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leighsartworks216 · 1 day ago

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You're Not A Burden

Zayne x gn!therapist friend!Reader

Based on my own experience as the therapist friend and my struggles with being genuine about my emotions with people close to me ✌️

Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, childhood friends, crying, nightmares

Word Count: 1,517

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Zayne has seen this same pattern ever since you were little; the weight of being the person everyone dumps their problems onto, rants to, leans on no matter how small you may be. It's happened for so long now, he can't remember a time you weren't the one stepping up to bear the brunt of someone else's troubles.

He remembers so vividly one day during recess. Your friend was crying because one of the teachers was being mean and unfair. You held them close, let them cry into your shoulder and blubber about their troubles. And then you went into class with that same teacher, experienced that same cruelty, and held your tongue. It was never about being stronger than anyone else, or that admitting anything was wrong was a weakness; only that admitting anything was wrong would place your troubles onto somebody else.

One time, when his parents were away, he slept over at your house in a pillow fort in the living room. He woke up before you, and you had dry tears on your cheeks.

You take the burdens as easy as you take in a breath of air. Even now, in the middle of your quiet night in, your friend called to rant about their job, their relationships - anything they needed to get off their shoulders. You smiled apologetically at Zayne, kissed his cheek, and disappeared into the bedroom to finish the call without disturbing him further.

He understands, better than most, how difficult it is to watch someone suffer, physically or emotionally. How many times had he gone out of his way to ease the burden of his patients outside of medical care? Trying to get a plushie from the arcade for a girl who was too sick to get it herself. Playing chess with a lonely old man, even when it cut into his lunch breaks. But even he has limits to the burdens he carries.

He listens attentively for your voice through the closed door from his seat on the couch. Quiet hums to show you're listening. Muffled words of advice and support. The call goes on for some time, an hour or more, but not once does he hear you talk about your own struggles. Yet, he knows work has been more demanding lately, you haven't been sleeping or eating well, and you were really looking forward to an uninterrupted night in with him - information gathered through observation, more than not.

Not a single word of complaint.

He can't focus on his book, so he sets it aside in exchange for his laptop. The soft clack of keys fills the silence. It nearly drowns out your voice entirely; the typing pauses every now and then to listen when you speak. His work isn't as efficient, so focused on listening for you, but he manages to get through a few emails and a report or two.

When the door opens, he perks up like a dog whose owner just came home. His fingers are still on the keyboard as he watches you come out from the hallway, smiling apologetically once more as you tuck your phone away with a final glance.

"Sorry about that," you murmur as you sit back in your spot on the couch. He closes his laptop and sets it aside. "Lisa's been having a lot of guy troubles lately and just got back from a bad date."

He hums his acknowledgement and turns his body to face you. Cool hands grab yours, holding them in his lap as his thumbs massage into your palms and work out the tension in your fingers. "You didn't say much."

You laugh lightly, as though it's completely normal. As though it should be completely normal. "I didn't want to bother her with my own problems - she has enough of her own to deal with."

"What problems would those be?" he questions. You tense up, like you want to pull away. You don't, but you stare at the ministrations of his hands with a shake of your head.

"It's nothing."

"But if they're problems," he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze, "shouldn't I know about them?"

You glance at him with a grin that doesn't quite meet your eyes, and a slight downturn in your brow. "You're not on duty right now, Dr. Zayne."

He lifts one of your hands to kiss your palm. Your fingers brush his cheek. He leans into them without thought. "I didn't think I had to be to listen to my partner's issues," he shoots back, shooting down your deflection. His voice grows softer. "It's unhealthy to keep negative emotions bottled up. I am always here to listen should you need to let them out."

Something stirs in your eyes. Discomfort, at being called out and exposed. Worry, and fear. You look away again. "I don't want to bother you with that stuff."

"Who said you would be bothering me? I want to hear about the issues you have, however minor they may be." He releases one of your hands to cup your cheek. He directs your face back to him, leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, stealing your ability to look away. Your eyes remain lowered, staring at his nose. "You always carry the burdens of others. Allow me to carry your burdens, before you collapse under the weight."

You're silent. He shifts his fingers slightly, resting his middle and ring finger over your pulse point just under your jaw. Your heart is beating wildly. It stutters, jumps, skips. You inhale softly.

"You..." You shake your head slightly, nose brushing his. Your free hand fiddles with your pant leg. "You don't tell me about the issues you have, either."

He smiles slightly, wryly, as though you've just started trying to deal with a shrewd businessman who can't resist haggling.

"I had a nightmare last night," he admits softly. That draws your eyes up to his, finally. "When I woke up, it felt like I was still in the dream."

"What was it about?"

He gives you a pointed look. You frown. Your hand clenches around your pant leg, like admitting anything about yourself is agonizingly painful.

"I... I haven't been eating lunch during my breaks."

It's barely admitting anything, but he hums his approval nonetheless. "I was in the hospital, but the corridors were dark. I heard your voice echoing down the halls..." Your heart skips a beat in time with your concerned look. "Why aren't you eating lunch?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, hiding from the inevitable disapproval on his face. "I haven't been sleeping well, so I've been sleeping in my car during my breaks... I... passed out once, at my desk, because I was so tired... I don't want to concern my coworkers like that again." You wait a few seconds before cracking your eyes open. Sure enough, it's his turn to frown with worry. He knew you were tired lately, but he hadn't heard anything about you passing out at work. He can only be grateful you weren't out on the field at that time. "What happens next?"

"... I can't find you." His frown deepens, eyes flickering down your face, taking you in. "No matter where I look, you're not there. And when I wake up, it takes a moment for my mind to catch up and realize you're right there beside me."

Neither of you speak. Your pulse is calm now. The dark bags under your eyes concerns him more than ever now. The daze in his eyes when you woke up this morning to find him looking over your face flickers back into memory.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. "We'll take our lunch breaks together," he tells you, leaving no room for argument. "The next time you feel faint at work, or too tired to keep going, please tell me."

You nod slowly, silently sealing a promise with him. "The next time you have a nightmare like that, you have to tell me, too."

He nods in return. "I will."

You blink, pausing, waiting for something that doesn't ever come. Waiting for him to decide your burdens are too heavy to bear, or become disillusioned with you now that you're no longer this infallible beacon of strength and dependency. But it never comes. Instead, Zayne strokes your cheek with all the tender patience in the world, rubs his nose purposefully against yours in semblance of a kiss, sits quietly with you with no expectations.

Large drops of water begin to form in your waterline. You swallow, fighting the starting tremors in your lungs. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him, helping you sit in his lap where you hug him around his neck and hide your face in his shoulder.

He kisses the side of your head as your body cries with a practiced silence, rubbing his hand in soothing motions against your back. "You're not a burden for having problems, or for sharing them with others," he whispers. "You don't have to carry everything alone anymore."

---

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@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz @that-lost-one

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #hurt/comfort

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threebea · 3 days ago

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Tiny Obi-Wan and Yoda just sat down somewhere having extremely Old Man conversations.

Mace: ....

Obi-Wan: you cannot imagine the things I can eat. No problem. No stomach upset. The fact Dex hasn't opened his diner yet is a travisty.

Yoda: Decades in exile subsisting on frogs I have been.

Obi-Wan: Yes, but those are good for you.

Yoda: Desire cake I do. One hundred years too late for it we are. Rubbing it in you are.

Obi-Wan: Well there must be some silver linings. The knees are nice too, but I can't reach anything.

Yoda: hmph, perspective you have gained perhaps?

Obi-Wan: not at this height.

Yoda: (laughs and gives him gentle whack with his cane) lost your cheek you have not, Master Kenobi

⭐

Obi-Wan: (notices Mace) oh, Master, please join us.

Mace: ... (Sits down)

Obi-Wan: (Sighs like an old man) I must say I'm glad not to be on the council at the moment. Have you read my proposal on Hutt investments portfolios? I know you're busy with Xanatos' nonsense, but if we move soon we could prevent Jabba from gaining ground in thirty years.

Mace: you should be learning how to mix colours with paint, not sending me paperwork in the middle of the night, Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: (gestures to neat paint pallet with colours mixed) I already know how to do that.

Yoda: doubt that I do. Knowing is not understanding.

Obi-Wan: that doesn't even mean anything. You can't tease me just because I'm small now.

Yoda: size matters not. Tease you I always will.

Obi-Wan: well that's true (eye roll)

Mace: I have enough paperwork Kenobi. Stop sending me paperwork.

Obi-Wan: well I would send it to another Master, but you're the only one that knows of my predicament and you won't let me use your name, and Master Yoda has always been awful with written proposals, no one would believe it.

Yoda (has brought out the paints Obi-Wan had with him and has started mixing colours)

Mace: Master you can't just mix paint on the tile!

Yoda: fear the mess it will make, hmm?

Obi-Wan: you're impossible. (Starts doing it as well) I never enjoyed making a mess, even at this age.

Yoda: fear of the future that is.

Obi-Wan: here he goes.

Yoda: to live in the moment, without fear of the mess of the future, that is the way of a Jedi.

Mace: (watches the two of them paint pictures on the ground. It's a complete mess)

Obi-Wan: I don't fear the future.

Yoda: hah!

Obi-Wan: I'm stressed! Stressed isn't the same thing as fear.

