#and how the characters would be like if the tone were to change but not the core characters themselves

[devieuls]

ˋ Haunted . ✺

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoor sex; jealousy BDSM. Dom Qimir ANGST: toxic relationship, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

Synopsis: In a twisted web of light and darkness, two opposites are facing each other, dancing on a thin thread called fate. What happens when light and darkness dance on a wire called destiny, two eternal opposites that inevitably attract each other and create something perfectly powerful and chaotic to unite the power of two in one? The answer emerges in a journey of tension and attraction, where yin and yang discover that their opposition is nothing but a reflection of a deep and unexpected connection. This is the story of how destruction is akin to peace, how the moon one day decided to save the sun, how darkness is not so dark and evil so bad. A journey towards change and desire, where opposing forces merge into a future that no one could have predicted.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 8.3k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

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⠀⠀Chapter VIII: Connections

The silence that followed was thick, almost tangible. Still sitting on him, your breaths mingled with his, but in your mind, everything had grown cold and distant, serene. When you pulled away from the kiss, resting your forehead against his, your eyes closed as if shielding yourself from what you felt, isolating your thoughts while the weight of your decision suffocated you. Qimir still held you, but he seemed to sense the growing distance between you.

His hands moved with an almost painful tenderness across your skin, caressing your cheek as if trying to hold onto you in that moment, pulling you back from your thoughts.

"You don’t have to do this" he whispered, his voice filled with sweetness and concern. He was trying to bring you back to him, into the present, into the world you two had built in that fleeting moment stolen from fate. But he already knew, deep down, that his words would carry little weight.

You swallowed, your eyes still closed, but you felt that void within you, a space that seemed impossible to fill. When you finally opened them, he saw something different. The light that once burned bright and fierce was now replaced by a darker, deeper shadow, fueled by a fire that even you seemed unable to fully control.

"I owe it to Mae." Your words were cold, filled with fierce determination. The name of your sister slipped from your lips like a vow, an unbreakable promise. And Qimir felt a shiver run down his spine. The pain you had kept hidden beneath layers of suppressed emotions had turned into pure resolve.

"You already know where this path will lead." His piercing gaze sought yours, as if trying to stop you from fully giving in to the darkness that was slowly taking hold, the same darkness he had once offered you to accept. He could sense your determination like an impenetrable wall, reminiscent of what he himself had experienced so many years ago, when he was a padawan and embraced the dark side.

You turned your face, firmly brushing his hand aside. Your gaze, unwavering and sharp as a blade, was now devoid of the sweetness you had offered him just moments before. Then you stood up, composed, a figure full of authority and resolve. Every movement was measured, almost cold, mirroring his.

“You can’t know that,” you retorted, your voice icy and devoid of emotion. “I’m no longer a Jedi; there’s no light or darkness left for me to follow” you declared in a cutting tone. Your gaze briefly shifted to the nexu, watching you both silently, almost entranced by your interaction. “You said it yourself. I am who I am, and I choose me.” Those words, so final and distant, sounded like a sentence as you turned and began walking toward the ship’s corridor, moving away from him.

Qimir watched you as you distanced yourself, lowering his gaze in frustration. A long sigh escaped his lips as he turned back to the ship’s controls, raising a hand to his face to rub his temples. Yet even as you physically pulled away, he could still feel the shadow of your presence. The bond that the Force created between the two of you was powerful, a web of life and power that made every fiber of your beings vibrate. It was as if he could feel every thought, every emotion, without needing to enter your mind.

And as much as he tried to suppress the fear, he knew something was changing in you. The Force flowed strongly within you, but with it came danger. The Jedi would never have allowed you to fully give in to the darkness, yet your refusal to choose between light and dark made you unpredictable a volatile threat to Him…

What he had glimpsed in your false memories during that kiss left him deeply shaken. The fragments he had seen showed a future where your path seemed carved out toward a dark destiny, one he had followed himself, one he both hoped and feared you would embrace. Inside you was a power that the Jedi had never fully understood, a latent force now emerging with newfound ferocity, fueled by your thirst for vengeance and your search for freedom. For your own identity.

Qimir knew what that path meant; he understood the consequences. Yet deep in his heart, there was a spark of hope that your decision to face Sol would draw you closer to his mission. Perhaps, deep down, he even wanted it. He had invested too much in you, in the moments you two shared, to let you slip away so easily. Qimir had sacrificed a part of himself to find you, to bind himself to you, and he was willing to sacrifice even more if it meant not losing you.

He knew that if you killed Sol, you would throw open the doors to the part of yourself you had so long tried to deny. And perhaps, when everything was over, you would realize that your freedom would never be complete unless you fully embraced the bond between you.

The hours dissolved quickly as your ship glided through Coruscant’s atmosphere, landing far from the bustling chaos of the central capital. The metal and glass dome of the vessel allowed you to take in the sprawling labyrinth of the capital city below, oppressive and vivid all at once.

Qimir sat beside you, still in the pilot’s seat, his gaze fixed on the familiar landscape with a look that betrayed a certain caution. For him, returning there meant reopening old wounds, scars from his past that had never fully healed. He knew he was taking a risk by coming back into the heart of danger, into the wolf's den where his old master awaited him, perhaps unknowingly. If she sensed his presence, his survival would hang by a thread, but that didn’t stop him. He knew he was doing this for you, to give you the freedom and peace you had been chasing for so long. And yet, as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a part of him wondered if it was truly worth it.

Once you landed, you rose from the co-pilot’s seat, distancing yourself from him for a brief moment. Then, like a shadow fading in the light, you felt something shift. You turned, returning to him, expecting to sense the familiar flow of the Force coursing around his body, that subtle vibration that linked every fiber of his being to your perception. But there was nothing. No trace of him, no echo of power. It was as if Qimir had been swallowed by a void, as if his connection to the Force had been snuffed out.

This wasn’t the first time Qimir had suppressed the flow of the Force within him, masking it as he did when he first encountered Sol in what had been his cover shop.

You stood there, staring at him, surprised, almost destabilized, as he donned his black cloak. You couldn’t read his presence as you had so many times before. He was there, right in front of you, yet he wasn’t. Or rather, it felt as though his essence had been wrapped in something invisible, a cloak that obscured every signal, rendering him almost imperceptible to your senses. It wasn’t just his power that was hidden, but his very essence, as if his soul itself had receded deep within, distant and unreachable.

It was unsettling, surreal. He had become a complete stranger, a faint outline in your field of vision. Yet there was something incredibly captivating about this ability of his. His capacity to conceal himself, to merge with the darkness, was something you had never witnessed before, something not even the Jedi Masters had taught, as they knew too little of such techniques.

You walked with determined steps along the wide streets of the capital’s outskirts, the burgundy cloak that once belonged to Mae covering your head, hiding your face from the many eyes of the city. You didn’t ask how Qimir managed to hide himself so perfectly. Every time you tried to sense him, to touch that spark in the Force that made him recognizable, you were met with a disconcerting emptiness. He was there, just a few steps behind you, yet his presence seemed to dissolve like smoke in the air.

It was afternoon, and the outskirts were brimming with life and movement. Merchants argued loudly, vendors shouted to promote their goods, and from the bars, the sound of music and raised voices mingled with the rowdy hustle of tipsy customers and the sweet perfume of prostitutes who tried to charm passersby with false smiles and hollow eyes. The scent of spices, the worn air, and the sweet aroma of the women of pleasure invaded your senses, and the crowd served as a perfect cloak to hide your presence. You ignored it all, as if the city itself had become nothing more than a faded backdrop to your mission. Nothing else existed but that dark call, the pull leading you toward your master.

The cloak protected you from curious glances, but not from the chaos within. You walked with a steady pace, ignoring the external world, focusing every thought on Sol. You could feel him, his power in the Force was like a beacon in the storm of emotions within you. You knew exactly where to find him, and each step brought you closer.

Qimir followed silently behind you, though every so often, his warm, low voice seemed to try and bridge the invisible distance you had created between you, like an underground current trying to pull you back.

“You're still in time to…” he began, as if offering you one last chance to turn back, but you silenced him with a cold, almost icy response without even looking at him.

“I know.” Your gaze remained fixed ahead, among the crowd that moved like a river around you. Your voice carried the weight of someone who had already decided, immovable. Yet you felt a thin tension between you that threatened to snap. You could sense his concern, even though he had rendered himself invisible to the Force.

The streets grew more chaotic, and you moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where they were going. The voices of merchants echoed in your ears, offering exotic goods, jewelry, and food, but your mind was elsewhere. Behind you, you felt Qimir’s gaze following you, silent but palpable. He knew what you were thinking; he could feel it.

“You’re not ready to face him, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice lower, almost choked. The tone was filled with concern but also with a cold awareness that you were refusing to acknowledge.

His words, however, struck you like an electric shock running down your spine. You held your breath for a moment, feeling the heat of resentment rising within you, the weight of his judgment making your blood boil. Your gaze hardened.

You couldn’t afford to waver.

“I’m not you.” Your words were sharp as a dagger, cutting into the wound that had never fully healed in him. “I won’t let my master strike me down only to run away wounded. I’ll do what I came here to do,” you finished. Your voice was hard, almost cruel, and as you walked, you didn’t realize how those words came out, sharp like a blade, sinking into Qimir’s heart with lethal precision. The pain in his gaze was unmistakable, even though he tried to hide it behind a veil of silence.

Only when you turned, searching for his figure behind you, did you notice that veil of pain in his gaze. You had touched a nerve, and you knew it. Qimir had never forgotten that wound, neither physical nor emotional, but he had opened up to you, letting you glimpse that fragment of his past.

You felt the weight of your words falling back on you. His gaze lowered slightly, and the silent pain he carried seemed to etch itself even deeper into his features. You bit the inside of your cheek, cursing yourself for having spoken so harshly. But it was too late to take those words back.

That expression struck you harder than you wanted to admit, and a pang of remorse tightened your breath. You didn’t understand why, in that very moment, you had become so cold towards him, as if part of you had built an icy wall. Perhaps it was the pressure, the growing tension as you approached Sol. Or maybe your own heart was too full of conflicting emotions to see clearly.

“I…” you began, your voice breaking. “You know I didn’t mean what I said.” you whispered, resuming your walk, your voice finally softer, almost regretful. You didn’t want to admit it, but you truly felt sorry for having struck so harshly. Qimir had always been there for you, and in that moment, you realized how much your emotions were taking over.

“I know” Qimir replied, but his tone was hollow, distant. He tried to mask the pain you had caused, but he couldn’t entirely hide it.

You stopped again without turning, your breath uneven as you tried to gather the pieces of yourself. The chaos of Galactic City continued around you, but for a moment, everything felt distant, as if the world had retreated to the background. Clenching your fists beneath the burgundy cloak, you searched for clarity in the turmoil consuming you.

"I'm sorry," you murmured through gritted teeth, nearly choked by your own frustration. "It’s just… I'm full of emotions, sensations … That I can't think straight. It’s this place." Your words were sincere, but you knew they wouldn't be enough to erase the pain you'd inflicted. Inside, a storm was raging, hatred, fear, pain, and a glimmer of hope, all intertwined and clashing.

"You're more like her than you realize" Qimir said, his voice an echo of the past, heavy with an observation he'd carried for a long time. His gaze, laced with recognition, held a weight that hit you deeply. The mention of Mae, always a thin thread binding everything you did, twisted painfully inside you. Hearing her name associated with you in that way made a lump form in your throat.

