers. you’ll come around eventually, and when you do, he’ll be there.

“i’m here, for you. i made a promise to be by your side forever and i’m going to keep it.”

you don’t even notice you’re crying until luka wipes away your tears with his thumb, holding your jaw as if you’re the most precious thing he owns. with a smile, his eyes shine with pure adoration, reminding you that you are loved and seen. it’s this moment where you realize that you truly aren’t alone in this.

not even if you wanted to be.

[millionsknives]

episode 9:

the music that nai plays has a lot of major 7ths and 9ths in it - the two harmonics that are just slightly outside of a perfect octave. 2nds (which are technically 9ths) and major 7ths are the two most dissonant intervals you can get in a musical scale but the way the music uses them makes them sound very open and wondrous instead of harsh

i've said this before and i'll say it again!!!! when the twins play their piano duet, you can hear that something is slightly out of sync. but it's not vash's part is out of sync with nai's. vash is playing mostly octave scales in the secondo part that buttress the main 'memory of piano' theme that knives plays with his left hand, but nai's right hand is playing in 3's against the main melody which is in 4's and that's what sounds so weird. he's not out of sync with vash, he's out of sync with himself. and then it resolves when he switches to a more accompanying style and splits the melodic line with vash

the fade out from the boys playing piano together to nai playing alone and reaching across all that empty space to play the part that vash used to play will cause me pain every time i see it i think

what on earth is conrad talking about when he tells nai 'i got what you asked for' (?? i cannot figure out what he is referring to)

it's scary how beautiful knives is. it's also bizarre how much older than vash he looks when they're only like 6-7

the thing that sucks is that nai is completely right. he falls into the bummer category of villain where everything they say is correct but then they just take it to an insane level (genocide) that you can't be on board with them. and vash is entirely ineffective (at least in the flashback), he doesn't even try to counter him when he does have lived experience that challenges what nai is saying. he could tell him 'i've been living symbiotically with humans and plants for 5-6 years and we take care of each other' but he just stands there.

there's a brief moment when vash has nai at gunpoint, before nai gets his face back under control and goes back to being evil, where he looks absolutely heartbroken

a lot of the dialogue is pulled from volumes 7&8 but what is missing is the very key fact: whose fault is it, knives?? whose fault is is that everyone is stuck on a planet inhospitable to both humans and plants that forces humans to use plants horribly to stay alive. and yet without humans the plants would die here too but we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if somebody hadn't marooned us all on a desert planet in his selfish anger

there are so many elements they borrowed from trimax that they'll never get to use in their proper context (nai witnessing the last run as a child in '23 and it fueling his crusade vs manga knives only knowing about the last run at 150 years old and realizing he's begun to die and has halfway killed vash already. or meryl kidnapped by zazie in '23 vs meryl kidnapped by zazie in vol 4 which triggers midvalley vs ww and milly, vash and hoppered, the whole fiasco once legato shows up, elendira saving the day, etc. which is one of the greatest arcs in the story). i guess it's just the natural give and take of remixing a story like this. if you want to use an element in the prequel as an homage to the manga, you have to sacrifice that element in context of the main trimax canon (which is forever the true canon) or else reusing it in part 2 will seem repetitive.

luida's line "i don't want to justify wrongdoing just to survive" is, i think, one of the most important themes of the story

new thread for my tristamp rewatch notes because the first one was getting too long

episode 7:

livio has no self preservation instinct. wolfwood, although he can recover from bullets and injuries quickly, still ducks and dodges and takes cover in a fight, and uses the punisher as a shield a LOT. livio just stands there and takes everything and leaves himself wide open. made worse by the fact that he wields 2 weapons and will just stand there arms outstretched to fire in opposite directions while his entire body is open and unshielded

it's actually really cool to see the rotating mechanism of the doublefang guns in action. but let us not forget that livio was given these because he was 'not good enough' to be gifted a punisher (source: vol 13) (more on this later)

THE 1 FRAME OF RAZLO YES YES YES HE LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE THE MANGA

chapel is there also 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 die old man

i genuinely had no memory of chapel being there. and he's on screen for a while, not just a quick flash like razlo, but it gave me huge pause like wait he's been here the whole time?? AND he has a speaking role?? i must have just thought it was conrad doing the voiceover in livio's head the first time i watched it

which reminds me: the radio program in episode 5 was hosted by 2 people - a priest william and a missionary michael.. obviously william is conrad but i was like who is michael. who in the EOM is big enough in the organization to have the name michael... guys it's chapel.

it's actually so bogus how like.. nobody besides ww has a reaction to livio shooting himself in the head :(

wolfwood is never beating the big brown baby deer eyes allegations, the only reason he keeps those sunglasses on is to hide his absolute inability to mask his emotions. nice try but you're fooling no one, i see your heart on your sleeve mf

i'm convinced his tristamp character design is heavily based on his design in trigun ultimate because of his smooth hair, rounder face, and big eyes. like i gasped out loud when i saw him in this shot, look at those chubby cheeks that is a BABY

[mayxo-hxh]

a 2022 vday edit for my beloveds that i remastered a little today

chibis :)

i asked my friends on twitter which mobage cards they wanted edited together for vday and they chose these two! so i went all out on it lol. times were simpler then.