Yoda: come from fear stress does. Anxiety. Make a cloud you should.

Obi-Wan: (examines his tile of art work, adds a cloud)

Yoda: stress Master Mace has trouble with too. (Pointedly looking at Mace who is just watching the mess unfold)

Mace: (sighs, takes the hint, sits on the floor and dips his finger in the purple Obi-Wan mixed) I have many things to do.

Yoda: but right now you are painting.

Mace: I can't tell if you're both being serious or messing with me.

Obi-Wan: it can be both, Master. (Makes a face) I'm going to have blue hands for a week.

Mace: have you always been anxious, Master Kenobi? You always seem very confident and composed. It was eerie when we first met, seeing a child so poised.

Obi-Wan: yes, well I don't want anyone to know I'm anxious. Too many people rely on me.

Yoda: like someone else that is.

Mace: well... Right now you're at an age you don't need to be so independent.

Obi-Wan: I'm older than you are, Master. My crude matter doesn't reflect who I am inside. I can't just turn off my worries. It was easier in the end. In the desert... But it's hard to grasp now. I found my balance and peace, but in the here and now I find myself at odds with my knowledge. Every stray thought and memory of something that could be changed for the better.

Mace: changing the future is dangerous.

Obi-Wan: not changing it is more dangerous.

Mace: if you become obsessed you risk losing yourself. You need an anchor.

Obi-Wan: I know. (Focuses back on his painting) The future is always in motion. I am not changing anything. I am simply existing in the now. The ripples for good or ill can rarely be controlled or focused. However is it not my duty to follow where the Force has led me and do good?

Mace: ... (I feel very young suddenly)

Yoda: talk too much you do, Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: well it's been awhile since anyone has been kind enough to listen, Master Yoda. Force knows you don't have the attention for it.

Yoda: accuse me of senility do you? Focused I am on the present (gestures at his paint mess). Rambling on the old days you are.

Obi-Wan: who is the more senile? The old man or the old man that tries to talk to him?

Mace: (looking at the five year old who just said that. He has a splotch of blue paint on his cheek) no more proposals in the middle of the night, Kenobi. You'll get an ulcer at six.

Obi-Wan: (prim and proper) and when exactly did you get your first stress ulcer Master Windu?

Yoda: (laughs) twenty-two he was.

Mace: just paint.

Terrible Fic Ideas #3: Re-Entry, but make it Obi-Wan and Yoda

If you've not noticed by now, I'm the biggest sucker for Time Travel Fix-Its that ever existed, and one of my absolute favorites is the Re-Entry series by the ever-wonderful flamethrower. In that series, post-RotJ Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent back to 4 years before TPM to save the Republic, and it's an absolutely wonderful ride. But one thing I've always wanted is Yoda to be thrown back in time in one of these fix-its.

Imagine it:

Yoda is the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He has the ability to make lasting changes to the order in a way that young Padawan or newly knighted Obi-Wan alone couldn't. He's also had ~25 years alone in a swamp without even the passing human contact Obi-Wan got on Tatooine to reflect on all the things that went wrong, and stuck around as a Force Ghost at least until TLJ.

Not that I imagine TLJ happening in this AU - to kick it off I imagine Luke not managing to make it off the second Death Star after Anakin dies, and Anakin and Leia's anguish in the Force managing to hurl the watching Force ghosts into the pasts, where they can keep Luke's death from ever happening.

And so you have Yoda and Obi-Wan being thrown back to, say, 52 BBY. Obi-Wan, now only five years old, wakes his crechemate's up with a "vision", and for decades afterwards the younglings swear that on certain nights you can year an echo of absolute and complete anguish in the Force.

But the end result is the same: 5 year old Obi-Want has his memories of the next 52 years alive and 4 additional years of being a Force ghost. The transition is somewhat less abrupt for Yoda, who is 800+ at this time.

Unlike Re-Entry, the only one Yoda and Obi-Wan tell (at least at first) that they've traveled through time is Mace - and only then because Obi-Wan is very obviously not a normal 5 year old anymore. (And even then it's more of an accident Mace finds out. Instead Yoda just sort of pushes Mace at Obi-Wan "to help him get a handle on his visions and train him in the ways of the Force", and in the end Mace finally puts two and two together after sort of assuming he's just going crazy or being punked.)

Actually, confused!babysitter Mace is half the drive for this plot bunny. He's so confused and Yoda is being even more of a troll than usual, and he's not prepared at all to deal with such a small child, but honestly half the time it feels like Obi-Wan is the one taking care of him, and just so much confusion.

Together, between Yoda being the Grandmaster and Obi-Wan's weaponized cuteness as a youngling, they are able to prevent some things that contribute to the fall of the Republic. (Galidraan et al).

Obi-Wan is taken as Mace's Padawan fairly young, and no one really considers it too be too odd how good he is so young given that Mace was his Master and Yoda's been his mentor since the creche, but he's definitely considered to be an odd child. As one might expect of a ~60 year old being suddenly stuffed into his 5 year old body. When it eventually comes out that he's a time traveler, it answers a lot things people didn't realize they were questioning.

But mostly confused!babysitter Mace, troll!Yoda, and baby!Obi-Wan.

As always, feel free to adopt the bunny. Just link if you end up doing anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#Yoda #mace #Obi-Wan #just for fun

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getaapologist · 1 day ago

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The Tension and the Terror..............Part VIII

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length in a later part)

Summary: Geta makes a declaration of love. It isn't received well, through no fault of his own.

Warnings: violence, implication of SA (did not occur), 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 8 of 13?

[ Part VII ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is a bit more foundation work. I also didn't name Letha's brother (or any of her family) so you can picture whoever you want. I almost took all this out, I wasn't sure it fit everything I've written up to now, but I hope it works for you.

Raptio is literally "taking," but it's used to reference the abduction of women, to be used/enslaved or married against their will. The obvious implication there is SA, but I am not including that aspect here because it's just not needed. Being kidnapped is enough, surely. I don't know if it was really a punishable crime, but I sure hope so. It is in this version of events, anyway. The next two parts will pretty much be all Geta. Thanks for your patience!

Letha had beaten both Emperors to breakfast that morning, despite spending extra time in choosing a dress from the assortment delivered to her rooms the prior day. The anticipation of seeing Geta again drew her out of bed early. She took advantage of the quiet to actually eat a reasonable meal, only interrupted as she pushed the small plate away.

“My brother dismissed all his concubines this morning. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Caracalla wasn’t really asking. He already knew she had something to do with it. Still, the news shocked her. She thought of Lyra, regretting her words. She hoped nothing awful had happened.

“I didn’t ask him to–”

“Of course you didn’t. You can’t tell us to do anything,” he sighed, pulling out his usual chair and plopping down in it. “Just thought you’d like to know.”

Letha took it for the kindness it was. “Thank you, Caracalla.”

He reached out and picked through the fruit, mischief lighting his eyes up. “So does this mean you two are fucking?”

She nearly choked. “N-No,” she responded, recovering, face on fire.

Caracalla giggled. She avoided looking over at him, instead choosing to study the elaborate craftsmanship of the table. It was a nice table, she thought, desperately trying to not think about Geta.

The chair beside Letha was pulled out and the man himself sank into it, a sly smile already on his face as he busied himself with adjusting his robes. He was all made up, ready for the day. Bright, shining, like Apollo.

He leaned over, invading Letha’s space. “Did you get enough to eat?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she assured him. She was nervous to meet his eyes again after the way she left him. She was relieved he didn’t seem upset with her, quite the opposite.

Protective?

“How is your shoulder?”

“Better,” she answered.

She noticed Caracalla watching his brother intently. She followed his gaze, surprised to see the dark maroon already lining his eyes. She expected to see the tired, fresh-from-bed version of Geta. This was… It was nice.

“You sure look pretty for the senators, brother,” Caracalla teased.

Geta looked down to Letha, his gaze soft for once. “It’s not for them.” The smile returned. Her face probably felt hot to the touch. She almost pressed her own hand to her face to check.

“Why do I even have to go?” Caracalla whined, slumping in his chair. “Can’t you tend to them by yourself?”

Geta looked over at his brother, his smile growing. “It’s our duty.” He picked up an apple and took a bite, his pleasant mood almost infectious.

“I’ve never seen you so eager to fulfill our duty,” Caracalla grumbled.

“You must get ready, ‘Calla,” Geta requested, his tone gentle. “It shouldn’t be a long meeting. Then you can have your games.” Another bite of the apple.

Geta was always so sweet to his brother. Letha couldn’t come up with a better word for it. Taking the sting out of responsibilities, soothing his panic and fear, distracting him with life’s pleasures to ease his mood. He tolerated his teasing, even when his patience had run out for all others. Caracalla was exempt from Geta’s poor moods. He only ever received a tiny fraction of Geta’s ire when his mouth got away from him and he seemed on the verge of revealing something in other company that Geta wished to remain private.

And Caracalla intuitively understood his brother’s shifting moods and their cause, not usually having to ask him what was wrong, what might be bothering him. Perhaps all that time seated beside his brother he became a good study.

“At least Letha will keep me company,” Caracalla smiled.

“The senators might balk at her presence,” Geta admitted.

“Since when do you care?”

“I don’t,” Geta claimed, glancing down at Letha. “She can come if she wants to.”

