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stylesispunk · 2 days ago

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"The soldier in the armour" | Last part

marcus acacius x f!reader

masterlist | previous chapter

summary: The search for peace of Rome starts with sacrifices and bloody hands and ends where lovers meet again.

wc: 16k (ups)

warnings: extreme angst, age gap, mentions of blood, power imbalance, mentions of death, violence, manipulation.

a/n: as much as I'm sad to end this story, I really needed it to do it. Writing as much as I enjoy and love it, it's also becoming unbearable to the point i can't find myself writing peacefully anymore and I need a break. Still, i'm leaving you with something else 👀 and I will still be here rebbloging stuff. Thank you so much to the sweet anon who requested this in the first place because it gave me the chance to expand a story i loved writing so much and thanks to everyone who commented on this story, the ones who always reblogged and shared their thoughts with me, and showed me real support. I appreciate it so much! ♥️ this was the original ending for this btw. Please, share your thoughts with me 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The dim torchlight flickered against the damp stone walls, casting long shadows as the guard knelt beside you, pressing a small wooden cup of water into your trembling hands. His voice was gentle, almost hesitant, as if the weight of his next words could cut in half.

"Here. Drink this, my lady."

You took the cup but didn’t bring it to your lips. Your throat was raw, not just from thirst but from the weight of everything crashing down on you. Instead, your mind raced with so many questions about the ones you loved.

"How… how are they?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The guard sighed, his expression darkening. "Your mother is alright."

A sharp exhale of relief left your lips, but it didn’t last.

"Hanno?" you asked without wanting to reveal his real identity.

His brow furrowed. "Why do you care about that gladiator this much?"

You shot him a glare. "How is he?"

A beat passed before he muttered, "Good. He is fine too, my lady."

But that wasn’t the name that hung the heaviest on your heart, tearing it apart.

"My husband… how is Acacius?" your voice cracked.

At the sound of his name, the guard’s lips parted, but no words came out at first. His hesitation was enough to send ice through your veins.

"General Acacius… Emperor Geta and Caracalla-"

Your stomach twisted violently. "Is he dead?" You choked out, your fingers tightening around the cup until it nearly cracked in your grasp.

"No," the guard said quickly, shaking his head. "But they have… they are sending him to the arena to fight for his life… as punishment."

Your entire body froze. "And they’re going to make me watch," you whispered, the words hollow and filled with fury. It wasn’t just cruel but calculated, a vicious torment. Geta wanted to break you in every way possible.

The rage that had been simmering inside you boiled over.

"Where is he?" you demanded, your breath coming in uneven bursts.

The guard swallowed hard, glancing toward the entrance of the dungeon as if he feared being caught. "You shouldn’t-"

"Where. Is. He?" you cut him off, your voice sharp like a blade.

For a moment, he looked at you, not as a prisoner, not as the emperor’s pawn, but as the little girl he had known all his life. A woman who had once walked through the gardens of the palace without fear, whose laughter had once filled the halls of Rome. He let out a slow breath, then leaned in closer.

"In the lower cells," he whispered. "They took him there until dawn."

“Could you take me to see him?” You asked him, throwing the cup of water on the ground.

The guard hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced nervously toward the entrance of the dungeon. “I can’t. It’s too dangerous. For you and for me.”

Desperation clawed at your throat. “Please,” you pleaded, leaning forward as much as the chains would allow. “I just need to see him. Just for a moment.”

He looked away, running a hand over his face, as if waging an internal war. “If they catch us, they’ll kill us both.”

“Then let me die, I’ll blame myself for it” Your voice wavered, but your resolve did not.

His eyes flickered with something, pity, perhaps even understanding. He owned too much to your family and to Acacius, so muttering a curse under his breath he finally nodded. “Fine. But you must cover up. And it must be fast.”

Relief crashed over you, and you nodded eagerly. “Thank you.”

He stood, moving quickly to retrieve a tattered cloak from a pile of discarded linens in the corner. He draped it over your shoulders, pulling the hood low over your face.

“Keep your head down. Stay close.” His voice was firm but quiet.

You nodded once more, your heart hammering against your ribs as he unlatched the chains from the wall. Your wrists throbbed, the skin raw and bruised, but you didn’t care.

Not long after, the guard led you through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, the torches casting long, flickering shadows on the cold stone walls. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the cloak heavier than ever on your shoulders, but nothing compared to the what was pressing against your chest, the thought of seeing Acacius, of what had been done to him.

You kept your head low, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric close to your body. Every time footsteps echoed nearby, the guard would stop, pressing you into the shadows, his hand firm on your arm as if reminding you to stay silent.

Finally, you reached the holding cells near the arena. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, damp stone, and blood. You could hear the low murmurs of other prisoners, the occasional clank of chains.

The guard glanced around before gesturing for you to follow. He stopped in front of a heavy iron-barred door. “He’s in there,” he whispered. “Be quick.”

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you stepped forward. The guard pulled a key from his belt and slid it into the lock, the heavy door groaning as it opened just enough for you to slip inside.

At first, the darkness swallowed everything, and then

“Acacius.” You whispered, calling out his name.

He was slumped against the wall, his wrists bound in iron cuffs, his tunic torn and bloodied. His dark hair was damp, sticking to his forehead, and a fresh cut trailed along his cheekbone. But his eyes, his sharp, brown eyes, snapped open the moment he heard your voice.

“My love?” His voice was hoarse, as if he had been calling for you in his sleep.

You rushed to him, falling to your knees, your hands reaching for his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if savoring it.

“I’m here,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so sorry, Acacius. I tried-”

“Shh.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

You weren’t safe but it didn’t matter to you anymore, your fingers trembled as they traced over his bruised skin. “They’re sending you to the arena.”

He exhaled sharply. “I know.”

You shook your head, panic surging in your chest. “I can’t let this happen. I won’t.”

His chained hands lifted as much as they could, brushing against your arms, trying to soothe you despite the agony he must have been in. “You have to be strong.” His voice was firm but gentle. “You have to survive this. That’s the promise I made to your mother and that’s the promise I made to myself.”

“Not without you.” You sobbed.

His eyes softened, full of something deeper than love, something treading your two-heart beating faster.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as shook your head, your lips pressing against his in a desperate, lingering kiss. He kissed you back with all the strength he had left, pouring his love and soul into you, as if trying to leave a piece of himself with you, in case this was the last time.

A sudden sound at the door made you break apart. The guard stepped inside, urgency on his face.

“They’re coming. We have to go-now.”

You turned back to Acacius, your hands gripping his face as if you could keep him here with you forever.

“I will find a way.” Your voice was a promise. “I swear it.”

His eyes burned into yours. “Then I will wait for you, my love. In this life or the next.”

