#but I think there is always going to be a part of me that regrets it. a part of me that desperately wants to

[deathbxnny]

Maybe a part 2 of the arcane characters saying things they regret, but they're apologizing because I can't live after reading a angst 🫠

Making up with Arcane characters after a bad argument. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

(Previous part)

Fine, fine, here is a happy part two guys. Take it as an apology for the tears and pain I've caused.✨️

Content: Swearing, accusations of cheating, slight angst, making up, fluff, potential spoilers for season 2, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》VI

She knew that she had fucked up. There was no way to deny or refute it either. And your absence was further proof of that.

You were always there for her, even when things got bad and she became even worse. No matter how much she yelled or drank, you were there afterward to nurture her back to health. It was so unfair of her to expect it still, after all she had said to you. She hated herself. She hated how weak and pathetic she had become. How she can't even stand straight anymore from the alcohol and couldn't win a single game since she had lost you.

And instead of Caitlyn haunting her like she used to, it was only you now. But you were crying every time. Asking her why she hated you so much. Why she couldn't care for you the way you cared for her. Why you were always the second choice despite having been there since the start.

Why, why, why.

Gritting her teeth against the headache, she made her way through the dark, familiar lanes to your small home that you once shared together. She had to talk to you. She really, really had to. Even if it's far too late now after a week of silence in-between the two of you. She had taken the time to reflect and think about everything, especially about your relationship. And it made her realise that nothing in this world was losing you too.

Knocking on your door, she nervously waited as she heard your footsteps quickly approaching her from inside. You opened the door carefully, ironically just how she had taught you, before freezing at the sight of her. She gave you a weak smile, attempting to look calm and friendly, but it still scared you off. "Hey cupca-" You tried slamming the door into her face mid greeting, but her foot was faster to jam itself in the way.

"H-Hey! Wait, please hear me out!" "Fuck off, Vi. I'm not in the mood to hear more of your bullshit. Go back to Caitlyn since I know how badly you want that!" You never cursed, and every word you spoke made her flinch. She, for some reason, didn't expect you to be this mad. But it hurt, and she deserved it. Another thing she underestimated was, unfortunately, your strength since you somehow managed to push her away and shut the door again. "Come on! Please! I... I didn't mean what I said. I just... have been losing my shit ever since what happened. The guilt is killing me, and I know it's not an excuse! You're right, I have to stop this shit! You're right, I need to stop treating your love for granted!"

She didn't know if you were even listening to her anymore, but it didn't stop the tears that burned in her eyes. "I don't give a damn about Caitlyn like that! I never did! It always you for me. You... you cared for me when no one else ever wanted to, and I was such an idiot for not appreciating it more." Her hand slammed against the wood in defeat, her head coming to rest against it as her body trembled. She was so scared of losing you. This can't be the end. "Please. Please just give me another chance to prove myself. I know I'm a fuck up but I swear I'll do better now."

Vi nearly fell right through your house entrance when you opened the door wide with a teary huff. "God, you're such an idiot... get in already before the neighbors complain." You didn't let her reply as you simply dragged her inside and locked the door again. The pitfighter watched you do so with a gentle gaze, one that felt so familiar to you. "... Fine, I'll give you another chance... but no drinking or fighting anymore. Please." You whisper to her, and she nods quickly before engulfing you in a warm hug.

She knows that she isn't fully forgiven yet, but she'll do everything in her power to prove herself worthy of your love again.

》CAITLYN

"You're still up." Caitlyn's voice was calm and gentle now, so different from the stern and cold tone it had before. You ignored her, however, knowing better than to fall for this again. She always got like this when she knew she had screwed up and was trying to crawl back into your good graces. But this time around, you didn't allow it that easily. You refused to speak to her if she hadn't come back to apologize. And yet... you couldn't help but allow yourself at least one sharp dig at her. "And you're late to bed once again. But I suppose Officer Nolan's 'report' was just that interesting, no?" You were perhaps the only person in all auf Pultover that could ever accuse her of something so scandalous as adultery and get away with it.

It certainly would have been amusing if Caitlyn didn't feel so sick at the thought of you believing that.

Sighing, she placed her hat onto a clothing hanger, her jacket following suit. You were facing away from her on the bed, trying to read a book and rest, despite the pain in your heart. It was hard being angry at her when you loved her so deeply. But her insults had struck much deeper than that.

The bed dipped behind you, and soon enough, you felt her strong arms surrounding your body and her nose tickling your cheek. "I'm sorry, my love. I really am. I... have lost my cool, and that was wrong of me." You scoffed at her words, finding them too shallow for the pain she had caused earlier. Yet you struggled to get out of her strong grasp on you. It felt desperate. And you hated the warmth and security that it made you feel. "If that is all you have to say, then you can leave." You hissed out weakly but couldn't find any malice in it. Just heartbreak, that solidified in more tears burning in your eyes. "Because how... how could you ever say that I could betray you? Do you know how that makes me feel? Do you care?"

Caitlyn hummed against the nape of your neck soothingly, a way to acknowledge the plight she had caused you without revealing her own tears. The grief had made her into a monster. A monster that hurt its friends, family, and most importantly, you. It was unforgivable, and yet she wanted to prove herself worthy of you anyway. She wanted to show you that she hadn't changed deep down like everyone claimed. She was still yours.

"... I will find a way to end this war and resolve it peacefully as soon as I can. I swear it to you." She began, her voice low and gentle, as she listened to the sound of your hiccups and sniffling. This wasn't what she wanted. "And I apologize, truly, for what I called you... I know that you are loyal and trustworthy. Much more than I ever could be... I'm still your Caitlyn." The last part was whispered quietly, as she tried everyone in her power to not break down in front of you like this.

She hated what she had become deep down. She knew it was wrong and that her mother must've been turning in her grave at the sight of what she had done. But what she couldn't handle at all was you hating and leaving her.

There was a moment of silence before you turned to face her and immideatly hugged her impossibly close as you cried into her arms. She rubbed your back lovingly, understanding that this was your way of accepting her apology. But forgiveness will still be a long journey she was willing to take.

For now, she'd rest in your embrace thankfully.

》JINX

Deep down, you knew that she didn't mean what she said. She never would do anything to hurt you. Silco's death was just killing her more than anyone could have expected, and it was hard for everyone to deal with. But you just couldn't take the pain and hurt she caused you anymore. You've been there since day one. You were always at her side. You always took care of her when no one else wanted to. And you understood her better than she did herself. But it was ultimately just not enough. Or so you thought.

The young girl that was now dragging you through the lanes reminded you of her too. She didn't speak a word to you, and for some reason, you didn't have it in you to protest against her odd actions either. She somehow seemed to recognize you the second you bumped into her. And that was enough for her to take your hand and lead you to a very familiar hideout. Perhaps it was fate that brought you here again when you needed Jinx the most.

"Hey kid, who's our little guest-?" The rest of the young woman's words died on her tongue, and it left you simply staring at each other. There was a familiar haze in her eyes, one that you often saw when the voices were taking over. She once mentioned that you sometimes became a part of her hallucinations during longer absences, and that reminder alone made your heart ache. You shouldn't have run away that day. But what other choice did you have? She didn't trust you anymore. She didn't think you should be together anymore. Why were you even here?

"S-sorry... I'm just going to leave..." You muttered as your ears rung and that familiar burning in your eyes made your sight blurry. You felt suffocated and somehow also angry, wishing she could just see how much you loved and cared for her. But just as you were turning away to run again, her strong hand was quicker and held you back by your arm. "Wait. Let's just... talk, alright? Like we always do?" That was your thing. Whenever things got bad, you'd sit down and talk calmly to her about it. She used to scoff at it every time... yet she was the one who suggested now for once. Something about it shook you so hard that it made the first tears finally spill at the recognition she had given you for all the work you've put into her.

Jinx panicked a little at that, unsure of how to comfort you, yet at Isha's stern frown and cross of her small arms, she just hugged you for the first time in a while. And god, did she miss it.

Perhaps it was good to show the little girl a picture of you after all.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I swear, sweetie! I... I won't ever say stuff like that again. Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me. I just, I was just-" You hushed her by just hugging her tighter and shaking your head. "It's okay... just hold me for a while. We can talk later... I missed you so much." You whispered, voice breaking into sobs. Jinx hummed weakly and sighed against your hair, the familiar scent making her relax and feel better at last.

Isha grinned to herself behind you before quickly sneaking off to let you talk things out.

》EKKO

To say that the entire firelight hideout was pissed at him would be an understatement. Absolutely everyone disagreed with the way he treated you, and the side eyes he got very much confirmed this. But the worst part of it all was definitely you avoiding him like the plague.

Every time he entered a room, you were the first one to leave in a hurry. Every time he tried speaking to you, you either ignored him or found an excuse to get away. Every time someone even mentioned his name to you, your mood seemed to dampen. And that hurt so much that it killed him. This isn't how he wanted you to feel about him. He was your boyfriend, damnit it. Yet he acknowledged that he was failing at his job way more than he should've allowed himself to. He had to fix this somehow.

Ekko couldn't just lose you over his own foolishness. You were the one person who motivated him to keep going even on his worst days. You were the light he fought for. The person he battled to come home to every day. He couldn't handle your absence any longer, especially at night when he laid wide awake in your empty bed without you.

And so, he finally had enough and cornered you one night up in the tree during a patrol you had together. One, he definitely didn't pull the strings for to happen. And ever the one to abide by his orders despite your current dismay, you were now avoiding his gaze whilst you watched your sleeping home below. It was peaceful and calm, but the pain lingered between you two too much to enjoy the moment. He didn't know how to break the deafening silence, and it made him think of backing out on his initial plan... until you surprised him by speaking up first.

"I'm... sorry for avoiding you. I didn't mean for this to become your last resort. I just... didn't want to be a burden anymore." "Wait, wait, wait... who said that you were a burden, I... I should be the one apologizing right now. Because I was wrong about every fucking thing I said to you." The words spilled out in panic at the mere thought of you blaming yourself. He never wanted you to feel like this. It made him feel even worse about himself. This wasn't right. "You're not useless. You do so much for us, for me, and I take it all for granted like the asshole I am! And I fully acknowledge that now... I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. There is no excuse for it." He shook his head in disappointment at himself, wondering if this was it now. He'd understand if you broke up with him now... but instead, you seemed to be in the mood to surprise him alot today.

"Did you... like the food I made you?" He blinked at your question in confusion, yet answered honestly. "Best thing I had all week." "Then I guess I'll forgive you... just don't do that again." Ekko chuckled weakly at your words, relief filling his senses whilst he pulled you close to press a kiss to your head. "Would never dream of it... wanna ditch patrol and fly around town?" You mirrored his sly smile, glad he had the same thing on his mind as you did. "Sure thing. But let's make it a race."

He let you win.

》SEVIKA

She took some time to cool off after your argument and returned later into the night with a clearer mind. Sevika had actually reflected on what you had said to her, and she knew you were ultimately right. She was extremely overprotective and stubborn, two things that didn't mesh well and often ended in her thinking you couldn't take care of yourself. Even if she knew better than to actually believe that.

You were strong, especially mentally. It's what drew her into you to begin with. But with the fall of Silco and a war being on the verge of breaking out against Piltover, she had no choice but to make sure that you never left her sight. And if you did, then you had to be somewhere she knew was safe and away from all the chaos she dealt with daily. It helped her focus and stay calm to know that you're okay. Yet despite how much she cared, she still fucked it all up for herself again.

And now she had to fix it, something she was never good at.

She felt awfully guilty at the sight of the things you've lovingly prepared for her, now laying forgotten and cold on the kitchen counter. She truly didn't deserve someone as kind as you. And yet she considered herself too selfish to let you go.

Slowly approaching the bedroom door, she paused to hear if you were awake or not. Unfortunately, you were, but she only knew this from the faintest sound of your sniffling and sobbing that drifted through the wooden door. Sighing to herself, she knocked once, deciding to just rake things slow and as calmly as possible. You had sustained an injury after all, and her mind was reeling at the thought of it getting worse without any proper care. "What do you want?!" Your weak voice yelled at her, and it made her frown. Yeah, you were definitely beyond pissed.

"I want to talk." Her gruff voice said, and it may have sounded like a demand if the underlying care and worry didn't overshadow it so clearly. Your silence made her initially think you were ignoring her until the door slowly opened and revealed your disheveled form. "... well, go ahead." You muttered, one hand cradling the side of your hip that was clumsily bandaged up by you. You were never good at stuff like that.

"Let me take care of the wound whilst we're at it. Can't have ya dying on me because of an infection." She sighed out before simply dragging you to your shared bed and pulling out your medkit. You didn't protest or complain and let her do as she pleased, whilst you carefully listened to her speak with an unreadable expression.

"Listen. I... get it. I really do. The way I treat you isn't right, and I know you're grown enough to take care of yourself, but... I can't risk losing you too now. It drives me crazy to think about. Even if that ain't much of an excuse, and I get that too." She was never this honest before. Usually, she simply deflected or blamed someone else. But here she was, for once admitting openly to being the problem. "Just... be more careful out there. That's all I ask of you. I won't comment on it otherwise anymore though, unless you're in serious danger. I promise." Finishing the last of her bandaging, she hummed at it now looking much securer. This way, you are sure to recover much faster.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded your head at her words, deciding to give her another chance to prove herself. You understood where she was coming from after all. "Okay, fine. I'll accept your apology... if you help me cook." She grinned at that slightly with a casual shrug. "Fine by me, if I get a taste of your heavenly cooking, sweetheart."

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Prima Nocta

Marcus Acacius x Virgin!F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: DUB CON only due to nature of prima nocta, both parties enthusiastically consent, twist on prima nocta, unspecified age gap, loss of virginity, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex, unrealistic descriptions of first sexual experience, all manners of historical inaccuracies and linguistic anachronisms sorry not sorry, ignores the events of the movie so you can consider this an AU, Marcus is widowed and has a son, shall we call this bfd: Ancient Rome version lmao

Notes: I'm a bit rusty for sure, but I had the absolute best time writing this oneshot. It's a departure from my usual themes to say the least, but once this idea took hold of me it never let go. I know prima nocta is meant to be invoked on the wedding night, but I like the idea of it being the night before so I made it so 🤷🏻‍♀️ Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics as always.

He thought he had gotten away with it. Having lived more than fifty winters in the capital and outlasting eight emperors, he regrets to confess that he is still none the wiser. 

It would have been such a clever manoeuvre. Palming off a generous but very much unwanted gift from the emperors, and marrying off his son in one fell swoop. 

He should have been suspicious of their swift assent to his proposal. In his eagerness to bow out of their audience, it had been convenient to dismiss the flash of malice in their eyes.

And in the snake pits of Roman court, no misstep goes unexploited.

He is not proud that he is caught off guard by the emperor’s closest advisor who intercepts his walk home from the armoury, even less so of his ineloquent response to the missive handed to him.

‘What is this?’

‘Urgent word from the emperors, sir.’

Cold sweat prickles the back of his neck as he stares unseeingly at what is scrawled on the parchment.

‘I cannot,’ he blurts out, indignance rising fast and hot in his chest. ‘I will not.’

‘You think it wise to twice refuse the emperors’ generosity, general?’

General. To him, the culmination of a lifetime of service and sacrifice. To them, an instrument of bloodshed in war, a plaything in peacetime.

Desperate, he tries a different tact. ‘The right of the first night belongs to the emperors. I dare not commit sacrilege.’

‘It is not sacrilege if it is freely bequeathed upon you, general.’

There is no mistaking the warning lilt in the last word, and he has no answer.

‘The hour grows late. You had better not keep the bride waiting,’ says the advisor with an air of finality before retreating into the shadows.

Marcus shudders at the cold that settles into the empty space, fingers stained with ink from the now crumpled dispatch. 

He remembers nothing of the remainder of his short journey to his quarters. As the front door swings open, he realises there is something in the night air that is out of place.

Sea salt.

You are here. 

Would you be demure? Frightened? You are of royal lineage, a lady of the small but proud coastal kingdom strong-armed by Rome into an unequal treaty for its profitable trading posts, in return for the mercy of not being razed to its fertile grounds.

