#and the last time i felt this happy was when i was deep in the Halo fandom

[heartmaddie]

“Michael?” Your voice rung out characteristically soft as your eyes fell on his exhausted body, slick with dirt and grime from a particularly gruesome day. He’s extremely exhausted, you could tell from metres away while wrapped up in thick bedsheets. “‘Something wrong?”

He didn’t respond.

With parted lips and tired eyes, you watched as calloused hands roughly tugged at his shirt, revealing his toned abdomen. Your eyes were trained on the faded scars littered throughout porcelain skin as if constellations in the sky. Your throat was hitched, but no breath let out.

The shirt fell somewhere with a thud, before he stalked towards the en suite, footsteps followed each other, and you found yourself watching him sink into the herbal bath you prepared moments ago. His body trembled underneath the warm, fragranced water.

“What’re you thinking about, liebling?” Your voice is soft, it almost cuts through the overwhelming thoughts which flood his head.

He doesn’t know how you put up with him.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, watching stray grass float around the tub, slim fingers reached out for your arm. A deep, rejuvenating sigh escaped thin lips as his eyes closed. 

He felt you massage rose-hip scented shampoo into his head, and he finally let himself relax for the first time of the day. It almost sickened him how much he adored your touch, how much he yearned for it. The serenity you left in his body grounded him.

His heart was ripped out of his chest and placed delicately into your palms, arteries and all.

To him, there was only one happiness in life, to love and to be loved. But how was one supposed to know these ecstasies if not had experienced before? Michael’s body was bruised, cracks ran through skin years ago and had settled there. Regardless, the tangible evidence of his pain was mere.

As he stepped out of the bathtub, his drenched body wrapped tightly around yours, and the small giggle which fell from pink lips melted him. He loved your laugh, each sound which danced off your tongue soothed him immensely, clearing his mind until all he could conjure was you; his happiness, his heart.

His body toppled you over and squished you against the mattress. His straight nose pushed against the skin of your neck and placed tender, almost reverent kisses against the warm skin. 

“hold me tighter.”

Somehow, he liked how your touch treated him as if he were fragile, like a vase that had been ruined a multitude of times that only you had bothered to glue back together. Pieces of him were missing now, lost in time, but regardless, your flowers still rested against the rims of china.

Nimble fingers brushed against his back, and he relaxed further into your chest. Michael wanted to melt into you, he wanted his organs to intertwine with yours and become one, he felt that you were both born from the same star, after all. 

You traced each bump and ridge which adorned his skin with love, your warmth made sugary liquids fall from azure as he buried himself deeper into you. He needed this, he needs you, more than anything. He feels you in his skin, he’ll never let you go.

You gnawed at his pain and swallowed it as if sweet chocolate drizzled on freshly picked strawberries, when his heart extinguishes, you’ll be his last and forever thought.

For the last time, your arms wrapped around him tightly, bringing your lips against his ear.

“I love you, Micha.”

He nodded, eyes shutting impossibly tight as he sponged up each syllable off your saccharine cheeks.

(thank you for understanding me)

“I love you too.”

©heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[aspenmissing]

ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ

ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ/ᴊɪɴx x ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ/ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ)

ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 4023 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏ/ɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ɢᴜɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴄʜᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴊɪɴx, ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴜɴʀᴀᴠᴇʟꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴊɪɴx ꜱᴇᴛꜱ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴠᴀꜱᴛᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ɪɴꜱᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜱ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 || ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 || ᴘᴀʀᴛ 4

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊɪɴx/���ᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | ʜᴀʟʟᴜᴄɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

The sun was setting over the bustling streets of Zaun, the deep orange hues of dusk clashing with the smog that constantly clung to the city’s underbelly. Y/N had been sent on a task by Silco: retrieve the cargo from a ship that had docked near the outer docks. It was a simple job, or so it seemed.

However, things never went as planned.

By the time Y/N and her group arrived at the docks, the cargo was no longer theirs to take. Word had gotten out, and an opposing gang had already secured it. The air crackled with tension as weapons were drawn, and a vicious fight broke out.

The opposing gang had the upper hand at first, but Y/N was no stranger to fighting. Her agility and ruthless efficiency helped even the odds, but the fight was messy. She ducked under a swinging knife, slamming the hilt of her own weapon into her opponent’s stomach, sending him sprawling. But there was too much chaos, too many enemies.

A brutal exchange of gunfire erupted. Y/N’s group took cover behind crates and debris, but her pulse raced. Every moment felt like an eternity. Her sharp eyes locked onto the leader of the opposing gang, making her way through the fray with precision. A final clash between the two gangs left several dead and injured, but the cargo was still out of reach.

Barely standing and covered in bruises and blood from the fight, Y/N managed to rally what was left of her group. Retreating, she left the dock with no victory to claim, the cargo still slipping through her fingers.

When she finally returned to her factory, her boots clattered heavily against the cold concrete floor. The door creaked open, and she stumbled inside, her breath ragged, her body bruised and battered. The stench of blood was thick on her clothes as she wiped a smear of blood from her brow, and the harsh, fluorescent lights of the factory only made her injuries more evident.

The sound of metal clanking echoed through the factory as she limped toward the back, where Jinx was always tinkering away in her little workshop. There, surrounded by a mess of tools, gears, and parts, Jinx was lost in her work, humming softly to herself.

Y/N paused for a moment, watching her. Jinx looked up, her bright, manic eyes glinting with curiosity as she noticed the state Y/N was in.

"Woah, rough day?" Jinx's voice was playful, almost too carefree for the situation.

Y/N gave a tired smile, trying to hide how exhausted she truly was. "You could say that," she rasped, her voice hoarse from the fight.

Jinx's eyes widened when she noticed the blood, the bruises, and the cut along Y/N’s cheek. She hopped up from her workbench and rushed over, her face softening for a brief moment. "You're a mess, mom!" She grabbed a nearby cloth and began wiping the blood from her face, working quickly but gently.

"I couldn’t get the cargo," Y/N said, the words feeling heavier than they should. "Another gang beat us to it. Silco won't be happy."

Jinx paused, then gave Y/N a mischievous grin, her usual energy coming back. "Well, maybe we just need to find another way to make it fun, huh? You know, maybe blow something up along the way? That always makes things better!"

Y/N chuckled weakly, but the exhaustion was catching up. She leaned against the workbench as Jinx continued cleaning her up, wiping away the grime and blood.

"Next time," Y/N whispered, "we’ll make sure they don’t get the drop on us."

The hours dragged on in the factory, the air heavy with the hum of machines and the faint smell of oil. Y/N had just finished stitching up her last cut when the door slammed open, its harsh sound vibrating through the concrete walls. Silco stood in the doorway, his presence commanding and unmistakable, but his usual composed demeanor had been replaced with something raw. Anger. Concern. Fear, barely held in check.

Y/N froze at the sight of him. Her heart skipped a beat, and her hand faltered for a moment as she finished her work, the sting from the wounds a distant reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. She had seen Silco furious before, but this felt different. This wasn’t just about the failure—it was about her.

"Y/N!" His voice, rough with emotion, cut through the silence, sharp as a blade. "Where the hell have you been?" His gaze swept over her, noting the blood, the bruises, the way she stood, clearly exhausted and hurt. "I sent you on a simple job. Why the hell didn’t you report in? I thought... I thought something happened to you."

Y/N's chest tightened as she met his eyes, feeling the weight of the worry there. She hadn’t realized how much Silco could care about her safety—how much the uncertainty of her well-being might affect him. His words hit harder than anything she’d endured out in the field.

"I'm here," she muttered, trying to steady herself despite the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin. "I’m fine, Silco. The cargo... another gang got to it first. We fought for it, but we lost. I couldn’t bring it back. I didn’t think you needed to hear it until I was back."

Silco’s gaze flickered between her and the bloodstains that marred the concrete floor. His jaw clenched as he processed her words, the rage simmering beneath the surface, but now tinged with something else. A flicker of relief? Worry? It was hard to tell, but there was no mistaking the tension in his posture.

"You didn’t think I’d need to hear it?" Silco’s voice was tight, frustration evident in every word. "I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. You didn’t check in, didn’t send a damn message... I was starting to think the worst."

Y/N’s heart sank, understanding now. This wasn’t about the job. It was about her. About Silco’s fear that she might not make it back. His anger faded slightly, replaced by something deeper, something she hadn’t expected to see from him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the weight of her silence settling in. "I got caught up. I didn’t want to worry you, but I should’ve—"

Silco cut her off, his voice softening, but only slightly. "You should’ve reported in." He stepped closer, his dark eyes scanning her face, taking in the bruises, the cut along her cheek, the exhaustion that weighed on her like a thousand bricks. His hands were steady as he reached for her chin, gently tilting her head upward, forcing her to meet his gaze.

His thumb brushed lightly over the bruise on her cheek, the action tender in a way that sent a chill through her. "You think I don’t care about you?" His voice dropped to a near whisper, the words almost fragile in the stillness between them. "I don’t give a damn about the cargo if you’re not safe. Don’t make me lose you over some senseless fight."

Y/N swallowed hard, her chest tightening with the enormity of his words. She could feel the weight of his care pressing down on her, something she hadn’t realized she needed until that moment. Silco rarely showed this side of himself, but when he did, it was disarming. Vulnerable, in a way that made her want to reach out and steady him.

"I’ll be more careful," she promised, her voice hoarse from both the exhaustion and the gravity of their conversation. "Next time, I’ll make sure you know I’m alive."

Silco didn’t say anything for a long moment. His eyes remained locked on hers, the fire of his anger now a faint ember beneath a layer of something softer. He exhaled, the tension that had gripped him easing just a little as he studied her face, his thumb gently tracing the outline of the bruise on her cheek.

"Don’t make promises," he finally muttered, his voice low, the softness lingering in it. "Just don’t keep me in the dark next time."

Y/N nodded, her chest tight with something she couldn’t name, something between guilt and relief. She had never been in a position where Silco’s care for her had been so clear, so direct.

As the silence hung between them, Silco’s hand remained on her chin, his thumb brushing over her skin with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he pulled her close, his arms encircling her tightly, as though trying to keep the world—and his fear—at bay.

Y/N froze for a moment, shocked by the sudden closeness, but then she melted into him, her face pressed against his chest as he held her with an intensity that made her heart race. She could feel the steadiness of his breath, the rhythm of his heartbeat, grounding her in a way she didn’t expect.

"I would’ve hated for the last time we were alone to have been a fight," Silco murmured into her hair, his voice low and steady, but with an unmistakable edge of sincerity. "I’d never forgive myself if that was it."

Y/N nodded against him, the words settling deep inside her. This moment, this unexpected tenderness, was something she never expected from him. She had always seen Silco as a force, a man with an unyielding drive. But now, standing in his arms, she saw another side of him—the one that cared, fiercely, about her safety, about her life.

"I won’t let it happen again," she whispered back, her voice muffled against his chest, her heart steadying as she breathed in the scent of him. "I’ll always come back to you."

In that moment, the factory, the bruises, the chaos—they all seemed so far away.

The hideout was bathed in a dim, flickering light as the air hummed with tension. The chaos inside Jinx’s mind mirrored the storm outside. Her hands trembled as they clutched a broken toy in front of her, eyes wide and unfocused. Her breath came in shallow gasps, the voices swirling louder, more insistent. Her chest tightened as they pressed in, suffocating her.

"Jinx…" Mylo’s voice came first, soft and familiar, but it was twisted, distorted. "You always mess it up. You’re nothing without us…"

Her head jerked as if she could escape the voice, but it only seemed to grow stronger. Her fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into her skin.

Claggor's voice cut through, his tone like a distant memory. "It's your fault we're dead. You killed you You never could."