The guard pulled you away, and Acacius’ hands fell to his sides as you were torn from him. Your silent sobs echoed in the chamber as the door slammed shut between you.

The guard took you back to your cell, where the reality fell over you. Not enough praying would bring you back to the nights lying next to Acacius and enveloped in his arms, safe and sound.

The moment you stepped back into the cell, the cold iron bit into your wrists once more as the guard fastened the chains, his movements slower this time, almost hesitant. You could still taste Acacius on your lips, still feel the warmth of his hands on your skin. But now, all you had was the damp air of your prison and the weight of despair pressing against your chest.

The guard exhaled, stepping back. His brow was furrowed, his jaw clenched as if wrestling with something deep inside himself.

“You don’t deserve this,” he muttered. “None of it.”

You lifted your tear-streaked face, meeting his gaze. “Then let me go.”

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he only shook his head. “I have my duty.”

You let out a bitter laugh, your voice hoarse from emotion. “Duty? To whom? Geta? Caracalla? Do you think they would do the same for you?”

His face darkened, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. You already knew.

“I serve Rome first,” he said after a long pause, but there was something hollow in the way he spoke. As if he was trying to convince himself.

Your wrists throbbed as you shifted against the cold chains, your anger burning hotter than your grief now. “Then you are just as much a prisoner as I am.”

A flicker of something—shame? Regret?—crossed his face, but it vanished just as quickly. He turned toward the door.

“I hope the gods are kind to you, my lady.”

Then he left. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing you in darkness once more.

A shuddering breath escaped you as you pressed your forehead against the damp stone wall. Your body ached, your heart ached, but your mind was clearer now.

Acacius was running out of time.

And you were done waiting.

The hours dragged on, each second stretching into eternity as you remained chained in the cold, damp cell. The weight of what was coming settled deep in your bones, but you refused to surrender to it. Acacius was there, awaiting his fate, and you would not sit idly by while the love of your life was thrown into the arena like a common criminal.

When the first rays of morning light filtered through the cracks in the stone walls, you finally spoke. "I demand to see the emperors."

The guards exchanged glances; their expressions unreadable. One of them scoffed, but the other hesitated.

"You are in no position to demand anything," one of them sneered.

You lifted your chin, steel in your voice despite the exhaustion creeping into your limbs. "I am still a daughter of Rome, and I will be heard."

A long silence stretched between you and them before the guard who had led you to Acacius the night before stepped forward. His jaw was tight, his eyes flickering with something unspoken. He sighed.

"Very well. But be careful what you ask for.”

The chains were undone, your wrists sore and bruised, but you ignored the pain once again. Two guards flanked you as they led you through the corridors of the palace. The familiar scent of incense and polished marble filled your senses, a stark contrast to the filth of the dungeons.

When the heavy doors to the grand hall were pushed open, your eyes immediately landed on them—Geta and Caracalla, seated on their thrones, draped in the finest silks, adorned in the weight of power they had not earned.

Geta was the first to notice you, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.

"Ah, my little rebel." His voice was thick with amusement. "I was wondering when you'd come crawling back to beg."

Caracalla, in contrast, simply watched you with an expression unreadable, his dark eyes cold and calculating.

You stepped forward, ignoring the guards at your sides, ignoring the ache in your body. You met Geta’s gaze without fear, without hesitation.

"I did not come to beg." Your voice was steady. "I came to make a deal."

That caught their attention. Geta's smile faltered, and Caracalla finally leaned forward, intrigued.

"A deal?" Geta mused, amusement returning. "What could you possibly offer that we don’t already have?"

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your heart hammering in your chest.

"Myself." You let the word settle between you before continuing, voice unwavering. "You release Acacius, my mother and Hanno. Let them leave Rome unharmed. And in return... I will do whatever you wish. I will be yours."

Geta's smile widened into something almost victorious, while Caracalla tilted his head, scrutinizing you.

The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension.

Then Geta let out a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe it!”

He stood from his throne, stepping toward you, his gaze dark and triumphant. "But tell me, my love... are you truly willing to sacrifice yourself for a man who may already be dead?"

Your blood turned to ice.

You swallowed hard, keeping your expression unreadable. "You wouldn't have let him die so quickly. Not when you could turn his suffering into a spectacle."

Geta’s smirk deepened. "You know me too well, my princess" he said, caressing your face.

Caracalla exhaled sharply, almost bored. "What makes you think we would honor such a deal?"

You turned your gaze to him, unflinching. "Because you love control. And forcing me into submission would be far more satisfying to you than simply killing them outright."

Another beat of silence.

Then, Geta reached forward, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch making your skin crawl. "Oh, my sweet lady... you may have just sealed your fate."

Your heart pounded, but you did not flinch. “I request divorce from General Acacius.” You said, trembling.

A hush fell over the grand hall, the weight of your words pressing against the air like a thundercloud ready to burst. Even Geta, who had been reveling in his triumph, paused for a moment, his smirk faltering ever so slightly before returning with renewed satisfaction.

Caracalla, however, was the first to speak, his dark eyes narrowing. "Divorce?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his throne. "Do you take us for fools?"

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here and willingly destroy the bond that tethered you to Acacius. But you had no choice.

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it was firm. "I do what is necessary."

Geta let out a slow chuckle, stepping even closer, his breath warm against your skin as he tilted your chin up to face him. "So quick to throw away your little love story," he mused. "Tell me, does he know you would sell him so easily?"

"This isn't about him," you said, your voice cracking, but you forced yourself to remain steady with your lie. "This is about Rome."

Caracalla scoffed. "Rome? Or your own survival?"

You turned to him, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest you feared they could hear it. "A wife cannot be forced into marriage with another man while she belongs to another. If I renounce to him, you have no reason to keep him in Rome. No reason to make him suffer."

Geta hummed in amusement. "And if we refuse? If we simply let him rot in the arena?"

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "Then you lose any control you hope to have over me. I will fight you at every turn, defy you in ways that will make the Senate and the people question your power. But if you let him go..." You forced yourself to meet Geta’s gaze, hating the victorious gleam in his eyes. "Then I am yours."

Silence stretched between you all, thick and suffocating.

Geta exchanged a look with Caracalla, something unspoken passing between them. Then, he turned back to you, his smirk deepening. "Very well, my love. You will have your divorce."

Your stomach twisted violently.

"And Acacius?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Geta grinned. "Let’s not be too hasty, shall we? The games are still to be held. And what is a spectacle without its most anticipated performance?"

Your blood turned to ice. "You swore—"

"I swore nothing," Geta interrupted smoothly, his fingers tracing your jaw. "But if your dear Acacius and that beloved gladiator of yours prove themselves worthy in the arena… perhaps I will reconsider their fate."