And now, you are lowered to marry a general’s son. 

Worse, lowered to have your virginity taken by his father.

Candlelight spills from the crack underneath the door to his bedchamber. Marcus takes a deep breath, and pushes it open.

You hear him. The swish of fabric, the slide of leather soles on marble.

The general is here.

Your hand in marriage is part of the terms of the treaty, and the missive that sent for you announced your match as the widowed hero general. You had him cast on the wretched journey from your home as one of the domineering, brutish soldiers now garrisoned at your family’s kingdom - only to be told on your arrival that you will be marrying his son instead.

Relief at the news that your future husband would not be decades older than you is instantly snatched away by furtive whispers of prima nocta.

Your future father-in-law will take you first.

The humiliation is bitter on your tongue. You are Rome’s to marry off, hers to give to whomever she pleases -

But she won’t break you.

The door creaks. You stand tall and hold your ground.

He sweeps into the room with an air of well-worn authority, the cloak on his back dark as the shadows that nip at his heels.

The candles flicker when he sheds the heavy robes with a smooth sweep of his arm.

You stare, in a manner that would have had your lady-in-waiting tutting. But you are alone, very much so, with this man not ten paces from you.

General Marcus Acacius. 

He is older, certainly old enough to have a son your age. But you had not imagined him so - strong, for the lack of a more imaginative word. His shoulders are broad under his wine red tunic, and you can see the muscles in his arms flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. From where you stand, you can hardly see any silver in his dark curls.

Marcus unflinchingly assesses you right back. 

No, you are decidedly not demure. Or frightened. Far from it. 

You are defiant, even as you observe him with evident curiosity. Your head held high, a telltale sign of your noble breeding, mouth set in a stern line while your eyes burn bright with a proud fire. 

Judging the silence has gone on long enough, he breaks it with a formal, ‘My lady.’

‘General,’ you answer steadily.

The door slams shut belatedly behind him, and you flinch - the first glimpse of weakness you concede. 

Marcus breathes in, delivering his next sentence with as much composure as he can muster. ‘I expect you have been informed of the - formalities that we are to perform tonight.’

You grind your teeth so hard you are astonished that your jaw doesn’t crack.

Your virtue is just a formality.

Refusing to dignify his question with an answer, you nod once. 

He watches you wordlessly, and you meet his gaze. You thought you would find something else there, not the regret that you see.

Turning away from you, he reaches for the amphora on the table. 

‘Wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

The wine is drunk in silence and moderation. Him at his desk, you perched on the end of the bed.

As you sip, pacing yourself, you observe the general discreetly from across the small distance between you. 

To say that you are disconcerted by his behaviour would be an understatement.

You assumed that he asked for this - for the perverse pursuit of deflowering his son’s bride-to-be while eschewing the unwanted responsibility of a wife. 

Yet, watching him stare pensively into his goblet, lips pursed in a pout that is almost sullen, you are not so certain anymore. 

When you bring your drink to your mouth to find it empty, you clear your throat. ‘I have to wake up early tomorrow morning - for the wedding.’

The general starts before collecting himself, drawing himself up to his full height as he sets down his cup with a heavy clunk. ‘Understandably, my lady.’

Then he moves, charting a course across the room, licking his thumb and index finger to douse the candles dotted around the space.

The thought comes to you unbidden - he has thick fingers. And big hands. 

Your cheeks tingle with heat.

Soon the chamber is cloaked in darkness, save for the candles next to the bed, the warm light pooling in the most inviting manner on the soft surface despite your trepidation. You long to rest your aching feet. 

He comes to a standstill on the other side of the bed, as if waiting for you to take the lead. You cannot decide whether you are thankful for him not imposing on you, or frustrated at him for not taking the lead in what is very much unfamiliar territory.

In the end, the desire to get off your feet wins out, and you gesture at the bed. ‘Shall we…?’

‘Certainly.’ He bends down, you assume to take off his sandals. You do the same, toeing off the soft leather slides the maids had you change into when they dressed you.

Once barefoot, you climb in with as much grace as you can summon, acutely aware that you have an audience. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you’re relieved that it is stuffed with feathers, luxuriously giving under your weight. Shifting primly, you find your back against the headboard, cushioned by equally soft pillows.

The general follows suit, the frame creaking as he eases onto the suddenly too small bed, strong shoulders brushing yours as he settles next to you.

You stare hard at the back of your hands, the only way to stop your gaze from wandering to the span of his fingers splayed wide on sturdy thighs, or lower to the bony ridge of his knees - gods, you must be unwell, since when have you been drawn to knees?

You are still questioning the state of your sanity when the general, who has been nothing but unperturbed and composed since he stepped into the room, stumbles over his words in a manner that is neither, as if he had held the question behind his teeth for too long.

‘Are you - are you absolutely certain - in no doubt - that you are… untouched?’

His question stings like salt in a festering wound. Indignant doesn’t even begin to describe the retort you spit at him. ‘Yes, I am. Are you?’

Peering at you sideways, his eyes widen at your outburst, and fear briefly flits across your heart that you have overstepped.

 But then, he surprises you with a smile. ‘You bite, don’t you?’ 

You let your shoulders sag, too far gone to hold onto your facade. 

‘It’s been a long day, sir,’ you admit. ‘To be frank, I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened.’

He pauses at your confession, as if weighing his options. Then he shifts, and says, ‘The reason I ask if you were untouched is because, if you were not - we could have just pretended we did this.’

You frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I did not invoke prima nocta, it was imposed upon me. The emperors are displeased that I turned down the betrothal, this is their way of punishing me for my ungratefulness.’ 

Oh.

As much as you didn’t want this either, your pride suffers to hear him describe it as a punishment.

‘I know…’ you stumble, halting to steel yourself. ‘I know I am nothing like the women here in Rome. I spend too much time in the sun, and my hands are rough from working with horses -’

‘Why do you say that?’ he interrupts you.

You look away. ‘That is why you do not wish to marry me, is it not? And why you do not want this - why you do not want me.’

The general sits up, palms on the mattress to support his weight, the lines on his forehead deepening with a frown. ‘No, that is not the reason. You are young, you deserve a husband who can build a life with you in the years to come. Not a washed-up widower.’

The bitterness in his voice turns your head. 

‘You’re not washed up, from what I hear.’ Somehow, you find the courage to add boldly, ‘Or from what I see.’

Letting your eyes trail unabashedly over his broad frame, a thrill chases through your blood when you notice his Adam’s apple bob with a tight swallow. He’s so close that you know you’re not imagining the heat seeping into your bones.

Silence stretches between you, charged with a consciousness that creeps in and spreads. Two souls from different worlds and stations put in a situation in which neither of you had a hand. This may not be how you imagined giving away your virtue - far from it - yet your stomach twists in anticipation.

You glance upwards, only to find him already watching you.

Something has shifted when you so bravely reached out and tipped the balance with your words. He can tell that you are not one for flippant flattery, and it takes him a moment to collect himself, harder said than done with the blood roaring in his ears.

When he speaks, it comes out in a much lower register than he intends, so much so it sounds like a secret. 

‘You say you just want to get this over with. But I can - I can make it good for you. It doesn’t have to be something you want to forget.’

Your eyes widen and your lips part, and heat blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest. ‘You would do that for me?’

‘I will serve you in whatever way you ask of me tonight, my lady.’

Never have mere words, albeit delivered in such a delicious baritone, moved you so. You came in expecting to have your virtue stripped from you, the same way Rome callously stole you away. Where you thought humiliation and dishonour awaited, this man is offering deliverance and devotion - if only for one night.

Your throat tight with emotion, you nod in lieu of a spoken answer.

Marcus is deliberately slow in his movements, wanting you to feel safe in his presence. ‘How much do you know? So I know what I need to teach you.’

Despite yourself, shyness rears its head and you mumble, ‘I’ve - I’ve heard stories. I know what… happens… between a man and a woman in the bed chamber.’

He nods reassuringly, making you feel less of a fool for the juvenile answer you gave. ‘And has anyone touched you before?’

There’s no mistaking the lurch in your stomach as your heart hammers violently. ‘No. No one. Never.’

The protector in him stirs, summoned to duty, warring with the desire that seethes under his skin like the unholy flames of Vesuvius. He fears it is a quickly losing battle. 

Reading the desire in your endearingly open face, Marcus reaches over you to settle one hand on your hip as he leans close, his breath warm on your cheek.

‘Have you ever kissed a man?’ he rasps. 

You shake your head, eyes fixated on his mouth, framed by a tidy moustache. He is so close that you can see his beard is flecked with silver.

You swear the general is leaning into you, and every inch of you is on tenterhooks, enraptured by his proximity -

‘You should save it for your husband.’

You barely forestall the whine of protest that teeters on the tip of your tongue, pinching your lips together, but his lopsided smile tells you that he knows. 

‘I can kiss you elsewhere though.’

‘Oh,’ you inhale shakily when he dips to mouth at the side of your neck, landing on your pulse point in a suckle. Your whole body arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, head spinning at all the sensations that are new to you - the burn of his stubble, the cool trail his lips leave behind -

Then the palm on your hip pulls you into him, sprawling you against the wide cage of his body, your breasts pressed against his broad chest. The dress they put you in is thin, and the fabric rubs against your pebbling nipples as his kisses travel daringly low.

‘Am I going too fast?’ he pauses, voice strained.

Breathlessly, you shake your head.

‘If you want me to stop, or wait, you say the word. Understood?’

‘Yes, general.’

Two words he hears daily from his men, and yet from your lips, they unleash a dangerously feral side of him.

More. Is the only coherent thought that remains. 

Impatient hands reposition you so that you are astride him, and he groans when you slot flush in his lap. He watches your eyes widen at what you feel between your legs. Your dress rides up, and his blood rushes south at the bare expanse of your inner thighs on his skin. 

‘I want to see you,’ he speaks plainly, palms squeezing the dip of your waist. ‘May I undress you? Please?’

All decorum flees you, and you might have chanted yes, yes, yes to his question.

Dropping your chin, you watch his thick fingers nimbly undo the knot holding the front of your dress together. The silk capitulates like water, tumbling down in delicate drapes around your waist, baring you to his heated gaze.

‘You are beautiful,’ he declares with a solemnity that steals your breath.

And it is easy to believe him, the way his dazed eyes trail over your breasts, before his hands follow. Calloused palms, which you are sure have held many a sword in triumph, now cup your tender flesh in reverence. 

Your head lolls to the side as he teases you, but when he rolls his hips upwards, your eyes snap to the pained expression on his face. You’ve heard ladies in court whispering over wine about length and girth, but nothing could prepare you for the thrill of feeling a man’s undeniable desire for you.

Instinct guides you, moving your hips so that you are grinding against his length, seeking relief from what is building deep within you.

‘Do what feels good,’ the general murmurs encouragingly, palms on the small of your back to let you take control.

And just like that, you are thrown back to one summer’s day in your youth. You were bathing in a rock pool, under the spray of a waterfall in perfect solitude when you accidentally slipped forwards on the smooth stone surface. The unexpected sensation between your legs ripped through you like lightning on a clear day. And you chased that feeling, hips undulating until you shuddered and cried out. Knees trembling in the aftermath, you never dared to seek it out again, but neither did you forget.

And now, years later, you finally know what had transpired. Pleasure. And this time, under the general’s hooded gaze, you pursue it with single-minded determination.

Marcus wishes you knew how beautiful you are in this very moment. Breasts swaying in tandem while you rock back and forth on his clothed length, eyes glazed, every whimper from your swollen lips making him throb harder for you.

‘Good girl,’ he rasps, throat tight. ‘Take your pleasure. Take what you need.’

And when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail, tipping forward at an angle that unexpectedly takes you apart.

The waves that wash over you are more intense than you remember, and you are sure that has to do with the man holding your hips to his as you buck, and the warm swirl of his tongue against your breasts, sucking and nipping as you come down from your high.

‘That was not your first time,’ he states as a matter of fact when the white noise in your ears finally fades.

‘It happened once, a long time ago, and I didn’t understand then -’

‘And now you do.’

‘Yes, general.’

This time, he lets loose a moan at your words. ‘I can feel your wetness through your dress.’

Confused, you look down, and your cheeks burn when you spot the dark patch on the delicate fabric. ‘Oh, I -’

‘It’s natural,’ he assures you. ‘The wetness makes it easier for -’

It dawns on you when you feel his hardness twitch under you. Oh. 

‘It - you feel -’ you stutter, struggling to comprehend how the girth of what you are sitting on could possibly fit inside you.

Taking your hand, Marcus presses a chaste kiss to your palm, eyes warm and open. 

‘We will take it slow. I will use my fingers first, to prepare you for me,’ he explains patiently. ‘I promised I would make it good for you, did I not?’

‘You did.’ 

And you have complete faith in him.

Your knees knock into each other hopelessly when he slides you off his lap, and he has to bodily prop you up against the pillows. Sinking into the soft feathers, you watch him kneel between your parted legs, and you feel so safe even as he towers over you. 

‘May I disrobe you?’

You bite your bottom lip, and nod. 

Except it’s not a disrobing, it’s nothing near as civil as that. The general rips the rest of your dress clean down the middle, rendering you completely bare beneath him.

Marcus knows should be ashamed of his brash behaviour. But how could he when you react so viscerally, jaw slack as your chest heaves in unmitigated desire? 

His gaze shamelessly trail over every curve and dimple, from the breasts he has tasted to where your knees are demurely closed, and knowing that he is the first - the only - to have laid eyes on you makes him impossibly hard. 

It matters not that you are not his to keep. This will always be his. 

‘You are exquisite,’ he professes, voice tight. 

You duck your head, more shy of his compliments than being nude before him. ‘You don’t have to.’

Sliding a finger under your chin and tilting your head until you meet his gaze, he assures you, ‘I mean every word.’

Then he moves down the bed until he can rest his weight on his elbows, and you startle when rough palms glide over the outside of your thighs, stopping at your knees. 

He pauses to give you time. ‘Are you certain you wish to continue?’

Your answer is a confident yes.

Then, as if opening the shell of Venus, he delicately pries your knees apart, and his breath hitches as you are revealed to him.

He is aware that he’s staring like an imbecile, words failing him. As the silence stretches on, you become self-conscious.

‘General,’ you demur, moving to cover yourself.

Shaking his head, he finally says, ‘Forgive me, but you are perfect.’

Then he looks up at you with such intensity that has you struggling to catch your breath, and without breaking eye contact, he bows his head - 

And closes his lips over you there. 

You are wholly unprepared - no one has ever gossiped about this in court. Your hips buck violently off the bed, but Marcus holds you down with reassuring hands, suckling on the pearl between your thighs with gentle laps of his tongue.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ you stuttter, torn between watching the man wreak the most devastating pleasure on you and averting your gaze.

You’ve only ever known worship to be pious, and yet, this most vulgar adulation is the closest you’ve been to the gods.

His beautiful curls brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, catching the candle light as he moves, and the crook of his nose - so proud even with the scar on its bridge - draws patterns on your skin as he stakes his claim where no one has ever touched you. 

You quickly realise that what you felt just now in the general’s lap was insignificant and thin in comparison. This pleasure is all-consuming, something divine that has you weak and trembling all over. All you hear are slick, wet sounds of tongues and lips, and your own whimpers between garbled groans.

Marcus feasts on you, unapologetically. Flattening his tongue, he tastes you in broad sweeps, moaning into your sweet cunt as you writhe above him, your needy mewls driving him to the edge of madness. You taste like fig - the earthiness of the purple peel, ripe sweetness of the pink flesh.

Then your hands wind into his hair, pulling him closer, ankles hooking over his shoulders. He groans harder, the sound rattling in his ribs as you soak his beard. Surrendering any last vestiges of shyness, you rock against his tongue, nails scratching his scalp as you whine louder into the night air. 

Moans that will echo long after you’re gone.

The thought alone hardens his resolve to mark you unequivocally. You’re close, your pliant body quivering and breaths coming in shallow gasps now. He peers up at you, but your eyes are sealed shut and upturned at the gods, your breasts heaving.