Jinx’s eyes darted around the room, trying to focus, trying to push away the overwhelming pressure of the hallucinations, but it was as if the walls themselves were closing in on her. Every shadow seemed to mock her, every sound turned into a distorted echo. She could hear the footsteps of those who had left her, could almost feel them standing just behind her.

Vander's voice came next, he deep, resonant voice, firm but filled with a sadness that gnawed at her. "You got them all killed. I looked after you. Took you in with welcome arms. And this is how you repay me. You are a monster"

"No!" Jinx cried out, pressing her hands against her ears, trying to block out the voices that circled her mind like vultures. "No, no, no, you’re wrong!" Her words were a desperate, frantic plea. Her breathing quickened, panic rising within her as tears began to spill down her cheeks.

And then, a figure stepped out of the shadows, her presence like a weight in the air. Jinx turned toward her, eyes wide and frantic. It was her sister, Vi. But something was different. Vi’s face was twisted in anger, eyes hard and unrecognizable. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her posture defensive, accusatory.

"Why didn’t you listen to me" Vi’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of the hallucinations. "I told you to stay home. And because of you, they're all dead!"

Jinx’s heart clenched in her chest. The image of her sister—the one person who could ground her—was slipping through her fingers, distorted, unreachable. "Vi, please… no. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want this. I’m sorry."

The hallucination of Vi stepped forward, her face hardening. "Sorry won’t fix anything. You’ve already ruined everything because you're just a JINX!"

"No!" Jinx screamed, falling to her knees, her hands clutching her head as if she could physically force the voices out. The word Jinx echoed around her, coming from every direction, distorting with cruel laughter. "Please, stop… Stop, stop, STOP!"

In the midst of the cacophony, Jinx’s breath hitched as she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder—warm, steady. It was real. She could feel it. She turned, her tear-filled eyes meeting the concerned gaze of the one person who had vowed to always be there for her—her mother, Y/N, standing behind her.

"Jinx," Y/N’s voice was soft, grounding, like a lifeline in the storm. "Jinx, come on, Powder. I’m here."

The voices seemed to fade, the shadows retreating just slightly as Y/N’s presence pulled Jinx from the edge. The weight of the hallucinations still lingered, but they no longer pressed on her as suffocatingly as before.

Jinx looked up at her mother, her chest heaving, her body trembling with exhaustion and raw emotion. "I... I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just… I just can’t stop it."

Y/N knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around Jinx and pulling her close. "There’s nothing wrong with you, Jinx. You’re not broken. You’ve been through so much, but you’re not alone in this fight. I’m right here, every step of the way."

Jinx buried her face in Y/N’s shoulder, tears streaming freely now, her body shaking with the weight of everything she had been holding in. "I’m scared, Mama. What if I can’t get better? What if I lose everyone again?"

Y/N tightened her hold on Jinx, kissing the top of her head softly. "You don’t have to do this alone, Jinx. You’re loved, just as you are. You always have been, and you always will be. I’m not going anywhere."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Jinx let herself go, sobbing freely in her mother’s arms, the hallucinations no longer able to drown her in their cruel whispers. Y/N held her through it, knowing that this was just one battle in the war of her mind, but she would always be there to fight beside her.

The dim glow of The Last Drop cast long shadows across the room as Y/N and Sevika sat in a quiet corner, the clinking of glasses and murmur of patrons muffled by the thick walls. They had been talking for hours, the conversation drifting from one topic to the next, but there was an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that the fragile peace she’d managed to build with Jinx was beginning to crack.

Sevika, ever the stoic presence, leaned back in her chair, her mismatched arms crossed over her chest, a half-empty bottle of something strong sitting between them. She had been a steady presence in their lives, a protector of sorts, even if her rough exterior sometimes hid that side of her. She wasn’t one to offer reassurances or sentimental words, but Y/N knew Sevika cared—her actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

"So," Y/N began, her voice softer than usual, her gaze drifting toward the door where Jinx had been last seen, the faint sound of her laughter—hollow, manic—still lingering in the back of Y/N’s mind. "I need to ask you something, Sevika."

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "What’s on your mind?"

Y/N hesitated, the weight of the words she was about to speak sinking deep into her chest. Her gaze flicked briefly to Jinx’s empty chair before returning to Sevika’s unwavering stare. "If anything were to happen to me…" She swallowed hard, the words thick in her throat. "I need you to look after Jinx."

Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face before it disappeared. She sat up straighter, her voice low and steady. "You’re not going anywhere, Y/N. Don’t talk like that."

"I know," Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper, the concern evident in her tone. "But if the worst does happen, I can’t have her alone. She… she’s not the same. Her mind is… slipping, Sevika. I’ve seen it. The voices. The paranoia. She’s starting to unravel, and I can’t protect her from everything. I know Silco will try to help in his own way, but I’m not blind to the fact that, when things get too heavy, he’ll likely retreat to his office, locked away from it all. Jinx… she’ll need someone to stay with her when that happens."

Sevika studied her for a long moment, a rare vulnerability showing in her gaze. She didn’t have to ask the details—Y/N knew Sevika understood the silent battle Jinx was fighting inside her own head. The manic episodes, the hallucinations, the overwhelming guilt that twisted her mind. Sevika had seen it too, though she was more pragmatic about it, never one to show much emotion toward Jinx’s spirals.

Finally, Sevika nodded, her voice gruff but sincere. "I’ll keep an eye on her. You have my word. I won’t let her fall apart alone."

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her, though it was bittersweet. "I know you can’t fix her, Sevika. But just… just be there for her. She needs someone who won’t run from her when things get too dark. Someone who won’t be scared of the mess she’s become. She needs stability."

"Don’t worry," Sevika replied with a grunt, though there was a softness to her tone now. "I’m not going anywhere, either. I’ll look after her. I promise."

Y/N gave a small, grateful smile, but it quickly faded as she glanced back toward the door, knowing Jinx was somewhere in the hideout, lost in her own world. "Thank you, Sevika. You’re one of the few people I trust with her. I just… I want her to have someone when I can’t be there anymore."

Sevika didn’t offer any more words, but the weight of the promise hung in the air between them. She wasn’t one to offer comforting words, but Y/N knew that Sevika’s loyalty was unwavering. If anything were to happen, Jinx would be in good hands, even if the road ahead was uncertain.

"I’ll take care of her," Sevika repeated, her tone final, as if sealing the promise between them.

Y/N nodded, a deep sense of relief washing over her, knowing that Jinx wouldn’t be alone, no matter what happened. She could only hope that, with Sevika's help, her blue-haired girl she sees as a daughter would find her way back from the darkness before it consumed her completely.

The sky was darkening as Y/N made her way to the bridge, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. The same bridge where so many lives had been lost all those years ago—where the rebellion had taken everything from them. And now, it seemed, history was repeating itself. The distant sounds of explosions and shouting told Y/N everything she needed to know: Jinx was causing chaos again — caught in her spiralling mind, tearing through anything in her path.

As Y/N reached the edge of the bridge, she saw her in the distance. Jinx was laughing maniacally, her wild eyes flicking back and forth between the people she was tormenting. It was as if she hadn’t even noticed the growing danger around her, the imminent threat of death on every side.

Y/N’s heart twisted in her chest, but she knew she had to act fast. She couldn’t lose her now—not like this. She dashed forward, her feet pounding against the old, cracked stone of the bridge, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to close the distance between herself and Jinx.

"Jinx!" she called, her voice cutting through the chaos. "You need to stop! Now!"

Jinx’s head snapped around, her manic smile widening as she saw her mother approaching. "Y/N!" she screamed, her voice high and twisted, filled with a mix of excitement and something darker, more desperate. "Come join the fun!"

Y/N’s heart sank as she saw the look in Jinx’s eyes. The girl she once knew—the one who had loved and trusted her—was slipping further away, lost to the madness that was consuming her. But Y/N wasn’t going to give up. Not now. Not when her daughter was so close to the edge.

Without thinking, Y/N lunged forward, dodging the debris and smoke as the sound of another explosion ripped through the air. She caught sight of Jinx as she stepped too close to the edge of the bridge, unaware that the blast from a nearby explosion was heading straight for her. Y/N’s instincts kicked in just as the ground beneath them shook, sending chunks of debris flying through the air.

"POWDER!" Y/N cried out, her voice barely audible over the roar of the explosion.

But it was too late.

Y/N acted on pure instinct, her body moving before her mind could catch up. She shoved Jinx roughly, throwing her out of the blast’s path, but the explosion was too powerful. Debris rained down on them, large chunks of metal and stone tearing through the air, and Y/N felt the crushing weight of the wreckage slam into her. She crumpled to the ground, gasping for air as she felt the sting of metal against her skin.

Jinx froze, her wide eyes locking onto her mother as the dust and smoke from the explosion began to settle. The sounds of the bridge and the chaos around them were drowned out by the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. She blinked, unable to process what had just happened. Her mother, the only person who had ever truly protected her, was lying there, crushed beneath the debris.

Jinx’s mind seemed to fracture in that moment, her vision blurring as her world spun. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for the briefest moment, she saw her mother—Felicia—exactly as she had when Jinx had last seen her, dying in the same position, blood staining the cracked stone beneath her.

A flash of memory flooded her mind—the same bridge, the same loss. She had been just a child, hiding behind the wreckage, seeing her mother and father’s bodies sprawled across the ground, knowing they would never come back. And now, here she was again, staring at her mother—Y/N—pinned beneath the rubble, a cold realization settling in her chest.

“No… no, no!” Jinx screamed, her voice raw with panic. Her trembling hands reached out, desperately trying to clear the debris from her mother’s body, her heart racing with every inch of progress she made. The images of the past, of her parents’ deaths, of that devastating moment when she was left alone with no one to turn to, came crashing back in waves.

But there was no time to wallow in the memories. Y/N’s breathing was shallow, her body barely moving beneath the weight of the rubble. Jinx had no choice. She couldn’t lose her again—not like this.

“Come on, come on,” Jinx muttered to herself as she tore away the debris, her hands covered in dirt and blood, her mind racing. "You can’t— You can’t leave me too… I… I can’t do this alone."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jinx pulled the last of the wreckage away. She gasped when she saw Y/N’s face, pale and bloodied. Her hands shook as she touched her mother’s face, a sob tearing free from her throat.

“Mama!” Jinx cried, her voice breaking. "Please, don’t go. I can’t lose you."

"MAMA!"

[sturnslutz]

genesis.

well well well chris and rosy ... yk. smut and a bit of angst (???) lol. one use of y/n.

things have been tough for chris after rosy cut him off completely. last time he's felt like this was when... nevermind. we don't talk about her.

rosy's been okay. she's been focusing her time more on school work and sports and even tried out for the soccer team! she hasn't got the email yet, but she's somewhat confident she made it. what she didn't know was, chris was on the bleachers watching her play.

he didn't initially plan to come watch her, but he got finished with his classes today and didn't want to go back to the intoxicating environment of his frat house. so he decided to smoke a couple blunts and wait till dark to leave the bleachers to go back.

it was until he glanced up noticing the many girls running out onto the field that he noticed you. you looked completely normal. while he was over here a mess, over something he caused.

he didn't expect you to be so cheery and energetic when you were practicing, noting how what happened was 8 days ago. he was happy you moved on, but couldn't help but feel the emptyness in his heart.

if he still even had one.

he knew he shouldn't feel this way, but you had him wrapped around your finger. he wasn't filled with romantic feelings, no of course not, he doesn't fuck with that shit.

maybe it was the way you looked at him, or the way you moaned his name out.

when he noticed you looking around while taking your break, he gathered his stuff and quickly made his way down the bleachers and went home.

you haven't thought much about what happened. it didn't really affect you. you knew it hurt a piece of you, but a very tiny piece. not something you could really notice without a microscope.

truly, the only reason you got so "upset" was because you were drunk out of your mind and you were horny. and because he lied. besides that, you didn't give a fuck if chris fucked some other girl. you've fucked plenty, why can't he?

you heard from vey and matt how "broken" chris was and you scoffed at the fact, shrugging. "not m'fault he caught feelings." you let out a dry laugh as you mock chris.

oh boy, only if chris knew how much you didn't care. but deep down, you cared a teeny bit. maybe that's the weed talking, it couldn't be real.

chris didn't care either about what happened. he mainly cared about the look on your face you had. he knew you didn't care, but he could see right through your barbed wires. you were hurt, he knew it and so did you.

were you guys going to admit it? hell no.

that was until chris came banging on your door.