You clenched your jaw, pushing down the wave of emotions his words stirred within you. At that moment, it seemed only fair that he had found a way to wound you as well, even though he hadn’t meant to hurt you, just a thought spoken aloud. You took a deep breath and started walking again, this time faster, ignoring him. Your steps grew more resolute, almost angry, as you headed towards the upper part of the city.

After fifteen minutes, the city's energy shifted. You could feel it, an oppressive presence in the Force, like a heavy cloud wrapping around you. Jedi on patrol, Jedi strolling, politicians, they all resonated like notes in a rising symphony within your mind. Swallowing hard, you tried to focus on the connection with Sol, but something about this place unsettled you, as if a part of you wanted to retreat. A pure, distant, yet palpable energy teased your senses, like a whisper urging you to reconsider your actions.

Your heartbeat quickened, and with it, your frustration. Anxiety clouded your focus, and suddenly, the thread of Sol slipped through your grasp like sand between your fingers. You stopped abruptly, breath ragged, muscles tense. You had lost control, and Qimir noticed immediately.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice gentle, soothing against the confusion assaulting you. His hand rested lightly on your shoulder, and despite everything, the gesture anchored you to reality for a fleeting moment.

"If you keep pushing, you'll attune yourself to the Force of the entire city. Focus on your connection to him, find it within you. Use your emotions to guide you," his voice was calm, a guide as you followed his instructions, slowly finding your center.

His words flowed through you like a fresh breeze, cutting through the storm of thoughts and feelings swirling inside. You took a deep breath, letting the uncertainty slip away. Closing your eyes, you dove into the Force, trying to feel Sol once again. The chaotic vibrations of the city began to fade, blending into the background as you focused solely on him. The invisible threads of the Force around you shifted like taut strings, each belonging to someone in the capital, but you sought the one that bound you to Sol.

One heartbeat, then another, your breath deep and steady. Finally, you felt it. That thread, intense, familiar, pulsed in the Force like a blinding light. You recognized it.

“That way.” you murmured decisively, opening your eyes and fixing your gaze in the direction that now seemed inevitable. You began walking, your steps still filled with tension, but this time they were purposeful, deliberate. Each meter you covered brought you closer to the Jedi Temple.

Qimir followed closely, his gaze watchful and silent. He could sense the struggle within you, feel your uncertainty growing with every step. He knew how much this was costing you, how hard you were trying to maintain control, but the fear that your determination might lead you back to your master crept into his thoughts. He prayed it wouldn’t happen, it would be unbearable to watch you die in front of him.

When the Jedi Temple finally appeared in the distance, an imposing and solemn structure, you paused for a moment, your breath short and nervous. You had hoped with all your heart that Sol wasn’t there. You didn’t want to step back into that place you once called home. You didn’t want to face the ghosts that resided there.

You ventured deeper into the temple, followed closely by Qimir, whose presence seemed to envelop you like an invisible veil, making you almost imperceptible as you crossed the main atrium. Each step was accompanied by the irregular beat of your heart, an incessant drum of nervousness. You prayed you wouldn’t encounter anyone you knew, and fortunately, no familiar faces appeared. Yet, every corner, every corridor whispered forgotten memories, the voices of the past calling out to you. Your time as a Padawan resurfaced like thin blades, slowly and imperceptibly cutting into your skin with each recollection, with every step forward.

The towering walls of the temple’s ziggurat loomed over you, cold and silent, heavy with history. They had once been your protectors; now, they felt like ghosts, shadows of what you had lost. You continued walking, your steps growing more hesitant, until you reached the First Knowledge Quarter, in the northwest section of the ancient building. Each step in that direction strengthened the bond with your master. It was a sensation that shook you to your core: a mix of familiarity and terror, like the pull of a truth you had tried to escape.

The corridor leading to a place that had once been your refuge, your sanctuary from the sharp tongues of those who doubted you were worthy of being a Padawan, struck you with a wave of emotion. You felt a longing for it, feeling almost the nostalgia of…

"The Room of a Thousand Fountains…" Qimir whispered, completing the thought you had kept to yourself. His words echoed like a shared memory. You glanced at him, surprised to remember that he too had walked these halls, many years before you. His face was unreadable, but in his eyes, you glimpsed a deep understanding of what you were feeling.

“He’s there.” you murmured, swallowing heavily.

In front of you lay the entrance to the room, a gateway that seemed to conceal far more than just a physical space. Entering meant turning back, facing not just Sol, but everything you had been, everything that had driven you to become a Jedi, and everything you had lost.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was exactly as you remembered it, yet something about it felt different. Time hadn’t altered its majestic beauty: exotic flora and fauna from all over the galaxy filled the space, creating a landscape both alien and comforting. The artisans and botanists who had designed it had managed to craft an oasis of peace and serenity in a temple that, although dedicated to the Force, could often become an oppressive place. The sound of water flowed softly, gurgling from a thousand small fountains, reflecting the light in delicate cascades that seemed to dance among the lush trees and bushes. A light mist rose from the streams, cloaking the air with a freshness that carried the weight of ancient tranquility.

A part of you longed to stop, to breathe deeply in that peace, and lose yourself in the place that, as a child, you had considered your true home. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting the water of the fountains in golden and azure hues. The trees, covered in bright flowers, swayed gently, moved by a breeze that seemed to come from another world. But today, this place was no longer a refuge. Today, it was the stage for your battle, for your fall.

With every step you took into the room, you drew closer to Sol, and with it, the weight of emotion grew heavier. There was no room left for serenity; everything within you was transforming into a grip of tension. Your breath was quick and shallow, your fingers instinctively tightened around the edge of Mae’s cloak. The memory of her, of her loss, fueled the fire of your determination, but at the same time, it consumed you.

Behind you, Qimir followed you in silence, his gaze piercing, as if he could sense every conflict raging within you. He felt your nervousness, the way your strength seemed to waver between control and impulse, between light and darkness. And he said nothing, letting you sink into your thoughts. It was your battle, and he knew it.

When you stopped in front of the central area of the hall, time seemed to slow down. The beating of your heart echoed in your ears like drums on a battlefield. Sol was there, sitting cross-legged, immersed in meditation, his unmistakable figure at the center of that oasis which had once been your refuge. But now, that serenity seemed to you like a cruel illusion, a mirror reflecting a calm you could never reach again. The sound of the fountains blended with your thoughts, amplifying the inner turmoil devouring you. Every drop of water seemed to fall as heavily as a blade on your skin, flowing slowly but relentlessly, carving invisible wounds.

Inside you, the storm was growing. Fear, nostalgia, pain, anger… Every emotion you had repressed was now rising to the surface, like a river that had burst its banks. The image of Sol in front of you was both familiar and foreign. You could no longer recognize the man you once considered a guide, an almost fatherly figure. Now, seeing his calmness, the contrast with your fury was unbearable. Your hand clenched around the hilt of the lightsaber that Osha had wielded at Qimir's side for years. The cold sensation of the metal against your skin was the only anchor to reality.

Sol's voice shattered the silence with devastating power.

“Y/n…” Sol's voice cut through the air with the same intensity as the water from the fountains crashing onto the ground below. You shivered at the sound of your name on his lips, a blow to your soul. How dare he speak to you with such familiarity? How dare he drag you back with just one word?

You didn’t respond. Every fiber of your being strained to contain the fury rising within. You felt the heat of anger burning inside, mixed with a deeper cold: the cold of betrayal. You watched him rise with the same calm that had always been his, as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed. You saw him turn toward you, his expression shifting from the relief of feeling your presence again to the gravity of the situation he now faced. The serene, relieved look quickly gave way to the shadow of understanding. Your stance, the lightsaber in your hand, everything, spoke louder than words.

“Master.” The word slipped from your lips like a blade of ice, sharp, cold, laced with pain and resentment. It was the first time you had called him that since he abandoned you on Khofar. Every time you spoke that title, the poison of the past resurfaced, tainting every thought, every memory. You had admired him, followed him blindly, and he had left you behind, without explanation, without a helping hand. Abandoned to the enemy.

Sol swallowed, and you saw the flash of realization in his eyes. He understood. Finally, he understood.

“Don’t do that…” His voice, now broken by a plea, seemed almost surreal. He, who had once been your rock, the one who always knew what to do, was now there, disarmed, vulnerable, almost defenseless, a shadow of the man you once considered a father. His lightsaber lay a few steps away from him, but he didn’t call it to him. He didn’t want to fight you. Or at least, he still hoped he wouldn’t have to.

He could sense everything about you: the turmoil of emotions, the growing hatred, the fear consuming you. He could read your thoughts, see the depth of your suffering, and he understood exactly how far you were willing to go. But that wasn’t enough to stop you. Not anymore. You belonged to the darkness now.

Pain gripped your chest like a vice. Your time with Qimir had forged a different person, a harder, more ruthless one. But the real blow, the true trauma, had been being abandoned by him, right when you needed him most. He had fled, leaving you to face the pain and the Sith without looking back. Your mind was a whirlwind of contrasting images: his teachings, the warmth of his affection… and then the coldness with which he left, abandoning you. The open wound that had turned into a scar burned, and you no longer knew if you were driven by the desire for revenge or the desperation to understand.

And then there was Mae.

A wave of hatred surged through you at the thought of your sister, dead under circumstances that still tore at your soul, so inexplicable they were. You had feared that Sol might have been involved, that he had made the fatal decision that led to her death. You couldn’t look at him without seeing hands stained with blood—the blood of your family. The uncertainty, the anguish of not knowing if he was responsible, strangled your soul.

Betrayal, abandonment, hatred. And fear.

Fear that, deep down, he truly was the man you feared he had become. Fear that his wisdom had been an illusion, that everything he taught you was merely a shadow of what he really was. The possibility that he could have been the one behind Mae’s death terrified you, made you lose control.

Your breath was becoming more labored, and your fingers clenched around the lightsaber as if the mere grip could contain all the chaos you were trying to tame. But you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

‘I can’t stop.’ you thought, the echo of your own determination reverberating through the peaceful hall.

Qimir watched the scene from a distance, hidden in the shadow of a massive tree at the edge of the hall. The sound of rushing water seemed to muffle everything happening, but he could sense every single emotion coursing through you. It was as if your emotions were an extension of his own, a distorted reflection of his past.

The hatred burning within you was palpable, a poison spreading through the air like an invisible gas. Qimir felt it vibrating in his bones, seeing in your fury what had once been his own. The hatred for his Jedi master, the repressed anger at the teachings that had imprisoned him, the thirst for revenge that had consumed him. It was like a flashback swallowing him whole, a cycle repeating with cruel precision.

He remembered perfectly when, decades earlier, he had found himself in the same place you were now. With a trembling hand on his lightsaber, ready to lash out at his master, blinded by pain and rage. He knew what it meant to be devoured by hatred, to understand that there would be no redemption in committing the final act, losing everything. That revenge would not bring peace but only an unstoppable spiral of chaos. Qimir had been drawn into that darkness and had never managed to find a way out. His life had been marked by that one decision that had finally set him free.

And now he saw you there. He knew perfectly well that you wouldn’t find peace in killing Sol. The illusion of relief would last a mere heartbeat during the confrontation, and then emptiness would claim everything. But he wouldn’t intervene. Not this time.

Qimir had already made up his mind. He wouldn’t stop you.

If he interfered, he would break that cycle, and somehow your suffering would redeem his. But he wasn’t ready for that. In a sense, he shouldn’t be. Allowing you to commit that act was necessary, as it would lead you down the path to the dark side. It would be so; He had decided it would be so, and he found himself succumbing to a decision he knew would be destructive for you.