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[fayeandknight]

I will start by saying that Faye is fine and in fact on her way to several adventure filled days.

But gods the house feels so empty without her. Forte's needs have been met and I'm fairly stable so he's content to just chill. Faye on the other hand is perpetually bossy and it's so weird without her. Like if I spent too much time at the kitchen table she tries to get me to relax in the living room instead. She just always has an opinion on what I should be doing and she's usually not wrong, lol.

But even though it's only been two hours and I miss her so much, I'm grateful.

My parents took my nephews up to the cabin for a few days and asked if they could take her. And I'm so grateful she's the dog she is and I was able to say yes. Once the work week starts she'd just be home alone for a good chunk of time. (Normally she hangs out with my dad while I'm at work since he works from home.)

But because I trust her to behave herself regardless of whether I'm present or not, I can let her go on adventures without me. My dad and my one nephew are her top two favorite humans (I rank third btw lol). She loves getting to romp around in the woods and go swimming in the lake. It will be such a fun few days for her.

And I feel this weird sense of sadness to not have her here and pride knowing that she's such a well trained dog that she can go have a grand time without my needing to be there.

[miodiodavinci]

ouhghgh , , , reached the point where my throat is in so much pain i can't sleep, even with cough drops , , , , i keep waking up every hour coughing so hard i start to throw up by the end , , , , it looks like my fever might finally be going down (original peak of 100.9, now down to 98.8) but god , , , , the agony , , , , , ,

[f0rgetm4not]

i thought we were friends

[unlucky-lemon]

HOW MANY TAGS AND WORDS MUST I FILTER TO HAVE A MOMENT OF HAHA FUNNY FANDOM TIME ON THIS GODDAMN WEBBED SITE

[allforlovessake]

fuck . i miss my dad

[mephisto-reporting]

Sorry, I Hurt You: Zayne Edition

Premise: You hurt him with your words and instantly regretted it, tearing up for the things you said, things you could not take back. But in that moment, all he sees is the love you have for him. Inspired by this request. Pairing:Reader x Zayne Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship for this fic. If you would react to this situation differently by saying you would not hurt him, you would not argue, then please know that this fic may not be for you. Life happens and different people react differently. A reader tag isnt a generalisation for this fic. Let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist. Content warning: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, tears.

Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition | Xavier Edition | Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

 Zayne had promised to meet you at 7 p.m., a rare evening carved out of his relentless schedule. But, as always, the world seemed to conspire against you.

At 6:34 p.m., your phone buzzed.

Zayne: Emergency surgery. I’ll be late. I am sorry.

The message was short and direct, like every other text you’d received when he was busy. Not that you minded, because you knew he would be indulgent when he had the time with his gifs and emoji.

You sighed, staring at the glowing screen. Of course, it wasn’t his fault—his job was important, lives depended on him. You knew that. You always knew that. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You: How late?

You waited, watching the little "typing…" bubble appear and disappear a few times before his reply came in.

Zayne: I’m not sure.

You: Ill wait for you, Dr. Zayne 😉

The knot in your chest tightened. You tossed your phone onto the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, staring at the clock on the wall. 7:00 p.m. came and went. By 8:30, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the room in shades of blue and gray. By 10:00, your patience was fraying.

Your thoughts spiraled. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you spent more than a few uninterrupted hours together. If it wasn’t the hospital, it was a conference, or research, or some far-flung medical camp in the middle of nowhere.  You understood—he wasn’t just a doctor, he was the doctor, the youngest cardiologist in Linkon City, and his work saved lives. But no amount of understanding could temper the weight of the empty hours that stretched between you tonight.  It wasn’t just tonight. This was a pattern, a cycle you’d grown used to but never quite accepted.

But waiting was a lonely affair. Life had been stressful for you, too. Work, finances, personal struggles—everything felt like it was crashing down. And now, the one person you longed to lean on, to feel close to, seemed so far away. Was it selfish to want his presence? To crave a moment of his time? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you missed him. Missed you both.

By midnight, the frustration was a storm you couldn’t contain. You told yourself you’d wait but every tick of the analog clock that Zayne liked was like chalk grating against the blackboard. :00 a.m. The city outside your window was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of passing cars. 1:45 a.m. The words you wanted to say twisted in your chest, growing heavier. 2:23 a.m. The lock turned.

The sound of the lock turning startled you. Zayne stepped inside, his movements deliberate and quiet as he placed his bag down and shrugged off his coat.

“You’re awake…” he said softly, his sharp eyes flicking to you as you sat up on the couch.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice flat. “I’ve been waiting. I wanted to see you. How was the surgery?”

“It went well,” he said simply. “Complicated, but the patient stabilized.”

“That’s good,” you said, your voice tight. “Have you eaten anything?”

He shook his head. “I grabbed something at the hospital earlier. I’m fine.”

Fine. He always said that. No matter how long the day, no matter how much he’d pushed himself, it was always, I’m fine.

“Zayne…” you began, your tone already edged with the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You’ve been on your feet for hours. You need to take care of yourself too, you know.”

“I do,” he replied, his tone even, almost dismissive. “We can talk about it tomorrow. You should get some rest.”