"y/n open the fuck up." he couldn't bother using your nickname. he couldn't wait.

you rolled your eyes at the voice, closing your books and laptop, adjusting your glasses as you walk over to the door.

"yes?" you say, leaning against the doorframe.

"fuck it."

those two words quickly turning into a heated kiss and chris pushed the two of you inside, shutting the door with his foot as you wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

he brought you to your bed, laying you down carefully as he threw his shirt off with no hesitation and you did the same. he took your glasses off, setting them down on your desk and more clothes came off, falling to the floor.

"fuck. missed you." he says through breaths as he kissed down your chest, rubbing your body as he does so. "fuck outta here with that bull. know you didn't, and i didn't either. no need to lie, chris." you said as you ran your right hand through his hair, never breaking your gaze with his dark ocean eyes.

he rolls his eyes at this, not putting an argument up as he reaches down into his jean pocket, taking out his wallet and putting it on his hard length that he's been pumping in front of your aching heat.

he wasted no time, sliding into you as he massaged your breasts while doing so, your moans becoming music to his ears. the headboard slamming, a clear indicator of what was happening right next door to your dear neighbors. welp.

"fuck, take it, rosy." his pace grows faster as he reaches his hand down to your clit, the pad of his thumb rubbing you furiously.

your moans grow louder as you grip your hand around his wrist, rubbing your soft fingers over his veins that were popping out. "m' close!" you say, drool spilling down the corners of your mouth as your eyes close shut as he smirks, drilling into you faster, making it his "sorry" for his actions.

"me too, wan' me to cum in you?" you nod as you clench around him, your back arching off the warm comforter, pornographic moans bouncing off the walls as he groans, halting his movements as he buries himself in you, warm spurts of white rope filling your guts.

once he was finished, he pulled out slowly, resting his dick on your clit as he watches your releases spill out of you as he collects it onto your middle finger, sticking it into your mouth, which you happily sucked off.

he pulled his finger out of your mouth with a pop as he reached to your paper towels on your desk, wiping you and himself off as he slid back on his boxers and walked to your dresser, finding you a fresh pair of panties and a new shirt and helped you put them back on.

once you got tucked in, watching his movements, he picked up your clothes and put them in your hamper, and grabbed your stanley and held the straw up to your lips muttering a soft, "drink."

once you finished drinking, he set the bottle on the table and started putting his clothes back on. "y'can stay, chris." you say softly, looking up at him. he looks back at you, his face softening, and unbuckled his jeans again, climbing into your bed, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face in your neck.

you both fell into a deep sleep without another word. vey is going to be so mad when she finds out.

@muwapsturniolo @tyummyz @m4ttg1rl @lovergirl4gracieabrams @sturniqlo @lypsiiii @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts comment to be added or removed.

[kumabeom]

saudade love 🫧

twenty seven : loving him was red ! ❤️

synopsis : actress!yn and actor!soobin are forced by their companies to date as a publicity stunt to promote their latest releases. however what’s to happen when yn and soobin spend more and more time together even though yn’s closest friend is keeping secrets.

suggestive, wc: 2.3k, victim of writers block

yeonjun stood at the entrance of blue spring, huge lit-up cursive letters above the door, ensuring that he was at the right place. which he barely had time to think about as soobin accidentally bumped into him, immediately beginning to panic. soobin smoothed out the side of yeonjun’s suit that he had bumped into.

“sorry, i wasn’t looking-“

“well obviously you weren’t.” yeonjun snarkily replied, although he couldn’t help but notice the bouquet that was in soobin’s hand. it was way too big and beautiful to not notice, “why’d you bring flowers.”

“it was so i could give them to you so that you could give them to me.” yeonjun gave soobin a stare, one that soobin didn’t catch as he was too busy walking into the restaurant, giving the waiter his name as they checked for his reservation. yeonjun followed behind soobin, who was eventually following the waiter to a more private room with only enough seating for four people. soobin put the bouquet in yeonjun’s arms, not giving yeonjun an option, instinctively, yeonjun reached out for the bouquet, not wanting the flowers to fall onto the floor. “hold up, you and your tough guy act are making me nervous.. let me go to the bathroom.”

yeonjun placed the flowers onto the table in front of him, asking the waiter for a glass of water, he felt a bit tense. he felt bad for being a bit on the meaner side to soobin, but he also couldn’t easily forgive him after all he did to you and himself. when soobin told him that he made up with you, he felt really weird, icky even. but he remembered that it was your business and not his.

yeonjun raised his head as he noticed the door opening. looking up to see you, it was then that he connected the dots. soobin hadn’t asked him out for dinner as an apology, rather he asked him out so that you and yeonjun could settle things out. he instantly stood up, pulling out a chair for you which you quietly thanked him for. these stupid flowers that soobin had made up were for him, were really for you. and you were also only now beginning to connect everything together, soobin had set you up on a dinner with yeonjun, not with him. which also explained his last minute plans to ‘take’ you out.

in all honesty you hoped that soobin wouldn’t have forced himself into the mess going on between you and yeonjun. obviously, you knew soobin felt a large weight of guilt on his shoulders for causing the separation between you and your closest friend. and it wasn’t for anything too deep, you just weren’t sure if it was the appropriate place for him to be. but noticing the set up and the way he played his cards. you couldn’t help but be a little happy with the way things were going. and you were happy that soobin was taking partial control over something that he believes that he ruined.

“hey..” yeonjun shyly greeted, however, looking at you, he couldn’t help but remember the times that you shrugged him off and practically created the distance between the two of you. you were gradually reminded of that time too, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of guilt due to your actions.

“hi.. sorry that soobin dragged you here.. i-uh.. i had no idea he was going to do that..” you apologized keeping up a tense build on your shoulders, not realizing just how stiff you were. yeonjun waved off your comment, not feeling the need for your apology.

“maybe it’s for the best that he went out of his way.” yeonjun felt himself completely committing to refueling your friendship. it wasn’t that he didn’t find anything wrong with the way you had treated him, but he missed you, and he truly believed that your friendship was something that the two of you could still save, only if the same effort was made by both sides.

“i’m sorry.. for everything.. i know that i’ve sorta been deflecting onto soobin.. blaming this entire situation on him.. but im so sorry for pushing you away instead of just talking to you.. i know what i did was wrong, i really should have talked to you..” you blurted, words rambling and scrambling their way out of your mouth. “you only ever tried to give me your help and instead of appreciating your efforts, i pushed you away…”

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of you, before yeonjun placed the flowers directly in front of you. remembering all the jokes soobin cracked before his plan initiated.

“y’know… for all the pain he caused you, you got back with him pretty quickly..” yeonjun stated, not addressing the apology you had given him, not yet. he wanted to get answers out of you. he needed to, because although the two of you were not currently doing your best together, he still cared for your wellbeing. that meant that he had been closely observing soobin’s actions and behavior in order to see if he was being genuine or not.

“were not together.. he’s just— i don’t know.. courting me.. y’know, doing all that funny stuff that couples do before getting together.” you mumbled, your words coming out a little quiet as you felt yourself becoming shy at yeonjun’s questioning and the current status of your relationship with soobin. you needed to shake that feeling off, you needed to tell yeonjun the stuff that soobin had explained to you a week prior.

you let out a tiny sigh, your eyes looking down at your plate. “that day.. the day that soobin apologized.. yeji also showed up to his place, she tried— shoving me out the way, but thankfully soobin opened up before it got too.. violent. umm.. and he invited me in, i heard his conversation with yeji.. he was talking about the way that he had already rejected her, and that he wouldn’t want her especially with the fact that she caused a rift between me and him.. then he closed the door on her and he explained the way that he had gone to meet yeji one day because— remember how i told you that i felt like yeji was spreading rumors about me..?”

and just like that. yeonjun knew where this conversation was going.. and he couldn’t say he was too surprised, he may have disagreed with you that one time, but he honestly always had a sinking suspicion about yeji. and it didn’t help when she was always bursting in on all the wrong moments. in all honesty, he felt like your suspicion was valid the second that she started fueling the dating rumors of her and soobin.

with yeonjun’s nod of confirmation, you continued your long explanation.. “well.. he also suspected the same and he ended up getting his answer, but it came with a cost.. kissing her.. well he didn’t kiss her actually, she kissed him.. and yeji had a whole set up of paparazzi waiting, who took advantage of the situation and only took pictures of them kissing..”

“and you believe that..?” yeonjun hadn’t meant for his words to slip out, but they did. and he could tell that you weren’t too happy about it. he watched as you bit the inside of your cheek, and yeonjun knew you well enough to understand that you were holding something back. and you were, but you weren’t holding back any anger, rather it was a slight anxious feeling that was beginning to grow in an overwhelming manner.

“.. ‘course i do.. i just don’t think there’s a point in lying anymore.. and it’s soobin’s words against yeji’s.. she was already fueling the dating rumors between her and soobin when they first came out..” you felt like your defense for soobin wasn’t that strong. there wasn’t anything you could really say or do to convince yeonjun. and thinking about it, there wasn’t really anything that you could use to even justify soobin. but remembering back on the day of his apology, it just all felt so real and pure.

“and what about the company.. the two of you created a real hassle for them, are they just gonna let the both of you get back together with no punishment..?” you immediately shook your head, a tiny smile coming onto your lips.

“no.. my contract is coming up and i’m not planning on going another seven years of being in that company. they’re not doing anything about it because they don’t feel like spending their resources on someone who isn’t even going to be of value anymore..” yeonjun couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit guilty. he wondered that if he had just been there for you, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this current situation. he knew acting was practically your entire life, and he couldn’t bear to see you walking away from something you loved so much.

“so then.. what are you going to do?” yeonjun questioned, his hands laying on his lap underneath the table. even with all this news coming out all at once, it was so weird. he was happy to finally be communicating with you for the first time in a long while, but he did feel a bit of a nervous tingling in his tummy as he wondered about how you would be dealing with some of these things.

“i’m gonna start taking things slowly. constantly working on projects is not the best. maybe i’ll take some time to actually settle down, especially with soobin.. and i’ll see if he’s being serious about things. then, i’ll probably try getting a manager and find a project to work on. i don’t wanna disappear forever, i just want to finally balance my life.” you smiled, already imagining a future of you, soobin, and your friends all together, celebrating another huge achievement.

yeonjun couldn’t help but return the warm grin that you gave him. a heavy weight no longer suffocating the atmosphere between the two of you, he picked up the menu, reading aloud all the fancy options that sounded delicious. and even though he never directly responded to your apology that you had begun with, you knew his response with the way he was acting.

you opened soobin’s apartment door, hoping that he was home. he had given you a spare key since the beginning of your relationship, he always said that it was in case he wasn’t at your shared dorm and maybe if you were feeling lonely, you could always make yourself at home— at his home. luckily, you spotted soobin sitting on his couch, his head immediately turning at the sound of the door creaking open, a smile immediately rising on his ends of his lips. placing the flowers, that were earlier in his hands, down onto some table that soobin had close to his door.