He knew it wouldn’t be your hatred that would destroy you, but your conviction that this was the only way to find peace.

Sol's voice was like a sharp blade piercing your soul, but the pain wasn’t enough to stop you. His words,

"This isn't you, my old Padawan" echoed like a distant memory, buried beneath layers of hatred and resentment. Every fiber of your being screamed for vengeance, each step you took toward him charged with an unstoppable tension. Sol's paternal tone grated against your ears, covered by anger and bitterness, as you found the strength to ask the fatal question.

"Mae… Where is she?" Your voice trembled, and you hated yourself for that weakness. You desperately sought a thread of hope, a sign that she was still alive, that it had all been a mistake. A part of you even hoped to discover that she was actually alive and that you didn't feel the Force bond with her only because she had used a skill similar to the one Qimir employed to disguise herself. But that was not the case; Sol's expression answered you more than his words could.

"Y/n… we-" he began, desperately trying to find the right words, but it was useless. Your grip on the lightsaber was so tight that your knuckles turned white.

"You killed her." Your words were pure poison, a definitive condemnation. The resentment and darkness in your gaze would have made anyone tremble, even the bravest of Jedi Masters.

"That's not what happened…" His hand reached out toward you, hoping to reclaim what was left of the Padawan he once knew, but his other hand was ready to call his lightsaber.

You advanced slowly, each step heavy as lead, uncertain yet determined at the same time. For a single, desperate moment, you hoped that somehow he could tell you that he hadn’t done anything, that he wasn’t responsible for what had been your sister’s death.

"But it was like that…" you murmured, almost trying to convince yourself, still in disbelief and confusion. Then you saw it in his eyes: betrayal, guilt. The fragments of your heart shattered into a thousand pieces, burning with hatred.

"You… you killed her." Your whisper became a verdict, and for the first time, you noticed fear in your old master's eyes. The man you had once revered now trembled before you, aware of how much you had changed, completely consumed by hatred. And it was in that moment that everything collapsed.

"I… y/n…"

Sol quickly called his lightsaber to him, the familiar sound of its activation resonating in the hall. You struck at him with all your strength, the weight of your pain pouring into the violence of the attack. He blocked your strike at the last second, but the clash of the blades echoed in the room, breaking the harmony of the waterfalls and the chirping of some birds.

There, amidst the beauty of nature, the serenity of the place shattered under the fire of combat. The blades hissed in the air, illuminating the waterfalls and the exotic plants around you, while the water reflected flashes of red and blue light. The rough stone floor beneath you vibrated with each impact, and every time the lightsabers met, a spark of pure energy lit up the green of the surrounding garden. The leaves of the trees rustled beneath your swift movements, as your heavy breaths mingled with the constant sound of flowing water.

"Y/n, don’t succumb to your darkness…" Sol still tried to reach you, but his words were drowned out by the clash of lightsabers. Each strike you unleashed was fiercer than the last, an explosion of uncontrollable rage. Your technique merged with a brutality you had never known. Sol, his face etched with pain and disappointment, struggled to defend himself, blocking your attacks with increasing difficulty.

In your fury, you had lost all control. Every thrust was heavy with hatred, the blade of your lightsaber sliding close to his flesh, grazing his Jedi robes with lethal precision. The sound of water became more distant, muffled by the pounding beat of your heart. Each blow that Sol parried drove you to strike harder, faster, as if only his destruction could quell the turmoil within you.

"You’re not like this!" Sol shouted, retreating, almost pleading, as he defended against yet another strike. But he knew he could no longer stop you. Your emotions were a raging river, overwhelming, uncontrollable. The past, the lies, Mae’s death… everything had pushed you beyond your limit, and now you were unstoppable. Sol, the master who had once taught you calm and peace, was now the target of your deepest hatred.

The hall transformed into a theater of destruction. The harmonious sound of the artificial forest was drowned out by the sharp hum of lightsabers and the violent clash of your blades striking with ferocity. You felt nothing, saw nothing; all you felt now was hatred. The vibrant green of the plants and the blue of the waters no longer existed for you. Only the red of your fury.

"You promised to protect me!" Your scream exploded in the hall, echoing against the walls as your saber finally found its mark. The blade sizzled as it struck Sol’s shoulder, leaving a burning cut. It wasn’t enough. His face contorted in pure terror as he used the Force to throw you back, the instinctive gesture of a man pushed to his limit, yet still reluctant to hurt you. "To protect both of us!" you continued, your anger resonating in your voice like thunder as you rose again, fueled by hatred. You lunged at him once more with uncontrolled fury, your strikes becoming faster, more precise, as you sought every possible opening. Sol was now forced to defend himself desperately, parrying your thrusts with quick but increasingly fatigued movements, barely dodging your last attack.

"It was a mistake…" he said in a strained voice, his breathing heavy, bringing a hand to the burn on his shoulder, seeking relief he would never find. He retreated, his face twisted in pain, both physical and emotional, unable to tear his gaze from you, as if he were looking at someone he no longer recognized.

But you could no longer hear his words. Each time your blade met his, your frustration grew. You struck with such violence that pieces of flora fell to the ground, severed and charred. The fountains, once symbols of your serenity, now reflected the darkness consuming you. Your emotions, once controlled, were now an uncontrollable torrent of pain, grief, and anger. Your lightsaber sliced through the air with ferocity, hissing like a snake ready to strike, destroying everything you had once loved. Every blow you dealt was an act of accusation, an open wound.

"I trusted you…" Your voice cracked, a mix of hatred and regret reflected in your movements. Sol, despite his fatigue, still managed to defend himself, but his movements grew slower. Your anger made you stronger, but also more unpredictable, and he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.

With a scream of rage, you plunged your saber with all your might, aiming for his chest, seeking the decisive blow. But Sol, in a last desperate act, blocked the strike with a speed you wouldn’t have thought possible. Your blades crossed with devastating force, sparks flying in every direction, illuminating the space around you. The sound of metal and energy colliding was deafening, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Only you and Sol remained.

Your sabers sizzled and screeched, locked in a struggle of strength and will. You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of remorse, any confirmation that the Sol you once knew still existed. What you found broke your heart.

With a furious cry, you pushed with all your strength, forcing him to retreat once again. But he, breathless and moving slower, had no intention of hurting you. He blocked every strike, dodging with pinpoint precision, but he did not counterattack. His gaze was that of a broken man, aware of what he had lost, powerless to reclaim it. The gaze of a father…

"Please…" he whispered, but his words were drowned out by the roar of your blade approaching once more. The movements became frantic. Your legs moved agilely, jumping over small ponds and the carved rocks decorating the hall, seizing every hold to try to strike him from a new angle. But Sol, despite the pain and fatigue, still held his ground. He jumped back, parrying and dodging, but each time he was closer to his limit.

The beauty of the Room of a Thousand Fountains was consumed by the fury of battle. The waterfalls, once symbols of calm and contemplation, now reflected the destruction around you. The exotic trees, once lush, fell to the ground one after another, struck by your merciless blade. The air itself felt denser, suffocating, as your strikes grew more desperate. Broken plants, shattered statues, water splashing everywhere as your blade mercilessly cut not only the nature around you but also the memories of your childhood, the moments when this place had been your home, your refuge. It was no longer any of that. Now it was just the stage for your revenge.

Sol continued to defend himself, desperately seeking a way to stop you without hurting you. But you were now unstoppable. Every blow, every movement, was heavy with the weight of years of pain and betrayal. Yet beneath all that anger, there was still a part of you that didn’t want this end. A part that screamed to stop, that knew if you continued, you would lose yourself forever.

Every strike you unleashed against Sol was a cry of despair, an explosion of years of pain and betrayal. Your blade buzzed in the air, seeking its target, but each time it was halted by the stubborn resistance of your old master. Yet, he did not counterattack. Sol would never raise his blade against you, even as death approached ever closer. His face, a mask of torment, reflected not hatred but only regret and love, wounded by your darkness.

"I believed in you!"

The words choked out of your throat, a strangled cry as pain cut through the armor of rage that surrounded you. Tears threatened to fall, but you held them back, fueled by the fury that now completely dominated you. Every movement was fierce, every strike a silent scream of your broken heart. You were close to the edge, and he knew it. Each blow he barely parried, each step back he took, pushed you further toward the point of no return. Yet, deep within you, something still screamed, desperately trying to stop you. But you no longer listened to that voice.

Frustration grew inside you. The awareness urging you not to do this was no longer enough. Every blow parried by Sol felt like a rejection of your vengeance, a denial of the last act of love you could have offered to Mae.

Sol managed to send your lightsaber flying with a decisive wave of his hand, using the Force one last time with the last of his strength. You felt the absence of the familiar weight of the weapon, and panic mixed with rage surged through you. You were disarmed. He knew it. He sheathed his inactive lightsaber at his side and moved quickly toward you, his face etched with pain and determination. Before you could react, his arms enveloped you in a desperate embrace, the hands that once supported you now holding you captive.

His arms, once a refuge, were now a cold, suffocating trap. The force with which he held you was not just physical but emotional: a desperate attempt to bring you back, to save what remained of his padawan. You felt his voice break against your ear as he tried to explain himself, the hope of changing your mind clashing with the growing despair.

"I had to do it, I-"

But his words were muffled when your hand, driven by an unstoppable dark impulse, found his lightsaber.

And then, something broke inside you.

It was as if an invisible thread, the one that had kept you tied to humanity, had snapped. You felt your hand become steady, your mind go blank, frozen in the moment. In that brief instant, the world seemed to slow down.

In a fluid, almost mechanical motion, you activated it without hesitation at his side. The sharp sound of the energy blade piercing his flesh, burning it, echoed in the room like a sudden crash in the quiet. You felt his body stiffen, a strangled sob escaping him, and the warmth of his blood rising in his throat, splattering on your shoulder. That blood, thick and dark, burned your skin like the mark of an irreversible wound.

Time distorted, and everything became a distant echo. Sol stood still for a moment, almost in disbelief, his eyes widening as they met yours with a mix of pain and surprise. The deep brown of his irises seemed to fade, replaced by profound sadness, an emptiness that reflected your own. His lips trembled as if he wanted to say something, but no words came.

As he felt his life slipping away, his gaze deepened further, becoming a window into all the emotions he had suppressed until that moment. There was infinite disappointment, not in you, but in himself. He should have protected you; he should have been there for you. In that final moment, he realized that he had failed.

Sol's eyes searched yours, as if still hoping to see the young padawan he had trained, the girl he loved like a daughter. But he found nothing of what he remembered. He finally understood that there was no way to bring you back, and with that realization, a deep sadness clouded his gaze. There was no hatred in him, only a silent forgiveness.

Sol staggered, collapsing to his knees as your gaze remained fixed in the void, devoid of any spark of compassion. The weight of his body grew lighter in your arms, yet you felt nothing. Inside you, something had broken forever, but it was not pain you felt, only a cold emptiness that enveloped you completely.

As he fell to his knees, Sol's eyes never left yours, as if he wanted to imprint that final message in you: despite everything, he would always love you, until the end. His eyelids slowly closed, like the lowering of a curtain on a tragedy, and with one last whisper of your name, he surrendered to his fate.

"You promised…" you whispered, your voice no longer seeming like your own, drained of emotion and warmth, as if it were rising from the depths of an endless abyss. As you slowly clenched your hand into a fist, giving him a death more painful than he deserved, suffocating him with the Force. There was no more hatred, no more anger. Only a deafening silence now.