Your eyes widened at that. Acacius and Lucius fighting in the arena for a mere mistake of you.

“What is wrong, my love? You thought I wouldn’t find out that gladiator is your presumed to be dead brother?”

Your breath caught in your throat. The world tilted beneath you as Geta’s words sank in like a dagger to your chest.

Lucius.

Your heart pounded wildly, disbelief warring with the sheer horror of the situation. You had spent years grieving him, mourning the brother who had been stolen by fate from you. And now, that you had tried to save him, here he was, forced into bloodsport, pitted against the man you loved, all because of you.

Geta’s smirk widened at your silence. "Ah, there it is. That look of devastation I so adore," he murmured, his fingers still tracing your jaw as if he were savoring every ounce of your suffering. "I must admit, I was rather surprised when I discovered the truth. Your dear Lucius… alive, a mere gladiator, reduced to nothing but entertainment for the masses. I almost pitied him."

Your body trembled with rage, but you refused to break before him. "You sick, wretched-"

He tutted, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you. "Careful now. You wouldn't want to anger your future husband."

You wrenched your face away from his touch, your nails biting into your palms as fury and despair crashed over you in violent waves.

"You planned this," you whispered, horror lacing your voice. "You waited until I had no way to fight back, until I was desperate enough to come crawling to you."

Geta only chuckled. "Of course, my love. Did you truly believe you had a choice in any of this?"

Caracalla, who had remained silent until now, let out an amused sigh. "Enough theatrics. She has her answer." He waved a hand lazily. "Take her back. She’ll have the best seat in the arena for tomorrow’s entertainment. Next to Lucilla."

The guards grabbed your arms, pulling you back toward the door, but your mind was spinning too fast, your heart hammering with only one thought-

You dug your heels into the floor, twisting in the guards' grip. "Geta, please!" you pleaded, hating yourself for it but knowing you had no other choice. "Lucius is my brother—my blood. Spare him, at least. You’ve already won. You have me!"

Geta only smiled, utterly delighted by your desperation. "Oh, my love, I haven’t won yet. Not until I watch your heart shatter in that arena. Besides I wouldn’t allow the grandchild of Marcus Aurelio to live."

Your blood turned to ice.

"Perhaps they’ll kill each other. Or perhaps the people will cheer as the lions tear them apart. Either way, you will watch, and you will understand—" he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear "—that I own you. In every way that matters. Even when Acacius took you in that way too."

A sob built in your throat, but you swallowed it down.

You would find a way to stop this. Even if it meant destroying Geta himself.

Geta’s cold smile twisted into something darker as he waved his hand dismissively. “Take her to my quarters,” he commanded, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “And make sure she’s cleaned up. I want her looking her best for the games tomorrow.”

The guards tightened their grip on your arms, dragging you away from the grand hall. Your legs felt weak beneath you, each step heavier than the last. As you were pulled through the winding corridors, a hollow numbness settled over you, shielding you from the crushing reality of what was to come.

The guards stopped before a set of ornate doors, shoving them open and pushing you inside. The room was lavishly decorated, with rich fabrics and polished marble, but it felt suffocating, like a gilded cage.

Two servants appeared, their eyes lowered, and began to draw a warm bath in the corner, their movements quick and practiced. One of the guards barked an order at them. “Make sure she’s presentable. And keep an eye on her.”

The door slammed shut behind them, and you were left standing in the center of the room, your breath shaky, your heart pounding. The servants approached you cautiously, gently taking your hands and guiding you toward the bath. You allowed them to remove the dirtied cloak and help you into the steaming water, the warmth seeping into your bruised skin but doing little to ease the chill in your bones.

As they washed away the grime and blood, your mind raced. You had to think. You had to find a way out of this nightmare, a way to save both Acacius and Lucius. But with each passing moment, the walls seemed to close in tighter around you, Geta’s words echoing in your mind.

When the servants finished, they helped you into a simple, elegant gown, white and gold, befitting someone meant to be paraded before the masses. They braided your hair with trembling hands, casting nervous glances toward the guards standing by the door.

Once you were ready, one of the guards stepped forward, his expression blank. “You’ll stay here until you’re summoned.”

Your jaw tightened, but you nodded, watching as they exited the room, the door locking behind them with a resounding click.

Left alone, you paced the room, your hands shaking as you ran through every possible scenario. But each plan seemed more hopeless than the last.

You couldn’t give up. Not when the lives of the people you loved hung in the balance.

You moved to the window, pressing your forehead against the wall, watching the city below begin to stir with the first light of dawn. Acacius was preparing for a fight he shouldn’t have to face, and Lucius… your brother, alive, suffering because of a twisted game of power.

Your fingers brushed against the golden ring your mother had once given you. A knock at the door startled you, and a servant peeked inside, her voice trembling. “My lady, is there anything you need?”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “Yes,” you replied, turning to face her. “I need my mother.” You said, as tears streamed down your face.

The servant hesitated, glancing nervously toward the guards outside the door. "My lady... Lady Lucilla has been confined to her chambers. The emperors ordered that she couldn’t to see anyone."

Your heart clenched, but you squared your shoulders. "Then find a way," you urged, stepping closer. "Tell her I need her. Tell her it's urgent."

The servant bit her lip but nodded, bowing her head before slipping out of the room.

Left alone, you turned back to the window, gripping the cold stone as your tears fell freely. Your relationship with your mother had been complicated, but now she was your only pilar of strength, the only one who had ever truly understood the weight of your burdens. If anyone could help you, it was her.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before the door creaked open again. You spun around, hope flaring in your chest, only for it to vanish just as quickly.

It wasn’t your mother, but Geta.

Your stomach twisted as you straightened, schooling your features into a mask of cold defiance. The servant quickly bowed her head, backing away toward the shadows.

Geta took his time crossing the room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in the gown his servants had chosen. A slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips.

“Much better,” he murmured, reaching out to trail a finger along your cheek. You forced yourself to stay still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of recoiling.

“Enjoying your newfound authority?” you asked, your voice flat.

He chuckled. “Oh, my sweet, stubborn lady. You can glare at me all you like, but you and I both know how this will end.”

“Do we?” you shot back. “Because I think you forget that caging me only makes me more dangerous.”

Geta laughed at that, full and rich, as if you had just amused him beyond measure. “That fire of yours,” he mused, “it’s what makes this so thrilling. You think you’re still in control, don’t you?”

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “We’ll see if you’re still so defiant after you watch your beloved Acacius bleed for my entertainment.”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, rage bubbling like molten lava beneath your skin.

“You will regret this,” you swore, voice shaking with fury.