Gently, he eases one finger inside you, and he grunts at how easily he slides in. You barely react, and so he pushes back in with two, coaxing a cry from you. Your cunt clenches as he gently thrusts his digits in and out, stretching your tight walls. 

‘Oh gods. Oh gods,’ you pant violently.

You’re close, so close. He wants to warn you of what is to come, but it feels like sacrilege to tarnish the moment with words. When he feels you begin to quiver, he laves at your clit harder, burying his fingers inside you to the knuckle, until he feels you crest and break. 

‘Gods, oh gods - Marcus!’

The cry of his name catches him off guard. He nearly loses control right there and then, as you ride out your high on his fingers, but by some miracle he holds out through gritted teeth. He devotes his attention to kissing his way up your body, from the slick inside of your thighs, to the side of your hip, making you jump when he sucks on your sensitive breasts.

You stare at his mouth with wild, dark eyes, and him at yours, but he vowed to leave your first kiss to your husband. Girding his self-restraint, he asks, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, Marcus.’

His cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He wants to hear you say it in all manners of ways - whisper it, gasp it, scream it. And by the cheekiness in your smile, it’s clear that you know what he’s thinking.

Your eyes drop to where his hardness is pressed against you. ‘Will you teach me how to please you, general?’

He swallows a groan, the animal in him rattling the bars of its cage. He replies diplomatically, ‘I will teach you how to teach your husband.’

In one smooth tug, he shucks off his tunic, then his loincloth, and he tries not to be self-conscious under your watchful gaze. Pulling you against him, skin on naked skin, he smears kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at your answering shudder. In return, you run your lips and scrape your teeth over his collarbone. 

Taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, he slides it all the way down his chest and wraps your fingers firmly around his throbbing cock, his pained moan in your ear.

Eyes wide, you marvel at the size of him in your grip. ‘You are so big.’

Marcus curses through clenched teeth. ‘You are an insolent girl.’

With a wicked glint in your eyes, you correct yourself, ‘You are so big, general.’

If he wasn’t so aroused, he would have chuckled at your cheek. Instead, he growls, ‘Such insubordination.’

Tilting your head to one side, you grin. ‘And how would you discipline me, sir?’

He lets the silence linger for a beat, allowing anticipation to build as one big hand splays over your ass, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘I would deny you my cock, my lady. Let your sweet cunt weep for me, empty, not knowing how good it would feel to have me deep inside you.’

You are unsure if you are more shocked at the explicitness of his words, or at the gush of wetness that has you pressing your thighs together. If you had to wager a guess, he is just as affected as you by the way his length pulses in your grasp.

Marcus smiles as he takes in the way your body reacts to him. ‘But how can I deny such a lovely, desperate creature such as yourself?’

A sob escapes you. ‘Please, Marcus - I’m yours to take.’

With that, all self-restraint abandons him, and his lips crash into yours. At the back of his mind, he knows you deserve a better first kiss, something gentle and sweet. But to your credit, you seem to take it in stride, winding your arms around his neck with a deep groan as he deepens the kiss. Opening up your mouth, he sweeps his tongue against yours, making sure you taste yourself and the pleasure that he had wrung from you.

When he reluctantly pulls back for air, you hum, ‘I thought you said I should save that for my husband.’

He all but snarls, ‘Damn your husband.’

The possessiveness in his tone sends you reeling, and his resolve wears even thinner when your cunt brushes against him, so wet and soft, begging for him. 

‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he declares.

You bite your lip beseechingly. ‘Please, Marcus, I cannot either.’

He braces himself above you on strong arms, until all you can see is him, backlit by the soft candlelight. Beholding his beauty - the wisps of gray at his temples, the scar lining his cheekbone - your breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes as he stares down at you.

Holding the base of his cock, Marcus notches himself at the entrance of your cunt, trembling as he holds himself back. 

‘I will go slow,’ he assures you. ‘If it hurts, you tell me to stop. Understood?’

Your mouth dry, you can only nod. 

Holding your gaze, Marcus rolls his hips ever so slowly, jaw slack when he breaches you, inch by tortuous inch.

He is barely inside you and you already feel so unfathomably full.

‘Marcus,’ you gasp when it gets impossibly tight, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He stops, and whispers encouragingly, ‘You are doing so well for me, taking me so beautifully. Just breathe.’

In between his patient, languid kisses, you unfurl, and Marcus gently pulls back, before pushing into you, deeper this time.

When you cry out, he shushes you, brushing the wet corners of your eyes with his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’

You shake your head. ‘No, it’s just - so much.’ 

‘I know, I can feel how tight you are gripping me,’ he mumbles into your neck, throbbing inside you while he holds himself still as you adjust. ‘Brave, sweet girl.’

When you find your voice again, you give him cheek. ‘I am a woman now, general.’

He smiles at you - a warm curl that crinkles the corners of his eyes endearingly - and claims your lips again. Feeling the tension seep out of your body, he thrusts shallowly so you can learn the movement of his hips. When he hits a spot that makes your jaw drop and your hips buck, he pulls all the way back, and drives himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

And with that, you become a part of his soul, and his yours. His chest swells with the fiercest possessiveness and the greatest honour all at once, despite knowing that the circumstances that brought you together will inevitably tear you asunder at the break of dawn.

‘Marcus!’ you choke on a sob, throwing your head back, your walls clutching his cock in a merciless grip.

‘There she is,’ he grunts, mouth scraping the shell of your ear. ‘Say my name like that.’

And you do, over and over again, as he fucks into you. His pants land harshly in the crook of your neck with every thrust, hands greedily squeezing all the skin he can find - the curve of your ass, the dimple in your waist, your thigh to hitch it over his hip.

Looking down at you, eyes drunk and unfocused as you stare back at him, each squeeze of your wet cunt around him, every breath from your lips feels sacred.

He is seized by a sudden need to know. ‘How does it feel?’

Your eyes soften, and he shudders when you cup the side of his face to bring his nose to yours. ‘Divine.’

Marcus loses himself in you, in the wet squelch of your cunt around his length, the way your tightness takes every thrust. Words of praise that he doesn’t even hear tumble from his lips and onto every inch of skin he can reach as you cling to him, scraping your nails down his back and digging into the meat of his ass.

Pitching forward to press a hard kiss to you, he says, ‘I want you to fall apart for me again.’

‘Please, Marcus, please.’

Pushing himself up to his knees, still buried deep inside you, he spreads your thighs obscenely wide over his hips, and he moans at the sight of your cunt so full of him. With hooded eyes, he sucks on two of his thick fingers and brings them between your legs, carefully drawing circles on your clit, knowing that you are already sensitive from cumming twice for him before.

Your face twists in agony as he builds you towards another climax, patiently weaving the web of pleasure that wounds you tighter and tighter until your spine feels like it will snap in two. ‘Marcus, oh - don’t stop, don’t stop, oh gods -’

He bares his teeth as he feels you start to clench around him. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Cum on my cock, let me feel you, give it to me.’ 

Your peak crashes into you relentlessly, and as you are swept away, you can only wail and thrash, while Marcus curses and stutters unintelligibly above you as he spins out of control.

He had every intention to pull out, but it is as if some higher power is determined to foil his plans. With a guttural roar, his hips snap flush against yours, big palms grasp you so hard by the waist that you squeal, and he spills into you in hot gushes, once - twice - and again until he is spent.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He doesn’t know if he said that aloud or if it was a trick of the mind. All he knows is that he eventually collapses bonelessly onto you, skin fused together with sweat and cum as your breaths become one in the crisp night air.

It is him who breaks the stillness, his old bones creaking when he stirs to relieve an ache in his back. His softened cock slides out of you, prompting you to whine in protest. He grunts when he looks down to see his cum dribble out of your cunt, leaving a pearly trail on the inside of your thighs.

When he meets your eyes, there is no awkwardness in the silence. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you. That was reckless.’

Your heart skips a beat at his admission, and you can’t hide the pride in your voice. ‘Do I make you reckless, general?’

He tries and fails to be stern in his answer, the tenderness with which he brushes his nose on your cheek giving him away. ‘I know better than to encourage your insolence with an answer.’

You are far from discouraged though, quite the opposite. Knowing you have this man - who commands armies of thousands - at your mercy is a siren’s call.

Peering at him from under your eyelashes, you curl one leg around his waist. ‘Do you want to be reckless again?’

He huffs, but a smile breaks through. ‘Have you ever been told that you are a cocktease?’

You hum teasingly. ‘I have never heard that word before, but I like it.’

‘You do?’ he breathes against your lips. ‘You like being my cocktease?’

‘Yours, general.’

Marcus is astounded when he feels himself harden again, and he moans as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. ‘What spell have you cast on this old man, my little cocktease?’

You grin, letting him ease you onto your back so he can settle between your thighs again. ‘The kind that lasts until dawn.’

Eventually, morning must break, sure as the moon turns and the sun rises. In the golden rays of day, you will wed his son in ironic, virginal white, showered in rose petals. He will look on from the side in his finest ceremonial robes of red, as you walk away from him and into your new life as someone else’s wife.

But in the velvety folds of this night and many more to come, safely ensconced in the deepest corners of his memories, in lands far away, in war and in peace, there he keeps you - where you are not.

More notes: Thank you for reading! As usual, comments/reblogs/asks would be very much appreciated 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it!

[demonic0angel]

I kinda want to see more of Useless Lesbian Sam asking out Spoiler. Maybe handing her a bouquet of black roses while Danny and Tucker do weird shit in the background to set the mood.

Part 1

Stephanie leaned closer to Tim. "So how is the investigation going?"

"Honestly, I think Bruce sent us here just so we could pretend to have a normal high school experience," Tim said.

Stephanie snorted. "I swear, he always has the weirdest plans. I mean, clubs, homework, classes, homecoming, no superhero-ing... Now we just need a high school romance to complete the experience."

A wide grin spread over Tim's face then. "Speaking of romance... look behind you."

Stephanie turned and then blinked at the sight of the hot goth girl that had been staring at her for the past several weeks approaching her with a glare and a bouquet of black roses. Behind her were two boys, who were holding a large boombox and blasting a soul song with incomprehensible lyrics past the violins and piano, and one of the more popular girls in the school, Jazz Fenton.

"Oh my god," Steph said.

Tim slapped Stephanie's arm as he suddenly burst out laughing before he pulled back and whipped out his phone to record.

Stephanie turned bright red as Samantha Manson approached her with a determined look. Thank god that they were in the football field instead of inside of the school.

The music continued as Samantha got closer and closer until she ended up in front of Stephanie and Tim was practically folding himself into origami with his wheezes. Samantha coughed and then looked at her friends with a glare, who cursed and started turning off the music.

Steph resisted the urge to laugh hysterically. Samantha coughed again and then said, "Steph. I know we don't really know each other, but I'd like to get to know you better. Ever since you punched Dash in the face, I've been wanting to court you. So... Will you go on a date with me?"

She turned to look at Jazz Fenton. Jazz blinked and then gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Sam nodded to herself and then turned back to gently present the black roses to Steph.

Steph slowly took them.

She stared at the roses, all dyed a beautifully dark purple that was so dark that it looked black.

In a weird, embarrassing way, it was really, really sweet.

Steph had always been the one chasing Tim when they first dated, but it was nice to be... courted? She had said?

Steph hid her smile in the bouquet and then nodded. "Yeah, let's have a date."

Samantha perked up into a bright beam that completely contrasted with her goth demeanor and her friends cheered loudly behind her. Tim was cooing audibly, still holding the fold.

"Alright!" Samantha said with a grin. "You won't regret it!"

Steph smiled and thought to herself that maybe Bruce didn't always have weird, dumb ideas.

[unknownplane]

The Court Jester Part 4

Yandere Batfam x GN Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

Waking up (Y/N)'s head felt fuzzy. Somehow, they felt constricted even though they could move. Looking around, they found themselves in a large room. The bed felt as if it was encasing them. They felt themselves looking for their weapon. Not being able to find it, they get up and start looking around the room.

The room was blank, as if it was a canvas waiting to be painted. It irritated them. 'Where the fuck am I? The last thing I can remember was... oh fuck. Dads gonna be soo pissed! I never got him his drink!'. (Y/N) frantically began looking for a way out realizing they were asked to get something for there dad. They went to the door and found it locked.

Just as they were going to open the other door in the room, the locked door burst open. Bruce Wayne flung himself into the room. "My baby! You're awake! God, what did that monster do to you?" Bruce questioned as he got closer to (Y/N). As soon as he got close enough (Y/N) tripped him and forced him into the ground. "Where am I?! The fuck have you done with my dad?!" (Y/N) yelled. "No need to be hostile kid. We just saved your ass." Jason stated walking into the room. Amused that Bruce had been caught off guard by your violence. Bruce suddenly got out of the hold as (Y/N)s attention shifted to Jason and held their hands behind their back. "You bitch! The fuck are you doing! Let me go!" (Y/N) screamed with struggling in his hold. "No (Y/N) went just got you back and we are going to help you get better." Bruce stated in a firm tone. "I don't need fixing you limp dick son of a bitch! My dad molded me in his image and I'm perfect because of that!" (Y/N) howled. "I think my dear sibling need some alone time." Jason said. Bruce nodded his head and let go of (Y/N) and left the room. "Just so you know (Y/N) because ,even though you are fucked, and I still love you the Joker is dead." Jason professed before he left the room and locked the door.

"No, he's lying. He can't die. He always comes back." (Y/N) whispered and unknowingly started crying. They began to grow themselves around the room, trying to find a way out, and ultimately broke an arm. It took an hour before it eventually healed. Their mental state making it more difficult to heal.

About an hour later, Damian entered the room with a change of clothes. He fought with his sibling for this opportunity to talk with (Y/N) and was going to take advantage of the situation. "Hello, sibling. I have brought you a change of clothes as the ones you are currently wearing are covering in blood and dirt. I hope we can get on better terms during your stay here." Damian spoke calmly, as if he was talking to a terrified animal. "Ah, if it isn't the other basterd child of Bruce Wayne. Tell me how does it feels to know that if your nepotism wasn't taken into account, you would be just another pawn in Al Ghuls game. Stupid and replacable." (Y/N) spoke in a knowing tone. No anger in sight, only a smirk on their face.

They have watched the batfamily for years. They knew all the ways to get under their skin and prod where it hurt most.

Damian's face fell into a look of shock. (Y/N)'s words hurt in a way he had not felt since he first came to the manor. He felt the fear of being useless and replaceable. He dropped the clothes and left the room with a mortified face as (Y/N) started to laugh manically.

After Damian left the room, the Joker seemed to appear before them. As if a god. "My dear child, I am dead now, but soon I will find someone to take over. And when that is over, I will find you, and we will make the bat regret taking you away from me. My darling child." The Joker claimed. (Y/N) find with joy began shaking their head rapidly in agreement. "Of course, dad! They'll never know what hit em!" (Y/N) said and started laughing.

-----------------‐-----------------------------

In the batcave

"Their mental capacity seems to be dwindling. They've begun hallucinating. The best course of action would be to start over. I would recommend you get in contact with Martain Manhunter." Tim told Bruce after watching you on the screen. Tim had been watching you since the moment you were brought home. There was something comforting about knowing exactly where you were at all times, no matter what. "Let's wait another day. We don't know what reproductions there might be for doing this to them. If it would even work. You saw what happened with their arm. Their healing ability could stop it from even working!" Stephanie argued, not wanting to lose anymore of you. A broken you was still a masterpiece in her eyes. It showed everyone your hardships and would be used as a reminder to them about how they affected you and your life. No matter how rough you were, you and she didn't want to lose you again. "We'll wait one more day. If they continue to break down like this, we will have no other choice." Bruce stated. "But for now, we will just have to wait and see"

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

Hey guys, sorry for the wait. College has been kicking my ass and Comp has been making me not want to write anything. Hope you enjoy it! Remember, I am always looking for ways to improve.