“Is she not here for my protection?” Caracalla asked, seemingly concerned.

“I’ve arranged for Tegula’s best man to remain at your side, at all times,” Geta explained, gesturing to a lightly armored man standing in the corner of the room, tucked in among the columns as if he was trying to be inconspicuous. “This is Ancus.”

Caracalla looked over at the man. Then back to his brother, to Letha. To Geta again. “But I don’t want Ancus, I want Letha,” Caracalla complained, something in his tone veering towards true agitation.

“She’s still healing, ‘Calla,” Geta explained. “She will be near, but I would feel better if Ancus stayed with you too, at least until we figure out who’s responsible for these attacks.”

“You just want her for yourself!” Caracalla accused, standing from his chair. Geta mirrored his movement, albeit much more slowly.

“Caracalla, I—” he paused, adopting a more gentle tone before continuing, “I will not keep her from you. She can do as she pleases. I just need to know that you are safe.”

His words seemed to soothe him enough, but Letha worried that this would not be the last of this conversation. Caracalla skulked off, and Ancus followed after him silently.

Geta sank back into his chair with a sigh, his mood no longer nearly as pleasant.

“I will spend time with him today,” Letha offered, broaching the silence.

He leaned his head back, his head turning in her direction lazily, a smirk appearing. “Not too much, I hope.”

“As much as is necessary to preserve his good temper,” she answered, the pressure of his warm eyes on her jump-starting that heat again, as if she were back in the gardens again, frozen beneath his stare.

“Oh, but then I’d never see you, Letha,” he teased, moving closer, “and I have more to offer you.”

“More?” She couldn’t help her eyes falling to his lips.

She jumped in her seat as his fingers found the skin along the inside of her leg, just past her knee, too close for where they were, in the middle of the dining hall. She quickly pressed her hands to his, trapping it against her skin. He squeezed.

He leaned over further, his lips finding her ear. “Just something for you to consider today, when you’re… deciding how to allocate your time.” His teasing was back in full force. He drew back, taking another bite of the apple, his stare unwavering as he chewed.

Letha could only watch him right back, thoughts boiling until her legs stopped shaking and she could stand.

Letha understood Caracalla’s complaints about having to meet with the Senators almost immediately. She could feel their eyes on her as soon as she stepped into the room, following behind the twins as they made their way over to their thrones, side by side.

“A chair,” Geta summoned, pointing to the space beside his seat.

“By me, brother,” Caracalla insisted.

Geta frowned, but relented.

Letha was sure to reach down and brush the hand gripping the arm of his seat with her fingers as she passed around the chairs, a consolation to try to keep him jovial. She took a seat as instructed, body turned in towards Caracalla in the presence of so many strangers, with clear distaste in their expressions for her unconventional presence.

“Caesars, forgive me, but what is this woman doing here? This is hardly the place for a dalliance—”

Geta rose, the speed of it startling some, Letha included. “She is a lady, and you will address her as such,” he corrected, standing before the bravest of the Senators. A display of power, of confidence. Of ego. “That lady is the reason your Emperors still stand and breathe. I believe you owe her an apology.”

He was incensed. Part of Letha almost felt bad for the Senator cowering before Geta, all his fury and splendor making him appear very much like a god. It shouldn’t have been so thrilling to see, but Letha couldn’t help herself.

“I am sorry, my lady,” he spoke, his eyes on Geta. His fear was palpable.

Caracalla giggled beside her. “It’s not usually this entertaining.”

A few more moments of lording over the senator and Geta stepped back, slightly more composed. “What do you need of us today?” Geta finally asked, sinking back into his seat.

An older senator stood, stepping into the middle of the room, drawing Geta’s gaze. “There was a question of increasing your personal guard’s wages, Caesars?”

“Yes,” another stood, “We do have questions as to the… necessity of this. It is a steep price.”

Geta frowned. “Is our safety not worth the extra expense? We’ve had two attacks in as many days.”

“Well, perhaps if you did not hold such lavish dinner parties every night, the costs could go towards this increase you desire.”

“Senator Gracchus,” Geta smiled, standing. “I will remind you that we have not yet found the person responsible for bribing the Praetorian. Someone wishes us dead.”

Letha froze up in her seat. Yes, someone did. But they were looking in the wrong place.

“The sum recovered was far too large for an average citizen to come up with,” Geta explained, circling the senator. All others had backed off, allowing all of Geta’s displeasure to focus in on Gracchus. “Should I have you interrogated? Or will you pay Tegula’s men what they are owed?”

A moment longer was all it took before Gracchus wavered, relenting. “They shall have it, Emperor.” A chorus of similar responses sounded throughout the room.

“Very good,” Geta praised, moving past the senator and reclaiming his seat. “What else?”

The doors at the back of the room opened and a tall, hulking figure clad in dark armor and a red cape strode in, bowing before the emperors before rising to his full height. The garish line across the side of his head still looked like it burned, the flesh vividly red around the line. The cut ear.

Letha recognized him immediately. She shrank in her seat, drawing Caracalla’s eye. A flash of her brother’s bruised and bloody face had her squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn’t enough, the image wouldn’t leave.

“Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” the general greeted. “I have come to report on my men.” He did not spare a glance to Letha. Either he mistook her for another of their concubines, or did not spend enough time in the Senate chambers to know how unusual her presence was.

“General Plautianus,” Geta greeted. His eyes raked over the violent wound. “What of them?”

“Regrettably, they cannot seem to be contained,” Thraex interjected, eyes on the General as he got to his feet. “They drink the city dry and commit acts of violence upon its citizens. A brawl in a brothel just yesterday required a hefty discretionary payment to appease the owner so he didn’t ban the entire army.”

“They need to be sent away,” Gracchus agreed. “They are bored, and their victories have given them a feeling of entitlement to the city’s offerings.”

Oh, that sounds quite familiar, Letha frowned. So as long as it isn’t taking place in Rome, that’s what matters, she thought bitterly, sinking back into her memories and tuning out the rest of the conversation.

“Your God-Emperors are cowards,” Letha’s brother spoke, his lip split, his brow leaking blood. His eye socket looked broken, his skin beginning to darken around his eye.

“You should hold your tongue,” General Plautianus spat, stepping past the man crumpled against the wall. Another soldier knelt beside him, gripping the cloth covering his shoulders tightly, keeping him upright.

“You Romans can’t take a joke,” he laughed. It devolved into a coughing fit not long after, his hands going to his ribs as he grimaced.

Letha looked up, worry filling her as she waited for her brother to recover, desperately trying to figure out how to help him, how to get them out of this mess.

“You should stop talking before you choke on your blood,” another soldier threatened.

“You’d have to hit me a bit harder for that,” he grunted, clearly nursing a broken rib.

“Brother, please!” Letha pleaded, begging for him to be silent. Him egging on their captors would ruin their chances of surviving this night.

The sound of the harsh slap cut through the room, almost echoing. For a moment Letha couldn’t feel her face at all. Then it all flooded in at once, tears welling, clouding her vision.

She could hear her brother shouting, the soldiers joining in. She tried to ignore the way her cheek stung, too concerned for her brother’s welfare to care about her own. It was one blow versus the great many he’d suffered at their hands already.

They were holding him down against the wall, it took two of them now. The General stood before her, his hand still outstretched from the slap, though his eyes were cast over his shoulder at her brother as he spouted insulting, angry words.

“You are lucky you’re considered one of Rome’s subjects now,” the General spoke, returning his attention to Letha. “Your dear father pleaded for your safety, and I can think of none better to secure it than me.”

Letha understood his intent, the implication of his words. It was nothing new. It was all men ever did. She couldn’t be dragged to Rome. She refused. As her brother drew his attention once more, his protests much more spirited, she saw only one opportunity to save herself from that future.

She reached forward and drew the sword from its hilt on his belt, the sound of it drawing all attention to her. It was heavier than she was used to, the blade much wider. Still, she didn’t waste a moment, swinging it recklessly at the General’s head. It drew blood, but the recoil of it hitting his thick skull forced it out of her hands. He roared, his hands moving to cover the red line leaking blood down the side of his head.

Letha felt the stabbing point of a gladius at her back, the soldier’s boot forcing her flat onto the floor. She wondered if it had drawn blood, it felt quite sharp even through the dress. Even if she had just signed her own death warrant, that would be preferable to the alternative.

Plautianus hissed as he cupped his ear, reaching down for his discarded sword. He used it to tilt her face up, forcing her to see the wound she’d created. “You’ll pay for that,” he assured her.

“Please, just leave her alone,” her brother pleaded. “It was stupid, she shouldn’t have done it, but don’t hurt her.”

His words stung. He was right, it was incredibly stupid of her, but she had to do something–

“No, no–”

The blade had left her chin without her realizing it. It was embedded in her brother’s throat. She screamed.

“Letha,” Caracalla whispered, a hand pressing against her cheek, drawing her back to the present. “Are you alright?” She jumped, crashing out of the vivid memory. He moved his hand down to squeeze hers. “Do you want something to drink?”

She shook her head, eyes landing on Plautianus. He wore the very same armor as that day.

He is the monster.

“I will think on it,” Geta answered, dismissing the senators. “General, I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.” He wasn’t really asking.