And there it was—the spark that lit the fire.

“Rest?” You repeated the word, your voice incredulous. “You think I can just ‘rest’ after sitting here for hours waiting for you? Do you even realize what this feels like, Zayne? It’s like I don’t even exist in your life anymore!”

His brows furrowed at your outburst, a hint of confusion on his face.

“I know your job is important,” you continued, your voice shaking. “I know what you do saves lives, and I’ve tried so hard to be understanding. But do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like you’re always second? To feel like you’re not even a priority?”

“Wait.” he interjected, his tone calm but firm. “I didn’t say you weren’t a priority—”

“No, you didn’t say it,” you interrupted, your anger flaring hotter now. “But it feels that way, Zayne. Every time you miss a dinner, every time you come home at some ungodly hour, it feels like I’m just… here. Waiting. Always waiting. Do you even realize how long it’s been since we’ve had a real conversation? Since we’ve actually spent time together?”

His brows furrowed deeper. “You know my job doesn’t exactly allow for flexibility.”

“Your job,” you spat, the words laced with bitterness. “It’s always about your job. And I get it, okay? I do. You’re saving lives, and that’s incredible. But when was the last time you asked about mine?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. The words poured out, sharp and unrelenting.

“Do you have any idea how lonely it’s been? I’m not even sure I’m a part of your life anymore!”

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw the shock flicker across his face. His usually stoic expression cracked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Your heart thudded painfully as the weight of what you’d said sank in. “Zayne, I—” Your voice faltered, tears welling up. “I didn’t mean that. I swear I didn’t mean that.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his silence somehow heavier than any words he could’ve spoken.

The room fell silent except for the quiet hitch of your breath. You pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to stem the tears, but they came anyway, hot and unstoppable.

Your chest tightened as the tears spilled over. “I’m sorry…” you choked out, the apology tumbling from your lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just… I don’t know. Everything’s been so overwhelming, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I know how much your work means to you, I really do. I’m just… I’m tired, Zayne.”

ZAYNE’S POV

Her words hung in the air, each one slicing deeper than the last. I’m not even sure I’m a part of your life anymore.

Was that really how she felt? Had he really been so consumed by his work that he’d made her feel this way?

He swallowed hard, guilt tightening in his chest. Of course, she was right. He’d assumed her silence meant she understood, that she was okay with the late nights and missed dates. But now, looking at her, he realized just how deeply he’d been wrong.

And then came her tears.

He’d seen people cry before—patients, families, even his colleagues. But her tears were different. They weren’t just borne of hurt; they carried guilt, love, and something raw and unfiltered. She wasn’t angry at him. She was hurting for him, even as she blamed herself. “I’m not making excuses. I just... I’ve been trying to be strong for so long, trying to understand, but tonight... I just felt... alone. I didn’t mean it. I swear. You don’t deserve to hear that from me. I love you so much, and I feel terrible for even saying something so awful.”

The anger in her voice born from exhaustion, frustration, a sense of abandonment, had shocked him, yes. But now, as her words turned to apologies, all he could see was how deeply she cared for him. Through the raw tears, through the pain and self-accusation in her voice, all he could see was how much she loved him. It was clear as day, even when she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, even as she buried her face in her hands.

Her words tumbled out in a rush, desperate, as though she needed to undo everything with an apology. She wasn’t angry anymore, no. She was so sorry, and it hurt him more than anything else could. He felt his heart crack, the guilt swirling like a blizzard, and without thinking, he moved toward her, instinct pulling him into action.

“Don’t cry...” he murmured, stepping closer. His voice was softer now, tinged with something almost fragile.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t mean it, Zayne. I swear, I didn’t mean it. I just—tonight was hard, and I—”

“Stop.” His hands came up to gently frame her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that refused to stop. “You don’t have to apologize.” The way her shoulders shook with each sob, the desperation in her voice—it all spoke of someone who loved so fiercely that even the slightest hint of causing harm to the one she loved shattered her entirely.

“But I do,” she insisted, her voice cracking. “I was upset, but that doesn’t make it okay for me to say something like that to you. You didn’t deserve it. I’m so sorry, Zayne. I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it. I’m just… so tired, and everything feels so heavy. I know how much your work means to you. I know it’s important, but… but I said those things, and that’s not okay.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and it cut through him like a scalpel. The rawness of her pain, the way her hands shook as she tried to wipe away her tears—it gutted him. He stepped closer and gently took her hands, stilling their movement. “Stop,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Please, stop apologizing.”

But she didn’t. She kept going, as if she needed him to hear every ounce of her sorrow, every misplaced thought born from exhaustion and frustration. “Just because I’m in a bad place doesn’t mean I can take it out on you. It doesn’t make it okay to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry—”

“Enough,” Zayne said, firmer this time, his hands tightening around hers. He closed the distance between them, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes searched hers, even as his own unshed tears blurred his vision. “I hear you. And I forgive you. You don’t need to say another word. You are important to me. Do you hear me? You always have been.”

He pulled her into his arms, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared. The tension in her body melted into his embrace as he cradled her close. He felt her sobs against his chest, the dampness of her tears seeping through his shirt, and his heart ached in a way that no medical textbook could ever describe. It was a mix of regret, love, and an overwhelming need to protect the person in his arms.