Geta only smiled. “Perhaps. But for now, I will enjoy watching you break.” He said, kissing your shoulder, just above the scar he had done in there a while ago. “But I know you want to see Lucilla, and as your soon to husband I will allow you to see your mother for a minute.”

Your body went rigid at his touch, the ghost of old wounds burning beneath his lips. You forced yourself to stay still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you recoil.

“You are still not my husband,” you spat, your voice dripping with venom.

Geta only chuckled, stepping back as if your defiance amused him rather than angered him. “Say that all you want, my love. The day will come when you’ll have no choice but to accept it.”

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat. There was no use in wasting words on a man who thrived on your resistance. Instead, you latched onto the one small mercy he had granted.

“Take me to her,” you demanded.

His smirk deepened, but he gestured to the guards, who immediately stepped forward. “Escort her to the Lucilla’s chambers. She has one minute.”

Two guards flanked you as they led you out of the room and down the dimly lit corridors.

Your heart pounded as you neared your mother’s chambers. You hadn’t seen her since your imprisonment. The thought of what she must have endured in your absence made your chest tighten.

The heavy doors opened, and the moment you stepped inside, you saw her—Lucilla, sitting by the window, her elegant frame draped in a dark silk robe, her usually poised expression now marred by worry.

“Mother,” you whispered, rushing forward.

She turned at the sound of your voice, and in an instant, you were in her arms.

“My darling,” she breathed, clutching you tightly, as if afraid you’d disappear. “What have they done to you?”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced them down. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have much time.”

Lucilla pulled back, searching your face. “Tell me what I need to do.”

You took a shaky breath, gripping her hands. “Acacius and Lucius are to fight in the arena. I have to stop it.”

Her eyes darkened with grief and fury. “Those monsters,” she whispered. “He will never be satisfied until he has crushed you completely.”

Your breath hitched. “I won’t let them kill him.”

“Listen to me carefully,” she said, her voice low. “You cannot afford to be reckless. Do you understand?” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You are my daughter. You are of noble blood. But that means nothing to them. To Geta, to Caracalla, you are just another pawn.”

“Then I will stop being their pawn.” Your voice was steel now. “I will fight.”

Her gaze softened, but only slightly. “If you truly mean that, then you need to be smart.”

You swallowed, waiting.

She reached for a golden pin from her belt, a simple yet elegant piece of jewelry. But as she turned it in her hand, the tip gleamed sharp as a dagger.

“This belonged to your grandmother,” she said, placing it in your palm. “Use it as you want to.”

You stared at the pin, feeling the weight of the upcoming consequences weighting heavily on your hands.

“I don’t want you to fight with words,” she continued. “I want you to fight with power. And power, my daughter, is taken. Not given.”

Your fingers curled around the pin, your heart pounding. Before any of you could say something else, the guards stepped forward. “Time’s up.”

Lucilla’s grip tightened, but she nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Be strong, my love.”

As they pulled you away, you met her gaze one last time, silently pleading for her to find a way, to do whatever it took to keep Acacius and Lucius alive.

The guards led you back through the winding corridors of the palace, your mother’s words echoing in your mind.

Power is taken, not given.

You clutched the golden pin in your palm, the sharp tip pressing into your skin, grounding you. It was a weapon, small but deadly. A tool of survival. A symbol of defiance.

The halls were eerily silent, the torches flickering against the cold stone walls. When you reached Geta’s quarters, the guards opened the door and ushered you inside.

He was waiting for you. Reclined on a cushioned chair, a goblet of wine in his hand, his smirk already in place. He studied you as if you were a rare creature he had trapped in a cage.

“Did you enjoy your reunion, my love?” he mused, taking a slow sip of his drink.

You forced your expression to remain impassive. “It was enlightening.”

Geta tilted his head, as if weighing your words. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards. The heavy doors shut behind you, leaving you alone with him.

He stood, closing the distance between you in two slow, deliberate steps. “You’re trembling.” He traced a finger along your jaw, his touch featherlight, mocking. “Are you afraid?”

You met his gaze head-on. “No.”

His smirk widened. “Good. I’d hate for you to become dull.” He stepped behind you, fingers brushing over your shoulders as he leaned in. “I have to admit, I do find this fight rather… exciting. Your beloved general against the brother you once thought dead. Who will win? Who will die? What a spectacle it will be.”

You swallowed back the bile in your throat. He was toying with you, savoring your pain.

“Tell me, my sweet,” he whispered, lips brushing against your ear. “Who do you hope survives?”

Your fingers tightened around the pin hidden in your palm.

This was it.

A moment of hesitation would cost you everything.

Your breath was steady as you turned your head slightly, your lips ghosting near his cheek as if you were surrendering.

Then, with a swift movement, you drove the golden pin into his side.

Geta inhaled sharply, his body jerking as pain registered in his eyes. He staggered back, looking down at the small weapon buried just below his ribs.

His stunned expression turned into something else. Amusement. Then, laughter.

Blood dripped from the wound, staining his tunic, but he didn’t collapse. He didn’t even reach for a weapon.

Instead, he cupped your face roughly, forcing you to look at him, his grip tightening like a vice.

“Oh, my love,” he chuckled, voice dark with pleasure. “You just made this so much more fun.”

His grip on your face tightened, his nails digging into your skin as he tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. The laughter in his eyes was almost more terrifying than his fury.

“You never fail to surprise me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. His free hand reached down, wrapping around the golden pin still lodged in his side. With an agonizing slowness, he pulled it out, the wet sound of metal sliding from flesh making your stomach churn.

Blood trickled from the wound, staining his fingers. He studied it with something close to fascination before flicking his gaze back to you.

“Did you think this would kill me?” he asked, voice laced with amusement. “A little pin?”

You remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of fear.

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Foolish, but admirable.” He lifted the pin, brushing the bloodied tip against your lips. “Perhaps I should return the favor.”

Before he could act, the doors burst open.

Caracalla.

His expression was unreadable as his gaze flickered between you and Geta. Then, he noticed the wound. His eyes darkened.

“What has she done?”

Geta let out a sharp breath, wiping the blood from his side with an almost lazy motion. “My beloved soon to be wife wanted to kill me” His lips curled into a smirk. “Charming, isn’t it?”

Caracalla’s jaw clenched. He took slow steps toward you, his presence as suffocating as ever. When he reached you, he lifted your chin with two fingers, inspecting you like one would inspect a delicate vase with a crack down the middle.

“Do you want to die?” he asked, voice low, but his gaze didn’t show such fury as Geta’s gaze.

“No,” you answered, steady. “I want to be free.”

Caracalla’s fingers lingered beneath your chin, his grip neither cruel nor kind. His gaze, sharp and assessing, lingered on your face as if weighing something in his mind.