“hey, baby, how’d it go..?” he questioned, his cheek resting on the palm of his hand, his legs up on the couch with him. he noticed your lack in response, only noting the fact that you were removing your shoes, placing your purse on the floor with them, and progressively, making your way towards him.

you sat on the couch, taking your spot directly next to him. you were attempting your best to not show the burn that was settling in your stomach. the passionate fire that had gone off the second you left the restaurant.

you placed your lips on his, his strawberry chapstick mixing with yours. to be truthful, soobin used the same chapstick that you did, he used it as a way to remind himself of you every once in a while. he didn’t know you were coming by tonight, yet he had no complaints.

he felt as your fingers made their way into his humid hair, he fixed his position a bit, in order to make it more comfortable, your back met the couch, your head falling onto some throw pillow. which soobin had carefully guided with his hand on the back of your head, slowly removing it, bringing it to help him hold himself up. he removed his lips from yours, you couldn’t help but pout at the loss of contact, your hands reaching for his jaw and attempting to pull him back into your hold.

“no ‘hello’ or something, you just wanna get right into it..” he teased, a sneaky smirk making its debut on his face. he couldn’t help it, you were just too easy to get flustered, he couldn’t help but love the way you always seemed to shyly react to his words.

“you’re the one who set me up on our date..” you whispered, attempting to go back and return to his comfortable warmth. however, soobin loved to see you so desperate for even a small peck on his lips.

“baby, you had other things to settle, more important things.” he smiled, watching as you gave up on his lips and started targeting his jawline, a small electric feeling bolting all through your body. soobin couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped through his lips as he found you oh so adorable. he was reaching his limit, he set himself up the second he fell in love with such a beautiful person, both inside and out.

“you know what i hate.” you started, pulling yourself away from soobin’s bruising skin, his eyebrow raised. curiousity shining brightly in his eyes, you pressed a quick peck onto his lips, “i hate how you’re so perfect, it makes it impossible to not love you.. you put my friendship with yeonjun before yourself, and i really appreciate everything that you’ve done to make today possible..” you grinned.

©️kumabeom

taglist (send asks !) : @run2seob @soobadooba @mrsyawnzzn @matcha-binz @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @wonjws @yourenzoo @missychief1404 @304blur @coconutjjun @theycallmelolla @natokkiz @everythingvirgoes @pinkhor1zon @nshitae @damn-u-min-yoongi @jiweok @wonderstrucktae @thing89 @pagetammgyu @virgo-and-libra @blossommi @cheekycountesschoi @taysfairies @20-cms @soobiluvr1205 @bloomngspring @thyunzzn @hyunj00 @yanagisprettygf @tkooooop @bamgeutori @sunooqvrlsx @flowzel @zeizeisjy

an: so sorry this took me so long to get out, i honestly couldn’t think about what to write, but this chapter is kinda crucial. also happy new years everyone !!! saudade love is nearing its end 🙁

[atangledfate]

The mouse was glad that the man let it go, as she didn't wish to get Altriss involved. She knew how rough around the edges the old Doc was, and how straight forward he could be. The last thing she wanted to do was get him involved, especially with how hectic everything was. She wasn't sure why the Lemur requested no one be let in to see her, but they would honor it even if it was making the Mouse uncomfortable.

With things back to normal the facility was as busy as ever, with the various nurses going about there duties. Though Dawn herself would be happy when this chaos was over and she could rest. Holding this many clones for so long wasn't easy but, it wouldn't be the first time she'd had to do it. Of course just when she thought the menace as over she was startled by the female Lemur.

The Clone opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the head nurse, or in this case the original Dawn. She hoped a person of authority would put Miss Grimrose in her place and quell the situation but--- she had a feeling she'd be a problem.

" Hello Miss Grimrose, I am Head Nurse Dawn of Restoration Medical Staff. As you can clearly see the attack on Restoration has taken a heavy toll on its staff. Between the crash, and GUN at our doorstep we are in a state of high alert--- As such i am sorry but none one is allowed in without clearance by either a commanding officer or the doctor himself. "

She took a deep breath and gave the elder woman a stern stare down as she felt like this woman was going to be a problem.

" You are within your right to file grievance, though suing restoration would be a bad look for any firm don't you think? Your daughter will be out of our care in next 32 hours... 24 hours if she takes to her treatment. I'm happy to answer any questions concerning her condition to you but i will not let you disturb her while she is recovering... and i'm not about to interrupt Doctor Altiss's work for this either... and trust me--- you do not want to interrupt him with this. "

Dawn took another deep breath and gave Claire a firm star down with her gaze going from the usual sweet natured nurse. To one of icy steel, as she wasn't budging on the issue. She had an overbearing mother to--- and lord she felt bad for Tangle now.

" Your Daughter is an Adult Miss Grimrose, and of sound mind and body. If she doesn't want to see you right now, You should respect that... especially when you know she's ill, or injured... especially when you know she's resting and recovering. Yell at her later when she's recovered, have this argument with her when she's well and mentally prepared. But--- i won't hesitate to throw you out of this facility if you cause a scene... are we clear? "

"Just make sure to move it along as quick as you can." Twist didn't expect the doctor to rush, though didn't want him dragging his feet either. For now the lemur would take a seat, sitting stern and with his arms crossed. Seems he wasn't one to let himself relax much if at all, though he did use to be a soldier himself and still had a strong mindset for it as well.

A few minutes would pass before another lemur wearing a business suit walked in looking rather annoyed as she walked over to Twist. They would seem to be having a quiet argument before she would make her way to the nurse. "Excuse me, my name is Claire Grimrose. Knowing my daughter I'm sure she requested none see her, though I am legally put as a health care proxy which I can enforce if I think she is making poor medical decision. So, why don't you hurry along and get the doctor so we can sort this out, yes?" She spoke with a rather sweet yet threatening tone.

[kimberbohwrites]

Say Sorry (Rolan x Reader, Rolan Week Celebration)

I was not aware of Rolan week (not on social media in many places hah!) so in observation I combined a few themes into one special story.

Using Day 3 (Fight/Forgiveness) and Day 4 (New Years Day/Party) prompts with a sprinkle of the NSFW add on (trapped together/makeup sex).

It seems right to break my 4 months of writers block and not publishing for Rolan week. Massive credit to @sorceresssundries for beta reading this and giving me feedback/encouragement. HAPPY LAST DAY OF ROLAN WEEK!!!

SAY SORRY

Rolan x Reader

Word Count: 2,788

Explicit, MDNI 18+

Click here to read on Ao3 or continued under the cut

Warning: Smut (but not gratuitous smut), Enemies to Lovers, etc.

“Why are you always such an insufferable arse, Rolan?”

“Why are you such an intolerable busybody?”

Rolan spits the question back without a thought, his clever mind seemingly always ready with a quip or a jab. You groan in frustration, scrubbing your hands on your face with an exasperation that was felt by all around.

It was normal for people to see you and Rolan fighting, you’d been at it since the moment you’d met him in the Druid Grove.

It’s worse than ever now, the constant bickering putting a damper on the celebration going on around you both. You’d returned Rolan’s siblings, Cal and Lia, as well as the other capturing tiefling refugees and Deep Gnomes trapped within Moonrise Towers. It had been no small feat, considering the jail seemed to have been staffed exclusively by high level paladins and spell-casters. Not to mention you were already tired from rescuing Rolan from his own foolish attempt to save his siblings.

There were a few moments you hadn’t been entirely sure that everyone was going to make it back safely. The care of so many falling squarely on your shoulders was a burden you had attempted to manage with grace, but you were overwhelmed and anybody with a keen eye could tell.

It’s not that you’d expected Rolan to be grateful to you for the return of his family — especially after the harsh words he’d had for you when they’d been taken. Or how angry he’d been when you’d sent him back to the Last Light to sober up after the aforementioned foolishness. It would be ridiculous to imagine he was waiting to welcome you back with a warm hug.

You fight back the flush of warmth you feel at the idea of his arms around you, it’s silly, Rolan would sooner put his arms around you to strangle you than to embrace you.

It’s just you had maybe expected him to be, nicer? At least a little. But when you’d returned his siblings he’d curtly thanked you and tossed a pouch of gold coins your way, like you were his hired henchman. After a few drinks to calm down you’d circled back to him, to get a proper thank you and to give him his godsdamned gold back.

He’d had the audacity to taunt you.

“I’ve thank you once already, don’t be greedy”

Maybe it was the ale, maybe it was finally reaching your limit with his arrogance, either way that had been it for you. You just — snapped.

Which brought you back to the matter at hand. The last 20 minutes had been gone by with both of you fighting loudly at the bar, while his siblings could only look on.

“Busybody?! You’d be dead a few times over without me you idiot!!!”

“Idiot!?!?! How dare y— “

“Both of you, stop it right now or you’ll finish this fight at bottom of the lake,” Jahiera’s voice cut through the atmosphere like a keenly honed knife. Her lilting accent was beautiful, but did nothing to soften the steel in her words.

“And Rolan doesn’t even know how to sw-OOF!”

Cal’s joke was cut off with an elbow to the ribs from Lia.

Both of you pause with a jolt as the First Harper rounds on you with a light, menacing glare in her eyes.

“You are ruining the celebration, you can make it up to us by going to the basement for more wine.”

When neither of you move she waves her hand at you with a “go” to let you know she means business. With a flush of embarrassment on both of your faces you head out the side door of the inn as the party resumes behind you. Even your traveling companions seem glad for a break from you and the wizard’s constant bickering.

“She can’t boss me around, I am a wizard” Rolan mutters under his breath (so that Jaheira couldn’t possibly hear him) as his tail swishes with agitation in the night air.

“Let’s just get this over with”

You start forward with a huff, trying to keep a distance from the cantankerous tiefling. Trying not to think about how angry you are with him or how handsome he looks in the soft glow of Last Light Inn.

Handsome?! You try to shake that last thought away. You can’t seem to shake away the sense of excitement you feel though.

After a few minutes in awkward silence you arrive at the basement door, old and covered in sinister looking vines.

Rolan crosses his arms with a gloating smirk as if to say — “well go on, you push it open.”

With a roll of your eyes and a huff you shove at the heavy door trying to ignore the loosening tangle of shadow cursed vines. Feeling some sort of unknown mechanism under the plants, you take pull your hands back and kick the door the rest of the way open.

Taking no chances, you run into the basement quickly, pulling Rolan behind you before the heavy door can swing shut, you don’t want to put your hands on the door again if you can avoid it.

Having made it in quickly enough you allow the door to swing closed behind you both. A loud clanking sound follows the slam of the door, followed by a grating metal sound like old gears turning and finally the thunk of something snapping into place.

“Great, you just let the door lock behind us, didn’t you?!”

With no light in the basement, only Rolan’s hissed frustration lets you know he’s standing right next to you.

Your brain catches up to the moment, processing the feel of the mechanism and the sound the followed the door closing. A nervous flutter fills your chest as you realize that Rolan is right, you’ve locked both of you in a dark basement.

“I didn’t know it was the lock! It just felt creepy!”

“It… felt creepy?!”

“Well I didn’t see you pushing the door open!”

You hear an angry scowl in the dark and the sound familiar sound of dancing lights being cast. The light is so sudden in the heavy dark, that you flinch against the brilliance for just a moment.

“Spooked by a little magic?”

Rolan mocks you lightly with a laugh as he casts the spell up to the ceiling to illuminate the room. Though Rolan’s tone had been harsh, by the spell-light you can see on his face that he is more concerned than angry. You’d been through so much together in the short time you’ve known him, even the slight fluctuations on his face had become easy to read for you.

Before he can catch you looking, you glance away to take in the basement you’ve found yourself locked in. Moving back to the door to give it a hearty pull and push, confirming that the loud sounds you’d heard were in fact, some sort of locking mechanism. The basement is not the worst place in the Shadow Cursed Lands to be trapped with Rolan, but it’s certainly not the best either.