When he tilted her face up to his, his thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek to catch the fresh tears, his lips found hers in a kiss that spoke the words he couldn’t say. It wasn’t rushed or hurried, but deep and deliberate—a melding of emotions. He tasted the salt of her tears, felt the softness of her lips trembling against his. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her there as if letting go might shatter everything. It wasn’t about passion, not this time. It was a deep, desperate need to remind her, remind himself, that she was still here. That no matter how far he had drifted, they were still together.

This is how much she loves me, Zayne thought, as her lips pressed harder against his, the urgency building. This is how much she needs me. Even when she’s hurting, even when she’s angry, she still reaches for me, still tries to make things right.

In that moment, everything was stripped bare. There were no walls, no facades. Just him and her. His kiss was a vow, an apology, and a promise all at once. When he finally pulled back, his lips still ghosting over hers, he murmured, “I’ve been a fool. I am sorry too. I should have been here, with you. I should have made time for you.”

Her eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering through the tears. “Zayne—”

“All these days, I thought I was going home after work,” he continued, his voice low and weighted with emotion. “But it wasn’t home. It was just a house. This… this is home. You’re my home.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, his hands still framing her face. “I’m taking the weekend off. No conferences, no surgeries, no calls. Just us.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped her. “You mean it?”

“I do,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Even if I have to tie myself to this couch to prove it.”

She chuckled softly, and he felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“I miss you,” he said finally, his voice breaking the stillness. “I miss us. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t important. You are. You’re everything.” And that was the truth. All that mattered now was her. She was his home, his heart, his everything. And he would make sure she knew that every single day.

A soft sigh of relief escaped her, and she relaxed into him, the tension in her body finally easing. And Zayne, for the first time in a long while, allowed himself to rest. He closed his eyes, listening to her heartbeat against his chest, and he knew that no matter what else life brought him, this was all he needed. This was home.

And he was never going to let her feel unimportant again.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition | Xavier Edition | Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

Taglist: @cordidy

[wriokitty]

if you hold me without hurting me (you’ll be the first who ever did) — ft. sylus

synopsis: sylus is too causal with accepting pain. you don’t like seeing him hurt, so the best solution you can come up with is seeing him in pleasure

❤︎ word count: 2.4k words — it’s a miracle i kept it this short

❤︎ before you read: female hunter reader ; mature content. not suitable for minors ; not an established relationship but implied romantic connection. idk it’s complicated LOL ; injured sylus ; described blood and injuries ; evol inhibitors to make his injuries a bit more serious ; not proof read : hand jobs ; banter ; that’s pretty much it just wanted to write him cumming

❤︎ comments: i am posting this 3 mins before i need to leave for work this man has me hustling before my hustle rip

The safe house is quiet. Not including the sounds of Sylus’s low, pained grunts as you dress his wounds, it’s quiet. You’re quiet, and it’s unsettling—on a typical day, you’re more than half the noise.

(In a good way, of course. Sylus is not a liar by any means, and saying he doesn’t like the constant sound of your voice as you talk would be a ridiculously big lie. He values the truth in things.)

It means you’re brooding. Sulky, petulant brooding. He’ll just have to fix that, he thinks—and soon, too.

“I’ll have to trouble you a bit longer, sweetheart,” he murmurs, breaking the silence as he glances at his arm.

You glance up and stare at the damage: a stab wound to his abdomen, a gash on his arm, and ugly, unwelcome bruises littering across soft, slightly tanned skin.

You frown. It borders on a scowl. He watches as you carefully stitch the wound closed on his lower belly with precise fingers. (Faintly, his mind registers that you’re good at this. Too good at this. He doesn’t like the implications of that—not for his own case and especially not for yours.)

“Does it hurt?” You mumble, finally.

Sylus is not a liar by any means, so he hums, titling your chin up and forcing you to pause. “Yes,” he says truthfully. You’d never guess he was in pain just by the look on his face—but there are always signs if you look close enough.

Sticky, sweaty skin. Deep, labored breaths. Slumped posture that’s so far from his usual tall, towering stance. He looks just a bit tired, too. Like sleeping (something he rarely does enough to be considered healthy) would be his ideal course of action right now.

You frown at his admission. “I told you not to get so close,” you huff, “you never wait for me.”

He chuckles. Deep, slow. Every time Sylus laughs, you’re reminded how powerful he is. How even through the sound of his amusement alone, he sounds important. Wealthy, too, if you’re being honest—he laughs like the rich. But that’s always amused you more than it’s impressed.

“You seem rather distraught, love. Dare I say….you’re concerned?”

“You’re too smart to act this stupid,” you spit.

He grins. It’s large, wide, and all too smug for someone who’s under your hands as you mend back torn skin. Gently, he hums, “so the kitten bears her fangs. How cute.”

Your mood is getting increasingly worse. Sylus knows that—but sometimes, he’s a little selfish. Pushing you harder, cornering you against the wall with smart words and sly teasing is the only way to make you open up sometimes.