And as Sol's body fell to the ground, his gaze now slowly empty, you understood that there was no redemption, no return. Inside you, there was nothing left. The fury, the hatred, the desire for vengeance that had guided you until that moment had faded, leaving you only with the unbearable weight of the realization: you had lost everything.

Tears streamed down your impassive face as you gripped the iron hilt, watching the now semi-destroyed hall. The blue blade slowly began to take on the crimson hue of Qimir and your sister. You had nothing left. You had nothing left, not even vengeance.

A memory crashed over you like a sudden wave, trapping you in a fragment of time you had almost forgotten, yet it was there, buried beneath layers of pain and hatred.

You were still a young padawan, sitting in front of Sol in the council chamber, a vast and imposing room that made you feel even smaller. The Jedi council members were arranged in a circle, their serious and stern eyes focused on you. Despite the tension, Sol's figure beside you was a beacon of warmth, a paternal presence that shielded you from the oppressive atmosphere. His warm hands gently rested on your slender arms covered by your padawan robes, a gesture that spoke of affection and reassurance, and for a moment, you felt safe.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

He asked gently, his low, enveloping voice inviting you to look within yourself. There was no judgment in his tone, just genuine interest, a sincere curiosity to know how you imagined your future. His eyes studied you with affection, reflecting a trust that had always comforted you, even in the most difficult moments.

But that question, so simple, suddenly made you feel exposed. The knot in your throat tightened with unexpected force, the words seemed to be stifled before they could even form. You looked at Sol, searching his eyes for the answer, something that would make him proud, something that could alleviate the weight growing inside you. You could feel the weight of the other Jedi's gazes around you, as if the fate of your entire future depended on that one answer.

“Kind…”

You finally whispered, your voice weak and almost broken, as if that word had been drawn from the depths of your heart with great effort. Your lips trembled slightly as you held back the tears threatening to fall. You didn’t want to cry; you didn’t even know why that word had struck you so deeply.

Sol, sensing your hesitation and fragility, smiled. A smile full of understanding and comfort. His eyes sparkled with pure emotion, and without saying anything, he wrapped you in an embrace, enveloping you in his reassuring presence. In that moment, it felt like nothing could ever hurt you.

“Mh…” Sol murmured in a deep tone, full of satisfaction. He was reassured, as if that answer had confirmed everything he already knew or thought he knew about you. That sound seemed to contain all that needed no words: his approval, his pride, his joy in knowing he could guide you along the path you had just begun to walk. There was no doubt now: he would become your master. You knew it. He knew it too.

And for a brief moment, amidst the chaos of your fractured mind, that memory brought back the feeling of no longer being that innocent, hopeful young padawan; you had killed him along with the paternal figure now lying at your feet. But then, the memory shattered, dissolving into the empty echo of the present. And you were back there, with Sol's lifeless body on the ground, your hands still stained with his blood and your gaze cold.

You shifted your gaze to one of the trees, watching it slowly catch fire in front of you. You recognized its bark as coming from Brendok, your home planet. As a child, you loved to hide among its branches, climbing up and disappearing from your friends. You loved that tree; it reminded you of your mother, strong and wise, always ready to protect you. Now, you felt nothing for it. You turned and met Qimir's gaze, which seemed to understand your absence.

Was this what he meant when he told you he had lost everything and had finally become free? Was this the cost of freedom?

“Let’s go home.” you hissed coldly, pulling up your hood that had fallen during the battle. You didn't even turn to give a final glance at Sol's body. You reached out and retrieved Mae's lightsaber, placing it at your side before walking toward the exit of that place, letting the flames consume the green lung of the temple, burning the last roots that still tied you to it, abandoning the memory that had returned to you of your old master.

Qimir lowered his gaze in silence, wiping a lonely tear that wrinkled his face, feeling your pain for you, following you out of that memory with your ex master, sensing that faint flame extinguishing within you.

He nodded before following you outside, using the Force suppression once again to cover both your tracks, especially yours, which had become stronger. More chaotic.

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TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

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Notes :

I admit that I cried several times during the writing. Especially in the Padawan flashback scene, I felt a lot of emotions inside. I think it’s the chapter that I loved to write most of all. I hope to have also excited you in some way during the reading, I wish that you could feel my writing vividly, as if it were the real story of your experience.

Plus, who do you think is the "Him" that Qimir refers to?

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, tell me what you think. Love you, thank you for the support

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush (Part.2)

Your admiration for your crush causes you to trip, highlighting the awkward yet endearing dynamics between you two.

Characters: Emma Frost, Mystique, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Laura Kinney, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff

Emma Frost

Emma Frost had a presence that was impossible to ignore. She was confident, intelligent, and stunning—her beauty was undeniable, and she carried herself with an air of elegance that made heads turn wherever she went. But beyond her icy exterior and diamond-hard façade, there was something about Emma that intrigued you—something deeper, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line, you had developed feelings for her. It was unexpected, given how she often kept people at arm’s length, but there was something about the way she looked at you, the subtle moments of vulnerability, that made your heart race.

You were heading toward the War Room, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming mission—and of Emma. You knew she would be there, and as much as you tried to focus on your responsibilities, you couldn’t shake the nervous energy building inside you.

As you turned the corner, your eyes immediately landed on her. Emma stood by the holographic projector, her posture regal and poised, dressed in her signature white attire that only emphasized her striking beauty. She glanced up, her piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, you forgot where you were going, too focused on the way she seemed to command the room with her mere presence. You didn’t notice the edge of the table in front of you until it was too late. You tripped, stumbling forward in a very ungraceful display.

Emma was at your side before you even had time to react. Her hand caught your arm, steadying you with a surprising amount of strength. She arched an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Careful, darling,” she purred, her voice smooth and teasing. “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

You quickly straightened up, your face flushing with embarrassment as you tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Emma’s smirk widened slightly, and she leaned in just a little closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I noticed. What’s got you so distracted?”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her proximity made your pulse race. “Just… a lot on my mind,” you mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t press further.

But this was Emma Frost. She always knew more than she let on. Her hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer, her gaze piercing as if she could see right through you.

“You should be careful where you let your mind wander,” she said softly, her tone carrying a hint of something deeper. “It can be dangerous to lose focus… especially around me.”

There was something in her voice, something that made your breath catch. It wasn’t a threat, but rather a promise—a promise that she knew exactly what you were thinking, even if you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself.

As she finally released your arm and stepped back, her smirk never faltering, you couldn’t help but wonder if Emma Frost knew exactly how you felt—and whether she was just waiting for you to admit it.

Mystique (Raven Darkhölme)

Being with Mystique was like standing at the edge of a storm. She was unpredictable, shifting from one form to another as easily as she changed her mind. But there was something about her that drew you in, even when you knew it could end in disaster. Mystique was a woman of many faces, both literally and figuratively, and it was easy to get lost in the allure of her mystery.

Today, she had chosen to appear as herself—Raven Darkhölme—her blue skin and yellow eyes giving her a fierce, otherworldly beauty. You were working together on an infiltration mission, and the tension between you two had been simmering for weeks. She was always close but distant, teasing but unattainable. You had learned to navigate the push and pull of your dynamic, but recently, your feelings for her had grown harder to ignore.

As you moved through the hideout, you found yourself distracted by her presence. It was hard not to stare at the way she moved with such grace, the way her sharp gaze seemed to take in everything. You tried to focus, but your eyes kept drifting back to her.

It happened too quickly—one moment you were walking, the next you were tripping over your own feet, your face heating with embarrassment as you stumbled forward. You managed to catch yourself on a nearby wall, but the damage was done.

Mystique turned, a smirk already forming on her lips. “Really, darling? I thought you were more coordinated than that.”

You straightened up, trying to brush off the awkwardness. “I was just—distracted.”

Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she stepped closer, her lithe form effortlessly closing the distance between you. “Distracted, hmm? By what, exactly?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close she was. Her gaze was intense, and you could feel the weight of her scrutiny as if she was trying to see right through you. “By… the mission, of course.”

Mystique chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Is that so? Because it seemed to me like your eyes were wandering a little.”

Your heart raced as she leaned in, her breath ghosting against your skin. “You should be more careful where you let your attention drift. I wouldn’t want you to get… distracted at the wrong moment.”

There was a teasing edge to her voice, but also a warning—a reminder that she was never someone you could afford to lose focus around. But despite the danger, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced when she was near. And from the glint in her eyes, Mystique knew exactly the effect she had on you.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

Warren Worthington III was the very definition of class and sophistication. He was the heir to a fortune, with a heart as golden as his wings. But despite his wealth, he never acted like someone who looked down on others, least of all you. Being around Warren always made you feel special, even though your worlds seemed so different.

You had developed feelings for him almost without realizing it. It was hard not to fall for someone like Warren—his kind heart, his easy smile, and of course, his breathtaking appearance. But you weren’t sure if he felt the same. He was always so poised, so in control, while you felt like a bundle of nerves whenever he was around.

Today, you were walking through the gardens together, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of how to confess your feelings without making a fool of yourself. Warren was talking about something—probably about one of his charity projects—but you were too distracted by the sight of his wings catching the sunlight to pay attention.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the uneven ground beneath you until it was too late. Your foot caught on a loose stone, and you stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on your face.

Warren was beside you in an instant, his strong arms catching you before you could hit the ground. His wings unfurled slightly, wrapping around you protectively as he steadied you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, your face flushing with embarrassment as you tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, just… didn’t see where I was going.”

Warren smiled, his grip on your arm gentle but firm. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he said, his tone light. “Can’t have you tripping over yourself.”

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his bright blue eyes seemed to shine with warmth. “I guess I was just… distracted.”

Warren tilted his head, his smile widening as he raised an eyebrow. “By what, exactly?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat as you realized just how close you were. His wings still wrapped around you slightly, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Warren chuckled softly, his gaze softening. “Well, whatever it was, I hope it was worth almost falling on your face.”

You laughed, the sound shaky but genuine, and as Warren helped you back to your feet, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—he felt the same way.

Bobby Drake (Iceman)

Being around Bobby Drake was always a good time. He was funny, quick-witted, and never took himself too seriously. He had a way of making you laugh even when you didn’t want to, and there was something about his carefree attitude that made him irresistible. You had developed a bit of a crush on him, though you tried to keep it under wraps. Bobby was your friend, after all, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

But it was hard to ignore the way your heart fluttered whenever he was around, or the way you found yourself staring at him more often than you should. Today was no different. You were both in the training room, working on some drills, but your mind wasn’t really on the task at hand.

Bobby was demonstrating some new ice move, his grin wide as he created intricate ice sculptures with a flick of his wrist. You tried to focus on your own training, but your eyes kept drifting back to him—his easy smile, the way he moved with such confidence.

You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the slick patch of ice beneath your feet until you were already slipping. Your arms flailed as you tried to catch yourself, but it was no use—you were going down.

Before you could hit the ground, Bobby was there, catching you in his arms with a laugh. “Whoa, easy there,” he said, his voice filled with amusement. “Didn’t think I’d have to save you from my own ice.”

You laughed, your face flushing with embarrassment as you looked up at him. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Bobby grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Were you too busy checking me out or something?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his teasing tone, and you quickly shook your head, trying to play it cool. “No, I was just—uh—distracted.”

“Uh-huh,” Bobby said, clearly not convinced. He still had his arms around you, and you could feel the coolness of his powers radiating off him. “Well, whatever it was, you’ve gotta be more careful. I might not always be here to catch you.”

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “Thanks for the save.”