@cooki3dough @asillysimp @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @redkarmakai @horror-lover-69 @bat1212 @wisefuncherryblossom @chericia @vannessa-boo @resident-cryptid @staarflower @sirenetheblogger @definitely-not-sammie @lovebug-apple

[theformulaimagines]

Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part nine

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: angst

masterlist

Three weeks later…

This whole situation feels like a bad dream. Like a horrible nightmare. How could they have this sort of slip up? They’ve been so careful…

She can still remember the look on his face when she left their Airbnb to get into the taxi. The awful presence of their mutual heartbreak was visual in his eyes. A little break, that’s what they decided on. Their managers suggested they should get some space to breathe, some time apart to figure out what to do next. How to move forward.

She also remembers Sebastian‘s silence when she got into his car. He picked her up from the airport, his voice was coated in disappointment and hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, he had asked her when they parked outside his house. “We didn’t tell anyone.” “I’m not anyone.”

Y/N sighs as she brings the cup of coffee up to her lips. The cold air feels good on her hot skin as she watches the sun rise over the mountains.

“Morning.”

The young woman flinches slightly and when she turns her head she catches a glimpse of the small smile on her brother’s lips:” Sorry.”

Yet she shakes her head:” No, hi. It’s fine. Good morning.” Her hands bring the blanket closer to her chin, while Sebastian sits down next to her, positioning his coffee on the table in front of them:” How are you doing today?”

Y/N licks her lips and immediately regrets it:” I think it’s too early to decide on that.” She wants to sound witty, but it just comes out sad. Her eyes fixate on the mountains and a few seconds later she blinks away the tears that are forming. Sebastian notices them out of his peripheral vision and sighs, his hand reaches for hers.

No matter how angry he has been about her keeping her relationship a secret he still loves her. So much. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”, he lets out after a few moments and watches how a weak scoff leaves her. He wonders what she would say if she knew Lewis has been texting him regularly since they last saw one another.

f1gossipofficial has made a post

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f1gossipofficial: Breaking News! Recent information from reliable sources suggests that Y/N Vettel and Lewis Hamilton have not communicated in several weeks, as they are currently taking a break from their relationship.

view all comments…

user 1: NOT A BREAK NOOOO

user 2: i hope everyone who has sent hate their way is going to have a horrible life from today on

user 3: thank you GOD!!!!

user 4: you’re awful

“Is she okay?”

Sebastian turns his head and when he makes eye contact with his wife he takes a deep breath. “I mean, I always reckoned that something was going on between them… but I wouldn’t know what to do if I was her.”, Hanna whispers and watches Y/N through the closed glass door:” She’s probably dying inside.”

The blonde man tilts his head at her confession:” You knew?” “You didn’t notice the way they looked at one another?”, she asks and turns on the coffee machine:” The giggling and smiling? The way he would always gaze down at her from the podium? He did take more risks whenever she was watching. God, Sebastian.” He lets out a beaten sigh.

“I wish I could do something about this mess.”

“I know you do.”, Hanna says, walking up to him:” I mean, I am glad she’s not using her phone at-.” She’s cut off by the doorbell ringing, and Sebastian rolls his eyes:” It’s 8 am on a fucking Sunday, I swear to God.” He lets go of his wife before walking down the hallway. With one swift motion, he opens the door.

His eyes instantly widen at the sight in front of him.

“Hi.”, Lewis says, trying his best to smile at Sebastian but it looks more forced than genuine. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to see Y/N.”

[ssxpm]

the sun was setting, the orange and pink hues shining into your eyes as you basked in ryomen sukuna's presence.

ever since you had been sold to him, bound to his estate, you had formed a decent relationship with him. you were a concubine, his favourite concubine no doubt.

over the months, you had found the king of curses to be a nice soul to be around, despite his constant out bursts and spiteful temper. he always seen to do everything with you, so it seemed he had enjoyed your presence too.

he wasn't a good person, you knew that. however, you were drawn to him.

"kuna?" you prod at his broad bicep, his lower set of eyes open to see what you wanted.

"mm..?" he groans. he shouldn't let anyone call him kuna, but it rolled off your tongue so prettily he just couldn't resist.

"the sunset is beautiful, isn't it?" a soft breeze blows his hair lightly, and you brush it out of his eyes. he flinches; which is something he tends to do when you touch him, god knows why.

"mm."

...

"kuna?" you prod, once again.

"what, woman?" he says in a sharper tone. you was interrupting his rest.

"i.." there was a long pause. a pause to long that even sukuna opens both sets of eyes to look at you, concern itched into his furrowed brows.

"spit it out."

you just sit there, staring at him deeply.

he was so beautiful, the sun shone and illuminated his hair perfectly. everything about him that was supposed to be frightful and threatening, you found eye-catching and handsome. even his two sets of arms and eyes, the tattoos and marks that littered his body were all so beautiful.

"i love you."

sukuna tensed up immediately, keeping the eye contact you both had but his eyes were now filled with something you couldn't put a pin on.

when the seconds went past with no response, your heart sank in your stomach.

one.. two..

still no response.

all of a sudden, sukuna got to his feet, looking down at you. your heart had never pounded so hard in your life, regret evident in your face.

"no you don't."

"kuna i-"

"no. woman, i am the king of curses, you are just one of my many concubines. your glad your not dead by now with the amount of times you have disrespected me recently. i let you get away with as much as murder." he pauses, again. "do not think you are any more than that. gosh, all that sex must have gotten to your head, hm?"

your eyes widen, tears threatening to fill your eyes.

"go back to your chambers, i don't wish to see you no longer." and with that, he strides away, his aura different to how it usually is. had your words affected him that much?

tears ran down your face, one by one dropping down onto your kimono.

of course.

those words simply don't exist is ryomen sukuna's world, and they never will.

you are just a mere concubine, a servant at that. he had never truly cared for you, you was only a pawn in his long, twisted fantasy. ryomen sukuna didn't love, so why did you have love him?

this isn't proof-read, no warning neither except for in the tags. ik this is shit but i hardly write but ive had this idea for a while. part two with a happy ending, or part two with a sad ending????

[supercorpkid]

Would it really kill you if we kissed? Final

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!Reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader, Esmé Danvers.

Word Count: 3360.

Previously on part 2. Part 3 of 3 :)

You touch down on the rooftop of your apartment building, the cool night air sharp against your skin, a reminder that you're back in National City, back to the familiar world you tried so hard to leave behind. Once inside, you let your bag drop to the floor, the sound echoing in the silence, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of it—like you thought coming back here would make any of it feel better. But here you are, alone in your apartment, as if you could somehow outrun everything boiling up inside you.

You slump down onto the edge of your bed, and the silence presses in, thick and suffocating. You want to tear it apart, rip through this emptiness just to feel something else, anything else. But all that’s left is the quiet of the apartment against the loud of your raging mind.

You try to remind yourself why you came back—how you told yourself that being away from your sisters, from Lena, would give you space to breathe. But the air here feels no less heavy, and every time you close your eyes, you’re back on that island, hearing your own voice cut through the night,. Every word you threw at Kara and Alex loops through your mind, over and over, until you can barely tell where the anger ends and the regret begins.

And then, there it is, unbidden: the memory of Lena’s smile, her soft laugh, the way her hand lingered just a fraction too long when she’d touch your arm. You wonder what she’s thinking now—if Kara told her what happened, or if she just thinks you’ve vanished, abandoning this one fragile connection you were terrified to admit even to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You’ve burned the bridge, and you don’t deserve to look back. But the ache doesn’t ease; it settles deeper, a constant reminder that you’ve pushed away everything and everyone that mattered, leaving you with the raw, hollow ache of being completely alone.

The next day, you fly to Midvale, drawn back to the place that’s always felt like home. J’onn and M’gann assure you they have things covered, their gentle understanding a stark contrast to the turmoil you’re carrying. But here you are, hoping that maybe, while back home, the guilt from burning all those bridges won’t feel as heavy.

The moment you arrive, Eliza’s face lights up, her arms open wide for you. “My little girl,” she says softly, pulling you into the kind of hug you didn’t realize you needed. “Wait—I thought you were all off on an island somewhere? Didn’t you go for a vacation?”

"Hmm, yeah. I—I had to come back early because of this… thing." you reply, the words clumsy on your tongue, but she doesn’t press. 

Instead she scans your face. Eliza might not be your birth mother, but damn does she know you like one. She can see right through you, and you don't know if you're just that easy to read or if the people in your life just know you deeply.

"Well then, come in. Let's do the thing." She guides you inside the house, and you try to distract yourself with old feelings and memories instead of the new ones.

It's later that day when Eliza settles on the couch next to you, watching you with that quiet, gentle patience she's always had. "You know,” she begins softly, “you’ve always had the heart of a hero.”

“I think you’re confusing me with Kara,” you mutter, eyes fixed on the floor, but Eliza shakes her head, smiling.

"No, I'm not. Kara was always about the big thing—saving the world. But you, you've always been about the little things. Feeding the homeless, nursing birds and cats back to health, getting stray dogs into the house…" She sighs and you bite your lips so you don't smile at the memories. "You didn't even use your powers most of the time."

"Well, if I remember correctly, I wasn't allowed to."

"Oh, like that ever stopped the two of you." she chuckles, and despite yourself, you smile at the memories. "When you two landed here, Kara was mad most of the time. Just angry at the world and I got that, she had every reason. But you were always so kind. A sweet little thing ready to help anything that moved. Oh, and let’s not forget the plants,” she adds with a wink.

“Where are you going with this?”

She breathes deep. "That always worried me."

"What? You worried about me?"

“Still do, sweetheart. You had every reason to be mad too. But you never let your feelings show. You keep so much inside, bottled up.” Eliza reaches for your face, her hand soothing on your cheek, and you lean into the touch you so desperately need. “I don’t know what happened, but you’re allowed to be a mess, to explode, to embrace the difficult feelings.”

You lean into her hand, your eyes stinging. “Well, you might be glad to know that I… finally let it out.”

She nods slowly, eyes full of warmth. “And that’s okay. Just don’t hold on to those feelings for too long. Don’t let them chip away at the good, sweet part of you.”

You nod, her words sinking in as you finally let yourself breathe. Maybe it’s time to start processing all of this without the anger clouding it, without the need to keep defending your heart. You’re home now, and maybe here, you can start to sift through everything, piece by piece, until it hurts a little less.

Over the next couple of days, you stay in Midvale, trying to get your shit together while Eliza makes sure you’re giving yourself the space to feel every hurt, every regret you’ve been holding back. Slowly, you reconnect with parts of yourself you’d almost forgotten in all this mess, while Lena's words take root in some deep place inside—a place that cannot simply be brushed off or resolved, only managed.

You're not alone. You have to stop being alone.

When you finally feel ready, you head back to National City, determined to face the aftermath of your choices. The first thing you see when you walk into your apartment is Kara—waiting for you. The sight of her feels like a punch to the gut, all the words you’d left unspoken swirling around in your mind.

"Kara!" You manage to squeak out, your heart racing. "You're—you're back!"

Kara lets out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words has landed squarely on her just now. "I can't believe you said all those mean things and just... left us to sit with them."

You look down, biting the inside of your mouth, your heart tightening. "I know. I'm sorry. I—I guess I couldn't handle you being disappointed in me."

Kara’s expression softens, her gaze finding yours. "I would never be disappointed in you," she says quietly, stepping closer until she’s just a breath away. Her voice holds a warmth that reaches past your defenses. "I just don’t understand why you went so long without telling me any of this. Why would you keep it all to yourself?"

"Because I was afraid," you admit, the words coming out barely above a whisper. You clench your hands together, holding back the wave of emotions threatening to spill over. "Afraid to lose you. To lose everyone, actually." Your voice shakes, and you blink hard, forcing down the tears currently burning your eyes. "I can’t lose you, Kara."

Kara reaches out, her hand gentle as it lands on your shoulder. "You’ll never lose me, Y/N." she murmurs, her voice filled with an honesty that you can’t ignore. "But I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing yourself just to be my sister, or some idea of what you think I need you to be."

You breathe in, taking in the truth of her words, letting them settle into the cracks you’ve been trying to ignore. "It’s just... it’s exhausting, Kara. Trying to keep up with you and everything I need to be. And it hurts. All of it."

"I never wanted you to feel like that," she says, her voice filled with regret. "I thought we were doing this together. But now I see, I was so focused on how much having you by my side helped me, how much I needed you, that I didn’t think about how it felt for you."

You meet her eyes, finally allowing yourself to let down some of the defenses you've built up. "I didn’t know you needed me, I just felt like I was just fading into the background. Just the other hero, the one who's supposed to fit into your world. I didn’t want you to feel like I was letting you down."

Kara’s thumb traces gently along your cheekbone, wiping away the last of your tears. “You’ve never let me down, and you were never just another hero.” Her words are like a balm on a wound that’s been aching for too long. “Maybe I got so used to you being my strength that I forgot to let you lean on me too. But you’re not just my little sister or my backup out there. You were never second best to me. You’re everything good that I wish I could be.” Her voice wavers, a crack slipping through her steady tone. “I’m sorry that I haven’t always shown you that. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be someone you didn’t want to be.”

The raw honesty in her voice, the way her words strip away the last remnants of the defenses you’ve held, reaches deep inside you. You take a shaky breath, nodding as the fear that’s held you silent finally dissolves, leaving only the truth between you.

"I guess things will change a little if you really want me there."

"Oh trust me, knowing you're there with me it's what makes me like supering so much." Kara’s hands cup your face softly, grounding you in this moment. “And Rao, Y/N, I’m not in love with Lena. I never was, and I never will be. And even if I was…” She pauses, her gaze unwavering. “I would always put your happiness above mine.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, your heart clenching.

“It’s true. You mean everything to me. But also—Lena’s just my best friend. I love her, but not like that, okay?” Kara’s voice is gentle, pleading. “Please, do something about it. You deserve to be happy with her. You’ve held back for so long, and I hate that you felt you had to.”

A small, trembling smile breaks through as the weight of everything you’ve been carrying finally lightens enough for you to throw your arms around your sister, pulling her into a hug that’s been building since this whole thing started.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you and pushed you away,” you whisper, a smile breaking through the last of your tears. “I missed you every day.”

“I missed you too.” Kara’s voice is soft, and you can hear the smile in it—a warmth that melts away the tension in your body, easing the ache you’ve been holding onto. The closeness, her arms around you, feels like the piece you’d been missing all along.

For a moment, you both stay like that, wrapped in the quiet, finally able to be vulnerable without walls, without all the unspoken weight between you. In her arms, with her smile in your ear, the ache doesn’t just ease—it starts to heal.

Kara places a soft kiss on the top of your head, her arms still holding you close. “Now go. Go talk to Lena.”

You pull back slightly, hesitating. “Are you sure? Are we… good?”

Her smile is gentle, warm. “I think we haven’t been this good in months. So yeah, I’m sure. Go to her!”

Your heart swells, and you lean in, pressing a grateful kiss to her cheek. “I love you,” you murmur, the words carrying more weight than ever.

Her smile widens, eyes shining. “I love you, ie.”

With that, you take a steadying breath, feeling stronger than you have in a long time, ready to face whatever comes next. And next is… Alex.

You knock on her door, expecting to be greeted with anger, but instead, you’re met with a soft, “Hey! Come on in. We’re still unpacking!”

“Auntie!” Esmé jumps onto your leg, her face lighting up with joy as you scoop her up and plant a smooch on her cheek, earning a delighted giggle. “Where were you?”

“Oh, I went to visit your grandma.”

Alex glances up from her bag, raising an eyebrow. “Did you really go to see Mom?”

“Yep.” You set Esmé down, and she dashes off, following Kelly's call to help organize her room—basically code for leaving you and Alex alone.

“So I don’t have to go full mom on you?” Alex asks, crossing her arms playfully, and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Guess not.”

“Good.” Alex steps closer and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, her warmth soothing. “Sorry I didn’t keep your secret.”

“No, Alex, you were right. It was eating me alive. I don’t know how I didn’t explode earlier. I’m sorry for making you feel guilty; you are the perfect big sis.” You offer her a soft smile, genuine gratitude flowing between you. “I’m glad I finally got it all out in the open.”