At some point, before the war and the curse, the Last Light must have been a bustling inn. The evidence of that lies in the decaying remnants of casks, crates, and various containers strewn about the place. Cobwebs loom heavy in the corners, cast more ethereal by the gloom that lingered on each strand of spider silk — blurred in the soft light of the simple cantrip.

“Zurgan, I bet she did this on purpose!”

Your past reverie is broken by Rolan cursing and muttering under his breath as he dusts off and tests a few mostly intact crates as chairs.

“You think she knew we’d get locked in the basement?”

“She’s more cunning that you realize”

“See this is your problem, you just don’t trust anyone” You breathe out with a frustrated sigh.

His tail shifts in agitation from where he sits on a crate and you fight the urge to grin.

“I would be more trusting, but how can I possibly trust my so-called hero to come bursting in uninvited when they’re also locked in here with me.”

You stare at him angrily. Rolan’s voice made every one of his cutting remarks that much more frustrating to you. The sound somehow stokes the fires of your anger and something deeper within at the same time, each word laced with taunting, spite, and a fire you couldn’t quite place.

“Fine, next time I’ll just let you die”

It’s not true, you know it’s not. You’re foolish when it comes to saving people and that seems to go doubly so for handsome tieflings.

“What next time? We’ll probably die trapped down here.”

“I guess it will put me out of my misery from having to deal with you any longer”

Rolan jumps up to his feet with a huff and if you thought he was capable of it, you’d swear you’d offended him with your reply. You brush the thought aside and turn your attention back to the door. The vines from the exterior don’t reach inside the darkened basement and you can see that the door is heavy and thick — the wood somehow reinforced with metal bars.

You shove against it again, heaving with all your strength and once again it doesn’t budge.

“Can’t you just magic us out of here or something?”

Rolan sighs in response.

“I used the last of my magic with the lights, I need to rest before taking a crack at it.”

“Wizards” You groan.

“It’s not like I want to spend my evening trapped down here with the most irritating do-gooder in Faerun.”

“Right, because I’m coming out the winner spending my evening with a graceless ass who needs a nap before doing anything helpful!” You shout back at him. Anger now boiling up within you and finally erupting out.

“Just how am I graceless?” The way that Rolan locks in on that — you’ve touched a nerve. Like a sprung coil he lurches up from his makeshift seat, fists clenched in fury. He moves a step closer to you, like he’s holding himself back. Your mind reels in response, the air between you feels charged with a hundred unspoken truths.

Words escape you and in your anger your mouth only opens and closes, but no words are spoken. He searches your eyes with intensity, the kind that has always attracted you to him. Just once, those beautiful golden eyes of his stray down to your mouth and you swear you can see a blush darken his skin. Before too long, you fish the bag of coins out from a pocket within your skirts and toss them back at the man.

The bag hits him square in the chest with a metallic thud and he barely catches it before it hits the ground. He examines it curiously, rubbing at the tender spot left behind by their impact with him.

“Were you raised by wolves?” He sighs, “You’re mad because I paid you for saving my siblings?!”

He takes another step closer to you, his voice raised and proud as he glares down the bridge of his nose. You note the way he squares his shoulders back defiantly.

Your heart is racing in your chest so loud you’re sure he can hear, but you step forward so that only the smallest space separates you both. You can’t tell if you want to kiss or kill him as you look up meeting his gaze.

“I’m not courier, Rolan, I don’t work for you.”

“My mistake, it’s so hard to tell, what with the way you’re always following me around, doing stuff no one asked you to do.”

It all happens so quickly, your hands are on him, bunching up the fabric of his robes as you roughly push him back against the dusty wall.

You open your mouth to tell him off but it never happens. Your eyes meet his and then you’re lurching toward one another — closing that final distance as your mouths meet in a rough kiss.

He groans, almost growls with satisfaction as you meet and you feel it too, like some missing piece has been slotted in to place the moment your lips touched.

Catching his balance against the wall his arms pull you close to him, his hands roam your body hungrily, grabbing and squeezing Your mind reels from a potent mix of anger and lust, this is the last thing you thought would happen this evening and now you can’t stop. He is clearly pleased with this turn of events, his kisses are rough but deep, almost desperate.

You remember how this all got started, you pull yourself away just enough to speak and a small whine escapes the wizard as his eyes, brimming with need, meet yours.

“Say sorry”

You pant it out. Wishing your voice didn’t give away how much you need this, need him.

He grumbles and you feel his tail coil around your leg as he leans toward you again for another kiss.

“No” You command, “Say sorry, Rolan”

As you say it your hand winds around his back to the base of his tail, where you give a small tug when you speak his name.

The effect is immediate.

His breath hitches in his chest as his hips lurch toward yours seeking contact. Anticipating this you pull back, denying him the delicious friction.

“Uh uh Rolan, say it”

“Fine,” It’s immediate and urgent when he finally complies, “I’m sorry, just please, kiss me”

The blaze between you is an inferno as you rush back together, your bodies clinging tight as you kiss. Your hands roam each other’s bodies, dipping under fabric and peeling back what can be removed without breaking their embrace. Little gasps escape you both, swallowed up by the exchange of tongues and air. His skin trembles under your touch, little shudders that let you know it’s been some time since he’s felt this, had this.

Layers of clothing are discarded on to the earthen floor with little care. One of your hands slides down the ridges on his chest with a lovers caress, toward the growing hardness you feel pressing into you.

“Wait” he urges breaking the kiss briefly.

You break away and step back, a look of concern painted across your face.

Before you can speak he reaches out and pulls you close again, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as his forehead presses against yours. His skin is smooth, except where the ridges of his horns form on his crown.

“Tell me you want this” He sounds almost downcast when he asks.

“I want you, please, Rolan,” Your heart races and you’re too turned on to care about begging.

His tail lashes out in excitement and he moves quickly, flipping your positions against the wall and pressing you back with a kiss.

He drops to his knees before you, his eyes glowing as he holds blazing contact with yours. You can feel his breath on your bare center as he pulls your leg up over his shoulder. His mouth connects and a gasp wracks your body as he drinks you in, licking and sucking with is own desperate groans. The vibrations from his sounds of delight drive you over the edge again and again.

The fight is long gone from your mind, harsh words replaced by bliss and the feeling of his skin against yours.

When he takes you against the wall in the basement, it’s quick and hard. His hips rough against yours as his tongue dances across your body, savoring your skin between kisses and nips. He finishes with a whimper, kissing you so sweetly it’s hard to believe that same mouth was spewing jabs at you not long ago.

You wrap up together on the ground in the discarded cloaks and robes, Rolan holding you tight against him as you catch your breath and await sleep or a rescue.

——

“You’d better get a drink now, there isn’t much wine left,” Jahiera laughs as she claps the shoulder of someone in the tavern. Upstairs the party has continued, people are glad for the break from the bickering.

“Wait, I thought you sent Rolan and Tav to the basement for more wine?” Cal questions, overhearing the Harper and approaching with concern.

“Don’t be silly, there’s no wine in the basement.” She laughs

Cal’s mouth hangs open as he realizes the meaning of her words, beside him Lia can only giggle at the joke.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get them out in the morning when they get it out of their system.” Jahiera smiles reassuringly with a wink at Cal before continuing on her way.

—

Rolan Tag List: @schizophrenicdiamond @crowwolf @stuffforthestash @barbwillbrb @reverieblondie @purpleasters-inseptember @cchickki @tsabhira05 @beaneburrito @klea221 @honeybee-bard @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @orangekittyenergy @scandistar @detectivesergeant @dutifullylazybread @heytheresunflower @halsinningiswinning @blckvchaos @forget-me-maybe

[glowing-blue-feathermage]

happy DADWC Friday :) sending you “You were always on my mind.” for Fenhawke

Ty for the prompt!! I've been thinking about Fenhawke post DAV, and I think I'll put a little series of snippets from my thoughts into some Fenhawke prompts on Tumblr for @dadrunkwriting! This will be #1, and I'll link the rest (so feel free to send more Fenhawke prompts, folks!) Under a cut, because Veilguard spoilers. Vague, but still there.

Night had given way to the sharp edge of a winter dawn while Fenris sat in the chair beside the frost-painted window. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, but he hadn’t slept even a moment of the long, dark night. He could feel the circles under his eyes, the skin heavy, his vision blurry with exhaustion. Even as he blinked and scrubbed his face with a hand trembling from the abundance of coffee he’d consumed, the reason for his vigil stirred in the bed several feet away. Something unknotted in Fenris’s chest as Hawke stretched his arms over his head, curled one around the pillow that should have been Fenris’s, and pulled it closer. He buried his face in it, shoulders shifting with the inhalation of breath. Just as quickly, he saw those same muscles tense, stiffen, and then the pillow was shoved aside. Hawke shot up in bed, the blankets pooling at his waist, exposing so many scars across his torso. Some Fenris remembered. Others he thought were new, but he wasn’t ready to ask. Their eyes met and it was like Hawke had taken a punch to the gut; the air rushed out of his lungs and his shoulders slumped. A look of chagrin replaced the naked fear on his handsome face and he tried to fit a smile onto his lips. “You’re still here,” he said, taking another deep breath. He’d said the same thing the morning before, and the one prior to that. “Still here,” Fenris promised again, finally rising from his chair, stiff muscles protesting. He crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge, and they looked at one another. It still felt like a dream. It had been ten years since Fenris had received that letter in Kirkwall, since he’d burned Varric’s story into his mind. Hawke, the man he loved, left in the Fade. Left behind in the one place Fenris could not reach him. And then the Blight had come, and the world had been poisoned, and the Veil ripped asunder. He’d read another tale in a letter from the Inquisitor, about another death, and another prison in the Fade, and the woman who'd freed herself from it. The Inquisitor had borne a bone-deep regret for Hawke’s loss that may not have rivaled Fenris’s, but it drove them both to the same end; into the Fade, into Nightmare’s prison. Hawke reached out for him with one hand and Fenris took it, sighing with relief when he felt the mortal warmth enclose his fingers. The tightness in Hawke’s features smoothed as well at the contact. “Ten years,” Hawke murmured, blue-gray eyes searching his face. “It seemed like…days. Weeks maybe. In there. And yet after all this time, you remembered me.” Fenris squeezed his fingers. “You were always on my mind,” he promised, feeling an answering weight in his chest. “Every day.” Hawke nodded, eyes flicking to the window. The look on his face reminded Fenris of how he’d felt just after escaping Danarius—free but unsure what to do with it, unsure if it would last. It was why panic flooded Hawke when he woke, until they touched, and why Fenris couldn’t sleep. A need to make sure it was all still real.

[mynicosensesaretingling]

It’s time to say goodbye

Bono x wife!reader

Request: “Peter Bono Bonnington with wife reader. I saw a video of Bono and Lewis doing their last hot lap ever and it's a bittersweet feeling for everyone. For more than two decades he's been with Merc and now leaving the team and having his last race. Everyone thought he would be with Merc forever. But Bono is happy that he's doing what he loves and he has to make ado with it. Up to you how it goes. Angst, bittersweet, 😭 Thanks!! :))”

Warnings: None. Written in my notes app.

Notes: Hi there , thank you so much for your request and sorry for the long wait! Lewis and Bono as a duo mean everything to me and I could still break out sobbing just thinking about them. Hence, writing this was a little difficult for me but I still hope you like it!!

———

The air in the Mercedes garage was thick with emotion. The soft whir of tire guns and quiet murmurs of engineers filled the background, but all of it felt distant, like the hum of life moving on in the face of something much heavier. This was it. The last race for Lewis Hamilton with Mercedes. The end of an era.

Bono stood quietly by his station in the garage, arms crossed, watching as Lewis suited up, preparing for his final race with the team. It was hard to fathom, even now. For years, the two of them had been a fixture at Mercedes—Lewis with his unmatched talent, and Bono with his unwavering support, a constant presence on the radio. They’d been through so much together, victories and heartbreaks, and now, here they were, at the end of it all. A chapter closing that no one could ever have truly prepare for.