Bobby winked, finally releasing you from his grip. “Anytime, beautiful.”

As you stood there, trying to get your bearings, you couldn’t help but wonder if Bobby’s teasing was more than just friendly banter. Maybe—just maybe—there was something more between you two than you realized.

Laura Kinney (X-23)

Being around Laura was always an intense experience. She was quiet, brooding, and kept most people at arm’s length, but somehow you had managed to get close to her. Laura wasn’t like most people—she didn’t trust easily, and her past was full of trauma and pain that weighed on her heavily. But with you, she seemed to let her guard down, even if only slightly. There was something between you, though neither of you had acknowledged it yet.

Today, you were sparring in the Danger Room, and as usual, Laura was hyper-focused on her movements, each strike sharp and precise. You, on the other hand, were struggling to keep up. Your mind kept wandering, distracted by the way Laura’s muscles flexed with every movement, the sheer grace and power she exuded.

You tried to shake it off, to focus on the fight, but your eyes kept trailing after her—until you tripped over your own feet. You went down hard, hitting the mat with a thud. Immediately, Laura was by your side, her expression hard but concerned as she extended a hand to help you up.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice clipped.

You nodded, your face burning with embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied you. “You’ve been distracted all day. What’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, not sure how to answer without giving yourself away. “It’s nothing, really.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she let it slide, pulling you back to your feet. As you brushed yourself off, you couldn’t help but glance at her, your heart racing in your chest. Laura’s gaze softened just a little, and for a moment, you thought you saw something more in her eyes—something deeper than just concern.

“You need to stay focused,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

There was an unspoken emotion in her words, something that made your pulse quicken. You nodded, your throat dry. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

But as you resumed sparring, your mind still wandered back to Laura, and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—she felt the same way you did.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Wanda had always been something of an enigma. There was a warmth to her, a kindness that drew you in, but there was also a quiet sadness behind her eyes—a weight she carried from her past, from the mistakes she felt responsible for. You had been drawn to her from the moment you met, though you weren’t sure if she saw you as anything more than a friend. But lately, things between you had shifted, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

Today, you were helping Wanda in her room, going through old books on magic and sorcery. You weren’t much help, but she seemed to appreciate the company. As you sat beside her, flipping through the pages, you found yourself stealing glances at her—at the way her hair fell over her shoulders, the way her fingers delicately turned the pages. She was beautiful, and it was hard to focus on anything else.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the book slipping from your hands until it was too late. It fell with a loud thud, startling both of you. You scrambled to pick it up, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Wanda smiled softly, her eyes warm. “It’s okay. You’ve been a bit distracted today.”

You hesitated, not sure how to respond. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

Wanda’s smile faded slightly, her expression becoming more serious as she reached out to touch your hand. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me. I’m here for you.”

Her touch was gentle, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. You looked up at her, your heart racing, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. There was something in her eyes—something that made you think that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way.

“I… it’s nothing,” you said, though your voice was shaky.

Wanda’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded, though you could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Alright,” she said softly. “But you know you can always talk to me, right?”

You nodded, your chest tight. As you went back to flipping through the book, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you finally admitted how you felt.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Pietro Maximoff was the living embodiment of chaos. He was fast—too fast sometimes—and always in a rush, always moving. But there was something about him that made your heart race, something about the way he looked at you that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who could keep up with him. Even if you weren’t sure if he felt the same way, the tension between you was undeniable.

You were walking together through the halls of the mansion, Pietro talking a mile a minute about something you could barely keep up with. You were trying to follow along, but honestly, you were more focused on the way his silver hair caught the light, the way his eyes seemed to gleam with excitement. It was hard not to get distracted when you were around him.

So distracted, in fact, that you didn’t notice the crack in the floor until you tripped over it. You stumbled forward, your heart leaping into your throat, but before you could even react, Pietro was there, catching you in his arms with lightning speed.

“Whoa there,” he said, his voice filled with amusement as he steadied you. “Didn’t think I’d have to rescue you from walking.”

You laughed, your face flushing with embarrassment as you looked up at him. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Pietro grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Were you distracted by something? Or someone?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the teasing tone in his voice, and you quickly shook your head, trying to play it off. “No, I just… wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Uh-huh,” Pietro said, clearly not convinced. He still had his arm around you, and you could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the electricity in the air between you almost palpable.

For a moment, you thought about telling him the truth—about admitting that the reason you were distracted was because of him, because of the way he made your heart race every time he looked at you. But before you could say anything, Pietro flashed you a grin and let go of you, stepping back.

“Well, whatever it was, be careful next time,” he said with a wink. “I might not always be around to catch you.”

You smiled, your heart still racing as you watched him speed off, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his teasing than just friendly banter.

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[dazzelmethat]

*reaches out my hand and grabs you* I have the power to subject non vocaloid people to pinop..

TW: for flashing lights

Mushroom mother analysis in my tags. ..

[wereh0gz]

Ok random idea

A Sonic horror game where it's just a regular Sonic game but you play from the perspective of the villain.

Nothing's truly changed. Sonic's not possessed or suddenly turned evil or anything. He's still his silly goofy little self. But the way the villain's perspective frames him makes it look like there's something DEEPLY wrong with the guy. The way he relentlessly chases you, laughs and smiles when he lands a hit and constantly taunts you. The way his eyes glow with a determination that can easily be mistaken for bloodlust. The way he's just fast enough to where you can't keep up.

The villain player character in this case would be someone powerful enough physically to go head-to-head with him. But his speed gives him the advantage, and that combined with him constantly chasing you makes you feel powerless. Your only real option is to try to evade him and hide as you try to explore the map and reach your goal, all while managing resources to keep yourself alive.

Other characters could come in later on, like Tails, who sets up traps with his gadgets and uses old Badnik scraps scattered about to create enemies you need to ward off, like zombie enemies in other horror games. He always seems to know where you are, though he never directly chases or fights you, preferring to use his brains to catch you off guard and finish you off.

Or Knuckles, who uses the environment to his advantage, stalking you from high up places you can't reach and digging around to catch you off guard. Tikal could accompany him as a freaky ghost enemy, paralyzing you for brief moments so Knux can deal a blow.

Some of the others could be in there as well, but those are the only ideas I have right now.

The game would have different "levels" focused on a character trying to defeat you, each level being a different area of a somewhat interconnected map (think Resident Evil 8). Sonic would be a recurring one that appears in multiple levels and is the final boss. Each area guards a Chaos Emerald or some other thing you need for your evil scheme, but of course you can't get it without going through Sonic and his friends first.

As for aesthetics, considering most of the horror comes from how the player character views the world and our heroes, the world would have a sort of grimy, dark look to it. Sonic and the others would have a slightly uncanny appearance, off from the average mobian, meanwhile the player character looks obviously like an evil villain, but otherwise like a normal mobian (or maybe human? Idk). Almost as if they don't see the heroes as people, but as something else, some terrible force out to get them.

No idea how the story would actually go or how the game would end tho. Maybe it could be like an alternate universe where the villain actually wins, so you actually get to reach the goal in the end? Maybe there could be multiple endings, one where you win, one where you give up and turn yourself in just to end the torment, and one where it's implied Sonic kills you, all depending on how well you do and certain choices you make throughout the game.

I've been in a bit of a survival horror kick recently and have been watching Penny's RE2 playthrough, so this is mostly inspired by that lmao

[t-u-i-t-c]

ohranger (1995-1996)

[kavehater]

JFJEOSSK STOP I feel like I’d look better if it looked like I lost blood circulation (as in I become paper white pale) OR I get a tan because my current skin tone looks like my skin has seen terrors beyond human comprehension IT LOOKS TIRED LMFAO

[redbuddi]

I think we as a society need to be reminded how good the original Powerpuff Girls was. Here's some of my favorite things about it:

the fight scenes had a level of punchiness and impact that was rare for cartoons of the nineties, and fight scenes that were way better than what one would expect from a comedy

The character writing is so good that a large portion of the show's most iconic episodes consist of just showing how the girls' personalities react to different scenarios, for example in one episode the girls take turns recapping a fight that had just happened, and the tone and art style of the flashback changes depending on whose telling the story

One of the recurring extras is a talking dog that goes about it's day like a normal human

Each girl has mostly the same powers with one special ability that sets them apart. Blossom has ice breath. Bubbles can speak to squirrels and is also fluent in Spanish. Buttercup can curl her tongue.

while the majority of the show is lighthearted comedy sometimes it'll just decide to be nightmareworld for an episode and i think thats pretty cool

The show utilizes a blend of classic upa linework and sixties art deco shapism to create a visual style that is utterly timeless. If the majority of the show wasn't cell animated you would not be able to guess when it came out

The main villain's speaking patterns were directly inspired by The Super Dictionary. AKA, the same book that brought us this:

You can tell.

In the season one finale, the girls fight a giant monster using a mech suit. During the fight, there is a sequence that is literally just 20 uninterrupted seconds of an absurd amount of missiles coming out of every possible orifice of the robot. And then they miss.

There was an anime adaptation made in the 2000's and its actually pretty good, like it does take a lot of creative liberties but its clear that the people making it understood the spirit of the original show and were just adapting it to reflect japanese pop culture in the same way the og show reflected american pop culture.

The show had an insanely kickass soundtrack consisting of early techno so clean it's kind of shocking that it was made in the late nineties and not the early 2010's pre-dubstep era

satan is there and he serves cunt

[occudo]

An incomplete list of TMA fics I adore

-beacuse of this ask

(If you liked the fics I previously recommended/made fanart for, I think you'll gonna like these as well, but you know, read the tags, know what you are going into)

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey @cirrus-grey

Time Travel Fix-it! Slow burn! So good! So much sass from future!Jon- I doubt I have to introduce anyone this amazing author, but if you somehow missed them till now, this is your time! I highly recommend all of their other fics as well, for example one of a more recent one, The Stranger I Know Best is also a lovely read.

enthralling by Prim_the_Amazing @primtheamazing

Vampire!Martin!! I have no words of how much I love this concept, this story, everything about this. I think I'm going to repeat myself through this list, but I also recommend everything else they've written!

to fill... my heart with music? by godshaper @godshaper so their Martin and Jon design are different from mine, also they made a way better art for this- but still, I wanted to include this really good fic in this list.

Do It All Anew by inkfingers_mcgee or @crit20art

You know the feeling when you read a book that makes you cry, and after that you recommend it to your friend? Well- there is no reason I mentioned this, I'm just so normal about this fic. Or any other fic from inkfingers_mcgee... like Strange Manner of what I made another fanart way back. Also, check out their art!

Anyway, here is Aamal- she is not going to cause emotional damage.

And they were sidekicks (oh my god, they were sidekicks) by arthureameslove @arthureameslove

A lighthearted series where Jon and Martin are sidekicks of supervillains- it's just a really fun fic, also recommend everyting from this author - I previously draw fanart here for an other fic of theirs Like a Lighthouse, Call Me Home

neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well by saintbleeding @saintbleeding

To quote the aurthour: "Post-divorce Jon and Martin in a wedding-based romcom" It's such a comfort read, also has a Tim/Sasha wedding, and lots of cameos! I realised most of these authors I made fanarts for before- like this one for some kind of miraculous bind, this one is oneshot and a bit more serious in tone.

Give Me the Words by rakel @rakel-on-ao3

"Jon and Martin try to make the most of a bad situation in the Scottish Highlands. The situation is worse than they realised." You know that one post about wanting to write PWP, but it keeps turning into character study? Well, this one comes to my mind each time I see that.

i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy @transgenderboobs

So what would have happened if instead of the cot (tm), Jon offered Martin his own flat to stay? There is no way it's going to change their relationship, right? Such a good read, if you want some fluff, I highly recommend it!