Alex reaches for your arm, her touch reassuring. “Feel better now?”

You nod. “A bit guilty from all the yelling, but yeah. I guess I needed that. It’s like the weight’s been lifted.”

“Have you seen Lena yet?” she asks, her expression turning serious.

“No. Just Kara.”

“Alright then. Thanks for stopping by. Don't leave without saying goodbye to your niece again. And go confess your feelings to Lena, or I swear to God, I’ll tell her myself.”

You narrow your eyes at her, half-serious. “Just because this worked once doesn’t mean it will work again.”

“Hmmm, I’m pretty sure it will.” she says with a smirk, a glimmer of encouragement in her gaze.

You give her balcony door a soft knock, peering in to see Lena by the couch, a drink in hand, looking more tired than before the vacation. Her bag still sits half-unpacked nearby. At the sight of you, she scowls but heads over, unlocking the balcony door and stepping aside for you to come in.

“Hey, Lena,” you offer, voice soft.

“Don’t ‘hey Lena’ me,” she snaps, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “I’m mad at you!” She turns abruptly and heads toward the kitchen, leaving you standing by the door, unsure whether you should follow. “How could you? We were all excited to spend time with you, to finally have you around without your lame ass excuses, but you spent most of the time there hiding behind a six-year-old, and then you just got up and left without a word!”

“Lena, I’m so—”

But she doesn’t let you finish. “Did I not deserve a goodbye? Do I really mean so little to you?”

The hurt in her voice strikes deep, and you take a step closer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “No! Lena, you mean everything to me! I just… I couldn’t face you. Not with everything I was feeling.”

She finally turns to look at you, her eyes sharp, a blend of anger and pain. “Then tell me. What was so unbearable that you couldn’t talk to me? Because I was there baring my heart open to you. And you —you just left me! You left us! What's the point of a family trip if you're not even there?”

You swallow hard, heart pounding as you force yourself to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You're right, I never should've left."

"Of course I'm right!" Her hands turn into fists, angry bubbling up and you let her have her outburst, because now you understand how important they are. "I tried everything, Y/N. I begged you for your time. I tried to have you open up to me, but you just kept shutting me off! You've been shutting me off for months now, and God, what did I do to you?” Lena’s voice breaks. “What did I do to deserve it? Why do you hate me now?"

"I don't. Lena, baby, I could never hate you." You force yourself to come closer even though you are terrified of her reaction to what you're about to say. "I actually love you so much, I was scared of the feeling."

"What?"

"I love you, Lena. I've been in love with you since the first time I saw you."

Lena’s expression falters, the anger flickering into surprise, maybe even shock. She stares at you, words failing her as she searches your face, as if trying to decipher if she heard you right, if you’re serious. The silence stretches thin, and for a split second, you’re sure you’ve gone too far, that you’ve finally broken something you can’t fix.

But then, slowly, Lena’s shoulders drop, and a softness replaces the tension in her eyes. “You… you love me?” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.

You nod, a shaky exhale leaving your lips as you finally let the words settle into the open. "I love you. I know it might seem impossible after how I acted, and I know I messed up by pushing you away. But, Lena, every single moment, I’ve been in love with you. It was just… easier to hide than to risk losing you over it.”

"God, you're—you're infuriating, Y/N Danvers!" She grabs the collar of your t-shirt with surprising strength, prompting you closer. "If you didn't spend all of your time running and hiding from me, you would see that I'm also in love with you!"

“You are?” you almost stumble back in shock, but she’s holding you so tightly that you barely move. “You really feel the same?”

"Yes, darling.” Her tone is suddenly so sweet and soft, and yet she doesn’t let go of you. “I really do feel the same. Now you already made me wait for too long, so… Would it really kill you if we kissed?"

Your heart races as her words sink in, the weight of her admission filling the air between you. You stare into her eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all you see is warmth and a fierce determination that makes you feel like the only person in the world. 

"It might kill me if we don't."

Without a second thought, you close the distance, your lips finding hers in a rush of pent-up emotion. The kiss is electrifying, a fire that you both had been trying to deny for far too long. Lena’s hands release their grip on your collar and tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if she’s afraid you might vanish again. You melt into her, relishing the sweetness of the moment, the soft taste of her lips awakening every nerve ending in your body.

When you finally pull away, breathless, Lena’s eyes shine with a mix of mischief and sincerity. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Actually, I was terrified.” you joke, and she rolls her eyes at your antics.

“Well then, how about another kiss to make you feel less scared?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up as you lean in again, savoring the sensation of her against you, the way her lips move with yours, the warmth radiating from her body. In that moment, the past feels like a distant memory, and all that matters is this connection between you both.

As you pull back, breathless and smiling, Lena’s gaze is intense, filled with promise. “You’re not going anywhere this time, right?”

“Never again.” you reply, your heart full of certainty. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death

Y/n's POV

The walk to college felt longer than usual, the weight of everything I’d learned pressing heavily on my chest. My thoughts raced, unable to settle. Danny. Nate. Chris. How had it come to this? And how much longer could this go on? The morning chill bit at my skin, but it barely registered since I was too caught up in my own head.

Just as I reached the halfway point, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw Willow’s name flash across the screen. Taking a deep breath, I swiped to answer.

“Did you hear about Danny?” Willow’s voice was sharp, tinged with a mix of concern and urgency.

I nodded as though she could see me. “Yeah. I heard it on the radio this morning.”

“God, it’s crazy, isn’t it?” she said, exhaling audibly. “I mean, gang stuff is always on the news, but this.. this feels different, you know? Closer.”

Her words hit harder than I expected. She was right. It wasn’t just some distant tragedy anymore, it was intertwined with people I cared about. “It does” I admitted, my voice quieter than before.

Willow paused for a moment, then asked, “What’s been going on with you? You’ve been so vague since you left my place the other day. Are you okay?”

I glanced around the street, ensuring no one was nearby, before lowering my voice. “There’s.. been a lot.” I hesitated, then decided to tell her everything. “After I went home from yours I thought about what you said. About giving Chris a chance to explain himself.”

“And?” she prompted eagerly.

“And I did. I let him talk.” I bit my lip, thinking back to our conversation, his apology, the weight in his voice. “He drove out to me and we went for a drive, he apologised for everything. Said he wanted to get out of it all, that he hates the life he’s in.”

“Do you believe him?”

I hesitated. “I want to. I mean, he’s been honest with me about it all. He even stayed the night at my place.”

Willow’s gasp was loud enough to make me wince. “Wait? stayed the night? What does that mean, Y/n?!”

“Well we got high first..” I smirked, feeling my cheeks heat up despite being alone. 

“No way!! What was it like? I’ve always wanted to try” Willow exclaimed.

“Yeah it was fun like it felt nice and then.. we talked. Things got.. a little intimate, but it wasn’t—”

“Intimate?” she interrupted, her voice rising an octave. “Define ‘a little intimate.’”

I groaned, already regretting bringing it up. “Okay, fine. We kissed. Things got heated you know but ugh, Willow, can we not make this the focus right now?”

She chuckled. “Alright, alright. Go on.”

“I just.. I want to believe him. I want to think he can actually get out of this, especially after what happened with Danny. But now.. I don’t know. I’m scared for him. For Nate, too. Danny was their family, you know?”

Willow’s voice softened. “Yeah, I get it. It’s heavy. But Y/n, you need to think about what you want. If Chris really is trying to change, then that’s great, but you can’t be dragged into this with him. You know that, right?”

“I know” I said quickly, though the words felt hollow. “I just.. I can’t help but think about how they’re both feeling right now.”

Willow sighed. “It’s a lot, Y/n. But you’re strong. And if Chris is serious about getting out, then maybe there’s hope. Just… be careful, okay?”

“I will” I promised, though I wasn’t sure if I was convincing her or myself.

By the time I reached campus, the call had ended, but Willow’s words lingered in my mind. Be careful. It was sound advice, but how careful could I really be when everything felt so fragile?

I tried to throw myself into my classes, focusing on lectures, assignments, anything that could keep my mind occupied. But every free moment, every lull in conversation or pause in my work, brought me back to Chris and Nate. I couldn’t shake the image of Nate grieving, of Chris carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say out loud.

I debate back and forth on whether to text Chris, wondering if I should let him know I’ve heard about Danny or if it’s better to just let him have space. My fingers hover over my phone screen, the words typed out but unsent. Hey, I heard about Danny. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I read it over again and again, but I can’t bring myself to hit send. Chris is probably dealing with so much right now, and the last thing he needs is me crowding him.

After a few minutes of overthinking, I finally decide to let it be. We’re supposed to see each other later, and I’ll talk to him then. Maybe he just needs the space to figure things out on his own for now.

The rest of the day at college feels like a blur. I try to keep busy, immersing myself in assignments and discussions, but my mind keeps wandering back to Chris and Nate. How must they be feeling? Losing someone so close in such a brutal way… It’s a reality I can’t even begin to imagine.

I glance at my phone throughout the day, half hoping for a message from Chris, to make plans for tonight but it stays silent. My chest tightens with every passing hour, and I force myself to focus on anything else. When the final class ends, I pack up my things and head out, pulling my airpods from my bag.

The bus ride home feels endless, the cold seeping through my coat as I lean against the window. I put my music on shuffle, hoping it’ll distract me, but the first song that plays makes my heart sink. Everybody Dies in Their Nightmares by XXXTentacion starts in my ears, and it feels like the universe is taunting me.

Willow had said just a few weeks ago that this song reminded her of Nate. Now, with everything that’s happened, it feels like people’s nightmares are bleeding into reality. The lyrics hit differently today, every word tugging at my chest and reminding me how urgent it is for Chris to leave this life behind.

When the bus stops at my stop, I step off and start the walk home, the song still playing in my ears. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a message from Chris:

“Be round in an hour.”

My stomach flips at the sight of his name. I don’t know if it’s relief, anticipation, or anxiety.. maybe all three. But at least I’ve heard from him.

When I get home, I drop my bag in my room and try to pass the time by diving into some college work. My mind isn’t really in it, though. The words on the page blur together as I think about what to say to Chris, how to bring up Danny without pushing too hard.

As I sit there, something outside catches my attention – a faint glow filtering through the window. I frown and look closer, then realise what it is. The treehouse lights are on.

A small smile creeps onto my face. It’s Chris. I know it is. I close my laptop and grab a jacket before stepping onto the balcony.  The crisp night air brushes against my skin as I step onto the balcony, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. The glow from the treehouse lights casts a warm hue in the dark, and I see Chris leaning against the door frame. My heart twists at the sight of him, even from here, I can feel the weight he’s carrying.

“Chris?” I call softly, not wanting to alert my parents.

He turns, stepping closer to the edge of the treehouse so I can see him better. His face looks tired, his jaw clenched tightly as if he’s trying to hold it all together.

“Hey” he says, his voice low and rough.

I hesitate, gripping the balcony railing. I’ve been playing this moment over in my head all day, wondering how to approach it. “I, uh.. I heard about Danny” I say gently. My throat tightens. “How are you? How’s Nate?”

Chris sighs, running a hand through his hair as he leans against the railing of the treehouse. “Nate’s a mess” he admits. “He’s pissed, and he’s not thinking straight. Losing Danny like that.. he was family, you know?” His voice cracks slightly, and he looks away, his gaze distant. “It’s hard. For all of us.”

“I’m so sorry” I whisper, wishing I could say or do something to take the pain away.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between us. The faint rustle of the trees fills the space, and I let it sit there, not wanting to push him too much. But the words I’ve been holding back all day finally spill out.

“Chris, you can’t keep doing this” I say, my voice firmer now. “Look what’s happening. People are getting hurt, dying, and it’s only going to get worse. You need to get out. You need to do it now.”

He looks at me, his jaw tightening as he steps back into the shadows of the treehouse. “You think I don’t know that?” he says quietly, but there’s a sharp edge to his voice. “You think I don’t want to walk away from all this?”

“Then do it.” I urge, stepping closer to the edge of the balcony. “Chris, please. This isn’t just about you anymore. This is about Nate, Danny, and everyone else caught up in this mess. And it’s about me too.”

He presses his lips together, the conflict evident in his expression. “I need time” he says finally. “Just two weeks. That’s all I’m asking for. I can’t just walk away overnight.”

“Two weeks?” I echo, my voice breaking. “And then what? How do you know this is even possible?”

“I’ll make it possible.” he says, stepping into the light again. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the desperation in them. “I swear to you, Y/n. I’ll find a way out. Just trust me.”

I let out a shaky breath, my heart at war with my head. I want to believe him, I really do, but the danger surrounding him feels like it’s closing in on both of us.

“I don’t know, Chris” I say honestly, my voice trembling. “How do I know you’re serious?”

He steps closer, leaning against the railing and reaching for my hand. His touch is warm, grounding me despite the chaos swirling around us.

Chris’s POV

I watch as Y/n processes my words, her hesitation clear. I can see the fear in her eyes, and it kills me. She doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves better, better than me, better than this life I’m stuck in.

But as much as I hate dragging her into this, I can’t let her go. She’s the only good thing I have left, the only thing keeping me sane in all this chaos.

I step closer, leaning against the railing and reaching for her hand. “Be my girlfriend.” I say, the words spilling out before I can second guess myself. 

“I know my life is a mess right now, but I need you. You’re the one thing that makes me feel like I can get through all this. That's how serious I am.”

a/n: sorry for being MIA

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside

[onlyjjong]

엔하이픈 --- EMAILS I NEVER MEANT TO SEND (PART 4)

　　 박성훈　 x　 fem!reader　x 　심재윤 　　┊　　a very late and long birthday gift for jennifer!! :> 　　┊　　 wc 2.7k

GENERE　┊ 　!oneshot, !nonidol , !fluff , !hints of angst , !high school, !childhood best friends to lovers , !best friend's brother , !love triangle , !hockey player sunghoon , !basketball player jake , !academic weapon reader

DISCLAIMER 　┊ 　depictions may be inaccurate , contains swear words, mentions of hospital and sickness, y/n is lee heeseung's sister , sunghoon calls y/n 'princess' , y/n calls jake 'jaeyun' , mentions of ocs and random characters here and there.

⟡ 📩 𑁋 TAGGING : @a-dream-bookmark , @/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @en-diaries

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com

Dear Sunghoon,

I’m so nervous. On Tuesday, we’ll have the orchestra concert—and Miss Jeon, this morning, had suddenly told me that I have to replace Gaeul as concertmaster as she had an accident, broke her leg and was hospitalised, so she can’t play. I went to visit Gaeul just now, and she told me not to feel bad because I’m replacing her, but rather that I should feel proud because Miss Jeon knows that I’m capable enough to be a good concertmaster. 

I don’t know… I don’t know if I’ll play well enough.

Sent 10:12 AM, 20th October.

You adjust your sitting posture, taking a deep breath of the fresh air around you. You had walked over to the park to clear your thoughts. The concert that you’re going to play in as concertmaster is coming in less than two days, and since it is the biggest concert you’ve ever played in, you’re more nervous than you ever were. 

The weather is getting colder and colder with each passing day as winter approaches—so, even though your panicking thoughts prevented you from dressing as warmly you wished you did, you did at least wear one of Heeseung’s hoodies. 

Though, you kind of regret not grabbing a thicker coat. 

“Y/N!” you hear Jake’s voice, and as you look up, he’s already making his way towards you. 

“Hi,” he smiles as he greets you. “What are you doing out here alone? Without a coat, too.”

You shove your hands into the pockets of the hoodie, grinning sheepishly. “It’s okay, it’s not too cold.”

“You okay?” he asks as he takes a seat next to you. Jake looks a tad bit reluctant to do so, but the tension present in his features relaxes a little as you give him a reassuring smile. “You look a little off right now—I-I mean, like, you don’t have that kind of confidence I’d always see in your eyes, and your smile is less enthusiastic too–”

You laugh, patting Jake’s arm. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Jake looks at you, his eyes filled with adoration. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s October, but lately, he’s constantly thinking about you. Recently, all he’s curious about is if you’ve eaten, if you’re taking good care of yourself, if you’re feeling okay. 