Plautianus nodded, clasping his hands together in front of him, watching the senators as they trickled out of the room. As his eyes scanned the room, they finally landed on her. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes and he reflexively reached up for the side of his head, to the scar there. He said nothing of it, instead returning his attention to his smiling Emperor.

“Letha,” Geta called out, reaching an arm out for her to join him. Her stomach sank like a stone. “Come on,” he urged, as if he were coaxing a small child into a room full of strangers. As if it were shyness keeping her in her seat. But he didn’t know. How could he know?

She stood on shaky legs and released Caracalla’s hand to walk over, trying to keep her eyes on Geta so she didn’t fall into a state of panic. Even though months had passed, it was now so fresh in her mind, as if it had happened only days ago. She felt ill.

Geta was concerned, but he hid it well. He wrapped an arm around her waist and returned his attention to the General.

“I’d like to introduce you to Letha,” Geta spoke, looking down at Letha with something close to love in his eyes. Perhaps she was imagining it to save herself from the reality of what was unfolding.

“I don’t believe you two have met, unless… Well, have you?” Geta prodded, all pretense falling away.

Letha felt herself suck in a deep breath at the realization. Geta knew. How much, she couldn’t say. But he knew of their meeting, likely how she was brought to Rome. How she was purchased by Macrinus. From Macrinus himself, she thought. It would explain their new closeness. What else had Macrinus shared?

General Plautianus seemed just as caught off guard. He looked like he wasn’t sure if he ought to lie, or admit to his crime.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Geta frowned. “Ancus,” he muttered, signaling for him to approach.

Ancus moved swiftly behind the General, pressing his boot into the back of Plautianus’s knee to force him onto the marble, his hands gripping the pauldrons to keep the General still.

“Raptio,” Geta spat, “is a crime, General. Just in case you’ve forgotten.”

The sound of a sword being drawn sent shivers of revulsion down Letha’s spine. The tremors that Geta had stilled with his hand at her lower back resumed. The General looked truly frightened. It didn’t fill Letha with any amount of satisfaction. She was just as scared as he was.

Geta raised the General’s sword high so he could inspect the edge, trying to determine its sharpness. He pressed the blade to the spot just above the chestplate, letting the tip bite through the cloth covering the base of his throat before turning to Letha, ignoring the General altogether.

“Should he be killed?”

Letha could see now the warnings she’d been given. Geta was deadly. He was clever and vengeful and violent. But he hid it well. So well. Much better than Caracalla. Seeing the senators scared to defy him, the way his General seemed scared of his whims, she should’ve been scared of him too.

But it was never directed at her. And even now, it was being done in service of her desires, her wants. She felt… honored. He was offering her a gift. A declaration of love if looked at in the right light.

She felt her own love for him beginning to bud, but her memories were too distracting in the moment, keeping her expression empty, her body trembling. If they were somewhere else, she might have taken the time to explain, so he’d understand she wasn’t spurning him intentionally, she just couldn’t get a handle on her own mind.

“Emperor!” Plautianus lifted his hands up from his waist, his plea desperate. “T-This is improper.”

Geta glowered down at him, his eyes narrowed.

“She attacked us,” he tried to explain. Ancus kept his knees pressed to the floor.

“Quiet!” Geta ordered, glaring at the General. He returned his eyes to Letha’s, his gaze softening immediately.

In that moment all Letha could do was stand there and try to keep her tears at bay.

Was this the same sword used on her brother?

Geta was patient, reading into the way she shook slightly, a bead of sweat falling down over her temple. She was terrified. Perhaps now wasn’t the best time. He could drag him out again later on, when she felt more up to it.

“It seems Justicia has saved you today, Plautianus. Find solace in your cell.”

The sword was silently returned to Ancus and as soon as it left Geta’s hand he brought her back in close, whisking her away from the scene and over to the golden thrones.

“Brother?” Caracalla asked, clearly confused.

“I will explain later,” Geta spoke, his eyes focused on Letha. His hands found her cheeks, attempting to soothe her. “I should not have sprung that upon you,” he realized.

“I-I do not think–I think I should lie down,” she confessed, a tear spilling down her cheek. She could see the heartbreak plain in Geta’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can attend the games today, I don’t feel well.”

“It’s fine,” Geta assured her, smoothing her hair out of her face. “I should have warned you.”

She couldn’t say anything more, couldn’t offer some placating remark to soothe his mood. She needed calm and quiet, and she wouldn’t get that from the arena. She hoped he understood that.

[ Part IX ]

#emperor geta x ofc #emperor geta x reader #gladiator 2 x reader #gladiator ii x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn x reader

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shin-kenooubu · 1 day ago

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Confession Headcanons!

featuring: Ranpo Edogawa

(sfw, fluff, gn!reader, no content warnings)

• author's note: more ranpo because i love him.

Ranpo isn't used to being uncertain about things, in fact, there is nothing in the world that he is less accustomed to. He always has things figured, it's always taken him seconds and it somehow takes him Even Less Time to blabber out the answer.

But that certainty comes from cold hard facts. Feelings are far, far, faaaar trickier.

So obviously. Instead of figuring out a way to put his feelings into proper words and going through the grueling feeling of vulnerability and heat rushing into his face and down his neck.

He makes you do it.

Eventually, you won't be able to keep quiet about your feelings and he knows this. But at the rate you're going, it's going to take ages. So he's going to help speed up the process! Because someone needs to confess.

And its certainly not going to be him. For obvious reasons.

So heres now it goes:

- All up in your space. He knows you get flustered when he's near. Filing some paperwork? He's sitting on your desk. Taking a break on the couch? He's sitting down and draping his legs over your lap. You're taking your lunch break? He's hungry too!!! Buy him a treat!!!

- Makes you accompany him whenever he gets sent out. It doesn't matter if you can drive or not, he'll tell you everything he's already figured out about the case on the way there regardless! He's basically figured it all out already anyways. Isn't that impressive? Isn't he the best? Praise him, please and thank you.

- Compliments you. Indirectly. All the other members of the ADA always mention how highly Ranpo seems to think of you. It's clear that he values your input, he finds you incredibly dependable as well, y'know, he's even mentioned that you're pretty easy on the eyes. Don't tell him they told you that, though. (It's all part of his master plan.)

- Shares. His supply is dwindling even faster because of you! You should feel honored. Or maybe not. He doesn't actually mind, don't feel bad for taking anything. Hurry up and eat the damn thing already.

- Listens to you. Actively. He makes sure to show that he's paying attention to you because he knows that you appreciate it. He doesn't really get it, he's always listening even if it looks like he's busy playing around. But feelings are weird and fragile. He'll be a little extra careful with yours.

- Makes an effort to not insult your intelligence. Not that he ever actually means to, his wording is just off. Which is why recently you've found him growing quiet in conversations for a few seconds. A small pout on his lips as he considers his words before snapping right back into place and continuing whatever tirade he was going on. All without throwing out an indirect jab. It's cute, and also very thoughtful.

- Minimizes the opportunities you have to get hurt in his plans. Obviously some things don't come together as neatly as one might hope but damnit if he isn't finding a way to keep you safe. You can be useful And out of harms way.

He's obvious, he doesn't trust you to not brush off his vaguer advances as him simply being friendly. He wants you to get the hint. Needs you to, really, because he's sick of pining just as much as you are.

When you do eventually ask to speak to him privately, invite him into your space and sit him down, his heart pounds.

Ranpo knows the outcome of this, he's set it in motion for weeks, maybe even months, but theres still Doubt.

He can't see the future.

He can infer it, maybe. Can imagine a future where you and him are happy, where everyday, the two of you lay in bed together, and you smile at him as you run your fingers through his black hair and his mind grows muddy.

But this isn't like any simple murder case. He knows some facts, yeah, but none of it will ever, ever be enough to be Certain. Certain of you and him. Together. It scares him.

But when you take his hands in yours, a little clammy from nerves, and whisper your feelings to him, he can't help but surge forward and press his lips to yours.

A wide smile. A simple, "I know."

You can feel his quiet laughter on your face.

He's lucky he didn't wheeze it out, with how tight his chest feels from pure giddiness.

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delight-angelsbliss · 1 day ago

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Don't you notice how I get quiet when there's no one else around?

Heh I wanted to post this sooner but here we are

welcome to my February valentines special that will go on for the full duration of February!!

You may choose a prompt and Character from my list and request<3 this is actually my first ever special/event I'm doing lol S1 prompts from 1 - 11 are by @/novelbear they're really cool and have amazing prompts (^-^) there also inconsistent small and large texts so it's actually readable cuz it gets cut off sometimes lol!! I'd also recommend that when requesting u say which Season ur prompt is from for example "S1 nr 4 with ___" u can also request up to 3 prompts in one! I'll try my best to use it all<3 everything can be requested as platonic!! Edit: can you guys please specify gender and if it should be hcs or not? As much information as possible would be nice and helps alot

S1 Cute scenarios<3

Spending all day watching cute crafts and baking to do

Rom com marathon!!

Trying (and maybe) failing to make food heart shaped

Realizing you both have contrasting views on valentines

"Baby, I love you, really, but if I eat one more piece of chocolate I'll throw up"

Making the same reservations at the same time but different restaurants and/or the same one

"I thought you'd at least ask me to be my valentines" "we've been together for years, I thought that was a given"

Both not caring much abt valentines but get dragged to a double date by friends

"How much did this cost?" "Does that really matter?"