You stood beside him, your presence a quiet comfort in the storm of emotions swirling in the pit. Bono hadn’t said much about his thoughts on Lewis decision. Keeping his thoughts to himself ever since the announcement, but especially now you could feel the weight of his thoughts in the silence that had settled between you two. He’d always been the calm amidst the chaos of F1, the steady voice of reason when everything else might have seemed close to crumbling. But today, you saw something different in his eyes. His steady gaze sparkling with a mixture of pride, sadness, and a deep sense of gratitude. 

“I never thought I’d see this day,” you whispered, leaning towards your husband as your gaze shifts to the car where Lewis was currently checking his helmet. Bono exhaled slowly, his shoulders tense as he finally spoke, his voice low but steady. “Neither did I.” You knew exactly what he meant. Lewis Hamilton, the face of Mercedes, had been a part of the team since its most crucial years, the driver who had helped elevate them to new heights. And Bono, who had been by his side every step of the way, probably never imagined the day would come when Lewis would step away.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind outside the garage, the distant hum and buzzing of fans and the track. Then, Bono turned to you, his expression softening with something tender as his eyes found your form. Studying his face you mentally noted how tired he looked. The season hat really left its trace on everyone. 

“I’m happy for him,” he admitted, his voice breaking the quiet. “He’s doing what he loves. And it’s time for him to find the next chapter. I just... I didn’t think I’d have to say goodbye to this.” Bono’s eyes left your face in order to settle on the driver instead. You nodded, understanding the depth of his words. Saying goodbye to something or someone you loved—something that had shaped your entire world—was never easy. And for Bono, this was more than just another race or end of a season. It was the end of a partnership that had spanned years, a bond forged in the fire of competition, of shared victories and defeats.

“Bono, you’ve been with him every step of the way. You’ll always be part of that journey, even if it’s not the same.” Your hand found his upper arm in a reassuring gesture. You could feel his muscles loose at least some of the tension underneath your warm touch. 

Your husband gave you a small, weary smile, his eyes distant as he watched Lewis step out of the garage, helmet tucked under his arm. The weight of the moment pressed in on him, but he never let it fully show. He’d always been the one to hold it together for others, to guide the team with a steady hand.

“I’ve had the privilege of being by his side,” he said softly. “But... I’m going to miss it. I’ll miss this. I’ll miss him.” You gently squeezed his arm to get him to look at you. “And he’ll miss you, too. You know that.”

Bono’s gaze flickered to you, and in that moment, the world seemed to pause around you both. His hand reached for yours, toying with your wedding-band before lacing his fingers with yours. A quiet affirmation of the life you shared together outside of all the noise and the spectacle. It was something real amidst the chaos of the racing world.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I would have done without you through all this.”

You smiled gently. “We’ve got through it together.”

As the team lined up, preparing for the final race of the season, Lewis’ final lap with Mercedes, you and Bono made your way to the pit wall. The engines roared to life, and the moment hung in the air, electric and fragile. You both knew that this was the last time Lewis would take to the track as a Mercedes driver. The last time Bono would call out his familiar commands over the radio. The last time they’d share that unspoken connection that had defined so much of their careers.

But it wasn’t just the end of Lewis’ time with the team—it was the end of a chapter for Bono, too. After so many years of guiding him, of being the voice that kept him grounded during the most intense moments, he had to come to terms with the fact that things were changing. The finality of it all felt like a punch to the gut.

The final lap came and went, the roar of the crowd a distant echo in the background, muffled by the intensity of the moment. Bono stood at his workstation, headset on and eyes fixed on the screen, his gaze unwavering even as the reality of the situation settled in. This was it. The end of a chapter. The end of an era. His hand quietly found yours again, you could feel the tension radiating from his body, the weight of what he had just witnessed settling into his bones.

"He's done," Bono muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice a bare whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines. 

You could see it in his eyes—the quiet realization that this moment, this pivotal end, was something he’d never truly been prepared for. Bono had always been a silent pillar in the whirlwind of racing, but now, in this final moment, you could see him allowing himself to feel the enormity of it all. You squeezed his hand gently.

"He’ll always be part of your story and your friendship will surely find its place in whatever comes next." you said softly. Bono looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. He gave you a small, grateful smile, his eyes filled with a bittersweet mixture of love for the past and uncertainty for the future. "I hope so. I really do."

The applause in the garage began to swell as the team gathered around, congratulating Lewis, though the air still felt heavy with unspoken words. Bono turned slightly, his gaze scanning the pit, where the engineers were busy with final tasks. The camaraderie, the collective effort that had been the lifeblood of the team for so many years, was tangible. But now, the winds of change were starting to blow through the garage. 

Bono’s lips pressed together in that familiar line of quiet contemplation. The world around you felt like it was moving forward at a pace that he wasn’t entirely ready for, and you could tell that despite the years of stability, Bono was grappling with this transition. You understood that more than anyone. 

“I don’t know what’s next,” he said after a pause, his voice filled with a quiet uncertainty that you hadn’t heard from him in years. "But I know I’m not alone. Not with you by my side." You leaned into him then, feeling the tension of the day finally ease slightly as he held you close. "Never alone," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw, the comforting softness of the gesture grounding him.

And there, amidst the fading echoes of victory and the melancholy undertones of the end of an era, you both found something to hold onto. It wasn’t just the end of Lewis’ time with Mercedes—it was the beginning of a new chapter, not only for the team but for Bono and you, too. No one could predict what the future held, but with each other, there was something you both knew for sure: you would face it together.

As the final checks were made and the garage began to empty out, Bono turned to you once more. His hand finding your waist, gently pulling you into his side. “I think we’ve earned ourselves a proper rest, don’t you?” You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the day finally lift as you walked side by side out of the garage, towards whatever the future would hold. “Sounds perfect,” you agreed, knowing that no matter what came next, it was something you would face—together.

[judiciously-ezekiel]

Ezekiel almost couldn't bear the look that crossed Pandora's face at his admission, yet he didn't look away; he couldn't look away. Not when he needed to come to terms with what he'd thought and done once upon a time. He could have been a better father, been faithful to his moniker that was bestowed once upon a time, yet he failed– watching his son, their boy, cross the line into dangerous territories of never being able to come back from his decisions. He watched as his wife relished her chaos up close and personally– feeding into the despair that her curse caused on the Princes as they scrambled to find purchase in the mortal realm that they didn't belong in. All because their King stole his daughter from them. His eyes closed the moment that Pandora's hand slipped onto his face, turning so he could press his lips onto her palm. He almost couldn't comprehend that even after all these years and distance, if something had happened to the witch... his Panny still loved him so much so that she couldn't bear living without him. "You are my light, my love. We've both done uncharacteristic things these past centuries, but nothing stopped me from believing deep down that we'd meet again. This life or the next, and nothing will ever change that." Zeke listened to his wife speak with such fondness in his heart that only beat for her, his hands squeezing hers between his gently. "You are my wife, my whole soul. If you believe me to be strong, then I believe that you, with all my heart, are not so far from who you were before this tragedy either. You may have ruled with a strong hand over the coven, but you also had compassion within you that was dimmed when our daughter perished, but it was not snuffed out completely." He thought back on the interactions that he'd had with most of the Princes, and Ezekiel knew that even if they were told that they would never return home regardless of their King, their powers were never given back... they wouldn't blame Pandora. Not one of them would blame her, but instead blame their King.

"There is a way to give them back their power, Pandora. We can break the curse," the words falling from his lips quietly, almost as if he were afraid he'd spook her with the idea, but with what he felt from her earlier when her secret came to light... Pandora was already thinking about it. She just needed an affirmation. "Our boy is on the cusp of losing himself completely, and while he might not like the Princes being redeemed... he needs to see that rage doesn't last. Anger only leads to despair and the wrong people being brought into the crosshairs. You are not severed from your mercy, my love, not with the sorrow you feel if the Princes never forgave you if they knew your truth." He held her hands firmly in his still, bringing her knuckles to his face to gently press his lips to them. "While I understand why you placed the curse onto the King as you did, hurting him by way of his children just as he hurt you... we can't let it go any longer. It's not hurting him; it's only hurting those boys just as he is hurting them now in their vulnerable state. They may have been complacent and let him hurt Celeste, but they were merely following the rules of their leader, their father. If there's one thing I know about you, I know that you've gotten close to Greed through all these years, regarding him so highly, and you know Wrath loved Celeste when we couldn't be around her... I know about the others." His gaze never left his wife's face as he began to list all of the information he'd been able to glean in a small amount of time. "Pride, who's trying so hard to stay away from his King's influence because he knows it's wrong, doesn't wish to hurt anyone he cares about any longer. Envy who's trying to do right by his Queen and protect his happiness while breathing hope back into us and Wrath. Lust, who's stolen away the object of his King's ire and left everything he's known behind to keep Azriel safe. Sloth came out of hiding to support Wrath, whose life was colored by the light of what their King said he was. Gluttony who had gone through imaginable pain and suffering just to keep his brother safe and defied his King for once in his life." A sadness washed over him again, knowing that without breaking the curse, the Princes would surely perish against their King. No matter what magical assistance the Firsts gave them. "Those boys deserve mercy. Even if there was no connection between you and Greed or Wrath and Celeste... they don't deserve to be served up to the King on a silver platter under the guise that they have a chance against him without their abilities. We cannot let them die, my love, or else we are no better than him. Let me help you break their curse."

Rhys was another problem she placed on the back burner for the time being, once the war reached an end and her daughter made the grand entrance she wished will take place, she would handle the teetering mind of her son. The coven's decimation meant starting from the ground up and her boy wasn't ready if he couldn't gain control of his temperament. Pandora never agreed with her husband's statement more than she did in that moment, yes, they both have changed drastically. A coven no longer rested at her feet, her children were not at her side, her husband once thrown to the streets and turned an outsider of his own family. She was spiteful, angry, and lacking all sense of direction with her choices. Pandora feared his reaction from the second it exited her lips. Fearing that, coming from a place of her own self-doubt and a repeat of the past, Ezekiel will give her the same look when he stood in their doorway on his way out. A mixture between mortification and absolute disgust. When neither emotion came from him now, Pan assumed she was imagining it through false hopes, but Zeke promised a fix to the problem and that assurance is all she needed. His gentle contact nearly brought the witch to her knees if she brushed aside the mutual secrets component of the ritual just to grant him access glancing at her the way he did. But no, his secret...the more her darling beloved revealed about the suffering he endured watching his entire family deteriorate, widened the hole in her heart created by Celeste's death that much larger. The centuries within Zeke's absence passed and with it, the memories of how happy the First Family once was fading each day. Losing their little girl meant losing the glue holding them all together. Arriving home from Hell to deliver the news quickly escalated an anger she soon directed at her husband in the midst of their grieving. She dragged down Rhys with the quest stitching together the curse and fed his rage. They were a team, an unstoppable force not even Ezekiel could slip in the middle of. His proclaiming love warmed her heart before the man's true secret shot an arrow straight through it. Pandora couldn't conceal the devastation along her expression, taking the moment to watch his binds untangle and rest in a heap at their bare feet. "My darling..." The sentence was all she can whisper in the moment, one hand reaching over to place against his chest and the other palm gently cupping the male's prominent jawline, "I know in all the ways I have hurt this family in my pursuit. We were grieving our daughter and separating my emotions for the sake of revenge was the only way I thought I could survive being without her. And I was so afraid that I would lose myself in the process that I lost sight of who I was doing it for. But losing you, Ezekiel, would have given me little choice but joining at your side." Pan dropped both of her hands to clasp his tightly, squeezing them to ground the married couple, "Your strength is the reason you are here today with me, it is the reason you have found growing close with the Princes. To give them the parent they deserve just as you were always meant to be. You may feel as if you have lost a grasp on our children, but you have never stopped being a father. Nothing will ever erase that, my dearest. You, Ezekiel, you are my strength, and I haven't once stopped loving you. The father of my children, my soul...my husband."