Though, Jake knows that he’s just a friend. Jake knows, perfectly enough, that he’s just your deskmate, who you talk to only out of courtesy or when Sunghoon’s away. 

October is the month of plot twists and surprises, and for Jake, it is wishing that you would see him as something more. 

“I’m just wondering,” you begin, “if I’ll do good enough for the concert. I’m really, really nervous. I feel like my heart’s about to burst.”

“Oh?” Jake tilts his head slightly. “I think you’ll do okay.”

You lower your head. “I don’t think ‘okay’ is enough. I need this to be perfect—it’s my last orchestra concert, and-and I don’t think I’ve been practising as much as I wanted to, with all the studying–”

Jake grabs your hand and places it on his racing heart. Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.  “Here. Can you feel it?”

Too flustered—both from the sudden form of intimacy and the feeling of Jake’s heartbeats—to form any words, you simply nod. 

“This is how I feel every single time a basketball match is about to start, or whenever I’m with someone I enjoy being around,” Jake continues, “it’s as if my heart is running faster than I do… but anyway, my point is that it’s okay to feel nervous, even when you’re doing something you’ve done so many times. You’ve worked hard for this concert, right?”

Jake looks at you, directly in the eye, and he gives you a gentle smile. It’s reassuring and comforting, conveying to you more than his words did. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

“Then, you don’t have to be afraid,” Jake says, “you’ll do well—just like you always do. If you don’t believe in that, it’s okay. Just know that I believe in you. A lot of people do.”

“Thank you, Jaeyun,” you sigh, after taking a few minutes to process Jake’s words—and the fact that you’re sitting there, with him, hand in hand. 

It gives you tingles, exciting your nerves—Jake’s presence is gentle and warm, even if it’s a little sudden and abrupt. You enjoy being around him, and seeing another side to the well-known basketball talent—who’s always seen as someone who is carefree and laid-back. Honestly, you’re surprised to find out that the caring side of Jake was so much more than just smiling frequently at people. You’re surprised to find that Jake is a soul made out of compassion and kindness, and you’re ever so grateful to befriend someone like him. 

“My pleasure,” he replies, squeezing your hand once. “I’m-I’m glad to be of help.”

You let go of his hand, standing up. “I’m going to go home and practise some more,” you tell Jake, who’s listening to you attentively. “I’ll see you later?”

“Alright—you don’t want me to walk you home?”

You shake your head, “it’s okay, I can manage.”

Jake nods, and waves you goodbye. 

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com

Today’s the day of the concert. I’m very scared, but I’ll try to shrug it off. I woke up super early today, despite not being able to sleep that well last night. I’m all dressed, I did my hair and makeup for school; I even have the dress for the concert all ready. I already double checked my violin and memorised my music sheets (even though I’ll be having them on display for the concert later)... but I just still feel so anxious.

Help me, Sunghoon, I don’t know what to do.

Sent 6:32 AM, 22nd October.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jake greets you, knocking you out of your train of thought. You look to your side and see him hopping off his bicycle, pushing it slowly to match your walking pace. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you smile back, your cheeks itching due to the insincerity of the smile. “Where’s Danielle?” 

“She’s still at home,” Jake answers, “we don’t live too far away, so she’s always out at around half past seven.”

You nod, aware of what he’s talking about. “I see. Why are you out so early, though? It’s only seven o’clock.”

Jake chuckles. “Well I figured I had to start out early to catch up with you. Turns out my timing is perfect today. I always catch you at school already.”

“Yeah,” you give him a courteous smile. “I noticed that too.”

“So, how’ve you been doing?” Jake asks, after around five minutes of silence.  

“I’m fine,” you simply say. You’re lying, as who would be absolutely fine when they’ve got an extremely important and big event coming up in a few hours? Though, you didn’t feel the need to explain to Jake. 

“Are you?” he counters, an eyebrow raised in the following. “I’m really amazed if you truly are, considering that you’ve been balancing studying for midterms and national entrance exams—which at the same time, you’ve also been practising violin.”

You choke out some laughter. “You’ve been observant of me, huh? Don’t think that’s a little creepy?”

Satisfaction and a little bit of guilt washes through you as you delightfully watch Jake’s eyes widen. “I-oh my,” he stumbles over his words the same way he’s tripping on air out of pure embarrassment. He quickly catches up with you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as a creep, Y/N. I’m just quite… observant, that’s all.”

You chortle, feeling in the mood to tease the five feet nine inches dude walking beside you. “Are you?” you tease, mimicking his accent and the way he said it to you earlier, “then, Jaeyun, tell me what are the ten enzymes in the glycolysis process?”

Jake’s jaw drops wide open. “I-I mean–”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach to prevent it from bursting. “Gotcha. Knew you weren’t thoroughly observant.”

“Hey! That isn’t fair, you’re asking me about biology,” Jake pouts. “Who on earth would pay attention in Mrs Nelly’s class?”

“Y/N would.”

You pause in your tracks, shock sending chills throughout your body as you feel Sunghoon’s voice to your right. You look in his direction, and he’s already walking in synchronisation of your tempo. Sunghoon slides his arm around your shoulder, giving you a grin. “Good morning, princess,” he says casually. 

 You clear your throat, your cheeks coloured pink at the close vicinity. “Good morning, Hoon.”

“Good morning, Sunghoon,” Jake says plainly. 

“Oh, Jake?” Sunghoon tilts his head, giving the basketball jock a taunting yet innocent look—as if he’s just noticed his presence. “G’morning.” 

You manage to catch a glimpse of Sunghoon’s smug face: his left eyebrow raised and his slight  smile was evidently one-sided—directed straight to Jake. 

“Have you eaten breakfast, princess?” Sunghoon asks, turning back to you.

You shake your head, flexing your shoulders to adjust the position of both your backpack and your violin case backpack. “I don’t have the appetite.”

Both Sunghoon and Jake form a perplexed look simultaneously. Sunghoon smacks the back of your head feebly, rolling his eyes. “Yah! What did I tell you? Eat your breakfast!” he scolds, “do you want me to die?”

“What does my breakfast have to do with you dying?” you retort. 

“Well–” your best friend of 13 years pauses. “It doesn’t matter, but, c’mon,” he changes the topic, grabbing your hand. He glances at Jake, who’s biting his lips shut, before dragging you away. “Let’s get to school early so we can grab some breakfast.”

“Oomf–” you manage, stumbling. “See you later, Jaeyun!” you give Jake a wave with your free hand. Jake forms a smile upon seeing it, and in return, he waves. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“ARE YOU NERVOUS?” SUNGHOON ASKS AS THE TWO OF YOU ARE PACKING YOUR BAGS AT THE END OF THE DAY’S LESSONS. 

“Well, if you can’t tell,” you joke, zipping your school backpack shut. “Yes.”

Sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, smiling meekly. “I mean, you’re so good at the violin, so I didn’t think you’d be nervous.”

“Are you insane?” you gasp, smacking the 12th grader’s head. He blocks your hit effortlessly with his arm. “It’s my biggest concert as a freaking concertmaster!”

Sunghoon grins. “So? You’re going to ace it either way,” he grabs you, and before you could react, puts you in a headlock. “Won’t you?”

“Hey!” you scream, frantically pulling yourself away from him. Luckily for you, his grip is purposefully loose, so you quickly stand back on your feet. “What was that for?”

Sunghoon merely smiles—it’s gentler and comforting this time—as if he’s silently reassuring you that everything will go just fine. 

“Y/N,” Jake calls, shattering the moment you’re having with Sunghoon. You quickly turn to face him, unaware of the grim change in Sunghoon’s expression. Jake hands you a canned ice lemon tea. “Here, um, I don’t know if you like lemon tea or not–”

“I do!” you animatedly beam. Jake sighs in gratitude.

“–thank God. anyway, um, I got these for you… my grandma said that tea’s good for calming your nerves down,” Jake continues. 

“The sugar will make her energetic anyway,” you hear Sunghoon mutter grumpily behind you. You’re not sure if Jake hears it, because the smile on his face is unwavering. 

“Thanks,” you say. Jake nods, and before he can say anything in reply, Sunghoon snatches the can of ice lemon tea in your hand. 

“This looks good,” he muses, his smirk evident. You turn towards him, confused. What is he really trying to do? “I’m gonna have some, eh?”

You wear your backpack, shrugging. “You do you, Park Sunghoon. I’m going to go now, I’ve got to get ready for the concert.”

“Wait up!” Sunghoon exclaims, running after you. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

SUNGHOON RUNS INTO THE WAITING AREA, 15 MINUTES BEFORE THE CONCERT STARTS. He tries to spot you—or simply anyone he knows to help him find you. He sees plenty of people: a group of violinists, another group of people tuning their cellos and violas. His eyes scan through the crowd, and spots you in a corner, pacing here and there to calm yourself down.  

“Y/N,” he says, a little softer than he intended. You turn around—the ankle-length black skirt creating a flower around you as it swirls, your hair gently hitting your face. Sunghoon clears his throat in an attempt to drive away the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. 

“Oh, you look beautiful,” he blurts out, leaving you wide-eyed and as flustered as he is. 

“T-thanks,” you manage. 

Sunghoon takes a deep breath, hesitating at the last minute. He brings out his arms and pulls you into a hug, embracing you in his warmth; at the same time stepping over the line he’s placed between himself and you. He lingers around longer than you expect him to, and when he finally pulls away, the tip of his ears are flushed red. 

“You’ll do great,” Sunghoon whispers, squeezing your shoulders in hopes of channelling the confidence he has in your ability, to you. “I know that.”

You smile warmly at him. 

This is why you can’t stop falling in love with him—Park Sunghoon—your own best friend. He knows you so well, probably even more than you know yourself. He knows exactly when you need anything, and perfectly how you need things. He makes you feel like it’s so easy to befriend you—like loving you is the easiest thing in the world, even if it was platonic. 

Everything is simple and easy when you’re with Sunghoon. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com

Dear Sunghoon, 

I hope you’re doing okay. National state exams are coming in less than a week, and I’m a total nervous wreck. I’ve been studying every single day, but I don’t know… I wish I planned things out better. I don’t know if I’ve memorised everything, if I’ve reviewed everything, and if I’ve done enough practice questions. 

I’m laughing at myself right now. So ironic, right? I’m Decelis Academy’s prodigy, the so-called “academic weapon” of our school, but I can’t even get studying right. 

I haven’t been studying properly these past few days. I can’t even open my eyes… my head hurts and nothing makes sense. I don’t know, Sunghoon. I wish burnout didn’t exist. And I sincerely hope that you’re not going through the same thing as me. 

Sent 12:48 PM, 9th November. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com

Hoon,

Why am I like this? Why can’t I study properly? Every passing minute I feel more like a failure. Why can’t I memorise anything? I’m so dumb. So stupid. 

I don’t know anymore.

Sent 8:03 AM, 10th November.

Sunghoon grabs a coat and quickly heads out of his house, desperate to get fresh air. Studying has gotten his head clogged, and for the first time in a while, he believes that burnout is real. He hasn’t even been to two weeks of hockey practice, and that is significant for someone like Sunghoon. 

He grabs his smartphone out of his pocket and opens one of the only pinned contacts in his messages—you. He’s worried; you haven’t texted him back in three days. And knowing you, Sunghoon guesses that you probably forgot to respond to him due to your intense studying. 

Since he’s already out and about to talk a walk, he might as well grab a refresher or two and visit you. Sunghoon stops by a cafe near your school, one that he specifically knew to always have your favourite strawberry danish. He buys two of them along with two cups of lemon sprite, swiftly catching a taxi to arrive at your house faster. 

After sitting down, Sunghoon texts you. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ hey, have you had lunch?

And to his surprise, he gets a response within three minutes. 

Though, it wasn’t from you. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ sunghoon, this is heeseung

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ y/n’s in the hospital

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ she collapsed 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ the doctor said it’s bc she hasn’t eaten the past few days

Sunghoon feels his heart stop for a split second. His world starts spinning as his eyes widen in shock. His hands start to shake, making it hard for him to type a response to Heeseung. Fear starts to creep up on him, and malicious thoughts fill his brain. 

Sunghoon shakily calls out to the driver to change the route and bring him to the hospital—his heart banging loudly against his chest every second of it.

　　　 teaser 　　　　　┊　　　　　　previous 　　　　　　┊　　　　　　next

― © onlyjjong, 2024.

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[neonlin]

JACK’S CHARACTER BREAKDOWN PART -3

JACK -A SOPHISTICATED LOVER

After finishing my first 2 parts on Jacks Character analysis ,I thought to wait how the narrative is gonna go in 11th episode cause after seeing the spoilers for the week ,I was almost confirmed that they are gonna do Jack's character dirty and make Joke look like a pathetic lover who once again ask for forgiveness. I am actually thankful to the show writers that they din't , and instead surprised me with his angsty/angry /hero side . Here is what I want to highlight about Jacks another character trait-He is always subtle in his ways of expressing love . He was never vocal about it ,the only time that we see him expressing was when he tells Joker that he will have his eyes only for him(EP 10) . Not only Joke but me who was watching the show sounded it so cheesy and cringe and I felt like Jack doesn’t do this but being in love he made a good attempt . At the same time when we saw Joke doing the same thing on the swing -I didn’t feel it like cringe -it was just a cute moment that made everyone shy. Here is the stark contrast between Jack and Joker,Joker is a lover boy who is expressive and Jack is the exact opposite . (They compliment each other so well here !!!!) .

People like Jack who always used to consider duty as love , never really expresses what's in their heart ,they may act or do shitty things spontaneously/impulsivily but may never intend bad things to happen.

So in Episode 10 -Jack was having one of the worst days of his life -probably the most tragic since his parents death /also the day he was fooled by Joker and was forced to join the Boss .Everything was in shambles ,there was chaos everywhere, his daughter was injured and he learns that the love of his life has broken his trust and did things behind his back which indirectly lead to some of the mishaps of the day.

This was his breaking point -he cannot do it any longer .It was so over for him.  His body, mind , heart and soul din't know what to do -there was Joke standing in front of him sobbing , crying ,unable to look straight into his eyes, defenseless ,with hands by his side and tears rolling down his eyes. Jack dint know what to do ,he felt empty ,defeated ,cheated and what not ??!! and all he could do was raise his voice and pull Jokers collar and question him for his actions. He wanted to punch him so badly, he even raised his hand to do so but couldn’t make himself to hurt the man in front of his eyes who was his  partner ,his family ,his faen .

So when the events of the day got over ,all Jack could think of was hurrying back to his home and fix things up. Good Lord !!!! and that is when we realize the whole fucking shit that he din't mean a single WORD he said to Joker at hospital. He wanted to get back to his man = his home and make things right. Don't you see ? He din't even know the whole fucking truth of why joke stole the ring , he din't want to know it either ,he just wanted to get back to his home .

But fate had different plans .....

Once Jack gets to know Joke was taken away ,It triggered the shit out of him.His face was trembling with anger , terror, regret for not coming earlier ,for having said all the wrong things, for not apologizing .It was so evident in his face. Yes that’s Jacks Character breakdown part 3 for you.!!!!!

P.S I hope the final episode brings justice to their love .And of course  I am waiting for that ‘donot touch my boyfriend ‘ scene too badly.....See he didn’t even hesitate to blurt it out loud. That my JACK !!!

[rookinthecrownest]

Discussion about romances + expectations under the cut (I'd put it as like..mildly critical, but also coming from a place of understanding?). As usual, will tag as such so you don't have to engage/read on if you don't wish to. I always invite open discussion, just keep it respectful (as I will endeavour to do so myself).

This is going to be a bit of a ramble, so I apologize if my thoughts are not clearly laid out like they should be.

I think I've found the reason why I (and maybe others), feel that the romances in Veilguard feel a bit... idk, hollow, at times (not BAD!!! just feeling like there could be MORE). And that's because of the trap of expectations. I may also be speaking completely for myself here.

Anyway, let's rewind to 2014.