Lucky Stars by magnetarmadda @magnetarmadda

Martin has a lovely family (except his mother) but still, he needs a fake boyfriend, and Jon comes to the rescue. It's one of the first fics I remember reading after I finished the series. It is such a comfort read of mine~

(+enjoy a rare tall Jon from me)

There are so many more fics that also deserve the spotlight, these are just the ones I read multiple times and/or didn't made fanarts for before. If you find something here you like, give them some love! Kudos and comments! They deserve it. (Also, just an extra disclamier some of these are PWP or rated T- just mind the tags)

I tried to link and tag everything, I hope it works.

[tootiecakes234]

Katsuki dating obliviously hot reader:

Characters aged up

Kinda smutty

Katsuki doesn’t even really see people in a hot or non hot way but then…. in walks you. The person that has him a blubbering, babbling mess. He thinks it’s insane, how fucking amazing you look all the time and it’s hard to control himself around you.

You’re at a party and you were dancing on him. In the middle of you pretty much dry humping him, Mina pulls you away from him and toward her. The thing is before he can hide it, she looks down at his groin and BAM

“Dude I can see your hard on through your pants.” And all your other friends turn around and start trying to see.

The blonde’s face now has a deep blush but he speak in an even tone. “Yea well yall would be too if someone as hot as Y/N was dancing on you. Too bad you losers get no play.”

He then rips you back outta Mina’s arms and spins you around so your back is to his front yet again. He has his dick placed snuggly against your clothes between your cheeks.

You guys are going out on a date and you’re bloated asf and nothing looks right. You’ve changed outfits like 4 times now and Kats in starvin.

He comes barging in the room and your in long sleeve shirt with a thigh length skirt and some cute shoes. You’re in the mirror adjusting and leaning towards a hell no when you hear him whisper under his breath, “damn”

“Do I look bad? I feel gross. Maybe we can get takeout and just stay here.”

“Gross? You gotta be fucking kiddin me. We are going to go out and I’m gonna be trying my damndest not to beat the shit out of the sea of guys that are gonna be eye fucking you and you’re calling yourself gross. Grab your damn purse and let’s go y/n.”

Well then. Guess you cant argue with that.

You’re at the gym together and you were both doing your own things. You’re on the treadmill when some guy comes up on the one next to you and starts talking.

It seems harmless enough so you engage him for a while until you get a text alert on your phone. When you check Kit Kat is on the screen so you open the message.

Kit Kat: come here.

That’s random so you look up to find where he is in the gym and discover hes near the weights. When you lock eyes with him, you see murder in his eyes.

Aww fuck. He’s pissed. You know your man is territorial, but damn.

You excuse yourself from the conversation you were only half heartedly invested in and walk over to him.

“Look it wasn’t-“ but your words are cut off from his lips pressing against yours and you feel his hand graze over your ass.

You’re glad the gym is half empty cuz damn.

“That idiots been looking at my ass in these tights since you walked in. I’m gonna have to put a fucking taken sticker on your forehead.”, he growled low next to your ear.

“Instead of all that, you can just put a ring on my finger.” You say smugly.

He chuckles at you, “yea that’s probably a better option.”

Katsuki Masterlist

@justbepeace

[justporo]

So you'll see tomorrow

A/N: Seeing a beautiful piece of artwork by @velnna and listening to Half life by Livingston I got a very angsty idea for a drabble (so be warned, it's sad). This idea came to me first a while back listening to Just a Man (you know from *that* BG3 edit). @velnna as always thanks for letting me play with your son - and sorry I hurt him... Also thank you to Dad on Maf's discord server for the inspo for the final line.