[hanaasbananas]

on arranged marriages

it's funny. mums been in the whatsapp rishta groups for years looking for someone i might marry. she'll send me a profile once in a while and ask what i think, if she should contact his parents or not and most of the time i say yeah, alright. nothing ever comes of it though, so when my dad calls me after work and says mum spoke to him about a rishta she's thinking of moving forward with i'm intrigued, but not particularly invested.

mum's really picky, i tell him. this probably won't go anywhere but we may as well see it through, right? dad is hesitant, but agrees when i say that i do want an arranged marriage.

but then things do move forward and the next thing i know, he is going to visit us with his parents. on the day, my uncle picks me up from work so i don't have to walk. you don't have to make a decision today, he tells me. this is just a first visit. my cousin helps me get ready and i am reminded of the similar scene in the movie vivah. nothing has to happen today, she tells me you guys are just meeting today. the thought does nothing to settle the nerves roiling in my stomach and i try to go back to my room three times instead of going downstairs until my cousin practically shoves me down them.

i enjoy meeting his mum, even though she immediately clocks my nervous clasping and unclasping of my bracelet. she hugs me as if i'm her own daughter and is so happy to see me that my heart lightens. eventually, we go to the other sitting room where the men are sitting-where he is. my nerves flare up again but he doesn't look up from his hands clasped in his lap when we walk in.

too nervous to speak, i only answer say anything when a question is directed at me and try to sneak quick glances at him across the room instead. his mum catches me more than once and smiles knowingly at me. we meet each others eyes only once for a split second and it makes my heart pound rapidly in my chest. when he speaks, i force myself to look at anyone other than him. he has a nice voice, my brain whispers and i bite my tongue, hard.

they leave, and we say they'll know our decision after a couple months. i know what my answer will be though. later, when they get back home and his mum calls my mum, i stand outside the door to eavesdrop, my heart in my throat but i can't stop my grin when i hear his mum say he's happy to go ahead with this, because there was a part of me that still worried he'd see me in person and go NOPE. she suggests that we get to know each other over the next few months and i silently beg my mum to agree. i know that where she is from, in her tradition, the bride and groom speak once or twice before the wedding if they're lucky, and that things are still done that way back home, but just as im gearing up to argue against that, she agrees. it's a miracle!

of course, chronically shy person that i am, the thought of our first conversation taking place on our mums phones is terrifying so instead i ask to get his number so we can text first. she sends his number but theres no way i'm texting first so i send them my number and thankfully he gets the hint and texts me first. i hope you don't mind me texting, i'm just shy still. i say. that's fine, he reassures me. we have time.

time, as it turns out. flies. it doesn't take long to move from texts to voice notes, to phone calls. he really does have a nice voice, i find out, and its not as awkward as i thought it would be. i didn't actually think that we'd talk that much, maybe once a week at most and yet...

i almost cried last night because we were talking about going to Pakistan together next summer and I remembered how when I was a teenager I used to daydream about going to Pakistan with my spouse and visiting all my family with him.

then over the years I sort of gave up on that idea because I'm not the type to go out and meet someone and in the desi arranged marriage market whose gonna choose me?

and now I'm 26, and we talk multiple times a day and when I catch myself thinking oh he isn't really interested, he's just talking to me because he has to to get to know me, why would anyone actually like me?? I find myself countering with well actually if that was the case why would he start calling you every day? how come you went from one call a day ending with 'i'll talk to you tomorrow' to him calling you on his way home from work and 'i'll call you after dinner' when he gets home to a THIRD call after maghrib right before bed? those are not the actions of a man who is uninterested!!

hanaas insecurities- 0, hanaas logic- 1

anyway idk where this is going except i never thought i'd be this excited and happy when it came time for me to get married but here i am and it is SO SCARY to realise that i am maybe possibly (definitely) falling for him but wow, and like? (literally the other day i was telling him a story from when i was a kid and the story had such a silly ending but it was unexpected and he laughed really hard in surprise and it made my heart almost explode i swear its so fun to make him laugh)

but like there's SO MANY logistics i'm restarting my driving lessons so i can pass before i move and i literally just got my new job in april but i'm gonna have to give my notice lmao and i've already started looking for new jobs but GAH so much stuff is happening and yet at the same time i feel so calm about it all it's wild i'm just vibing trying to enjoy my summer holidays and having the highlights of my day being when he calls lmaooo

[calamitoustide]

my chest hurts and im obsessing over this video of little me my parents showed me earlier today and how my mom said that my laugh used to be so contagious it was impossible for anyone to not laugh too when they heard it and then i turned thirteen and it just stopped but she misses it. i think i miss it too.

[neyafromfrance95]

i'm so sorry to see that you're being vagueposted about for your sylki takes. it may be true that how you see sylki is a bit different than a certain section of the fandom, but that doesn't at ALL mean that you shouldn't be allowed to have your own takes! fwiw, i followed you bc i actually agree with and really enjoy ur perspective on sylki. i was getting frustrated with how many people seem to view this ship in a super heteronormative way and want sylvie to basically become a housewife, and i was so glad to find a blog that felt the same way. this fandom has become tiring tbh with how many people are now freaking out that sylvie hasn't immediately started having lokis babies in s2, and i really wish that people would at least leave room for others to have their own opinions!

this! that section of sylki shippers do not leave any room for you to have your opinions! they act like a fanon police controlling what you say in your posts on your blog!

and god forbid that what you say opposes their own hcs and takes, if you commit this unforgivable sin of having a take that is different from theirs, you better be ready for some good old online group harassment! they will make you feel like you are not welcome in this fandom, they will make sure that you are hurt, they will alienate you and force you out!

but no, you are the bad guy for jokingly calling a fandom in general "vanilla" and saying (after several disclaimers that it's your personal opinion) that when it comes to canon, you don't think that sylvie should be all about being loki's housewife.

at this point i honestly hate this fandom. there are some decent sylkis out there and i love the ship itself, but a big portion of the fandom has simply sucked all the joy for the series out of me. i wonder if they realize what the consequences of their behavior could be? back when i said (in my blog) that i don't think sylvie having babies is a compelling completion of her story in canon, and this bunch came to my blog to harass me for my takes, i was in a very *very* bad place already, and the space that was supposed to be my escape pretty much turned on me and added up to an already depressing state i was in.

and bfr anyone says that it's just a fandom wank, let me tell you that these people know how to be really cruel, whether they realize it or not, their behavior is simply cruel. they don't just argue in favor of their opinion, they shit on you personally, get aggressive towards you personally, make you feel like you "can't sit with them", ect. it gets really creepy and ugly.

and the thing is, i never addressed anyone specific in my posts, i never said *this* person and *that* person have shitty hcs/takes, i never even vaguely hinted at a distaste towards the hcs/takes of someone specific, but they accuse me of pointing fingers. when i said that i didn't think canon sylvie having babies would work, i never said anything about sylki babies in fanfiction, yet people accused me of pointing fingers at the fic writers. and they would come to my blog, harass me in the replies and asks, and talk about how despicable i am in their own blogs, and it went on and on for a while.

thanks for your nice words, anon, they are uplifting. and to those who can't stand me so much, don't worry, i'm going to leave this fandom once the series is finished. i hope you are satisfied that being a shitty, gatekeeping, narrow-minded, egocentric person worked for you! but don't ever feel entitled to complain about how lokius shippers treat you.

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

Something profoundly funny about getting snap memories where I adore and dote on my candle tattoo when I look back on it today as one of my worst decisions

[kit-williams]

Congratulations mine I think is coming up in November?

Like I think I said in another post just that this is a nice cafe we all wandered into from our other fandoms and with most of us being older we've all done the fandom song and dance of trying to play nice.

But the benefit of going into an already fucked up (and yeah everyone is right there is a certain barrier to entry with the books and tabletop)

Honestly Moody I got to thank you for giving me such down bad brain worms that I had to get them out on the page thus leading to Brother Roland being born (I guess my true anniversary for being in the writing half of fandom will probably be when I first posted Roland's fic)

It's very funny you mentioned how fandoms like to say how great they are and here we're all like "look at how evil our blorbos and meow meows are!" I mean any of us literally have to just point to a night lord and be like "this is the community skrunkly" (no disrespect to those who dislike night lords it's just 9 times out of 10 being thirsty over a night lord is common) but yeah just the fact that no one is 'good' also makes it a fandom that requires some level of self reflection and basically I'm saying that we're pretty self aware which is great

Yeah also everyone's additions to this post are also reasons why I'm so glad I was finally inspired enough to actually write for this fandom

Waow I guess I can't interact with you given I Stan Konrad and Titus and mixed Geneseed OCs (lol)

To be honest it still amazes me how after (August 21st will be the anniversary!!) a year of writing for warhammer 40k, the 'everyone is a cannibal and a warmonger series', how this place has genuinely been the kindest internet hovel I’ve found.

Like I’ve been in fandoms that were screaming oh look how nice we are! We’re so kind and love to be fwiends, we have mile long caard DNI lists to keep our fandom safe ❤️ also we’ll stalk you and send you gore on anon if you act up at all, dox you too because why not ❤️

I have zero plans to stop writing for this but honestly a huge portion of why I do is because talking with you guys is so fun. I like being able to chat and listen to your ideas without having fear of accidentally saying something and having my address leaked.

also brb putting 'DNI Konrad supporters, TItus supporters, Fulgrim supporters, Drukhari kin, and mixed geneseed legion OCs' into my bio and seeing how long until someone takes me seriously

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight Series’)

For the first time in a long time, Simon feels as if he’s walking on eggshells

He’s 6’4”, easily over 200 pounds of bulking muscle, strikes fear into the heart of each and every enemy he comes across (should they live to tell the tale that is), and yet he feels as though he’s tiptoeing, practically dancing around the issue he refuses to address

Yet you make him feel this way

It’s been months now, of this dance you still haven’t realized you’re apart of, shining on centre stage under the constant spotlight of Simon Riley’s attention, rather than one of the background performers as you seem to believe

He feels as though he’s done everything he can to get the point across to you, other than literally getting down on one knee and asking you those four special words he can’t seem to get himself to speak out loud

As easy as it is to pretend you two truly are husband and wife ‘til death do you part, he’s instead having to watch you leave base in exchange for your lonely flat each night, reminded of the fact that he’s not ballsy enough to just come out and say it to you

You make the Lieutenant nervous for fucks sake, something he hasn’t truly felt in so long he’s grasping for straws, searching for a life raft in these uncharted waters to help him stay afloat

That’s part of why he’s so confused when Gaz finally joins him and Soap in the gun range, landing a friendly smack across the taller man’s broad shoulders, saying something about how he’s ‘really happy for you LT, finally properly asked her, aye?’