Be me, 10 years ago. You're not really a gamer, but indulge in action RPG's casually.

See a commercial for this hot new game coming out called Dragon Age: Inquisition. Be intrigued by the character designs, but know nothing about the world. Come to find out it's part of a trilogy. So naturally, you buy the first two games and play through them before playing the third.

Be amazed, and completely hooked on the characters, the lore, the world, the darker elements and themes. It becomes your favourite game series of all time.

But you had no idea that you could romance any of the companions going into the experience. And man, does it fundamentally rewire your brain chemistry to fall in love with cRPG and get ridiculously attached to your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor.

So, you romance Alistair first because he's funny as hell, and has a really interesting story/character arc. Then you romance Zevran, and love that too - he's charming and suave and awkward and funny. Then you go onto DA2 and romance Fenris and Anders, and each of those romances pack their own emotional gut punches. Then it's finally time for DAI, and predictably, you go for Solas (a veritable slow burn that spans TWO games), Cullen, and partially (I never finished those playthroughs lol) Blackwall and Dorian.

I had no idea you could romance companions going into these games. It was a pleasant surprise! It always felt like an important part of the story, while not overshadowing the main plot. There was enough material in the codexes, the cutscenes, and party banter to make each romance feel complete and whole and awesome and nuanced.

And then, like some of you I suspect, I read an article that touted Veilguard as "The Most Romantic Bioware Game Yet", and I thought - "Wow, if they're saying this then the romances must be something else", given the quality of the previous romances you've experienced in these games!

But you get to the game - and while you're having fun, it definitely leans more into the ARPG style where romances feel a bit more pushed to the side in order to tell a certain story than the traditional Bioware/Larian RPG experience you've come to love.

Which is fine! Again, once I stopped thinking of Veilguard as a classic Bioware CRPG, and more like GOW/The Witcher, I found I was able to appreciate it a lot more for what it is. Things have to Happen A Certain Way for the narrative to work, and that's not a bad thing. DA2 was similar - it was a harrowing, personal tragedy about the Hawke family and their struggle to survive in Kirkwall.

Just like DA2, there are aspects of Veilguard that make me glad things happened the way they did. I'm not mad that Rook has so much dialogue without a ton of player input and you can't 'be evil' - because the game doesn't make sense if you can. At its core, Veilguard's narrative is centered around Regret, after all - you can't have an evil protagonist running around because Solas' Regret prison would never work (evil people don't generally tend to regret their actions...)!

Now, if you're expecting a long-winded, fully researched academic breakdown of every romance I'm sorry but that ain't happening tonight lol. This is not based in any fact, this is all opinion.

I can't quite put my finger on it, but sometimes it feels like the romances in this game (and I say this with the biggest grain of salt as I've only done Emmrich and Lucanis' - and am going through Neve's now), are just missing....something, to take them from good to great.

I loved Emmrich's romance. I thought it was very well done. I think a lot of people would agree it's one of the stronger ones in the game - doubly so if you play as a Mourn Watch Rook (you get a TON of MW specific lines going this route, it's great). His side romance with Strife if you don't get together is very cute, I enjoyed it. But as superbly well done as it was, somehow, I wouldn't even put it in my top 4 Bioware romances.

With Lucanis' romance - whatever my hangups may be about how it was handled, certain parts of his romance were done excellently (even better than some of the previous Bioware romances, I'd say). You can read more about my thoughts on his romance here which is why I'm not going into detail about it. Unlike Emmrich's, I would put it in my top 4 because I fell in love with the character that much (both in the game but really, I've loved him since Tevinter Nights), and I've grown very attached to my first Rook and him as a pairing. I've seen others share a similar sentiment on here (and I hate to say it but I agree) - sometimes it feels like I fell in love with Rookanis despite the way it was handled, not because of it. I can't say that for many other romances. While it's been fun to think up a lot of HC/write fics/make art about those abandoned concept sketches and parts where I felt the game could have showed us more of their dynamic, I can't help but feel like his (and other) romances would have immensely benefited from even 1 or 2 extra small scenes to flesh it out a bit more if they weren't going to let us freely talk to our companions.

The issue with the romances might also have something to do with the pacing of the game itself. I think Act 2 is where the pacing goes a bit awry, before picking back up in Act 3 (which is great, I love it).

Sometimes I also felt that there was a little too much reliance on codex entries and party banter to tell the story of the romance rather than showing it explicitly through cutscenes. I think that's what makes the romances feel a bit truncated at times, compared to the previous entries? Some of the romance-specific party banter was so good, it probably deserved its own cutscene. But it's also highly dependent on the party you have, and it's easy to miss/not trigger. I remember absolutely living for the cutscenes in the first three entries and I can't explain why I feel like, subjectively speaking, Veilguard just has less romance content (this may not be objective reality - I haven't compared the amount of romance specific content head to head with other games).

I also couldn't tell you why I feel DA2 doesn't suffer the same problems as DATV in terms of romance interaction - because you can't freely talk to your companions in that game either. Yet somehow, it always felt like I was getting enough of them to not notice that. I do miss being able to chat my LI's ear off and ask them questions about their life/their views/etc. like I could in DAO and DAI. I think it's a shame we can't because the companions in DATV are SO interesting. I want to ask them all a billion questions about their lives/stories/etc even if they're not my love interest. The party banter in this game is immaculate but being able to talk to them individually about this stuff would've been SO nice. I feel that I've missed out on SO MUCH of these characters just because I didn't have two of them in my party at the same time!

Anyway, I need to wrap this up.

In closing, perhaps, if I hadn't read that article about how it was going to be Bioware's most romantic game ... maybe I wouldn't feel this way? I think it sent my expectations through the stratosphere, and that's no one's fault but my own. Not Bioware, not EA, mine.

I know that this game's development cycle was a unique sort of hell that the other games didn't suffer. To go from Joplin -> Morrison -> Veilguard. To have so many of the original staff leave the team when Joplin got scrapped. To have to pivot from Live Service and then back to single person RPG. More lay-offs. It's a miracle this game got made. I'm happy I can sit around thinking about it. And I hope its successful enough that we get DA5 so we can all sit around dissecting that in 5-10 yrs time.

Don't get me wrong - I enjoy the Veilguard romances for what they are. I'm enjoying them more I play and discover additional banter/codex/etc that I missed the first time around. Like any Bioware romance, there are spots where they hit their stride, and spots where they falter a bit. When they hit their stride they knock it out of the fucking park. But when they falter, you can really feel it. Romance is hard to write! And you'll never fully please everyone.

But a small part of me wishes I'd gone in blind, and checked my own expectations a bit.

Maybe you agree, maybe you don't. Tell me about it. What was your experience with the romances? Did you also read that article and get your expectations up?

I hope this makes sense.

Kind regards good fandom folks,

Keep the discussion respectful. And please don't use this post as an excuse to just blatantly hate on the game.

-Rookie

[theharellan]

My rough thoughts/interpretation/reflection of Solas and his relationship with Mythal after a first playthrough. It's subject to change on future playthroughs, but probably by inches (if I can ever get my audio fixed). Note that while I am trying to base all of this on canon, there is reinterpretation involved, as I do feel Mythal/Flemythal/Morrimythal was neutered somewhat in the writing process.

Spoilers for the whole of DA: The Veilguard.

When I roleplayed Solas I mostly played the relationship as benign, in large part due to her being another character whose role in Solas's life was gestured at but never defined. Which in some ways, is still true, but I think at this point it's impossible to deny she had a negative impact on him (to say the least). Since moving into fic writing I started to lean into the darker implications of their relationship, and while for the sake of rp I'm adaptable, I do still want to talk about my feelings regarding them.

I believe Solas, by aiding her, is culpable in many of the crimes they committed together- make no mistake of that, but he is also a victim of her. She says at the end she used his wisdom as a weapon, but she also used her benevolence as a tool to manipulate him, appealing to his knowledge of her nature to get what she wanted.

Her coaxing him to take a body after he states outright that "he has no wish to live as humans do" (I'm going to ignore the confusing implication that humans were around) is but the first betrayal she subjects him to, and imo the greatest crime she commits against him, specifically. At least in canon, the game skirts around the issue of vallaslin, but if the "he didn't want a body but she asked him to come" is true, then it would follow that the follow-up, "he left a scar when he burned her off her face" would also be true.

The second would be rising to the heights of the gods, and calling him the traitor for rebellion. Morrigan calls Mythal corrupted 'Retribution,' and that may be true of Mythal after her murder, but I believe long before that her benevolence had gone awry. From what I can tell, we have no concrete timeline for Elvhenan and what the gods did before and after her death, and therefore no idea what Mythal even means by tempering the other evanuris. Slavery almost certainly existed, which honestly is enough for me to say she was doing a bad job. Past codices indicate that her punishments were not just so much as exact:

"Mythal, in her wisdom, interceded in an argument between Elgar'nan and Falon'Din. With clever words, she convinced them to settle their grievance through a battle of their champions. Elgar'nan and Falon'Din agreed, and set their champions against each other rather than declare war among the gods. May those knights long be remembered, and Mythal's wisdom be praised." (x)

This and the codex describing Mythal's judgment characterise her tenure as a god as being far from bloodless.

There are also indications that not all had as much faith in Mythal's ability to see reason or cede power:

"Solas always thought" is the key phrase for me in this note. Not "we," but "Solas."

What this all means for Solas is that Mythal someone he has a deep, ancient connection to, but also someone who has hurt him deeply, violated him, used him.

And he doesn't want to face that.

Solas is quite capable of admitting his mistakes, even as he is moving onto the next one literally in the same breath... but Mythal's mistakes are never addressed by him, even at the finish, when he is holding the pommel of the knife out for her taking.

I think Solas navigates around the wrongs committed against him throughout the course of their knowing each other. His rage against the mages who forced Wisdom to take a body, to kill, may lead him to murdering them, but he never directs such anger at Mythal. He can't. The regrets he has about her literally flake and dry upon the walls of the Lighthouse because he can't. He can't face her remnant in the FadeAnd it's only at the end where he receives any catharsis in the matter, any admittance of wrongdoing against him (albeit without apology).

So in most interactions with Mythal, Solas will be very close with her, at best brushing up against the sides of where there relationship chafes. Always willing to believe the best of her, and her death granting him the mercy of being able to persist in that belief.

I do also believe their relationship was entirely platonic, albeit at such an intensity (on his part at least) that I'm certain there was talk. Luckily, I've spent ten years with Thora and Solas doing the ground work for Solas having deeply intense platonic relationships that match his romantic ones for their dedication and devotion.

[girlwithwolftatoo]

What is chained -Chapter 1

Summary: There was a dream named Rome, and saving it doesn't always mean to chop heads off.

Words: 1677

Characters: Marcus Acacius, emperor Geta, emperor Caracalla and others.

Chapter 1: Taraxia -Disturbance

Any man who has been to sea knows that, when a storm approaches, it is preceded by a shivering calm where silence and stillness are only the desperate cry of an inevitable terror. The air becomes salty, suffocating, the sails hang lifeless, the oars are stowed. And so Acacius thought of his own ship as the slaves loaded their belongings into a wide cart, pulled by a beautiful Gaul steed with its shaggy ankles and curly mane. Lucilla watched, paralyzed with anger from the porch, her hands wringing a sprig of lavender as she struggled not to cry. Her father said that what a free man earns should not be taken from him without cause, but her brother would have sadly agreed with his successors, those two little red-haired devils. Acacius turned away, once he had signaled to the servants that they could retire, and approached the woman with what he considered a reassuring face, which he well knew was not going to do much good. It broke his heart to provoke her to so much distress, but he knew, for that is only learned through years of iron and blood, that refusal would have been worse. “I'll be fine,” he told her, reaching out a hand to stroke her face. Lucilla closed her eyes, bowing her head over the powerful hand that tried to comfort her “Listen, give me a week, two maybe, I'll send messages in the meantime and then… I'll negotiate with the senate. They'll be reasonable, once they see results.”

Lucilla sighed, looking at him defeated. “I never wished this for you, and look at you…you're being sent into the jaws of wolves.” “I'll be able to handle them, you trust, don't you trust me?” he said it lightly, smiling, but his wife didn't play along. “When you raise your sword I do not fear for you, but these… enemies… how will you defend yourself if…?” “With the senate. One word from me and they will regret it. Please…” he added in desperation, giving her a kiss on the cheek, "trust, I know what I'm doing, or at least Gracchus does.’ It was all part of a defensive plan, Acacius said to himself after saying goodbye to Lucilla, riding with his things in the wagon that was taking him to his destiny, was that destiny? he wondered as he left his villa back to the scandal of the city. No celebrations, no making the matter public, that was the decision of the good Gracchus, a great and loyal friend of his wife and her father, so as to avoid angering the demons. It was true that in any case, the demons were already angry. Thraex was still trying in vain to reassure them when the cart stopped at the palace stables, so that Acacius barely set foot when he had clear duties to perform.

“General, I thank the gods you made it” whined the man, exiting through a double door from which could be heard shouts of two men fighting loudly. Acacius looked with exasperation at the door.

“They didn't take kindly to the news, I'm afraid.”

“No way, they're a wild beast, when I told them I thought they were going to kill me.”

Acacius was already used to Thraex hypersensitivity, so he didn't take it so seriously either, and walked through the double doors as if he had just entered an enemy barracks.

On one side, there was Geta, using one of those platters for exotic meats as a shield, and at the other end, his face so reddened that it showed under the heavy makeup, Caracalla, whose raging voice had become so high-pitched that Acacius thought he was going to summon bats.

“You can't tell me what to do!” he shrieked, waving a narrow-mouthed vase varnished in gold.

“I know, I know, I just want you to listen to me, if you keep going on like that...!”

“Do you think I care, I've never been insulted... like that...!”

Geta turned his head and met Acacius, his expression soured but he did nothing but clench his jaw, Caracalla instead dropped the vase - which shattered - and went running towards him, his brother unable to stop him; the older one clenched his muscles in case he rammed him, but the little twin was reduced to stopping a good few feet away, pointing a finger at him as he groaned:

“Et tu, Justus?”

“Calm down, you're embarrassing yourself,” Geta warned him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Acacius relaxed, he detested them both in equal parts, but ruefully admitted that the older twin was a bit more reasonable. “Your Majesties… I see the patrician Thraex has already informed you of the news in the senate.” “News? You call that news?” shrieked Caracalla, wincing ”They have mocked us, that's what they did, and you participated!” “If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else, my lord, and perhaps someone less sympathetic and more… interested in the privileges to be obtained than in the good of you and Rome” continued the general. “I don't know if you haven't noticed but we are no longer children, general” Geta rebuked him, still holding his brother ”We have ruled this empire for years, since we were very young, back then no one cared about our decisions and suddenly…” “You must understand, your majesties, that the people of Rome are no longer as they were in the time of Marcus Aurelius” at the old emperor's mention, Caracalla grimaced and Geta rolled her eyes, ”when the common people were… easily satisfied because they had all they could ask for. The empire is larger, yes, but not stronger or more prosperous.” "How are they not satisfied? We give them parties, shows, military victories, what more do they want?” hinted Geta, supported by his twin who nodded vigorously. Acacius made an effort not to change his expression, that was worse than talking to an infant.

“Yes, but none of it brings food to their tables or fire to their homes. Not all of them are nobles, or wealthy dynastic providers. That's why... that's why the senate has decided...”

“Yes, yes, we know! A curator...” The tone of contempt was not lost on the general.

“See this better as a... advisor in the face of the people” he tried. Acacius regretted not knowing how to speak with the astute finesse of politicians, just now a little lip service would do him good. “If I am always at their majesties' side and... advise them on matters of the people, nothing more, then the people will perceive you as... more... approachable.”

His brain was struggling to find the right words, and he wished he had Lucilla with him, she would surely know how to explain them better. Meanwhile, on the twins' faces there was an identical internal struggle. It was Caracalla who spoke first:

“Who was the idiot who suggested this plan? It couldn't have been you” He said it as if the very idea mortified him.

“No, I certainly don't know, the senate communicated to me only the decision... and that they voted for me as your... advisor.”