And, well, Sylus is no liar. He can’t say he hates getting under your skin entirely—it makes you look at him. And he likes your attention. But more than that, he likes knowing you care.

“You don’t think I’m capable,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes.

“And when did I say that, Miss Hunter?”

“You don’t have to say it, I just know. Otherwise, you’d listen when I tell you to wait,” comes your agitated reply.

Sylus does not wait for you. He jumps into a fight without letting you step foot onto the battlefield. Most times, it’s a minor form of irritation on your end when you’re itching to get in a good few hits. Sometimes, like now, it makes your emotions saturated in every form of distress.

Anger. Sadness. Regret. Panic. All of it simmers and simmers until you feel you’re overflowing with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

He pays the price today—one sloppy dodge of a blade, and it impales his lower abdomen with precision, lacing him with something. Something that evidently is rather good at repressing his evol—he can’t fight nearly as well let alone heal.

You can’t help but feel useless. More than anything, under appreciated. Maybe, if he’d waited just a moment so you could have covered him, then maybe your night would end with less blood on your hands and less pain on his.

“You’re also too bright to act this dim,” he says lowly, voice just a bit tight with pain. You tighten his stitches, and he doesn’t even grimace despite the clearly unpleasant sensation.

“Do tell me,” you glare, “just what am I being dim about?”

“If you think I don’t recognize your capabilities,” he drawls, studying the knife that once tore through his flesh slowly. It’ll be analyzed at the base. You’re certain he’ll figure out just what the blade was laced with and trace it back to its origins soon enough. He sets it down and meets your eyes—deep, rich crimson bleeding into your gaze. “Then maybe you’re not as good at seeing the bigger picture as I thought.”

“That you’re a smug bastard who likes to prove you’re better on your own?”

“That I care about you,” he says plainly. “I can handle it. It’s better you than me.”

“You could have died,” you hiss, “if I wasn’t there—”

“I’d have lived either way,” he says smugly. “Killing me is a rather difficult thing to do. Inflicting pain, on the other hand….well, at least it keeps things interesting.”

Your face drops. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s so right. You can injure him all you want, but he heals fast enough that he’s here to stay. Like an annoying thorn that keeps pricking you as you pick roses. Like a weed that just keeps growing back the more you tear them from the ground. He comes back. Annoying as he is, he comes back. And you don’t mind that so much—you think you might even need it that way.

But it always hurts. He bleeds red just like any other person. Grimaces here and there despite how accustomed he is to the agony. Somewhere along the line, his pain became yours.

And you can’t help but be hyper aware of how much you despise it.

“I hate when you’re hurt,” you whisper.

“I’ll live,” he soothes, cupping your cheek and swiping a stray tear with a large, callused thumb. You shiver, pouting slightly at the words. “I’ve had worse.”

“But you still feel the pain.”

“Can anyone really avoid that, sweetie?” He raises an amused brow.

Before he can open his mouth to add more, you lean closer, careful not to hurt his wound as you press against his chest and bury your head into his neck, pressing a light kiss to the skin.

His breath hitches, and you think you’ve finally gotten through that thick, stubborn front of his.

“If it hurts,” you murmur, “then I can make it feel good.”

He shivers—barely, of course. But he shivers. It’s a small win. “Oh?” He asks carefully, his good arm curling around your waist to keep you in place. “And how so?”

You press a lingering kiss to his jaw. Your lips are not strangers to Sylus. They know him as well as he knows them too, but you’ve always danced along the edge of more than friends and less than lovers. One second, you think you’ve crossed over the line with graceful steps, the next you fall ten steps back.

Right now, you think you don’t care. Line be damned and whether you’re just friends or lovers, you couldn’t be more unbothered.

“I don’t like when people touch you,” you admit, “not at all. But especially not so….rough.”

“Mmh, jealous are we? Don’t worry, you’re the only one I willingly let touch me,” he grins. You roll your eyes, watching as he shuffles back to lean against the couch and relax.

“I should be the only one who touches you,” you say with an air of petulance.

“Yes, yes,” he agrees, placating your mood, “then show me something more gentle,” he whispers.

You smile. It’s the first one of the night, lips curling against the shell of his ear as you breathe, “oh I intend to.”

Just like that, your hand trails up his thigh, carefully tracing along the inner edge of his leg before your palm roams over his crotch. There’s a bulge forming as if on command. Your ego boosts just a little—for all his strength and endurance, one brief, mere little touch from you forces his body to react against his will.

“Is this really where you should be putting in all your effort?” His breath hitches, and the tips of his ears flush a pretty, soft little pink, “my arm still has an open wound, you know.”

“You’ve had worse,” you repeat his words back to him, “but let me show you better.”

It’s quick work, unblocking his belt and unzipping him just enough to gently pull out his half-hard cock. You glance down, smiling at the small bead of pre cum that leaks from the tip, forming a kind little opportunity for you to watch him squirm as your thumb grazes his cockhead to collect it.

You smear it along his length as you slowly stroke him to full hardness, and he offers you a shaky little huffed out, “fuck,” under his breath.

“Does that hurt, too?” You hum, nose pressing into his jaw as you kiss his neck.

“No,” he sighs, melting into you, “no it feels so good. Don’t stop.”