Spending the night walking through the city silently

Begging your partner to get matching sweaters until they say yes

Buying couple shirts and deciding the whole day which one to wear that u completely forgot ur date

Not leaving bed at all

Going to the carnival

Double dates

Confessing with a love letter

first kiss together on your first valentines

getting proposed on valentines

Picking grapes together

Making heart cake pops and eating them but they fall down

"I think I deserve a kiss"

"You didn't have to do all of this!" "Yeah, which is why I did it for you"

"I wish everyday could be like this"

"Is it just me or do your lips look softer than usual?"

"We don't have to go out"

"I can never get enough of of how pretty you look"

Ordering in and watching crime action series

"You remembered?" "Of course I did, I love you"

Trying to do pilates together only to fail miserably

Writing a love letter only to throw it away but they find it

S2 Yandere scenarios!:

"I just got some very wise advice from a wise woman..." U can ask more abt this btw and I'll explain a bit more what I mean with this

"Gosh, you smell so good when we cuddle like this"

"Do you think I enjoy punishing you?! I don't!"

"Tell me how much you love me"

"I'm jealous of the way you are happy with them but not me"

"This world is a ugly place, you're too beautiful for it"

"I know I'm sick in the head, but you'll be my cure"

"I love it when we're so close together like this"

"Of course I'm jealous! You're mine, not theirs!"

"Dont you get it? I would die for you if you asked me to"

"Your skin is so soft"

"I just love the last souvenir of your eye so much that I'd like the other one please"

"I could kill you if I wanted to"

"I live for you, you're like my oxygen"

"If you run, I'll break your legs"

જ⁀➴ ♡ Matchups

I actually do match ups which isn't really known cuz it's in my rules and dni lol but I do make matchups in case anyone wants one<3 this was added on 20:37 on 4th of February which is a bit later than this was posted

For a match up I need as much information as possible it's also allowed in a platonic form

If there's a preferred age range and gender

Hobbies

Likes

Dislikes

Special interests

And more would be needed (^-^)

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tanukitsuneko-suki · 2 days ago

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build episode 36 thoughts:

- i thought the episode is titled “evolt hunts parents” and for a second i’m like yea he seems like the kind of guy to commit fratricide for fun. it’s his hobby

- yeah, damn straight!!!!!! it won't work for you ugly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🍅🍅🍅

- it's really moe when he looks pissed....evolt bring him back his wife already....ugly mf..

- when i said i wanted more of banjo and misora moments i didn't mean it like this... (both of them are possessed by aliens)

- i miss my wife you guys. banjo...come back....

- SHINDA HENSUU DE KURIKAESU KAZOE KOTO GA HARANDA NETSU (ramble// when i drew that sento fanart inspired by netsu ijou it really just happened to be on my playlist and i thought it would be fun to combine it with sento...apparently the song is about the last person on a planet as a black hole eats it away.. oh serendipity)

- "ah mb we got a lolicon in the team" ahh face

- oh god banjo ily lol. he's so cute i wanna put him in a jar (someone who folds quickly because of her oshi) (even if her oshi is possessed) (and in a suit) (banjo my wife)

- kazumin and gentokun bonding!

- kazumin recruitment era....kazumin... he's unexpectedly a really good character, isn't he? he's really noble... when he didn't give up the pandora's box despite threats to his closest friends/those he considers family... recruiting the murderer of someone very important to him because he knows they need all the power in their arsenal against evolt.. it's very refreshing!

- this goddamn scene

- WHY IS BANJO'S NAME ON YOU GUYS' MOUTHS. AGAIN. LMFAOOOOOOO I'M SO SERIOUS I WASN'T EXPECTING MISORA TO NAME DROP BANJO AS THE REASON HEKP

- I MEAN MAYBE HE'S JUST PREPARED TO DIE TO SAVE PLANET EARTH GODDAMN?????

- nevermind misora's just throwing guesses it fucking sent me though

- i'm so fucking sorry it's just his suicidal self-sacrificial streak talking i'm sorry for making it about ryusen again

- BANJO ENOUGH CHILLING IN THE HEADSPACE GO BACK HOME YOUR WIFE IS GONNA DIE

- his weak voice...oh god my...my meow meow...you don't have to do this.. STOOOOP FIIGHTIIIIIIING

- i'm in goddamn shambles ENOUUUUGHHHHHHHHH.. i miss banjo so much i can't take it anymore

- on a fucking android???? you can't even get an ipad for this my guy??

- he's such a goddamn hater lmao okay i got a bone to pick with evolt and of course i don't like him while watching the show because he's the antagonist but i can begrudgingly respect him because he's a damn good villain lmao. also that snort. i love you akaso

- i kinda forgot this is all happening in japan only and it's so funny like wdym nobody from china is knocking asking 'heyy uhh guys what do got there (referring to the big ass lights that beam to the sky every 18 hours)'

- yes well you're only fraternizing with greedy capitalists and i don't really think the opinions of the 1% is representative of the general attitude of humanity...i can assure you the normal guy on the street is only debating about whether they'll buy onigiri or tonkatsu on the way home from work..... evolt your sample is biased. never become a scientist

- atleast they can be together forever (used as evolt as fodder for war and violence)

- i just said "YOU CANNOT BE FUCKING SHITTING ME" out loud

- ... the best heroine of kamen rider

- suicide mission to save wife....... somebody help my wives are racing to sacrifice themselves for each other..

- ...

- uh, anyway! we are so back <3

- little white rabbit on the moon..

- YOU'RE SHITTING ME

- ENOUHDGSFSDHAFDSAFBDSHFGHDSAGFHKSADGFHSDAFGHSDAKFFDHFSDAHFKJASDLF IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD IM DROPPING BUILD

- THE FUCKING WORST

#silly thoughts #kamen rider build #i dont feel so silly anymore #CAN WE. CAN WE GO BACK TO THE GOD THEORY. IM STRAPPED IN THE HELLCOASTER AND I WANT OUT #FUCKKKK

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thegeeksideofsr · 1 day ago

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Over Heated

An: just a lil silly fic, not proof read

***********************************************

Florida. The job has to be in Florida during the hottest month of the year. The kind of heat that makes you irritable and constantly sweaty.

Best way to survive at this point is shorts tank tops and an AC unit on high enough to make a room a freezer.

The job was a relatively quick and easy. But now we have to wait for our flight tomorrow, at two in the afternoon.

The team is currently occupying a table in a pub. Good food, cold drinks, and music that doesn't make me want to kill someone.

The thought of cool shower and the bed awaiting me is helping with the homicidal urge. And food helps too, I suppose.

The only downside to the hotel is that I have to share with Eliot. Not that he's a bad roomie, he's actually excellent. Neat and thoughtful, especially because someone thought it would be funny to put us in a single bed room, and that someone knows that I like Eliot a little bit, and now we have to share a bed, the others all got rooms with double beds. And Eliot and I were the only co-ed.

I'm gonna kill Hardison. Slowly. Maybe I can make it look like an accident.

"So, you're tellin' me, you got scurvy?"

Eliot's low voice pulls me from my day dream.

"I almost got scurvy," Hardison explains. "Nanna caught it before it got bad and made me drink like a gallon of orange juice a day. Was not fun. You know what happens when you consume that much fruit? It's not pretty. I'm tellin' you it was like a -"

"Ew Hardison!" I exclaim, throwing a crumpled napkin at him. "TMI, dude. TMI."

"Damnit, Hardison."

"What's scurvy?" Parker asks, mouth full of food.

"It's when you're body doesn't have all the nutrients it needs, specifically vitamin c. You get it from fruits and vegetables, and if you don't get enough of it you get real sick," Eliot explains.

"It's why El and I try to feed them to you and Hardison and much as we can," I add.

"It's not anything to worry about really," Hardison says with a smirk, while waving a french fry around. "It's not a thing. Parents made it up to make kids eat their vegetables."

"Oh, interesting." Parker shrugs and continues to eat.

"No, Park-" Eliot starts, running a hand down his face to rest over his eyes. "Damnit Hardison."

I shake my head, then turn to Nate and Sophie to see if they want to be any help, but they are completely oblivious, having their own conversation. Giving each other bedroom eyes and thinking they are being subtle.

I roll my eyes and sigh.

I look down to my plate. My food is already gone and my drink only has a swallow left.

I grab my cup, down the last of the liquid, then push away from the table.

"Alright. I don't have the patients for this. Hardison, good luck trying to undo this one."

I turn and walk away, when Hardison yells after me.

"Hey! What about your bill?"

"You get to cover it for telling Parker that scurvy isn't real."

I flip him off over my shoulder as I open the door and leave.

The restaurant is only a few minutes walk from the hotel, so I don't have to be out in the heat long, thank goodness.

I walk through the front lobby, waving to the young woman, Gemma, behind the desk, then to the elevator up to my room.

The building is cool enough, AC on throughout, but once I unlock my door , heat floods out.

Damnit. One of us must have forgotten to turn the AC on before we left.

I enter the room, like walking into an oven, across the room to the AC unit.

Opon inspection, I find that no matter the buttons I push, nothing comes from it.