Warnings: implied character death (but this is just an alternate timeline ok??), self sacrifice

~~~

So this was it.

This is how they would all die.

There was no way they would defeat the Netherbrain. All their endeavours that led them here, all for naught. Unless…

Staeve saw it in his eyes first. How their expression changed from swimming and hopeless to hardened and determined. Astarion’s brows drew together - the crease they created between them as sharp as his daggers he lifted up once more.

“Staeve.”

He had never heard his voice like this. The tone as sharp as a knife and hard as rock.

It scared him.

“I’m going to create an opening for you. Be ready.”

Fear dug its claws into Staeve’s throat, choking him, as he began to realise what was about to happen.

“No,” the half-drow whispered, weakly grabbing for his lover’s wrists with all of his remaining strength.

“Astarion, no! You can’t do this!”

Panic gave Staeve new power. Helped him to forcefully turn Astarion around to him. Helped him make his love stare into his eyes as he screamed at him again. And again.

He shook him, even making the daggers drop from his pale, blood-speckled fingers.

Staeve kept screaming, feeling his voice become hoarse, hot streams of tears washing away the grime and gore as they made their way down his face.

But as he kept throwing everything at Astarion he noticed ruby eyes remaining hard and unfaltering. The decision had been made.

The last of his strength went with his last drop of hope as Staeve’s hands fell weakly from Astarion’s. His legs gave up, knees hit the ground hard.

And only then did Astarion shift, taking a final step back before making the run-up.

He dropped down in front of Staeve who could only stare up at him anymore.

“Let me do this one thing right, Staeve,” he whispered solemnly, cupping his love’s face. “Just this once let me make things right.”

Staeve’s vision was blurred, his head swimming. But he still clearly saw the warmth in Astarion’s eyes as he leaned his forehead to Staeve’s.

Astarion’s hand wandered to the nape of his neck as he pressed his eyes closed. “Promise me, you’ll live for me, Staeve. To the fullest.” When the vampire opened his eyes again, Staeve was sure there were tears in Astarion’s eyes as well.

There was nothing in Staeve to do or say. He wasn’t in control of anything anymore it felt like. Not even his own body as he solely kept listening to Astarion’s final words.

“And promise me,” the vampire continued, voice breaking, “sometimes - when you sit in the sun - you’ll think of me, Staeve. Promise me.”

Astarion only waited only long enough for Staeve to weakly nod, seemingly the only thing he was still capable of.

Then he crushed his mouth to his lover’s, the motion so forceful their teeth crashed together.

Desperation had them kiss so hard it hurt, that it felt like perishing already. Astarion’s hand on Staeve’s neck pressed down so hard it felt like bones might crush. A single last breath was passed between them as their lips moved against each other as they tried to make this the most vivid moment they had ever experienced.

One so he could never possibly forget this final kiss - how it had felt.

The other so he would go to his end, with the taste of his lover on his lips.

When a small eternity ended and Astarion broke away he grabbed Staeve’s face a final time.

“I know in another life, I would have loved you forever,” Astarion uttered with a smile.

Then he let go, Staeve almost toppling over, suddenly void of anything still lifting him up.

Astarion grabbed his daggers, turned around with a last glance and a smirk - and then he leapt.

[felinecyan]

Untouchable

[Katsuki Bakugo x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When a classmate breaks a well-known rule within the dorm, you decide to take it upon yourself to “fix” the issue.

WC: 2863

Category: Mega Fluff, Kindhearted!Reader, Todoroki being an icon (like always 💅)

I don’t know about you guys, but writing for Bakugo is the single hardest thing I have ever done. He is SUCH a difficult character to get right 😭

I believe I did him justice, though 🙏🙏

『••✎••』

Kaminari had a death wish. That was the only logical explanation for why the electric blonde was currently in the common room with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, along with a bowl of ramen that just so happened to belong to one Katsuki Bakugo.

Food was the one thing the explosive hero didn't joke around with, and the rest of Class 1-A was painfully aware of that fact. It was like a rule that had been ingrained into everyone's minds after spending any amount of time around the temperamental blonde.

Do not, under any circumstances, mess with Bakugo's food. Ever.

So the moment you had walked out of the kitchen and saw the familiar spice-infused soup in Kaminari's hands, you knew there was about to be a disaster. And that disaster was going to happen at the cost of the boy's life.

You were about to warn Kaminari when a familiar voice stopped you, its monotone quality giving away that it belonged to the heterochromatic hero. "Don't."

Todoroki shook his head at your concerned expression, a sigh leaving his lips. "It's not worth the effort; he'll learn the hard way. I would suggest standing back unless you want to get hit."

As if on cue, the sound of a bowl shattering against the floor echoed through the common room, and you flinched as bits of ramen and broth splattered your pants and shoes. You could only imagine what kind of mess it would have made if you had been standing any closer.

At the same time, Jiro sighed, plugging her ears as she muttered, "So much for getting some peace and quiet today."

Kaminari stood a few feet away from the mess, his entire body trembling in fear. He was too scared to move, frozen to the spot. His golden eyes were glued to the blonde standing before him, a murderous aura surrounding the ash-blonde.

"Bakugo, look, I can explain—"

The blonde's crimson eyes flashed in anger, and his face contorted into a feral snarl as he cut the electric user off. You couldn't stop the flinch that shook your body at the tone. "You... you..."

"It's just one bowl of ramen, dude! I'm sure you could easily make another one!" Kaminari exclaimed, waving his hands in front of his chest frantically. "I mean, come on, I know you love spicy food, but surely you're not that much of a monster that you'd kill me over it! Especially with something so mild as that!"

The room went silent, and Kaminari's words echoed in everyone's ears, but it only took Todoroki’s comment for the tension to change from fearful to downright chaotic.

"That was his last packet."

It was almost comical how fast the blood drained from Kaminari's face and how fast it returned a second later. The electric blonde gulped, a nervous laugh escaping him.

"B-Bakugo, listen—"

He was cut off again, this time by an explosion, which had been aimed right at his face. Thankfully, Bakugo missed on purpose, but the sound had been enough to startle everyone.

"You're so dead, Spark Plug!"

And thus began the chase, with Kaminari being chased around the room by an enraged Bakugo. Kaminari's screams of terror and Bakugo's threats and explosions filled the air, and everyone watched on in amusement.

Well, everyone except for Iida. He was chasing Bakugo, trying to calm the blonde down and yelling at him for using his quirk indoors, but his efforts were fruitless.

"Stop running around the room! You're going to destroy the furniture and break something!"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, DUNCE FACE! GET BACK HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!"

Typical afternoon in the U.A. dorms.

After what felt like forever, the chaos eventually died down, with Bakugo calming down enough to sit and stew in his anger and Kaminari passing out from his quirk short-circuiting. You helped Iida clean up the mess that had been left behind, and everyone else returned to their activities.

But you felt bad for Bakugo. Yes, the blonde was a little intense and downright mean sometimes, but you knew what it felt like to crave something you didn't have. Especially when you physically buy that ‘something.' So, you decided to go out and get the angry Pomeranian a replacement packet.

Of course, given the fact that being empathetic was a common occurrence for you, the explosive hero wasn't at all surprised to see you walking toward the doors of the dorms with nothing but your wallet and a smile.

And he was not pleased.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

You stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the blonde, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Honestly, you were still shocked that he was still in his uniform, given he usually changes the moment he walks through the dorms. Not to mention, he even started wearing it properly, which was a feat in itself.

"Umm..."

"If you're about to say the damn store, I'll blow your ass to the moon," he threatened, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips.

"I'm just going to get you some more packets, okay? It's not a big deal," you said, your eyes softening. "I don't like seeing people upset, especially not over things that can easily be solved."

"Like hell, I'm upset!" He snapped, but the lack of bite in his voice gave him away.

You raised an eyebrow but kept your mouth shut. After knowing Bakugo for as long as you have, you've learned that the best way to deal with him is to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself—at least, all thoughts and opinions about him.

"I'll be back in an hour, okay?" You said, offering him a kind smile. "Is there anything else you need?"

Something about the look in your eyes and the kindness in your voice was enough to make the blonde falter, his resolve slipping. He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face.

But, since he didn't respond, you figured that was all you were going to get from him. So, you turned back around and headed for the doors, intent on leaving.

You hadn't gotten very far, however, when the sound of the couch squeaking alerted you. You turned your head just in time to see Bakugo jump over the back of the sofa, his slacks making a thud sound as he landed, snatching his phone off the coffee table before he headed in your direction.

He grumbled something incoherent under his breath, causing you to tilt your head, but before you could say anything, your wrist was being grabbed, and the front door was opening.

"If we're gonna get the damn ramen, then I'm coming with. It's annoying when people come back with the wrong shit, so it's better to go myself."

"Oh," you hummed, not expecting him to follow you. You smiled up at him, and the scowl on his face deepened. "Well, alright, then. The more, the merrier."

Bakugo grunted in response, dropping his grip on your wrist so he could shove his hands into his pockets. "Just keep up, alright? I don't want to wait for your slow ass."

With that, the blonde walked out of the dorms, and you were quick to follow.

For those twenty minutes, you couldn’t help but be amazed at how quiet the walk to the store was. Normally, Bakugo was yelling at someone for one reason or another. Whether it was because they were stupid, slow, or a bunch of other reasons that seemed to only make sense in his head, he was never silent.

But, currently, it was different. Bakugo wasn't talking, or yelling, or grumbling, or doing any of the things he normally does. He wasn't even walking fast, keeping his pace slow just enough so you could keep up.

He didn’t have a scowl on his face, either. He wasn’t smiling, of course, which would actually terrify you if he was, but there also wasn’t a sign of irritation or anger on his face.

In fact, he was the most relaxed you had ever seen him, his muscles not as tense as usual, and his posture was straight, yet not rigid. And his crimson eyes seemed to have a hint of softness in them, something that you had never noticed before.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even realized that the two of you had arrived at the store until the ash-blonde had started walking through the automatic doors, not waiting for you to catch up.

Shaking your head, you hurried inside, quickly scanning the store for a sign that pointed to the aisle where the ramen packets were. Bakugo was a couple of feet ahead of you, with a look of indifference on his face as he followed the sign. However, he stopped once he reached the right aisle and turned around to look at you.

"Hurry it up, nerd," he growled, his impatience getting the better of him.

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face. "I'm going, I'm going."

Bakugo didn't say anything as he turned back around and started walking through the aisles, and you were hot on his heels. Believe it or not, you were on a side mission, determined to not just grab the ramen for him.

He got distracted, and the two of you weren't in a hurry, so you went around and grabbed a few things that you knew your classmates had mentioned wanting. If you were going to take the time to go to the store, you might as well make it count.

After a few minutes, you ran into Bakugo, who had his arms full of different flavors of the ramen brand he liked. He took one singular glance at the contents of your basket and rolled his eyes.

"The hell are you getting all that shit for? I ain’t helping you carry anything."

"Well," you huffed, a pout on your face. He seemed to realize you were about to give him an entire speech because he immediately let out the most dramatic groan you had ever heard from him and began walking away.

You didn't care, though, and continued speaking, following him around the store.

"Well, I was just going to get the ramen and be done with it, but then I ran into Mina, who told me she was craving some 'chocolatey goodness,' which are her words, not mine," you explained, pulling out the package of chocolate-covered strawberries.

"Anyway, so, then I ran into Kirishima, who was complaining that there were no manly snacks in the pantry, and the last of his protein bars were eaten the other day, ironically also by Kaminari," you added, showing him the small box of protein bars. "So, I figured I'd get him some more and make sure Kaminari has his own snacks."

Bakugo groaned once more, still refusing to look at you. And, again, you ignored him and kept speaking.

"Also, Sero wanted more chips, and Koda was asking for some extra treats for the animals," you continued, showing him the chips and animal treats. "I didn't run into Midoriya, but he’s been awfully kind with his notes, so I'm pretty sure he would appreciate some gummies and pocky."

"Alright, I get it," Bakugo grumbled, a grimace on his face.

"Mineta also asked if I could grab him a new bag of limes, but I figured, after that little stunt he pulled in the changing room, that he doesn't deserve to have his gross habits indulged." You scoffed, trying to make a dramatic gesture but failing, given the items in your arms.

Bakugo paused in the middle of the aisle, turning around to finally face you, his arms still full. "You done?"

"Hey, you asked." You shrugged, a smile on your face. "I wasn't finished, though. Jiro wants more popcorn, Ojiro needs some more protein powder, Hagakure needs—"

"Is any of that shit even for you?" He cut you off, narrowing his eyes at you.

You pursed your lips and tilted your head. "No. Why?"

"You came all this way, wasting money on everyone else's crap, and didn't even think about grabbing shit for yourself?" He asked, his eyes narrowing further. "Are you stupid or something?"

"Um, well, no?" You answered although it came out as more of a question. "It's not a big deal. I was already going here, anyway."

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He walked forward and, without a word, dropped his armful of ramen onto your own. "Hold these."

Before you could protest, the ash-blonde walked past you and disappeared from view. Confused, you spun around and tried to follow him, but the sudden weight in your arms made it hard to move.

"Bakugo, wait up! I can't move!"

"Then stop moving, idiot." His voice was muffled by the shelves, and you couldn't tell where exactly he was. But, as if he had a sixth sense for things like this, Bakugo returned to the aisle, his arms full of random snack foods and drinks.

"What are you—"

"Shut up and follow me," he said, not letting you finish your sentence. You opened your mouth to speak, but a sharp glare from the blonde made you close it.

Bakugo led you through the aisles and dropped the items onto the conveyor belt, much to the surprise of the cashier. The young girl didn't dare comment on the large pile of utter junk food, however, and merely rang it all up, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Once the total came up, you pulled out your wallet to hand the girl the money, not wanting Bakugo to waste any of his own money on you, but the blonde snatched the bills from your fingers before you could pay.

"Hey, what—"

"I said, shut up." He clicked his tongue and turned away, his back facing you. You could hear the rustle of his pockets as he fished out his own wallet, and you were quick to shake your head.

"Bakugo, the whole point of me coming here was so I could pay. You were the one who got his last packet stolen, so I was supposed to be paying for the new one, and—"

"Do you ever shut the hell up?" Bakugo interrupted, his voice gruff. He didn't turn around to face you, but his tone was enough for you to shut up. "I don't give a shit about the money. It's my own damn fault for letting that dunce face near my food, anyway."

"But—"

"And it's not like I need the money," he added, pulling a couple of bills from his wallet and handing them to the cashier. "My parents are loaded. It's not a big deal."

Way to show off, Blasty.

But you knew better than to say that. Instead, you closed your mouth, your eyes softening. It didn't make sense to you, though, because not only was he buying his own replacement ramen, but he was also buying an abundance of junk food, which, while tasty, wasn't for him or you.

It's always about repaying the favor with him, but this was just... unnecessary.

"Thank you," you said instead, knowing that he would only get irritated if you kept protesting. "That was... unexpectedly nice of you."

"Don't make a big deal out of it," he grumbled, picking up a few of the bags. He handed them to you, and you struggled to balance the weight, but you didn't complain. "It was your fault for being too damn nice."

You blinked, not sure if you were supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult. Either way, you didn't say anything and merely nodded. Bakugo didn't spare you a second glance as he grabbed the rest of the bags and began walking toward the exit.