“And well, will you be glued to us at all hours? Will you follow us everywhere to tell us how to do our work, general?” asked Geta.

“Their majesties know that I don't know about politics. Of war, on the other hand...”

Yes, he thought suddenly, now that he could explain.

“Come, please, I want to show their majesties something” he requested as politely as he was able, approaching one of the exquisitely narrow windows. The twins followed him, wary. “See out there? Beyond those marble statues and those white steps…that's Rome, your subjects. Tell me, if you were down there, like them, arguing in the marketplace over the prices of a bit of garum and taking your boots to be darned for the third time in the year, how would you feel?” None answered, it seemed too existential a question for their brains. “The enemy can become an ally, if conquered…and it must not always be through violence. You want those people at your feet? You will have to win them back. That's what I'm here for.” The thought brought a strange smile to the twins' faces. Geta, the sharpest, nodded. “Ah, I understand… you'll make them love us, won't you? They adore you, how they get when they see you marching in your chariot! They almost deafen us, don't they?” he asked, turning to Caracalla. “Oh yes, good General Justus, they would make you emperor if they could…” he added with venom.

"Well then, if your majesties would offer your help, I could… well, I would take this matter very seriously. My duty…” he felt a shudder as he said it, "is for Rome to love you once more." That seemed to be enough for Geta, at least he was calmer. Caracalla however continued to insist. “What's in it for you, general? You already have a beautiful house, a noble wife, a superb horse… what more could you want?” Acacius thought it was amusing that the boy spoke to him as if he could bargain. “I do it for Rome, the people I swore to protect and glorify. Nothing more.” “Well… they certainly haven't announced the matter with fanfare” Geta commented, thoughtfully ”We would have expected you to arrive with full honors, a little party for your appointment…”

“No way, I'm not doing it for my own benefit and besides, it would be improper for me to have a party for such a thing. Too many parties would anger the people.”

“Especially since they are not invited” reasoned Caracalla with a silly chuckle ”Yes, yes, that's all very well, I think we can survive this. Don't overdo it, General, and I don't see why we shouldn't get along.”

“Excellent.”

Acacius took his leave, in order to go to his assigned quarters. Part of being curatormeant that he had to live in the palace, the one thing he abhorred most about that job; if Lucilla wasn't so friendly with Gracchus he would punch him in the face for getting him into that mess, but he would have time to ruminate on his frustration, perhaps later in the bath when he could relax as well. For now he had to go back to being the general, and come up with a strategy for this unequal war.

[luckyjak]

how I would fix veilguard

general note: I enjoyed Dragon Age: The Veilguard and it is very easy, post game release, for me (a person who doesn't work for Bioware and isn't the game's developers) to sit back in my armchair and go "This is what they should have done instead." That said, this is the internet, and I have opinions, so let's roll.

also, spoilers, obviously.

First, I would have made two games out of the material in Veilguard, not one.

Game one (which we will still call The Veilguard) takes place in Northern Thedas. The beginning of the game is the same: you interrupt Solas's ritual, and Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain escape. However, rather than taking over Thedas together, the two decide to divide and conquer: Ghilan'nain takes over the North, and Elgar'nan takes over the South.

Most of the game stays the same. You still play as Rook; however, the game starts with Varric recruiting you, so you get a chance to spend time with Varric before, you know, Solas. You still recruit your seven friends. For pacing purposes, romance and friendship scenes occur faster. This is because we're going to end the game sooner.

We're going to shave off all of Act 3.

Why would we do this? Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan are both stand-out villains who deserve their own time in the spotlight. As it is now, we hardly spend any time with Elgar'nan other than the constant looming threat of him, and Ghilan'nain mostly comes off as his lackey as opposed to a full-fledged "mother of monsters" she deserves to be. By splitting them into two games, each gets to shine as a villain, and Rook doesn't seem like such a overpowered protagonist who is able to kill (potentially) three elven gods.

So, where does Veilguard end? Last mission of The Veilguard should be "Isle of the Gods" and it should end exactly as that mission ends: Ghilan'nain's death, the realization of where Varric has been all along, and Solas trapping Rook in the Fade. Rook is trapped in the prison of regrets, realizes they are trapped, and then bam, end credits.

but wait, doesn't Veilguard suck now then? Most people agree acts 2 and 3 are the best part! And they are! But I think with tighter pacing, the whole game is improved. Remember, we are moving companion's Act 3 moments up to the end of Act 2 as well. We won't spend quite as long wondering when Lucanis will ever talk to us if we have his romance happen sooner, and that becomes true of all the companions.

So does the "Hero of the Veilguard" thing matter? It does, but not until the next game! Hold your horses!

--

So, now we make Game 5: Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. At the end of the last game, Solas established himself as a villain (by putting Rook in prison) so now it's time to really mess with that.

For starters: Game 5 cannot happen unless world state is included, and I'm talking about most of the Keep. Game 5 takes place in Southern Thedas, with the focus being on Fereldan, Orlais, and the Free Marches.

You play as the Inquisitor once more. You get to decide what happened between you and your LI in character creation: are you married now? Did you break up post-game? The game starts with you saying goodbye to your LI (if you still have one) then getting on a ship. No need for dialogue from LI, so no excuses about hunting down voice actors. The game starts with you getting a spirit hand, so that you can once again be the hero of the land. The ship is your Lighthouse, your base of operations that is always moving.

Your companions are:

dwarven grey warden woman (warrior)

human or elven orleasian bard man (rogue)

qunari runaway saarebas woman (mage)

spirit of wisdom (mage) *this is Solas in disguise, spying on you.

human avaar man (warrior)

human woman who definitely killed her husband (warrior)

dwarven artificer who is making bombs and got exiled to the surface (woman, rogue)

elf man who used to work for Solas but deflected (mage)

DLC character: my son Kieran, who is customizable, and also a blood mage

All of them are romancable if your Inky is single except for maybe Kieran.

Don't worry, though: you get frequent letters from your previous LI's giving you life updates (except for Solas but like. you know)

The core gameplay loop is sailing the Waking Sea to defend people from darkspawn and try to find more info on Elgar'nan, who is definitely causing trouble.

Places you visit:

Highever (Fereldan): I have legit always wanted to go there. Saving my origin character's hometown that is currently being ravaged by darkspawn? Fuck yeah

obviously, the slaughter of Denerim (Fereldan). Bonus points if we save the life of King Alistair/Queen Anora

Ostwick (Free Marches)

Val Royeaux (Orlais)

Cumberland (Orlais)

Maybe also Orzamar?

Jader

Final battle at Halamshiral because we love a callback.

Essentially, all the stuff we hear about in Inky's letters about the south, we now get to experience in the game.

Elgar'nan has done something fucky with time magic and now Halamshiral is half modern Orlais, half ancient elven empire. He's trying to bring the veil down, and Solas is unsure if he wants to stop him, or wait until he brings the Veil down to stop him.

Inky requests Rook from the Fade. Rook tells Inky about Solas's betrayal. Double-team Act 3 time, where people may still die depending on faction strengths in Veilguard, and who/what Inky has managed to save in Dreadwolf.

Assume you manage to stop Elgar'nan, and then the question becomes:

Do you, the Inquisitor, stop Solas? Save him from himself? Or die trying?

[bittersweetsthff]

read more fics since this last post and i have MORE goodies!! links below the cut :3

between death and damnation by quillifer

rated m. warning for major character death.

“Why are you always busy on Thursdays? You never used to be busy on Thursdays.” “I have a new standing appointment,” Ivan says, declining to elaborate.

Apparently, Ivan is dying. Till does not handle this news well.

reconstructive memory by yamscooper

rated m. post-round till is with the rebellion but everything is still wrong.

“I thought I told you to cheer up,” Ivan says. His hair’s shorter than it was in Till’s last memory of him. Shinier, well-styled. He’s wearing black. He’s lost some muscle, but his grin’s the same. A little showy, a little fake. Definitely condescending. He looks healthy for a ghost. He looks like he wasn’t shot four times. “You’re not a very good listener, are you?” Till’s throat closes up. “Ivan,” he rasps.

Ivan comes back after Round 6, with a few changes.

the knife i turn inside myself by calmthestorms

rated t. my favourite toxic straight couple! warning for major character death.

She’s bent over him, frozen, hardly breathing. Luka takes the opportunity to look at her—really look at her, committing her to memory. He wants to remember her wherever he goes after he dies. If he can’t have her in this life, maybe he can in another. “Don’t let go,” he pleads, soft and fervent as a prayer. “Hold me when I die. Please.” Hyuna turns her face away for a long moment, shoulders shaking as she breathes. Luka knows this motion, long-remembered from childhood. He tugs on a strand of hair, pulls her face back to his. “Don’t cry,” Luka whispers.

When Hyuna comes to kill him, Luka is already waiting.

shadow on the tile by GallifreyanFairytale

rated t. a luka character study (i think he's growing on me)

Hyuna takes his wrist in her hand, fingers circling around it completely, pressing hard enough to bruise. “I’ll break it,” she threatens. Luka laughs. It bubbles up in his throat and spills through his lips without his consent, a stream of giggles, as tears prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s hilarious. Snap his wrist, and he’ll finally have a distraction from the pain splitting his skull. He’ll finally have something else to think about, and an excuse to miss classes for a day, and a good enough reason to have painkillers pumped into his veins until everything is completely, blissfully, numb. “Do it,” he begs. “Hyuna, do it.”

on luka, migraines, and perfection.

a breath of fall by oceans_bluem

rated g. pre-round 6 ivan and a study of ivansua siblings. warning for major character death.

Sua, he thinks. Sua, will it hurt? Ivan is long past the moment for doubt. As soon as he saw his name matched against Till’s for Round Six, he knew what he would have to do. More than that, he’s long outgrown unnecessary questions. But some part of him is still the boy who flinched from pain before he learned to bite his tongue through it and craft his face into an expressionless mask. So he asks the only other person who knows what he is going through: Sua, he thinks again, will it hurt? Sua, of course, does not answer.

Or, Ivan prepares for Round 6.

not even in another eternity will you stop your lovely orbiting by quillifer

rated m. till through several time loops.

“What if I told you that you had a chance to do it all over again? You wouldn’t be able to change much—the fates don’t play fair—but you could settle at least one of your regrets. Would you take it?” Till knows better than to gamble; the risks almost always outweigh the benefits. Still, it sounded like Sua was speaking from experience. “Did you—” “I can’t answer any of your questions,” Sua says, cutting him off with haste. “Yes or no, Till?” Till swallows, staring at her outstretched hand.

déjà vu by quillifer

rated t. reincarnated ivti strangers :)

Truthfully, Ivan thought this kind of disease was the stuff of urban legend. He takes himself to the emergency room, unwilling to risk undue escalation. His vitals are fine. A doctor assures him that his lungs haven’t been taken over. “It would be in your best interests to confess, young man. Heartbreak is temporary. Organ damage is permanent.” There’s only one problem: Ivan isn’t in love with anyone.

thistlewood by quillifer

rated t. modern au till takes in a feral ivan

“You bite me, scarf down my food, then you have the gall to beg for more?” Ivan isn’t familiar enough with tonal nuance to understand that the other boy is being purposefully melodramatic. “Can you talk at all?” He tries a few more questions, none of which beget a response. After a beat, he picks a rock up off the ground. The gesture has Ivan growling, hackles raised, but he hurriedly throws it into the distance. Ivan listens to it rattle until it’s gone. Presumably, the kid can hear just fine. Heaving a sigh, he points to his chest. “I’m Till. Okay? Till. Who are you?” Ivan holds out his wrist. That’s answer enough, Till supposes.

reverse psychology by quinnpriv1

rated e. stalker till.

Till starts jotting down information in a notebook because his brain is scrambled at the best of times. If Ivan ever goes missing thanks to some rabid ex or a girl who’s pissed off because Ivan won’t date her, he needs to know what to tell the authorities. The notebook expands tremendously from humble beginnings. Tall. Dark-haired. Handsome. Broad-shouldered. Uneven smile, morphs into, Six-foot-one, twenty-six years old, something along the lines of a finance specialist, left-handed, Ferragamo moccasins polished to a shine, amongst a dozen other paltry details. He’s aware enough to acknowledge that he has an interest in Ivan—but he wouldn’t consider himself interested, not romantically. Ivan isn’t his type. Greasy corporate bastard with a wicked tongue? Nothing but trouble. And yet.

Hi hello! do you have any alien stage fic recs??

i most definitely do!!!

I've only read ivantill until now (cus the brainrot is real) so that's what I'll share here but once I'm done scouring the mizisua tag, I'll definitely return!

links below the cut <3

from ashes by petitfives

vampire till and vampire ivan. ivan is deranged and till suffers per usual. rating: explicit

"This is the face of the dog who has killed so many of my fledglings,” Urak says, snapping Till out of his reverie. “Remember it. It might be the last thing you see.” Till has never liked Ivan more than he does right now. Good, he thinks, as viciously as he can. He doesn’t think his prayers carry any weight, but he stares hard at the saint wearing Ivan’s face and hopes Ivan puts a stake through Urak’s unbeating heart. Or, Till gets turned by a vampire, and Ivan is a vampire hunter.

the silhouette in my peripherals by Anonymous

till in the aftermath of r6. rating: explicit

Ivan is gone, but he is still there. Or: how to haunt a person.

till death do us part (so why are you before me again?) by Aminori

ivan and till reuniting in the afterlife. <3 rating: teen

When Ivan had held his beloved’s throat, felt the pulse of life as his own ended, he had expected to not see Till again. … He had expected Till to live on. Had selfishly wanted it, in fact. But here his beloved was, in his arms, in a place that they were never meant to be reunited in.

And he wasn’t quite sure what to feel, anymore.

(or: Ivan dies. He didn’t expect to see Till again, but he did.)

break a heart, stitch it right back by yamscooper

till being jealous. rating: teen

If Ivan wants to laugh and giggle and twirl his hair at some girl Till has never met before, that’s none of Till’s fucking business. “I don’t think Ivan’s hair is long enough to twirl,” Mizi says. “It’s a figure of speech,” Till bites out.

a certain ivantill fan's origin story by gustavo

somehow luka becomes the #1 ivantill fan. rating: teen

Over the course of his preparation for the much-anticipated Final Round of the hit dystopian drama, Alien Stage, Luka discovers that he might be a lot more invested in his best friend’s love life than he’d expected himself to be. or: the fic where luka somehow becomes an ivantill truther.

breathe again in the world anew by aerivel

more ivantill reunions after r7. rating: teen

Till and Ivan reunite one more time. - “I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” The sound of a deep, gentle voice cutting through the air startles Till enough to bang his head against the tree behind him. Wincing slightly, he sits up and jerks his head to the slowly approaching man in white. “I thought you would win after all,” the man continues, slowing until he stood a few feet away. The man’s attention is stolen by the fluttering of a crimson flower inches away from his foot. Absently, he shifts his shoe and crushes the petals beneath him. It’s enough to spark something within Till. Ivan. It’s Ivan.

your shadow on the wall of my room by ephemeroptera_insecta

ghost ivan haunts till. rating: teen

Till won Round 6. He had his first kiss. He’s one step closer to winning. He’s also, notably, now being haunted. Or : Ivan comes back as a ghost. Till realizes what Ivan has done for him, and the feelings he buried for him out of fear. They navigate life (and death) as a man and his ghost.

what we’re allowed to do to each other’s faces by fakekniferealketchup

ivan lives and till escapes. rating: teen

When Ivan had died, the lens through which Till saw the world had fractured, rearranged, and stuck that way, like a broken bone that wasn’t set. A bleeding kaleidoscope of the past. A dozen years of memories clamored for fresh attention, to be reexamined, to be cut open so they could show off all the terrible wriggling things that had wormed around inside them and eaten them hollow. He couldn’t think of the garden, anymore; only of how stupid he had been. — - — Ivan lives; Till escapes the arena. There's no elegance in their reunion, but there is spit, and blood, and something close to forgiveness.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

today just will not let me rest huh. reasons are in the tags but i get very emotional just be warned