“Do you see how nice it is when you just trust me?” You scold, “now apply this to the battlefield, too.”

He chuckles deeply at that, closing his eyes and fighting the urge to fuck his hips into your fist—his stitches are still fragile enough that he doesn’t want to risk tearing them. Instead, he has to trust that you’ll give him what he needs, all on your own.

“I’d rather get hurt and be spoiled like this,” he mumbles, “than risk anything happing to you. Seems like a better option if you ask me.”

“So stubborn,” you click your teeth.

Sylus is not a liar. You know that. If he says you’re capable, then you believe him—and if he says that he’d rather take the brunt of injuries and the pain that comes with them just to finish a fight before you can be involved, you know it’s not a lie. But you don’t always like the truth. You don’t like knowing he uses himself as a shield of sorts for you, as some wall between you and pain or maybe even death just because he can. Just because he heals. Just because he thinks he should.

You don’t always like the truth. Sometimes, you’d rather live in a lie.

So you tell yourself he thinks you’re less than him. That you’re lacking and beneath his approval and you have something to prove—so your hand tightens around his thick, reddened cock and you stroke fast. Quick and to the point.

Enough to have him groaning with an arm instinctively moving to cover his eyes as he throws his head back—only he hisses, feeling the stinging tug on his gash as he moves.

You hum, guiding his arm back down as you cup his cheek and murmur, “careful now. You’re hurt—I wonder whose fault that is.”

He rolls his eyes at the comment—but one swipe of your thumb through his slit has them rolling back in pleasure before he can glare at you. “You’re rather smug today,” he huffs, “do you like seeing me defenseless, sweetheart?”

“Not for the reasons you might think,” you say sweetly, grinning as you peck his cheek. Right where you cut him the first time you met. Right where you think you’ll always have to soothe so he knows you didn’t mean it.

Not anymore, at least.

“You’re far from the innocent kitten you seem to be,” he grins, huffing out a soft laugh as it tapers off into a light, breathy moan.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to make you forget the pain?”

“Oh yes,” he grins. Suddenly, a wave of red wraps around your hand and forces your grip to tighten. “I’ve forgotten I was injured at all.”

His evol, you realize—it’s back.

You stare at the gash on his arm—crimson on crimson as the flurry of his power replaces the blood, leaving behind soft, healthy skin. Not a scar left behind. Not a trace of pain. Not even a faint line of where torn flesh mended together and became new.

He’s had worse, you remember. And he comes back from it every damn time.

Still, you think—you’re going to give him better.

“I don’t want you hurting because of me,” you breathe, leaning into his chest and pressing your weight against him without worry, now. Your hand fists his shirt as his arms wrap around you and keep you close.

Your hand glides along his girth between your bodies, working him up slowly, slowly, slowly until it all feels like it’ll come crashing down all at once. His breath hitches as he lets out a light groan of your name.

It sounds pretty on his tongue. You’re more determined to pull nicer sounds from him, too, so you kiss under his ear lobe, sucking gently on the skin and feeling him let out a soft, labored gasp.

“Will you spoil me like this every time I’m hurt?” Sylus breathes.

You scowl and hiss, “no. Absolutely not. Then you’ll just get hurt more.”

He smiles smugly at the retort, biting his lip as you squeeze your fist around him tighter. “A smart little kitten, aren’t you? Sharpening your claws.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You like me enough to worry. I think that says enough.”

“Asshole,” you glare.

He’s shameless, you think. Because the insult brings him to the edge, his mouth falling open to a beautiful face of bliss, body quivering under you in soft tremors of pleasure. Sylus is beautiful. Dark, rough around the edges, and uncut stone with sharp corners. Beautiful enough to want, dangerous enough to slice your fingers if you don’t know how to touch him properly.

You admire him as he spills into your hands, his lips desperately searching yours as he leans closer and pulls you into a kiss, heavy breaths pouring into your mouth as he gives himself to you.

“Good,” he pants, “you…you make me feel so good.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to be here for,” you murmur, “so you don’t have to feel pain.”

You stroke him through his orgasm, until he’s soft and pliant and limp under your touch. Gently, you stroke his cheek with a thumb as you cup his face. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes.

“As capable as you are,” he says quietly, “I like the idea of you spending your energy in other fields of expertise. Sue me.”

“I should,” you purse your lips. “Sue you for all you’re worth.”

“It’ll be worth the troubles,” he says smugly, “you’ll get quite the sum if you manage to.”

And he’s not a liar, either—so you scoff at his smug, truth-telling grin before giving his curved lips a small peck.

Girl . Idk

[trappolia]

rafayel misses you.

it's ridiculous, given that you and him occupy the same space. his head has made an imprint upon your lap from how long he has been laying upon it, and your body instinctively curls over his as if to defend him — him, of all creatures — from the big bad things out there in the world.

it's a rare occurence, surely, considering the line of your work, and rafayel knows that he should feel some semblance of gratitude for you— but there is a selfish part of him that wonders why this is so rare. why is it that he should feel grateful that you only occasionally take time off to spend it with him instead of running after wanderer tracks like some headless chicken.

what irks rafayel the most is that even now, your mind is elsewhere; pondering about your next work day, your next course of action in your investigations regarding the aether core, everything in between— but never him.