Shit.

I go to the phone on the side table and call down to the front desk, the call answering after a couple rings.

"Front desk, how can I help?"

"Hi, Gemma, I'm in room 302, and the AC unit is not working and it's an oven in here. Is there any body who could take a look at it?"

"Oh, shit. I will call maintenance to check it out, and have a couple fans sent up in the mean time. I'm sorry for it going out."

"That's alright. It not your fault. Thank you for your help."

"Of course. Maintenance should be there in a few minutes."

"Alright, thanks."

I hang up and flop back on the bed.

The air stale and unmoving.

I get up to open the window, standing next to it and enjoying the air. It may be hot outside, but the air moves.

A knock arrives on the door after a few minutes.

I go to the door and open it to reveal an older gentleman with a tool box in hand.

"I hear you are having some AC problems," he says.

"That I am. Please come in." I gesture for him to come in. "Thank you for coming. I hope you can fix it."

"I'll do my best," he says as he begins to examines the unit.

I sit on the bed and watch him take of the front of the unit, exposing the inner workings.

He tinkers and grumbles for a few minutes, before standing and turning to me.

"No good." He says, shaking his head. "One of the lines is broken and we don't have the parts on hand. It's out of commission until I can order the parts."

My heart sinks.

"Are you sure?"

He nods.

"Alright," I sigh. "Thank you for trying."

"You're welcome. Why don't we go ask Gemma if there is a empty room for you."

I nod, then get up and grab my room key and wallet. Then follow him out and head to the lobby.

Once there, he explains to Gemma about the unit, and asks if she could find another room for me, then head of towards the back.

I step up to the front desk, resting my arms on top, as she begins to type.

"Is there anything available?" I ask.

She gives me a sympathetic look, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Everything is full. The earliest I could get a room is tomorrow afternoon."

"We leave tomorrow."

I close my eyes, and run my hand over my face.

"It's ok. You said you had some fans?"

She nods.

"We do. I will have them sent up. They aren't as good as an AC, but it'll keep the air moving."

"Thank you, Gemma."

As I turn to head back up to my room, I see Eliot come in the entrance.

"Hey," he greats. "What going on?"

"I'll explain on the way up." I tell him, then walk towards the elevator.

Heim following behind.

Once in the elevator, I explain what happened.

"Great." He groans as he tosses his head back.

Once we get back to our room, the fans have already been dropped off, so we place them around the room to try to cool it down.

"Alright," I sigh, digging through my suitcase for clothes. "I'm going to shower."

"Why? Just gonna get hot again." His tone dripping in annoyance.

"Yes, but I'll be clean and hot." I snip back.

I grab my clothes and slam the bathroom door behind me.

The water is cool and refreshing. It takes away some of the frustration I had towards Eliot, but I'm still annoyed at him.

Once I'm done I put my pjs on, shorts and a tank, hopefully I'll be cool enough overnight.

I exit the bathroom to find Eliot, sprawled across the bed, right arm propped behind his head as he holds his book in his left.

He's only in his tank top and boxers, and the way he's laying, the hem of his top has ridden up to expose some of his stomach. And his arms are now on display, the fake tattoos Hardison and I placed yesterday are now visible, no longer covered by his button up.

The sight sends a heat through me, not helping in the slightest in the oven of our room.

I walk to my suitcase and shove my dirty clothes in.

"You okay?" He asks.

"I'm fine."

He then mutters something and goes back to reading.

I roll my eyes at him, crab my book and settle on the bed next to him, shoving a spare pillow between us.

We stay that way for a few hours, not talking, but at least it wasn't awkward.

When the words on the page begin to blur together, and read the same paragraph over again, I finally decide to put it away and get some sleep.

I tuck my book mark in, and place it on the nightstand, turning the light off, and shuffle down into the bed.

"Goodnight, Eliot." I say as I get comfortable.

"Night," he grumbles.

He moves a few minutes later, turning off his side lamp and settling in bed.

We lay back to back, like we have the past few nights. The only difference now is that it's like a sauna now.

I lay in the bed, blankets tossed off to the foot of the bed. I can feel Eliot radiating heat.

Rolling over, facing him, trying to find some part of the sheets that might be cool still. And I do, but it's gone in a flash.

I can make out his profile in the dark. He lays on his back, hand over his stomach, breathing shallow, and still as a board.

"You're staring," He mumbles.

"No m'not."

"You are. And to jostle the bed every time you move."

"'M just trying to get comfortable but I'm hot."

"So'm I. But I'm still trying to sleep."

I huff, sitting up on my elbow, leaning over him slightly.

"Easy for you to say. You aren't laying next to a radiator. Do you know how much heat you put off. It's like an oven in here, and you are putting off heat. How do you expect me to be able to sleep when it's this hot. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get heat exhaustion or -"

He moves so quickly I don't have time to react. He grabs my side in one hand and pushes me back into the bed. His body is pressed into mine as he pins me to the bed. Not so that I can't get away at all, but to make me stop moving for a moment.

"I have slept in worse conditions, and survived. So, you better quit complaining about how hot it it is, before I get you a reason to feel hot."

We lay there, body's pressed together. His eyes glow slightly with the light from the street lamps.

"That a promise?"

***********************************************

I sit at the table of the hotel's dining room table, head resting on my hand trying to wake up.

A hand on my shoulder gains my attention, I open my eyes to see Eliot's hand placing a mug of coffee in front of me.

I smile at him in thanks as he sits next to me.

The first sip is warm and comforting, mixed up perfectly. Of course it was.

"What's that on your neck?" Parker asks, pointing to the mark on my neck.

Her question is like a bucket of ice water dumped over me.

I look to her, bring a hand to my neck. I thought my hair had covered it, but it must've shifted.

"Um, I burned it, on a curling iron," I lie, hoping she'll except it.

"But your hair isn't curled. And Eliot has a similar one."

I look to Eliot, his gaze fixed on Parker, his expression neutral.

My gaze falls from his face to his neck, and sure enough, on his neck hidden by his hair, is a bruise I had left last night.

He finally looks at me, but before either of us can say something, Hardison, Nate, and Sophie join us at the table.

We all exchange groggy 'mornings' before Parker breaks the silents.

"She said she burned her neck with a curling iron," she points at me, then to Eliot. "But he has the same kind of mark, and he doesn't use a curling iron."

My face gets hot. I lean my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands, trying to hide from the rest of the team.

"Got damn!" Hardison exclaims. "You did the nasty!"

***********************************************

#eliot spencer #eliot spencer x reader #leverage fanfic #leverage

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a-most-beloved-fool · 2 days ago

Note

for the wip title game, 1 and 2? 👀

but also aroace spock from the tags?? I know you haven't written much about it but i will eat every crumb 🥺

title ask game!

No One Can Read Spock: Newly-minted Captain Kirk has heard rumors about his soon-to-be first officer Commander Spock, and none of them kind. He braces himself to meet someone cold and uncaring - cruel, even - but when he beams aboard the Enterprise, what he finds... isn't that. Instead, he finds someone who is kind, compassionate, funny, and genuinely likeable - and he figures that if no one else is going to befriend this Vulcan, he damn sure will!

(Originally, this was conceived as something fairly lighthearted and silly, but... it's kinda turned into Kirk vs xenophobia, ft. Spock Making Friends.)

Everyone Can Read Spock: This one features a lot of POV Outsider, a very-obviously-in-love Spock, and a Captain Kirk who... doesn't seem to notice. Somehow.

At one point, I wrote an abridged version of a scene towards the end of this because i was going to make it a tumblr post and then i decided that there was a very real chance it would get a lot of notes and i would feel guilty taking forever to write it if that happened, but, because i do think it's a banger scene (even very abridged), I'll stick it below the cut.

Aroace Spock: This one was born because I came across a few too many pieces of media that featured asexual people """Becoming Normal""" and shippy things which acted as though it were The Worst Thing Imaginable to be aromantic (OR to be in any sort of relationship with someone who was aromantic) and i got mad. Very little of it is written so far, but essentially, the plot will be thus:

Spock accidentally walks in on Kirk and Bones discussing Kirk's feelings for Spock, and then immediately flees. Kirk panics, because ohfuckwhatifiruinedourfriendship.jpeg. Spock avoids Kirk for three days or so before finally appearing in his quarters to talk. Spock feels wildly guilty about not reciprocating Kirk's feelings (because Kirk is the most important person in his life, and shouldn't that translate to love? why isn't he in love with him??). Kirk assures him that it's perfectly fine that Spock isn't in love with him - their friendship is more than enough for him. The conversation ends, and their friendship is unchanged, and both are a bit relieved and a bit disappointed. Later, Spock learns about queerplatonic relationships and is like "hey wait a minute, this could be perfect!" He brings the idea to Kirk, who is like "are you SURE you want this, and you aren't just suggesting it because you think I want it?" Spock assures him that no, he wants it, too. Cue relationship negotiation while they try to balance their various wants and needs.

Eventually, after a great deal of watching Spock Blatantly Pining, McCoy says something offhand to Jim about how Spock is in love with him. And Jim just blinks at him, confused.

"Spock isn't in love with me," he says, as though it's simple fact.

Bones raises an eyebrow, incredulous. "Jim, there's no way you haven't seen it. The damn fool loves you. He's as near to head over heels as I've ever seen!"