"You coming, or what?" He called out, not looking back at you.

A smile grew on your face, and despite him not even looking at you, something told you he could sense the happiness radiating from you. You hurried forward, struggling a bit to balance the bags in your arms and keep up with Mr. Grumps, but the smile didn't leave your face.

"So... does this mean we're friends now?"

"The hell? No!"

"I think we are, Blasty."

"Don't call me that." He narrowed his eyes at you, but you merely giggled.

"Would you rather it be Kacchan? Kaminari's been using that one a lot lately."

"Call me that, and I'll blast you into the fucking sun."

"Blasty it shall be, then."

Needless to say, the walk back to the dorms was the complete opposite of the walk to the store. But, just as the silence between the two of you was comfortable then, the bickering and teasing and overall playful nature of the conversation was comfortable now.

Bakugo would never admit it, and you knew better than to ask, but he didn't have a problem with the nickname or the new friendship that blossomed between the two of you.

And you didn't have a problem, either.

[cherienymphe]

His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

[heartswithinreach]

your post about sylus essentially conditioning the reader to sit on his lap hasjsakddf that was so perfect and in character 😭 i love it sm its given me so much brain rot - how bout this:

can i request the lads boys reaction to the reader randomly asking to be carried/picked up in the middle of walking? for no other reason just to see how'd they react lol

LaDS casually carrying MC

Xavier

The most casual. He just smiles at you and asks, "Bridal or piggyback?" in the same tone as if he's asking what you want to eat.

And he's not just playing along. He means it. He wants to be the one you lean on — metaphorically and literally.

You can try and backtrack but then you'll get those eyes. The bluest puppy dog eyes that can break the strongest of wills. "Are you sure? We still have a few blocks to go to the café, I don’t want you to get tired..."

You feel like you're holding out on him by not letting him carry you. The mind tricks this man is capable of to get what he wants are ridiculous.

You fold embarrassingly fast and Xavier is happy as can be with you on his back, your arms and legs around him like a full-body embrace. He can see the tactical advantage to carrying you like this during missions, too.

Rafayel

"You want me to carry you?“ Rafayel scoffs. “What if I pulled a muscle in my arm and couldn't draw for a week? No thank you!"

He refuses until you ask if it's not that he doesn't want to carry you, but that he can't.

Now you've wounded his pride. He might not be the God of the Sea anymore, but he can't let this go unanswered! Rafayel will be on you relentlessly to let him pick you up, no matter how long it takes.

"Whoa, be careful, cutie! There's no telling how deep these puddles are from all the rain — you're super lucky your boyfriend is here to carry you to safety."

When you finally break and let him do it just so he can prove a point, he realizes he likes this way more than he thought he would. You're like his adorable little prisoner and the only way you're getting out is in praise and smooches. This will become a regular thing, I fear.

Zayne

“I told you to wear more comfortable shoes.”

Zayne inwardly grins at how quickly you deflate at his blunt response. It's adorable.

But Zayne has a hard time denying you something so innocent as wanting to be close to him. So he guides your arm to wrap around his shoulders and picks you up with a strength that always takes you by surprise.

He waits for you to settle comfortably in his arms before he starts walking. He's aware of the disapproving stares from the people around you and not too long ago, he would've been one of them. How quickly his perspective has changed because of you.

Zayne is brought out of his thoughts when he feels you peck his cheek and now you get that oh so familiar look of gentle reproach from him. "I am working on being more affectionate but I'm not there yet, MC. Now, behave or your ride will end early."

Sylus

Sylus is so caught off guard that, for once, you can see his entire thought process play out through his expressions.

Surprise at your request, suspicion you're just toying with him, the realization you're being somewhat serious, and then the most gratified look you've ever seen on his stupid smug face.

Now you’re speaking his language. So delighted you’re finally catching on, he just picks you up and continues on his way without breaking his stride.

However, you didn't specify how he should carry you. So you're draped over Sylus's shoulder and to keep you there, his hand is dangerously high up on your thigh for being in public. The smack on your ass is so inevitable, you can feel it like it's already happened.

"You just said you were tired, now you want me to put you down? You need to learn to make up your mind, kitten. I'll just carry you until you're sure of what you want."

[uzurakis]

hello!

Can we have JJK guys reaction to his friend/buddy being in love with his girlfriend? (can sukuna and other any other characters you like).

THEIR FRIEND ALSO . . . LIKES YOU?!

featuring: ryomen sukuna. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. fushiguro megumi.

n. hey sweetheart, i’m not used to writing sukuna, but i tried to write him as him as much as i can! i hope it suits him. thankies for the req x—x

GOJO SATORU. when gojo found out that his friend also liked you, his reaction was, unsurprisingly, far from what most people would expect. instead of anger or jealousy, he simply shrugged it off, his trademark smile playing on his lips.

“did you hear what i just said?” you asked, looking at him with wide eyes, he wasn’t fazed. “your friend likes me.”

gojo laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “oh, i heard you,” he replied, leaning back against the couch with an amused glint behind those glasses. “but why should i be worried? i know you’ll choose me at the end of the day.”

you blinked, taken aback by his confidence. “you’re not even a little bit concerned?”

“not at all,” gojo said, grinning. “i mean, can you blame them? you’re everything. but they don’t stand a chance against me, darling.”

“besides, it’s not like i don’t trust you. i know you love me.”

his words were playful, but because you know him well, he was serious. it was just the way he expressed it. “you’re right,” you admitted, tracing figures on his hands. “i do love you.”

“see? nothing to worry about. let him have their crush. it doesn’t change anything between us. if anything, it’s flattering. just proves i have excellent taste.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA. being in a relationship with sukuna meant navigating his unpredictable moods and overwhelming presence, but you had never seen him this angry before. the air seemed to crackle with his frustration as he paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with a fury that sent chills down your spine.

“babe,” you began, trying to calm him down. “what’s wrong?”

he stopped pacing and looked at you, his expression dark. “fucking jerk, it’s that so-called ‘friend’ of mine,” words spat out immediately. “i found out he likes you.”

your heart skipped a beat. you had noticed the way his friend had been acting lately, but you hadn’t thought much of it. now, seeing sukuna’s reaction, you realized just how serious this was.

“ryo,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “i chose you from the start, right?”

he growled, his hands clenching into fists. “i don’t care about that. he should have known better. he should have known that you’re mine.”

sukuna lined up his hand on your chin, causing your eyes to meet. “if he comes near you, he’ll face my wrath,” he whispered, his tone still laced with menace. “no one threatens what’s mine.”

“especially my woman.”

ITADORI YUUJI. you told him about his friend’s feelings while you both were sitting inside your cozy room. itadori’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he leaned back in his chair, processing the information.

“wow,” he said softly, scratching the back of his head, those pink locks becoming messier. “i didn’t see that coming.”

bitting your lower lip, you’re worried about how he might take the news. “you’re not mad, aren’t you?”

but your boyfriend shook his head, full of understanding. “no, i’m not mad, baby. feelings are complicated, y’know? it’s not like he can control how he feels.”

you sighed in relief, appreciating his maturity. “okay... i was just worried about how you’d react.”

“baby, i trust you, and i trust our relationship. besides, i’m kind of curious now. like, since when did he start liking you? how did i miss that?”

feeling the tension ease out of the situation, you chuckled at him. his obliviousness always gets in the way. “don’t know the exact moment, but i guess it’s been a while.”

“hmm,” the guy leaned forward, resting his chin on his free hand. “did he ever try to tell you or make a move?”

you shook your head. “no, i guess he didn’t. i think he knew about us and didn’t want to cause any trouble.” after your statement, a thoughtful expression was written on his face. “that must have been tough for him. i mean, having feelings for someone who’s already in a relationship.”

“it probably was,” you agreed. “but i’m glad you’re handling this so well.”

“hey, anyone would be lucky to have you. i just got there first.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. he took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. after fushiguro found out that his friend liked you, it hit him harder than he wanted to admit. the knowledge gnawed at him, and although he tried to brush it off, doubts began to creep in, making him question his own worth and your relationship. “i found out that one of my friends likes you.”

“really? who?” you blinked in surprise, not expecting that. he named the friend, and you frowned, thinking back on any interactions you might have had. “i had no idea…”

fushiguro nodded, but his eyes avoiding yours. “i didn’t either. it just… fuck, it bothers me.”

“i guess it makes me question things. like, am i good enough for you? do you have feelings for him too? those sorta things..”

your hands immediately caressed his by instinct, seeing him like this made your heart ache. “baby, you’re enough for me. i don’t have any feelings for them. i’m with you until the end.”

the man looked down for a long while, his grip on your hand tightening. “but what if i’m not enough? what if there’s something lacking in our relationship that makes you look elsewhere?”

“there’s nothing lacking, megumi. i’m happy with you. and i love you just the way you are.” you shook your head, cupping his face with your free hand.

after that he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. “i don’t want to that jealous boyfriend but i can’t help it. the thought of losing you to someone else…”

“you’re not going to lose me,” you interrupted softly. “i’m here with you, and that’s not going to change. fushiguro then opened his eyes, searching for reassurance in yours, before closing them again. a little, relieved smile tugged on the edges of his lips. “i love you. i’m sorry for doubting us.”

@uzurakis

[d4yl1ghts]

enjoyment

colin bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: after colin and yourself find yourselves bored at a ball, he decides to cheer you up

warnings: nudity, semi-public sex, p in v, expeditionist kink, breeding kink, praising kink, fingering, orgasm, breast play, switch!reader, switch!colin

A/N- Colin needs some more love, his character is so underrated

-

You and Colin had to go to another ball. As a member of the Ton, you are expected to attend almost all of the balls in the social season. Despite this, it didn’t change the fact that you hated them. You were never a social person. Colin also never really found them much fun anymore; they were repetitive and he would rather stay home with his wife.

That is what lead you to being sat opposite Colin in your carriage. Colin had your hand in his hand and was gazing at you sneakily. You were looking out the window and so he thought you wouldn’t notice him. “What are you looking at, Lord Bridgerton?”, you teased as you turned to stare at him. “Just a beautiful lady.”, he playfully stated.

You groaned as you sighed: “Balls are so pointless. I don’t understand why society makes us go.”

“Well, as members of the Ton, it would be seen as wrong if we didn’t attend a few.”, he placed a delicate kiss to your cheek. “I guess so.”, you responded in an unbelieving tone. He simply chuckled.

The carriage then pulled to a stop and Colin gracefully guided you out of the carriage as he always does. You slowly walked into the beautifully decorated ballroom. You glanced around and admired it in silence. “I have to say they have outdone themselves this year.”, Colin stated matter-of-factly.

You nodded your head in agreement before continuing further into the vast room. As you cast your eyes around the room, you spotted Anthony with Kate and Anthony finally noticed you and called you and Colin over. “Brother. Y/N.”, Anthony welcomed. “Anthony.”, you reciprocated. “Have you been on any new travels, brother?”, Anthony questioned. “No, I don’t intend to go on any for a while. I have my duties as a husband to tend to.”, he smiled as you blushed. You turned around and saw Kate talking to Violet.

“Kate. Violet.”, you greeted. “Y/N, how are you?”, Violet asked kindly. “Good, thank you, how are you?”, you replied. “I am great. The ballroom is so elegant and beautifully decorated I must admit.”, she stated. “I would have to agree. Look at the gorgeous paintings.”, Kate added. “Mhm, I do quite like the chandelier. It is so detailed.”

Violet nodded her head in agreement. You looked past Violet and recognised Colin’s eyes boring into your figure. You stared at him in concern as he made his way over. “Mother, I hope you do not mind if I steal my wife.”, he said in acknowledgment of his mother. “Of course not.”, she smiled at her son’s happiness.

Colin had a steady grip on your arm as he lead you outside. “What are we doing out here?”, you asked. He ignored you as he gently pushed you against a wall, careful to not hurt you. Fortunately, there were no windows and you were covered by a pillar. “Darling, you didn’t expect us to stay in there for the whole ball, did you? I know how much you despise these events.”, he says confidently. You gazed up at him with innocent eyes. He sighed as he attached his lips to yours with such a passion.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth and explored the crevices. He pulled away and moved his calloused hands to the back of your corset and looked to you for consent. “Yes.”, you muttered, still out of breath from your lengthy kiss. He hastily undid your corset, occasionally tightening it instead of loosening it.

You then tugged on his shirt, asking him to remove it. He instantly removed it and locked his lips to your bare chest. He gazed at your hardened nipples and glanced at the rest of your body. “You are perfect, my love.”, he confessed. He quickly reattached his mouth to your breasts and sucked on your nipples. You whimpered at the feeling. He placed his fingers against your other breast that wasn’t getting any attention and began kneading his hand on it. You were so wet for him already. He then decided to plunge two fingers into your slick and pumped in and out of you until you had adjusted and he then took out his fingers.

As you stared at him hungrily, he knew what you wanted and so he took off his breeches and exposed his hardened cock. You gazed into his eyes lustfully. He grabbed his cock that dripped with pre-cum and lined it up with your folds. He rubbed his length up and down your folds to gain your slick on his cock. His length twitched as he made contact with your pussy.

He allowed you time to adjust before he slowly thrusted in and out of you. Colin then moved closer to you so your hips were in contact with each other. He wanted to reach the deepest spot he could. “Fuck, Colin…”, you moaned as tears brimmed in your eyes. He whimpered quietly at your moans. He moved his large hands to feel his bulge in your stomach. “Taking it so well, Y/N.”, he praised. He sighed in pleasure.

You cautiously moved off Colin’s cock to which he grunted in disapproval. You then shoved him against the floor carefully. You looked at his irritated and dismissed length before lowering yourself over it. You then grinded against Colin and he moaned in response as you gripped his hair. At any point, anyone could walk out and see the two of you but you were too euphoric to care now. You let out quiet and gentle moans as you bounced on his girthy cock. Colin sighed contentedly as he felt your walls clench around his shaft.

You released your juices all over Colin’s cock as you came down from your high with tears streaming down your face from the pleasure. Colin then hold you in place with his big and tender hands as he hip-thrusted into you and felt his cock twitch before he shot his load deep into your pussy.

You waited for a few minutes with Colin’s soft cock still in your pussy as you gained your breath back. Both of you then glanced around and after seeing no one, you both let out some quiet laughs. You hastily attempted to lace up your corset and Colin ended up helping you after he had put his shirt and breeches on. “Thank you.”, you kissed his red lips sweetly. “We should head back in before anyone notices we’ve been gone.”, Colin replied.

You slowly walked back in (with the assistance of Colin’s sturdy arms) and looked around before making your way over to an empty corner. “That was such a lovely way to spend the ball, Colin. We should do it again.”, you admitted. He hummed in agreement as he smirked at the state of you. Red lips and wobbly legs.

Suddenly, Violet was walking toward you two and you grabbed Colin’s arm and wrapped it tighter around your shaking frame. “Where have you two been? The Queen wanted to see you both on the dance floor as you are a newly married couple.”, she whispered worriedly. “Mama, we were just outside. We enjoyed our time outside much more than we would have in here.”, he said with amusement in his eyes. “Hmm, okay. Next time, you have to dance though, okay?”, she questioned. Colin just nodded along. She then walked away.

“Next time, we are not dancing. I know how much you dislike it, Y/N and I believe that we have found a much more enjoyable activity.”, Colin chuckled. You sighed as you flushed slightly.