"do you love me?" he blurts out suddenly.

rafayel hears you hum, and the dappled shade your frame casts over him where he lays upon your lap shifts as you look down at him. there's a soft smile upon your face, though your eyes shine with a glint of curiosity— puzzlement.

"of course i do," you say, as if it were obvious— as if rafayel could feel it.

and he does. he knows it, deep down in his heart and in his soul, that you love him as surely as the wave comes back to shore; you'll always come back to him at the end of the day, and rafayel thinks that it should matter.

it should matter. it should. that's what he tells himself then as he closes his eyes, turning his head to bury it in the soft of your stomach— and will all his wretched thoughts away.

[rebelscums]

Little Flower (Qimir x Padawan reader)

Rating: Fluff | Kissing | Light grinding | A pillow is thrown

Summary: You are the padawan to a masked man you had no name of. You have been by his side for years, training and mastering the arts of what he refers to as the dark side of the force. However, with Mae entering your life as his new favorite, you are beginning to question whether you belong there anymore. Something that you run to your closet fiend to talk about. Who knew confessing to Qimir about your trouble would bring a life changing moment.

“I’m not strong enough for him.” That was the first thing you said to Qirmir as you entered his shop. Borrowed shop? You didn’t care.

The defeat in your tone was enough to alert him of your dismay.

“That’s it. I’m officially useless to him. He doesn’t need me.” You blurted out all of your frustrations to the only person you have ever been able to call a friend, “All he cares about is his new acolyte Mae.”

You were both stationed here with Mae as she completed the next part of her trial which was to kill Master Torbin… Without a weapon.

“What makes you say that?” Qimir popped his head up from behind his counter.

“He’s been making me run these needless errands lately that literally anyone else in the galaxy can do.” You set a bag of powdered gold leaves onto the counter, “This took me an entire day to find and when I go back to the spot I left him, he was gone! Gone! Didn’t tell me where either.” You said frustratingly, “So I figured you might know what to do with this.”

Qimir took the bag and peered inside, a please look on his face as he hummed, “Actually I do. It’s the leaves I need to make a poison Mae requested.”

“Of course it is.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of her name.

Mae seemed to be taking the eyes of your master and Qimir lately. Something that made your eyes turn green with the overpowering feeling of jealousy… Of being abandoned.

“Look, I love Mae and she has become very dear to me, but… I was here first.” You felt like a child for saying that, “I know that sounds selfish, but it feels like he just tossed me aside for a better version.” You looked up at Qimir showing him the hurt and betrayal in your eyes before looking away to try and suppress your feelings, “And maybe… Maybe she is better than me… Maybe I should just take my loss and go.” You spoke in a near whisper, your throat tightening at the thought.

“No!” The way he quickly voiced his answer had you looking up at him waiting for him to continue, “You are strong with the force and an extremely skilled assassin.” He shook his head, “You don’t have to leave.”

You sighed and moved past him and the counter, “But what if he wants me to leave Qi? You don’t understand. It’s like he doesn’t even see me or the power I possess. All he ever says to me is that I’m not ready to become his acolyte and that I need to help Mae ascend yet…” You slumped into the cot that he called a bed with a huff, “I’m older than she is! I’ve been with him longer might I add. I’ve never questioned him, I’ve followed him loyally and this is what I am granted with? To be a baby sitter?”

“One useful skill may come out of that job.” He noted and you missed the blush in his face at whatever he was thinking about…

“And what might that be?” You muttered tiredly as you stared up at the ceiling contemplating your life and how you could just be better.

“You would make a good mother?” Qimir shrugged his shoulders as he tried to had the small smirk on his lips.

You launched one of the pillows on the bed the moment those words left his mouth. It was going straight for his head to which he surprisingly dodged with ease, but that didn’t stop the surprised look appear on his face as he raised his hands in surrender.

“Not funny.” You grumbled and crossed your arms, turning to face the wall with a pout.

“Okay okay. I’m sorry.” Qimir said as he walked over to where you were. When you didn’t turn to face him, he decided to take a seat on the edge of the bed beside you. There was a thoughtful look on his face before he spoke again, “Maybe… Maybe he is looking out for you.”

That got your attention. You sat up, your shoulders brushing against his as you peered up at him with confusion, “What do you mean?”

A nervous blush creeped up his face as you leaned closer to him, “Well I mean… I…” He trailed off nervously, “I just mean that maybe you just might be more important to him than you realize. He could be looking after you to take on a more important role.”

“What’s more important than being his acolyte?” You huffed in confusion as you look towards your fiddling hands, “I remember what he said to me all those years ago when we first met. He promised he would make me a powerful force weirder and that I would stand by his side as his acolyte and now… Now I’m starting to question if he really meant it.”

Qimir’s hand found yours and gave it a comforting squeeze, “He meant it and… You are powerful. Just as you are brave and unlawfully kind.” He assured and it was your turn to blush.

It seemed like he always knew what to say to you in ways that made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn, “Qi…” You breathed out as you glanced at his lips.

He was quick to copy your movements leaning in closer to you as he did so, “Maybe he sees too much good in you to turn you into something your not.” He whispered, his breath caressing your skin.