Then, he exhaled, dropping his hand. “Enough, brother.” His voice was quiet but firm.

Geta’s smirk faltered. “Brother—”

“She is to watch them fight tomorrow. That alone is enough.” Caracalla’s tone brooked no argument.

Geta clenched his jaw, displeased, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he scoffed, shaking his head. “Since when you are soft on her?”

Caracalla ignored him, his piercing eyes settling back on you. “You will be there when the sun is highest. You will watch Acacius and Lucius fight for their lives, and you will understand that your defiance comes at a cost.”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to look away.

Geta stepped closer, brushing a bloodied thumb over your cheek. “And if they fail…” He let the words hang between you like a blade above your throat.

You swallowed hard, refusing to react.

Caracalla turned on his heel. “Make sure she is prepared for the event.” He glanced back at you once, his expression unreadable. “She will not be harmed further.”

With that, he strode from the room, leaving you alone with Geta.

Your stomach twisted as Geta chuckled under his breath. “You should thank him, you know.” His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “If it were up to me, my love, you would learn your lesson another way.”

His lips hovered near yours, the taste of blood and power thick in the air between you.

Night had fallen, but sleep refused to come. You lay on the lavish bed, staring at the canopy above, your mind an endless storm of thoughts.

Acacius—alone in a cold, dark cell, preparing for a battle he should never have to fight. Lucius—your brother, alive, but trapped in this nightmare because of you. Your mother—powerless, yet still trying to protect you the only way she could.

You turned onto your side, then onto your back, then your stomach, but no position brought comfort. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Acacius bleeding in the arena, Lucius collapsing to the sand.

With a frustrated sigh, you sat up, rubbing your face. You needed to think. You needed a way out of this.

Your gaze flickered to the door. Two guards stood outside, always watching, always waiting. But you knew one thing about soldiers: they were predictable.

Slowly, you slid out of bed, smoothing your nightdress before padding toward the door. Taking a deep breath, you knocked lightly.

A moment later, the heavy door creaked open, and one of the guards peered inside, eyes wary. M “What?”

You shifted on your feet, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I need to use the baths.” Your voice was soft, meek. “Please.”

The guards exchanged a look. “It’s the middle of the night.” The first one frowned.

You lowered your gaze. “I know, but… I can’t sleep. I feel filthy, and tomorrow I have to—” You let your voice break just slightly, just enough to make them uncomfortable. “I won’t try anything. I just need a moment to clear my head.”

The second guard sighed. “Let’s just take her. What harm can she do?”

The first hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But make it quick.”

They pulled the door open fully, and you stepped out, schooling your expression into quiet gratitude. But inside, your heart pounded.

This was your chance.

The corridor was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long shadows against the stone walls. The guards flanked you on either side as they led you through the halls, their armor clinking softly with every step.

You kept your gaze downcast, your expression carefully schooled into one of exhaustion and resignation. But inside, your mind was racing. Every turn they took, every doorway you passed—you memorized it all. If there was any way to escape, you needed to know the layout of the palace like the back of your hand.

Finally, you arrived at the baths. The steam rose from the water, curling into the air like ghosts. The guards stopped at the entrance, one crossing his arms. “You have ten minutes.”

You nodded, stepping inside. The door remained slightly ajar, just enough for them to watch you.

You moved to the edge of the bath, dipping your fingers into the warm water, pretending to gather your thoughts. In reality, you were searching, searching for something, anything you could use.

A bronze jug sat on the edge of the bath; its handle curved elegantly. Heavy enough to knock someone out? Perhaps.

Your fingers traced the golden pin your mother had given you, still tucked safely in the folds of your dress. A hidden weapon. A last resort.

Your mind worked quickly. The guards were distracted, speaking in low voices. If you acted fast enough, maybe-

A noise.

Your breath caught. It wasn’t from the guards. It was from the far end of the bathhouse.

You turned your head slightly, eyes scanning the shadows. Then, you saw it—a figure, barely visible in the dim light.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you tried to make out the figure hidden in the shadows. The steam from the bath swirled around them, obscuring their features, but you knew—someone was there. Watching. Waiting.

Slowly, you straightened, keeping your movements controlled, careful not to alert the guards.

“Who’s there?” you whispered, barely audible over the distant dripping of water.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, a figure stepped forward just enough for the torchlight to kiss their face.

Your breath hitched. Lucius. Standing before you in the bathhouse, when he should have been locked in a cell.

His face was gaunt, bruises shadowing his cheekbone, but his eyes, his eyes burned with the same fire you remembered from when you were children.

“How—?” you started, but he lifted a finger to his lips, silencing you.

“No time,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath. “Listen carefully. I don’t know how much longer I have.”

You stepped closer, heart hammering. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “Not as bad as I could be. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is Acacius.”

His name sent a fresh wave of urgency through you. “What about him?”

Lucius’ jaw tightened. “He’s not meant to win tomorrow. It’s already decided. The match is a spectacle, but the outcome? Rigged.”

Ice flooded your veins.

“They plan to kill him?”

Lucius exhaled sharply. “Yes. And I’m supposed to be the one to do it.”

Your stomach twisted. “No. No, you can’t—”

“I know.” His voice was firm. “I won’t. But that doesn’t mean he’ll survive.”

Your thoughts spun wildly. Acacius. Lucius. The fight. The emperors watching with their smug, twisted pleasure. The weight of your mother’s words echoed in your head.

Power is taken, not given.

Your grip tightened around the golden pin.

“Then we have to change the game.”

Lucius studied you for a long moment. “Do you have a plan?”

You exhaled, your mind racing. “Not yet. But I will.”

Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. The guards.

Lucius reached out, gripping your wrist. “Whatever happens, don’t trust them.” His voice dropped lower, urgent. “And don’t show them fear.”

Before you could respond, he disappeared back into the shadows, slipping away as if he had never been there at all.

The door creaked open.

“Time’s up,” the guard grunted.

You swallowed down the storm inside you and turned, your face a perfect mask of calm. But inside, you were already preparing for war.

Before you could react, a dull thud echoed through the bathhouse. One guard crumpled to the ground, then another.

Your breath hitched.

Lucius stood over them, his chest rising and falling rapidly, a stolen dagger in his grip. The flickering torchlight caught the sheen of sweat on his brow.

"We don’t have time," he said, voice rough but determined. He crouched, stripping one of the guards of his sword before glancing at you. "Can you run?"

You swallowed, your heart hammering. "Yes."

Without another word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you forward, stepping over the unconscious guards. You barely had time to gather yourself before you were moving, slipping through the darkened corridor, your bare feet light against the cold marble floor.