Stubbornly, Jim shakes his head. "I'm telling you, Bones. He doesn't love me."

"He does!"

"No," Jim insists. "I'd know if he loved me!"

McCoy crosses his arms, scoffing. "Well, I'd have thought so, too, considering how obvious he is about it, but clearly not!" McCoy knows, though, that he won't convince Kirk of the truth by simply arguing well. So, instead, he asks, "Why do you think you'd know, exactly?"

"Because Spock's a touch telepath," Kirk declares, as though that solves the matter.

"Jim," Bones says, kindly, "touch telepathy only works one way. You can't feel a Vulcan's emotions by touching them - only they can feel yours."

Kirk doesn't look very impressed by that argument. "Yes, I know that, Bones," he says. He looks almost insulted that McCoy would feel the need to explain that to him.

"Well then why the hell do you think his touch telepathy would make a difference?!" McCoy snaps.

"Because Spock would tell me, if he loved me!"

McCoy can't quite follow the argument that Jim obviously thinks he's making. "What?" he asks, clearly baffled.

Frustrated, Kirk explains step-by-step, as though describing something basic to a particularly stubborn two-year-old. "Spock's a touch telepath. I touch Spock all the time. I always have. He picks up emotions from me frequently. Therefore, there's no way Spock hasn't realized that I'm in love with him. If he loved me back, he'd tell me. He already knows where I stand on the matter."

Kirk punctuates this declaration with a self-satisfied little nod, even as his composure cracks just enough to expose the old ache of unrequited love - one which had been remarkably well-hidden until now. But, his self-pity session is rudely interrupted by McCoy bursting from his seat, expression apoplectic. A blood vessel looks near to bursting in his forehead.

"WHAT?!"

And then McCoy chucks Jim bodily at Spock and the two fools finally figure things out.

McCoy is then gifted a very nice shore leave. He's put up with enough. He's earned it.

(and actually, because why not, here's a chunk of that scene in my real writing style (though bear in mind that it'll probably go through another three rounds of editing before it's Actually Done):

McCoy blinked at him, mouth agape. “You can’t have not noticed,” he blurted, incredulous. “Jim, the man is smitten. He’s as near to head over heels as I’ve ever seen!”

Kirk just shook his head, a wry sort of smile sitting on his lips. “Yes, yes. That’s a very funny joke, Bones. Now, I’ve got work to do, you know,” he said, and made to pick up his padd once again.

Without thinking, McCoy reached across the deck and slammed the padd back to the table. “Damnit, Jim!” he snapped, feeling angry all of a sudden, “I’m being serious! Spock’s got feelings for you. Real, honest-to-goodness, romantic feelings!”

Kirk stilled, and looked at him more closely, expression shifting to something kind, and, oddly, almost sad. “You are serious, aren’t you?” he mused, voice gentle. “Well, I can see how you might come to that conclusion. But – you’re wrong, I’m afraid. He doesn’t love me. Not like that, anyways.”

And Kirk, in spite of all the evidence he had been given over the years, clearly believed it. When Spock had been being obvious, having clearly made attempts to instigate a relationship in both the Terran and Vulcan fashions before settling into his current state of “plainly in love, but not acting on it.” Had Jim simply – not seen? Not noticed? Did he pay no attention to the man he claimed was a friend?

“Of all the oblivious–”

“Bones,” Kirk said, raising his voice just enough to cut him off. McCoy obliged, but glared at Kirk, mutinous. “I’m telling you: he doesn’t love me.”)

#star trek #star trek tos #tos #spirk #james t kirk #spock #ask game

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lyracarvahall · 18 hours ago

Text

HeartBeat Sync Part 16

Showtime Shenanigans

Part 15 Here

The trio talked about the events of the day as they ate. San occasionally offered Y/N bites of his food. It was sweet that he wanted to make sure that she ate well. Seonghwa seemed particularly ravenous.

"He always eats like that. He eats the most out of all of us honestly." San smirked as he began packing up the trash and throwing it away. He tied up the leftovers and put them to the side.

Y/N did not want to get between Seonghwa and his food conquest so she attempted to get up to get ready to record San's track. Seonghwa whimpered and placed a hand on her leg mid-bite. After he slurped down his noodles he blushed. "Sorry. I don't know why I did that."

"Don't worry honey. I know the connection is new and raw. I can be with you as long as you need me to be.."

Seonghwa teared up a little and nodded. "Thank you. I am alright but I have a small request if that is alright."

"Of course."

"I know we have to hurry and record San's vocals but I don't want to leave you yet. Is it alright if you sit in my lap while he records or is that too forward?"

Y/N put her head on his shoulder. "That is fine Seonghwa. I honestly need the contact right now too." She worried though that her thicker frame would crush the poor guy. He seemed to sense her insecurity however and took her by the hand, leading her to her chair and pulling her down onto his lap, placing his head on her shoulder. After enjoying a few seconds like that in silence, he scooted the chair closer so she was able to reach her laptop again. Seonghwa began clicking away on his phone.

Y/N giggled at the sweet gesture and she looked to her left to see San looking very happy watching the pair of them. She sent her gratitude to him through the bond and his smile widened.

Suddenly her phone went off.

"Okay baby, I will get the recording going so we can head back for the show tonight." San walked into the recording booth and put on the headphones. She fired up the reference vocals and she watched him sway and listen. He looked peaceful and content. After the first playthrough, he looked at her with pride.

"Baby, this is wonderful...I see what they were talking about now. It is a bit different than our usual sound but still screams 'us'. Plus your vocals are so lovely."

Y/N blushes at this awed response. San chuckled at her reaction and said, "I am ready to try it now if you would like. I may need some notes from you though."

"That is fine honey. Alright." She cued up the reference track again and San started singing the highest melody in the harmony. She gave him a few low notes through out so he was the weaver throughout the other tracks. She gave him a couple of notes and soon enough he was also done with his recording.

"Did you guys want to hear how you all sound together?" Y/N was trembling both due to nerves and pure joy in sharing her baby.

Both men huddled around her laptop and she hit play. Through the speakers, a haunting 4 part harmony came and seemed to hold the trio captive. It was her first track to the rock and house opera. It came out better than she ever could have thought and it was due to these men's amazing talent. It would not be nearly as epic without them.

Seonghwa rubbed his hands up and down her waist and San cradled her head against his stomach as he stood next to her. When the song finished, there was silence for a few moments. Y/N began to panic that maybe they didn't like it.

San seemed to sense her unease and began to stroke her hair. "No no no baby! We are blown away! This is incredible! I cannot wait for the final results!"

"Really? Are you sure it isn't too much?" She asked hesitantly.

Seonghwa spoke from her right shoulder so his low soft voice was right by her ear. "We are ATEEZ honey. We are the definition or extra. Don't you dare sell yourself short. This is wonderful."

She shivered with the way his voice in her ear effected her. he chuckled darkly which only furthered the effect.

San chuckled as he released her head from his hold. Sinking down to his knees, he whispered into her left ear. "Oh my poor baby. being effected by your men so strongly. Later I will kiss it all better." With that he got up and walked to the studio door, opening it and lingering in the doorway. "I ordered a driver as we need to get back. You coming baby?"

Y/N quickly got up from the chair, nearly toppling Seonghwa over. "Oh my gosh I am so sorry!" She covered her face in embarrassment.

Seonghwa belly laughed and pulled her into a hug. "It's okay sweetheart. Sannie was the mean one teasing you." With that he began to gather her supplies and cords and placed them in her bag. San had the food already in his hands and made his way out to the car. After she saved their progress, she closed her laptop and hurried and packed it before ducking her head in embarrassment and heading out the door. Seonghwa laughed and followed behind.

Once they got to the car, she sat in the front seat and the two men sat in the back chortling to themselves. Y/N rolled her eyes in the rearview mirror and they were off. On the way to the venue, she messaged Eden thanking him for letting her use the studio space.

She appreciated but also felt very pressured by the faith everyone had in her. Hopefully she lived up to expectations.

Finally turning into the arena basement parking, the car dropped them off and they headed inside. Y/N followed the guys since they knew where they were going and there were security just inside the doors to collect them. Suddenly, out of nowhere someone flew towards Y/N and wrapped around her like a koala. As she was pinned to the wall, she realized it was Wooyoung. Her face was swiftly covered in kisses and he clung to her tightly. He was swiftly removed by San picking him up by the collar like a cat being lifted by the scruff.

"Wooyoung! Damn you gotta be gentle!"

Wooyoung looked at her and suddenly appeared to look guilty. "Hey I'm sorry babe! I just saw that Mingi got hugs and kisses from you and I got super jealous so i figured if I snuck some now I could say that I won. I mean I didn't mean to run into you that hard but I was running a long ways and..."

"Woah woah!" Y/N grabbed his face and smooshed his cheeks, making him look adorable. "Honey it's okay. Come here." She leaned forward and gave him a bunch of gentle pecks on his lips and he seemed to melt in San's arms. "If you are a good boy for the rest of the day, I will reward you, ok?" She saw his pupils dialate and he rapidly nodded.

"Yes ma'am!" He took off back towards their dressing room.