“You seem to know a lot about what he may think.” You whispered, suddenly lost in his darkening gaze, “Why is that?”

“What can I say? I’m good at reading people.” He smirked slightly as he looked down at your lips again, “I’m also extremely possessive over what I care about. Knowing him means knowing you.”

“Okay…” You hummed accepting his answer, “Alright then mister possessive, what am I thinking about right now?” You mused, a mischievous glint sparkling in your eyes.

It was something the Qimir couldn’t get enough of. It was your playfulness towards him that was like a breath of fresh air against the darkness he was met with daily.

“I would say…” His speech was slow as he traced your face with his eyes, “That you really want to kiss me.” He teased lowly. There was a small grin on his face in knowing that he was right.

He was always right.

“Do I now?” You didn’t try to deny it as you leaned in closer to him, “And you? What do you want to do?”

A low noise emanated from his throat, almost like a pleading sound as his lips brushed against yours, “I want to kiss you...” He said in a way that made your heart yearn for him.

“Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me.” You breathed out, your heart racing wildly in excitement.

That was all he needed to hear as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed at the soft sensation in the way that he kissed you. It was delicate and gentle as if he was afraid to push you too far, but the way your arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer to you, was all he needed to know.

He felt like light between your fingertips as you ran your hands through his hair and he was gentle with his movements in guiding you back against the bed. “Beautiful…” He breathed out, fitting himself snugly between your legs.

“Qi…” You breathed his name against his lips, arching your back as he tugged your bottom lips between his teeth. He held himself back, letting go of your lip to really look at you. You couldn’t help but look at him with awe as he gazed at you with so much love and devotion shining in his eyes.

“You are just… Breathtaking.” He admired you with every part of his being, “Utterly breathtaking…” He seemed mesmerized as his right hand traced along your curves.

You blushed, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked away from him embarrassed by his loving words, “Who knew you were such a flatterer.”

He chuckled lowly as he leaned back down to kiss your lips. All too quickly he left and began leaving a trail of kisses down to your neck. You couldn’t help your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling.

“You deserve to be flattered.” He continued losing himself in everything that was you. He rocked himself against you as he held back the urge to devour you entirely. He wanted too so desperately now that he knew you were his, body, soul, and mind. He would never let you go, not now… Not until his last dying breath. “You deserve the galaxy, my little flower.” He muttered softly against your skin.

You have much to learn little flower.

You moaned lightly at the pleasure he filled you with almost kissing his last words, but you heard them. Your mind took a moment to register the deeper meaning behind his endearment, but when you did your eyes opened in realization. It was him. Qimir was him. No one knew about that little nickname except for…

“Master?” You whispered running your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, but your heart beat widely in your chest as he stopped kissing you.

“Hm…” He hummed a small smirk gracing his lips as he breathed against your neck, “You finally figured it out.”

You placed your right hand on his cheek and gentle lifted his head to face you, “He’s you?” You said in awe as you pieced together every moment up until now, “You’re him?”

“I am.” He searched your eyes for any fear or resistance, but his shoulders relaxed as he saw none.

“So… That is why you were never around when he— I mean when you were training me? Because you were already there.” Your brows furrowed, “Does Mae know?” A small pang filled your chest at the possibility of her knowing your masters identity before you.

He shook his head, “No.”

The pang quickly left, filling your chest with relief as you let out a small sigh, “So… That’s how you were so sure about how he was feeling because that’s what you truly felt…” A blush filled your cheeks at the kind words he said to you earlier.

However, you realized something else as well. He was the one who kept you from becoming his acolyte. You gasped as you smacked his chest causing him to groan and you would have cared for the old Qimir if you didn’t already know how strong he truly was as your master.

“Why won’t you make me your acolyte?” You huffed slightly embarrassed now that you know you spilled your guts to him, “This entire time I have told you how I felt. I am devoted only to you master so why will you not let me become your acolyte?”

“I thought you would have figured that out by now.” He chuckled shaking his head.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? That is why you train me, it is why you let me stay with you, is it not?”

Strands of his hair fell into his eyes from the way he shook his head. You couldn’t help, but reach up to brush them away, something that had his heart flutter and his lips curl up into a soft smile. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closed as he spoke softly, “I don’t want you to become my acolyte anymore because I couldn’t bear the thought of something ever happening to you.” His gaze darkened, “I would burn the galaxy before that ever happens.”

You smiled softly and brushed away the creases from his brow, “I know.”

“I want you to be mine.” He nuzzled his nose into your wrist before placing a gentle kiss upon in, “I want you to be my equal… Not as someone who does my bidding, not as my padawan or my acolyte, but someone who stands by me.”

“I want you my little flower because you are everything I wish the world to be.” He finished, a soft look in his eyes.

Love swelled up in your chest at the confession he conveyed so deeply to you. His love sealed your fate to him as you leaned up towards him. You brushed your lips against his, the both of you conveying your strong emotions to one another with the look of your eyes.

“You have my heart Qimir and I will stand by your side, always.” You agreed softly.

It was a promise that the two of you would keep without any doubt. He was yours and you were his until the end of time.

[faebriel]

thinking about what happens next so hard