“What are you goin’ on about?” Ghost practically grunts out, readjusting the weapon against his shoulder as he glances through the scope of his gun, only partly interested in what the Sergeants answer is, that is until he hears him mention your name

“Just saw her at her desk, talkin’ about how she has a wedding this weekend-” Gaz has barely finished his sentence before Ghost is whipping his skull clad head around, shoving his weapon into Soap’s arms, and beelining out of the armoury towards you, leaving a pair of chuckling Sergeants behind him

They’ve never seen their Lieutenant so whipped before. And the fact that you don’t even know you have this beast of a man wrapped around your dainty little finger makes it all the more entertaining for them

They totally haven’t taken bets on how long it takes for him to break and finally confess his feelings, and Price definitely didn’t put money down on it either

Ghost may as well float into the room on a cloud he’s feeling so overjoyed at the idea of finding you sat at your desk all pretty, chit chatting away with colleagues about the wedding you’ve finally realized he intends to give you, taking all the pressure off of him

Instead, he rounds the corner and overhears the last tidbits of your conversation, pretending as though his stomach doesn’t drop out of him and onto the floor when he realizes you’re telling your desk mate about your sisters wedding this weekend

He should’ve know better, it wouldn’t be that easy

“-not that I’m embarrassed to go without someone. That I don’t care so much about.” He hears you explain, failing to have noticed him behind you quite yet. “God knows it’s been ages since I’ve gone on an actual date anyways. But this is the first time I’m a bridesmaid, and my sister keeps saying I’m apparently the only bridesmaid without a date-”

“Well aren’t you going to bring your husband?” Your colleague asks, cutting you off. Just like everyone else on base, she knows thinks you are in fact Mrs Riley, for all intents and purposes. You open your mouth to correct her and tell her you don’t have a husband, when a deep voice comes up behind you and speaks first.

“‘Course she is.” Ghost replies for you, coming to stand behind you in your chair, sneaking a gloved hand onto your shoulder to offer a slight squeeze of acknowledgment. You lean your head back to glance up at him, offering a soft smile that melts his heart more and more each time he’s lucky enough to see it, to be the reason for it. Sensing she’s now the odd one out, your coworker quietly excuses herself and goes to find someone else to talk water cooler gossip with.

“Oh Ghost! Hi!” You say, reaching your own hand up to squeeze his in return, smile widening when you notice the crinkles next to his eyes that you hope mean he’s smiling as well under the mask. “Oh, you really don’t have to. I mean- I wouldn’t want you to waste a day off just to sit through a stranger’s wedding for who knows how many hours. I barely want to go.”

You try to joke about it, but this really has been causing you unnecessary stress. Your sister apparently doesn’t have enough wedding planning on her plate as it is, seeing as she has enough time to constantly pester you about whether you’ve secured a date yet or not, despite your answer always being no. She knows it’s been forever since you’ve dated anyone seriously, and that finding a date will be more of a chore than showing up without one and enduring your relative comments and questions.

Each time you told her no though, your mind wandered to the tall, dark, muscular man who liked to call himself your husband, imagining the looks on your family’s face if you were to show up with Ghost on your arm. But you never bothered to ask him, not wanting to force him into extending his kindness and charade of a happily married couple outside of work hours.

“I’d be with you for those ‘who knows how many hours?’” Ghost asks, quoting you, watching as you offer him a simple nod in return. “Then that’s the farthest thing from a waste o’ time in my books, love.”

As simple as that, the plan was set. Ghost would be your date to the wedding that weekend.

Now, Ghost was used to not having very much to look forward to in life. He could look forward to a hot shower occasionally, look forward to good pub food instead of mess hall dinners, look forward to a chance to sleep in a little later, simpler things of the sort.

But when you came into his life, he was suddenly looking forward to equally simple, but different things. He looked forward to reading your cute replies to his good morning and good night texts (he still never misses a single one, all these months later), looked forward to seeing your sweet smile greeting him when you arrived to work, looked forward to hearing your pleased hum when you took your first sip of whatever drink he prepared you that day. Essentially, he looked forward to seeing you.

Now though, he feels as if this weekend cannot come soon enough, finding himself practically giddy he’s looking forward to spending more time with you off base so much, feeling like a kid who’s itching to get their hands on their new Christmas gifts.

When he arrives at your flat almost a half hour too early (he just couldn’t wait anymore lovie, you can’t blame the poor man), and you open the door to greet him, he doesn’t think it’s fair to compare this to a gift under the Christmas tree.

No. It’s more like he’s won the goddamn lottery.

Standing before him, is the most beautiful, breathtaking vision he’s ever laid eyes upon in all his years. He half wonders if his knees are legitimately beginning to wobble where he stands, he feels so weak in the knees as he gazes upon you in your doorway. It’s still just you, the same woman he’s been seeing every day and dreaming of each night.

But you don’t look like you have every day these past months. Your hair is styled differently, your make up is a little more done up, and the thing that’s really got his mind reeling, is that instead of your regular work attire, you’re wearing a dress so stunning he half wonders whether or not you are the bride this evening. There’s no possible way someone so beautiful is expected to stand on the sidelines tonight, expected to be anyone apart from the star of the show, the centre of his the world.

You don’t take much notice of the way Ghost fails to greet you properly, standing outside your door and practically gawking at you, seeing as you’re preoccupied doing the same to him. His usual fatigues and black everything have been swapped out for black dress pants, a white button up shirt (your eyes definitely do not linger on the top three buttons being left undone, nope, not at all) and a black blazer, matching black surgical mask in exchange for the typical skeleton mask.

You two blushing, bumbling idiots in secret love manage to pull yourselves together enough to make the drive up to the venue, the car ride filled with laughter, stories, and too many stolen glances to count, each of you wishing you could pull the car over somewhere and jump each others bones instead.

At the venue, you go through the obligatory introductions with your family, simply so they couldn’t say you didn’t say hello at least once throughout the busy night, only partially intent on ignoring them later on. They’re left understandably stunned at the mention that the man beside you is your husband, and when your family members begin unloading question after question, the two of you manage to find a quick excuse each time to dash off, giggling and holding onto the other as you weave the growing crowd of guests, all too proud of your little inside joke.

You regretfully tell him that you’ll have to leave him to sit alone throughout the ceremony, though he insists you shouldn’t worry about it, lifting your spirits momentarily when he jokes that you should focus more on not tripping during your walk down the aisle, before the both of you are left bright red in the face at hearing him talking about you walking down an aisle, as if you don’t pretend to be married every day to begin with.

He truly doesn’t mind having to sit on the tiny foldable chairs that make up the seating for the ceremony, it’s only a small portion of the evening after all. And besides, his eyes certainly aren’t on the couple reciting their vows up at the altar. No, his gaze is on one person and one person only. From the moment the music kicked in and pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen stepped out to walk the aisle in their matching attire and matching smiles, his eyes have been locked on you, just as yours have been locked on his.

His size certainly helped you pick him out of the crowd with more ease, finding him amongst the familiar and unfamiliar faces instantly, as though gravity was pulling your gaze in his direction alone. Later on, neither of you could even correctly point out amongst the groomsmen whose arm you were holding on to as you walked, attention only focused on each other.

Even as you stood up front, listening to your sister and new brother in law profess their love for the other, you tried your best to appear as though you were paying them your full attention, considering you were standing up at the front and all. But it was as though you could literally feel Ghost’s eyes on you the entire ceremony, unable to stop your eyes from straying towards him more times than was surely appropriate, feeling the heat of a blush creep over your cheeks every time you saw how devastatingly handsome he was today.

By the time the newlyweds are marching back down the aisle past their cheering loved ones, wedding party in tow, your eyes are no longer pretending to look anywhere other than at him. And Simon is looking back at you, but his mind is growing preoccupied, thinking of how he can finally ensure you’ll let him walk you down the aisle now.

Because in the glove compartment of the very car he drove you up here in, only inches away from your knees the entire drive, he’s tucked away a small little box, containing the exact ring you chose from the jeweller all those weeks ago. He carries it with him everywhere, eager for the moment, the opportunity to be lucky enough to truly call himself your husband and slip the band over your finger as his wife.

And he’s decided that tonight is the night he tells you.

The night he tells you this has never been a joke to him, never been anything apart from what he really wants to be true from the moment he saw you.

To call you his wife.

[satoruan]

r/ATIA for WHAT!? w/Jujutsu Kaisen  

More: Fem!Reader, dark & explicit content, dubcon, piss kink, necrophilia, manhandling, choking, coercion, teacher x student, power dynamics, blackmail, threesome, Cuck!Gojo, drinking. unedited

Featuring: Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Gojo Satoru

PART 2

r/fuckingmystudent posted by u/Nanami_Kento 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to recall the events that lead you to get your brains fucked by your professor. He caught you filming a video for your Onlyfans in his class. So, he took your phone and asked you to meet him in his office after class. There, he forced you to unlock your phone and show him what exactly you were recording. It was utterly humiliating and watching him, watch you, finger yourself with a pen underneath the desk. After, he’d told you that he’d tell the dean you were getting off on his voice lecturing you unless you did something for him.  Which led you ass up on his desk, trying your hardest not to make a peep as his fat cock slammed in and out of you. “Now, what I'm going to do is take out my cell,” He grunts, rolling his hips deep into you. “And record you slamming your ass onto my cock so if you decide to open that sweet mouth of yours, I'll have no choice but to send this video to mommy and daddy back at home, understand?” You nod, tears forming in your eyes from the threat or incoming orgasm, probably both. “Say ‘Yes, Professor!’ and maybe I'll send you the video so you can post it and feed yourself this week.” 

r/peeinginher posted by u/choso_Kamo 

Ankles beside your head, Choso had you folded in half as he pounded into your swollen cunt. He’d been going for what felt like hours and you were about to reach another peak when he abruptly stopped. “Choso?” you rasp, voice raw from screaming. “What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, staring up at him as he stares down at your glistening cunt. He just tilts his head and continues to stare. You’re about to ask again when he blinks from whatever trance he is in and starts thrusting in and out, slower this time. “Nothin’ baby, jus’ gotta piss.” “T-then stop and go, hm–” you gasp when he pushes your legs down further. “Stop and go to the bathroom Cho.” you try to pull his hands off your calves. Choso tightens his hold and grins down at you. “C-Choso?” “Why would I get up when I have a perfectly capable toilet right here.” Is all you hear before you suddenly feel a foreign warmth in your cunt followed by wetness trickling out your pussy.  

r/askinghertoplaydead posted by u/Ryomen_Sukuna 

“You wan’ me to do what?” You ask, staring up at him from your position between his legs. “I asked you to stop suckin’ my cock and hang off the bed like a drugged-up bitch on her last life.” He stares at you with a look that tells you he isn’t truly asking. “B-but ‘Kuna—” He grabs your throat. “Don’t you wanna make me happy, hm?” You grab the hand around your neck. “Mhm.” “This ‘ll make me happy, little girl,” He plants a firm kiss on your lips. “Now do as I told you, actually I’ll do it, I know you aren’t the best at following orders.” He says before pushing you back like a ragdoll. “Yes, now lay there, don’t move, don’t speak.” Sukuna reiterates, finally satisfied with your position, naked on your stomach with your head hanging off the bed. He wastes no time shoving his big cock into your cunt. You groan from the sudden intrusion “Kuna!” “Shut up, dead bitches don’t fuckin’ make sounds.”  

r/forcinga3some posted by u/Gojo_Satoru 

“Sit on his cock love,” Gojo demands, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you onto Suguru’s lap. “S-Satoru!” “’ Toru!” You and Geto screech at the same time. “C’mon guys, it’s fine I don’t mind, Loosen up!” Gojo looks at you on his best friend's lap and his cock twitching underneath his pants. He palms it. Don’t worry, we’ll have our turn. “I know you two want to fuck, c'mon! Do I really have to pull it out and shove it up your tight cunt?” Goji grits out, increasingly frustrated when the two of you stare at him like a pair of deer in headlights. “Baby, I-it was just a truth or dare question!” Your head aches and you put both of your hands on Suguru’s broad shoulders to stable yourself, trying and failing to ignore his hard under your panty-covered pussy. “Was it? So, you aren’t wet right now? And you Suguru? You aren't rock fucking hard at the thought of fucking the same pussy I cum in every night?” Gojo raises his eyebrow holding eye contact with you until you look away, face flushed. Suguru sighs, throwing his head back with murmured ‘fuck this.’ before grabbing your waist. “Yes! That’s what I thought. Ha!” Gojo laughs, watching as Suguru starts grinding you down on his bulge.