Y/N giggled as he watched him run like a track star. Seonghwa seemed to beam at her laughter and squeezed her shoulder. "We should get ready sweetheart. Feel free to come with us. He slid his hand down her arm to intertwine his fingers with hers. Gently guiding her, she followed him back to the dressing room. She looked around at all of the staff on the way and not many of them even noticed. The couple that did gave subtle nods and she had a feeling they were a part of the NDA signing spree.

Once they opened the dressing room door, the boys seemed to stop what they were doing and focus their eyes on her and Seonghwa's joint hands. He felt her embarrassment and pulled her to him, lifting her hair up out of the way so her new mark was visible to everyone. Hongjoong came up behind Y/N and gently combed his fingers over the mark. "It's beautiful baby." Seonghwa flinched a little bit at the nickname Hongjoong gave her but swiftly returned to petting her hair. Y/N knew it was hard but that he was trying. She let Seonghwa cling to her as long as he needed to.

"We'll talk soon." Hongjoong said quietly and then he walked away. Seonghwa let out a shuttered breath and she squeezed him to show her support. He cleared his throat and released her, making his way to one of the makeup chairs to start getting ready for the show. Various members were occupying themselves in different ways. Some were also getting makeup done. One was listening to music on his phone. Mingi and Yunho were taking selfies in a corner.

"Hey baby! Come over and take pictures with us!" Mingi shouted across the room.

"No! No way! I can't..." Yunho began to pout. "Oh Yuyu don't start...I...okay fine." She couldn't resist that face.

Making her way to the two trees, she found herself smooshed between them with each placing a kiss on one of her cheeks. They showed her the picture and she looked beautiful with a beaming smile and they looked totally smitten as they kissed her.

"Oh my god I love this so much! Please send it to me!" Y/N gave each of the a kiss on the cheek but Mingi pulled her behind a dressing partition.

"Hey baby. Is it okay if I touch you?"

"Mingi there are people over there."

"Okay but I am taking a kiss. Come here." He put a couple of fingers in the hem of her jeans and pulled her forward. Gently combing his other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, he kissed her like he meant it. Plump lips trying to imprint themselves upon hers. "Mine"

Looking in his eyes, it was like she could see the loving and dominant sides battling one another.

"Until later baby." He left her pent up behind that partition. What is the deal with these men teasing her today? Made her want to stomp and throw a fit but she took a couple of deep breaths. Soon, the stage hand came in announcing it was showtime. She scurried to the door just in time to give small kisses to each of her men as they made their way out of the door.

One of the makeup artists dramatically fanned herself as she put her kit away. "Girl you are so lucky! Pardon me for saying so but DAMN they are hot and you have them all in your pocket!"

"They are hot, but they are also so much more."

The makeup artist swooned a little. "This is why they all love you." She finished packing up her kit and walked out the door. Y/N went to follow her but then stopped in her tracks. Wait...Did they actually love her? As a person or was the bond all of it. She knew she really needed to step up getting to know these men she cared so much for. She nodded at her internal commitment as she left the dressing room to root her men on from backstage.

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

Taglist: @imbaebi @vtyb23 @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @mrsminseochoi

#poly ateez #ateez x curvy reader #ateez x older reader #poly ateez x reader #soulmates

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wickedpeachie · 3 days ago

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Katara tilted her head, watching the way Zuko’s fingers loosened around the handle of the wok, knuckles still tense. She recognized that tension, that weight, she carried it too. The pressure of doing more, of making up for the past, of never feeling like enough, no matter how much you gave. And now, here he was, getting worked up over her skipping a meal. It was almost funny. “Soooo…. you’re taking personal responsibility for my well-being now?” Her voice came out teasing, light, but there was something else beneath it—something uncertain. She knows he’s right, that more than ever they need to be in fighting shape. Missing meals, sometimes multiple times a day probably wasn’t going to help her. The last thing she wanted to be was a burden. Zuko continues, his tone firm. Her nails dig a little rougher into her palms. Despite everything, despite their history, despite the part of her that still doesn’t fully trust him, he did notice. And it mattered to him. That was… unexpected. Maybe even dangerous that it mattered to her.

“If we’re really doing this—taking care of each other or whatever—then it goes both ways.” Her eyes flickered over him, as if already imagining the fresh bruises and burns he’d no doubt collect from training with Aang. “So if you come back from training looking like you got run over by a sky bison, you come to me. No more acting like you can just walk it off.” She raised a brow, daring him to argue. “Deal?” Katara wasn’t sure what was stranger, that she was making a deal like this at all, or that she was making it with Zuko. Of all people. She had spent so long viewing him as the enemy, the villain in their story, the one she had to keep her guard up against. But now, he was the one worrying if she was eating. He was the one offering to look out for her. And she—well, she was doing the same for him. She should have felt ridiculous, uncomfortable even, but instead, there was something almost... steady about it. Something she didn’t quite have the words for yet. Maybe they were still learning how to trust each other, maybe there was still a hesitance there—but if he could stand in the kitchen, cooking for the group like it was second nature, then maybe this, this, wasn’t so strange after all. Did it lessen the ache in her heart when she thought of the Fire Nation? No. Not one bit. It didn’t quell the anger in her, the knife that twisted in her stomach. The only thing it did help was…separate Zuko from them. That it was possible, he could want all the things he’s saying to her now.

She let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter as she considered him. The way her name slipped off his lips, drawing a quick zap down her spine. “I know,” she said softly. “And we will.” There was no hesitation in her voice, no doubt. There isn't another choice. If they don't stop his father... Zuko wasn’t the same person who had hunted them across the world. He wasn’t that angry, lost boy anymore. He was someone who fought beside them now. Someone who cared. Someone who, despite everything, might tip the scales in this war. Katara hesitated for only a moment, slipping from the counter as she took the spot next to him again, adding, “But you don’t have to do it alone” She shifted slightly, glancing away as she spoke. She was distracting herself, toying with the bowl in her hands. “You don’t have to fix everything by yourself. That’s why we’re together-” It wasn’t just about Zuko, she realized. It was about her, too. About the way she shouldered burdens without thinking, the way she pushed forward as if the world rested on her alone. She flipped the bowl over again, giving him a slight nudge as she scooped the food into her dish. Katara briefly brushed her fingertips over his knuckles, a quick tap, as she muttered "Thanks, Zuko" Turning again back to the other counter.

Katara kept her back to him, pretending to focus on her food even as an odd weight settled in her chest. It was confusing—more than she wanted to admit, that she could stand here, side by side with him, talking about burdens and responsibility as if they were the same. As if she hadn’t spent so long believing he was just another one of those burdens. But now, here they were, making quiet deals about taking care of each other, slipping into something that felt dangerously close to trust. She curled her fingers tighter around her bowl, grounding herself in the warmth of the food, the simplicity of the moment. It shouldn’t feel this complicated. It shouldn’t leave her feeling so unsteady. “Aang is probably waiting for you,” she tossed over her shoulder, hoping her voice didn’t betray the unease curling at the edges of her thoughts. She didn’t wait for his response, just focused on her food, as if that might be enough to keep the rest of her emotions in check.

her response leaves him flustering, the reminder somewhat dulling the frustration building in him to a calm ... with a tinge of embarrassment. his hand slows, dampening his sharp movements into something less tense. she'd been right, of course, it's not completely unreasonable for Katara not to think to rely on him in that way. why would she? he'd betrayed her and he is still groveling to earn back her trust. but still ... would it have been so hard for her to say something? wasn't she hungry? wasn't this what she always did -- telling people what they needed to do? why was it so different when it comes to herself? the questions comes rushing in his mind in waves, one after another without pause he feels his head is about to explode.

he debates what to say, not wanting to say the wrong thing as his heart twists when she blames herself for not eating. he supposes she is right, in a way ... you are most responsible for yourself. however, that thought is not enough to ease the ache in his chest -- in a group like this, where no one should be left behind ... it shouldn't fall entirely on her to make sure she gets a meal.

and why does it bother him so much that she doesn't even expect someone, anyone to think of her in return?

"I guess I can take on the job of making sure everyone, including you -- gets enough food for training." he tries to keep his tone as casual as he can, like its just another responsibility ... another practical task divided among the group. he continues to busy himself with the food, letting his words settle before he adds, "to master bending, you need to take care of yourself. that means eating enough, resting enough ... this applies for everyone, no exceptions." he explains, pride blooming in his chest. for once he feels like a true fire bending master offering wisdom, the way Uncle Iroh once did for him.

𝐙𝐮𝐤𝐨 let out a deep exhale, turning off the stove once the food's done. he hears Katara's question, loud and clear ... but he doesn't answer right away staring at the pan as if the sizzle of the dying heat might give him clarity. because honestly? he doesn't know how to answer without sounding foolish, typical ... expected. he wants to help Aang restore balance to the world -- he's sure of that. but beyond that, what does he really want? he wants to make things right, he wants to be better. he wants to be the kind of person his Uncle once believes he could be. his fingers tighten around the handle of the wok before he finally speaks, "I want to help Aang restore balance to the world. I want to make up for what I've done. I want to right all my wrongs." but in his head, the words continue ... remaining unspoken: I want Uncle Iroh back. he swallows hard, forcing down the ache in his throat before adding, "you know what I want, Katara. I want to stop my father."

#unlovedsaints

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