The palace was eerily quiet, the usual murmur of servants and the distant sound of music replaced by the weight of silence.

"How did you get out?" you whispered.

Lucius didn’t slow. "A friend."

"Who?"

He didn’t answer.

The two of you rounded a corner, and suddenly, footsteps echoed in the distance, too many.

Lucius cursed under his breath, yanking you into the shadows of an alcove. He pressed you against the cool stone, his breath warm against your ear.

"We can’t go through the main halls," he murmured. "They’ll be looking for me by now."

Your mind raced. The only other way out was through the servant tunnels, but even those weren’t safe.

“What about our mother?” you asked him, holding his hand tightly.

Lucius hesitated for a moment, his eyes flashing with something between frustration and worry. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice low. "She’s probably already been locked down in the lower quarters. Geta won’t want her interfering."

Your heart clenched at the thought of your mother, vulnerable and trapped in the midst of all this madness.

“We can’t leave her here,” you said, your grip tightening around his hand. "We have to get to her, Lucius. She’s the only family we have left."

Lucius exhaled sharply, his eyes darting as he weighed your words. "I know," he muttered. "But going after her means we risk getting caught. If we’re captured..." He trailed off, the implication heavy between you.

You stood there for a moment, heart racing, your mind spinning with all the impossible choices before you. But then, a fire ignited in your chest. You couldn’t leave your mother behind.

"We don’t have to risk it alone," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "Go to the rooms on the left, she is there. Take her out of here. You both know what you will do.”

Lucius’ expression hardened, eyes narrowing with a sharp edge. "What about you?”

You shook your head, your voice resolute. “I’ll entertain Geta”

Lucius’ gaze hardened as your words sank in. His grip on your hand tightened, his jaw clenched. “Entertain the emperors?” he repeated, voice full of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You’ll be walking straight into their trap.”

You nodded, “I’m already part of it.” You paused for a second, “You don’t have to worry about me. Just get her to safety.” Your voice was firm, though inside, your heart was pounding, and every fiber of your being screamed at you to take another path, one that would keep you away from the lions' den. But there was no time for hesitation. “I know what I’m doing. This is the only way.”

Lucius hesitated, clearly torn. Then, with a heavy sigh, he let go of your hand and pulled you into a brief, tight hug. “Be careful,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do if—” He stopped, clearly not wanting to finish the thought. He drew away, meeting your gaze one last time before turning sharply to head down the corridor.

You stood in the shadows for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest as the weight of what you were about to do settled upon you. You had made your decisión, now you had to see it through, no matter what.

With a steadying breath, you made your way toward Caracalla’s quarters. He was the more calculating of the two, and you knew he would respond to reason more than Geta ever would. He had his own ambitions, his own desire for power. If you could manipulate that just enough, you might be able to turn the tables.

As you approached his door, you steeled yourself. The guards at the entrance were easy enough to bypass, and soon you found yourself standing before Caracalla. He was lounging in his chair, a goblet of wine in hand, his expression as cold and distant as ever. The moment he saw you, his gaze narrowed.

“You have something to say?” His voice was sharp, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

You approached slowly, trying to control the tension that buzzed through your body. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady. “I need to speak with you.” You met his eyes, unflinching. “I know you’ve grown tired of Geta's games. His need to dominate, to manipulate.”

Caracalla raised an eyebrow but said nothing, clearly intrigued but cautious.

You pressed on. “He doesn’t care about strategy. He doesn’t see the bigger picture. But you do. You’ve always understood the importance of timing, of taking control at the right moment.” You took a step closer, lowering your voice. “You know he’s reckless. And reckless men are easily discarded when their use has expired.”

There was a long silence as Caracalla studied you, his eyes calculating, weighing your words. For a moment, you thought he might reject your attempt outright. But then, finally, he spoke.

“And what exactly are you proposing?” His voice was cold, but there was a flicker of interest.

You straightened, letting your gaze shift slightly, as if contemplating your next words. “You’re the best option for ruling this empire. I know how much you crave power. How you want to be the one in control, the one with the final say. Geta, in his arrogance, will only push you to the edge. And when he does, you will have no choice but to take him down.”

Caracalla was silent for a moment, but the tension in the room seemed to build. “And what do you expect in return?” His tone was low, but you could tell he was seriously considering it.

You held his gaze firmly. “In return? I want Acacius free. Geta’s influence gone. I want him out of the way, for good. You can have all the power you want. But you’ll need to move quickly before he gets his hands any deeper into the affairs of this empire.” You leaned in slightly, your voice low and persuasive. “You know I’m right.”

Caracalla’s expression softened for just a moment, his eyes gleaming with a dark, calculating glint. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” His lips curled slightly, and for a brief second, you saw a flicker of respect in his eyes. “I’ve been growing fond of you”

You made your way to Geta’s quarters, each step heavy with the knowledge that this confrontation could be your last. As you entered the room, Geta’s usual smirk was already in place, but when he saw your expression, it faltered, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“I see you’ve come to play, princess,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair as if the entire world belonged to him.

You met his gaze, not flinching. “I’ve come to ask for forgiveness, you began, your voice soft and almost apologetic, a contrast to the sharpness of your previous interactions. “I never wanted things to get this far. I never wanted to hurt you.” Your words were quiet, almost vulnerable. You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he leaned forward, intrigued by the sudden shift in your demeanor.

“I know I’ve been... distant,” you continued, taking a tentative step closer. “I thought I could control everything, but I see now that I’ve underestimated you. I’ve made mistakes, and I’m sorry for that.” Your voice was sincere, and you made sure to let it carry a subtle warmth, as though you were finally acknowledging the bond that existed between you.

Geta’s expression shifted slightly, and for a brief moment, you could see the edge of doubt creeping into his eyes. He was a man of power, but even he wasn’t impervious to charm when it was carefully wielded.

“You’ve always been too proud,” you added, your voice lowering, seductive now, as you slowly closed the distance between you. “But I’ve always admired that about you, Geta. You’re strong. You’re confident. You don’t back down.”

His eyes darkened as you moved closer, his usual arrogance replaced by something else. You could feel his pulse quickening as you stood before him, inches apart. Without breaking eye contact, you gently placed your hand on his chest, pressing it lightly against his body.

“I never wanted to be your enemy,” you whispered, your lips so close to his that you could feel his breath on your skin. “But I’ve made a mess of everything. I think… maybe I’ve pushed you too far.”

Geta’s gaze flickered down to your lips for just a moment before he forced himself to meet your eyes again, his expression torn. “You think you can just... undo everything now?” His voice was rough, as if trying to hold onto some semblance of control.

You gave a small, almost shy smile, playing the part. “I think I can show you how sorry I am,” you murmured. Your hand moved from his chest to his neck, your fingers trailing just lightly along his jaw, feeling the tension irradiating from his body. “I think you’ll enjoy seeing how much.”

For a moment, there was a dangerous silence, the tension between you both crackling in the air. Geta seemed to hesitate, his eyes flickering with a mixture of anger, confusion, and something darker, something that made him lean just slightly closer.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, princess,” he said, his voice low, but the sharp edge had softened.

“Maybe,” you breathed, your voice a near purr. “But maybe I like the danger. Maybe I like what you can give me.”

Your words hung in the air as you leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear for a moment, your fingers sliding around to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. “You’re a powerful man, Geta. You’ve always been a temptation. But I’ve always kept my distance, haven’t I?” You stepped back slightly, your eyes never leaving his. “Maybe it’s time I stopped fighting what’s inevitable.”

The tension between you both was thick, and you could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours as you stood there, letting the silence linger. His hands twitched as if he wanted to reach for you, but for once, he seemed uncertain, caught between his fury and the allure of your presence.

With a final glance, you smiled softly, almost teasingly. “I think we both know what needs to happen next, don’t we?”

His breath caught, but before he could say anything more, you turned and walked away slowly, knowing that your manipulation had left its mark. You had planted the seeds of doubt in his mind, making him question his own control, and now you could leave with the upper hand.

As you left the room, you could feel the weight of the moment settling into your chest, but you couldn't afford to dwell on it. Every move you made had to be calculated; every word measured. The emperors might think they had you cornered, but you weren’t a mere pawn. You were playing a much deeper game.

The hallways were dim and silent as you made your way toward the courtyard, where Caracalla had instructed you to meet him. You weren’t sure what to expect, whether he would be angry, wary, or intrigued, but you knew you had to keep him on your side, at least for now.

When you finally reached the courtyard, Caracalla was waiting for you. His silhouette was outlined by the moonlight, the sharp features of his face giving little away. You could sense his attention on you the moment you stepped into the light, but he didn’t speak right away.

“You’ve done it,” he said after a long pause, his voice measured but with an edge that suggested both irritation and curiosity. “You’ve made your move. But it’s not enough, is it?”

You stepped closer, trying to read his mood. The air was thick with tension, but you forced yourself to stay calm.

“It’s never enough, Caracalla,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “But it’s a start.” You paused just in front of him, letting the silence stretch between you. “You need to understand, this isn’t just about power. This is about survival. Mine. And Acacius’s. And Lucius’s.”

His gaze flickered, and for a moment, you could see something resembling hesitation in his eyes. But it quickly vanished, replaced by that impenetrable mask he wore so well.

“And what do you think Geta is going to do with you now?” Caracalla asked, his tone sharp. “Do you really believe you can play both sides like this?”

You didn’t flinch. “I’m not playing both sides,” you said softly. “I’m making sure I’m the one left standing when it’s all over.”

For a moment, he said nothing. But then, he stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with a mix of intrigue and something else—something dangerous. “And you think I’ll let you?”

You didn’t answer right away, letting the question linger. Instead, you took a slow step back, your gaze never leaving his. “You have your ambitions, Caracalla,” you said, voice quiet but filled with a quiet defiance. “And I have mine. But they don’t have to be at odds. Not if we work together.”

His jaw clenched as he took in your words. Then, without warning, he moved forward, closing the distance between you. His presence was suffocating, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to strike, to remind you of who held the true power.

But instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the side of your cheek, his touch oddly gentle, almost tender. “You have a way with words,” he murmured, his voice low. “But words aren’t enough. Not in our world.”

You met his gaze, your breath shallow. “I know,” you whispered. “That’s why I’ll show you what I can do.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft rustling of the leaves in the courtyard and the weight of his gaze on you. Then, slowly, Caracalla pulled away, his expression unreadable once more. “Tomorrow,” he said finally, his voice cold again, as if the moment had never happened. “You’ll see Geta fight. I’ll make sure he knows what happens if he tries to go against me. If you want your little games to continue, you’ll need to prove that you can keep up.”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t let the fear show. “I understand.”

The next day came quickly, its early hours slipping by in a haze of preparations and quiet anticipation. The heat of the coming conflict simmered in the air, thick and oppressive. You knew the game that had been set in motion was dangerous, but you had to play it to the end. Caracalla’s intentions were clear, and though you had manipulated the situation in your favor for now, you couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was ever truly as it seemed in their world.

Lucius and your mother were safe for the time being, hidden away, far from the reach of the emperors, that was you had been informed by one of the guards. That was one victory, one battle won. But Acacius was another matter entirely. You hadn’t forgotten what he meant to you, what he had come to represent in this fight for survival.

Caracalla had already informed you that Geta would be the one to face Acacius in the games, an outcome you’d been dreading since last night. He would send him to break Acacius, to make a spectacle. The thought of it made your blood boil, but you had no choice but to let the inevitable unfold. You could only make sure Acacius was prepared for whatever lay ahead.

You paced in the confines of your quarters, your mind heavy with the weight of the decisions you had made. There wasn’t much time, but you knew you needed to see Acacius before the games began. You couldn’t afford to let him go into that fight without your last words, your last chance to ensure that the fight was more than just for sport, it had to be for survival, for something more.

You didn’t waste a moment. Moving swiftly, you made your way to Caracalla’s chambers. The guards at the entrance stepped aside with only a glance, a quiet acknowledgment of your position. You’d never liked the power the emperors had over everything and everyone, but today you had the smallest sliver of it. You’d used it to gain access to Caracalla. Now, you had to use that same influence to see Acacius.

Caracalla sat in the large room, speaking with a few of his advisors, but when he saw you enter, his dark eyes locked onto yours. His presence was as commanding as ever, but there was a subtle change in the air, a shift that told you this conversation would be different. He dismissed his advisors with a wave of his hand, allowing you to speak freely.

"You have my permission to see him," Caracalla said, his voice as cold and calculating as it had been last night. "But make it quick. Geta won't wait much longer."

You nodded, hiding your relief behind a mask of composure. "Thank you," you said, though the words felt hollow. "I need to see Acacius before the games. Just for a moment."

Caracalla studied you for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. His eyes were enough. You had been granted your time, but you knew it was temporary.

With a gesture, Caracalla motioned for the guards to allow you through. As you walked toward the door, you couldn’t shake the feeling that every step brought you closer to the edge of something, whether it would be your undoing or the end of your enemies, you couldn’t tell yet.

The path to Acacius’s cell was a familiar one, but today it seemed different. There was a heaviness in the air, a quiet tension that whispered of the inevitable. When you reached the small stone room, you found him there, sitting on the ground, his posture still and composed despite the grim circumstances.

He looked up when he heard your approach, his expression guarded, but when his eyes met yours, something flickered there, a recognition, a flash of something softer than the warrior you knew him to be.

“Acacius,” you whispered, stepping closer, your heart aching at the sight of him in chains.

You stepped closer to the bars, your breath steady despite the pounding of your heart. The weight of your words seemed to hang in the air between you and Acacius, but there was no time to let them settle. The guards were still stationed at the door, eyes narrowed, watchful. The tension in the air felt suffocating, the shadows of the coming battle creeping ever closer.

“I need a moment with him,” you said, your voice firm but quiet, the command beneath it unmistakable. "A private conversation."

The guards exchanged wary glances, clearly hesitant. One of them stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes calculating. "Your Highness," he began, with a slight bow, “we are under strict orders. No one is to enter the cell."

You could feel the weight of Caracalla’s command behind him, but you weren’t going to let that stop you. You stood taller, a quiet authority radiating from you.

“I understand your orders,” you replied coolly. “But these are my orders now. I need to speak to him without interruption. And you’ll release him from those chains.”

The air seemed to freeze for a moment as the guards processed your demand. You could see the resistance flicker in their eyes, but there was something in the tone of your voice—something that made them hesitate. Your words carried more than just the weight of authority; they carried urgency.

Finally, the guard who had spoken stepped aside, signaling to the other two. "We will give you privacy, Your Highness," he said reluctantly. “But be quick."

You nodded in acknowledgment, but your eyes didn’t leave Acacius. As the guards unlocked the cell, your mind raced. There was no turning back now. Each moment was a calculated risk, but it was one you had to take.

The door creaked open, and the chains binding Acacius were undone, each link falling to the ground with a heavy thud. You moved inside, closing the door behind you, feeling the shift in the atmosphere as the last of the guards stepped out. Silence enveloped the two of you, the only sound the faint echo of the chains clinking to the stone floor.

Acacius stood, rubbing at his wrists where the chains had cut into his skin, though his expression was unreadable. You didn’t give him a chance to speak before you stepped closer, close enough that your breath was the only thing between the two of you.

“Your highness?” Acacius asked.

You looked into Acacius’s eyes, steady and unwavering. His words lingered in the air, but you couldn’t afford to hesitate, not now. “Not time for that now. I need you to listen carefully,” you said, your voice low, but urgent. "You will survive today, Acacius. You’re going to fight like you’ve never fought before. And you’re going to win. But you need to trust me—don’t make any moves unless I give you a signal.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion, but there was an understanding there as well. He knew this wasn’t just a matter of survival for him, it was a game of strategy. A fight not just against Geta, but against everything that had led him here.

“What do you mean?" Acacius asked, his voice steady despite the uncertainty. He stood tall, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he searched yours for an answer.

You leaned in closer, making sure no one else could hear. "What I mean is that today isn’t just about strength. It’s about timing. You’ve got to let Geta believe he’s winning, that he has you cornered. Don’t resist. Make him think you’re weaker than you are."

His jaw clenched, his muscles tensing at the thought. "So, you want me to let him hurt me?" There was a bitterness in his words, as if the very idea of allowing Geta to have the upper hand was an affront to his honor.

"No," you said quickly, your voice firm, but soothing. "I’m not asking you to let him hurt you. I’m asking you to pretend—to make him think he has control, just long enough for me to get him into position."

He studied you, his expression hard, as if measuring your resolve. "And when you give me the signal?"

"Then you strike, and you strike hard," you replied, your gaze unwavering. "You’ve trained for this, Acacius. You know what to do. I’ll make sure Geta’s off balance, but you have to trust that it will work. We need him to underestimate you, to believe you’re on the edge. And when he does, that’s when we end this. I sent him into this to end his ruling."

A long moment passed, the tension between you both thickening. Finally, Acacius gave a slight nod. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly as you caressed his face. “I would move the entire empire just to save you, Acacius.”

For a split second, he closed his eyes, as if savoring the words. When he opened them again, the intensity of his gaze made your heart race. His hand moved to cover yours, pressing your palm more firmly against his cheek, his touch gentle but unyielding.

“You’ve already moved it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve done more than anyone could ask. You’re willing to risk everything... for me.”

You nodded, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. “I’m not just doing this for you, Acacius,” you whispered, your eyes locking onto his. “I’m doing this for us. For what we could have if we survive this. For the world that we could build together.”

His expression hardened again, resolve flooding his features. “For the peace.”

You allowed yourself a small, sad smile, and in that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world disappeared. There were no emperors, no politics, no games to be played—just the two of you, suspended in this fragile moment before everything erupted.

Acacius moved toward you, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that contrasted with the storm building inside both of you. For a heartbeat, the world around you ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was the warmth of his lips, the pressure of his kiss, and the silent promise it carried.

It was a kiss of longing, of desperation, of hope—for a future that seemed more distant with every passing second. You kissed him back, your heart racing, knowing this might be the last moment you could share like this. The intensity of his touch deepened, his arms pulling you closer, as if holding on to this fleeting time, not wanting to let go.

But the moment was short-lived.

The sound of the guards’ footsteps echoed down the hall, and a voice called through the door, sharp and commanding. "It’s time. You must go."

Reluctantly, you pulled away from him, your forehead resting against his for a fleeting moment, feeling the heat of his breath mingling with yours. The silence that followed was deafening.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Acacius gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression hardening once again with the weight of what was to come. “I’ll make it through. I’ll make sure of it.”

The door opened, and the guards stepped in, ushering you out of the cell. You cast one last look at Acacius, his figure standing strong, determined. A part of you wanted to stay, to fight beside him, but you knew you had to leave. He would fight for both of you now.

As the door shut behind you, the cold reality of what was about to unfold settled in. Your heart raced, but there was nothing more you could do but wait—wait for the signal, wait for the moment that would change everything.

+++++++++++++++++++

You sat beside Caracalla in the imperial box, your body tense, but you masked it with an air of calm. The arena below was alive with anticipation, the roar of the crowd echoing against the stone walls. Gladiators in the far corners were preparing, and the bloodlust in the air was palpable.

Caracalla, ever the showman, glanced over at you with a smile, as if to reassure himself of the spectacle unfolding. “Where is my brother?” he asked, his tone casual, almost playful.

You blinked, surprised by his question, your brow furrowing. What did he mean? You tried to mask your confusion but couldn't quite conceal it from your expression.

"Your brother?" you echoed, your voice uncertain.

Caracalla’s smile grew wider, but you noticed a flicker of confusion cross his face, like he didn’t quite understand your puzzlement. Had he forgotten? Did he not realize what he'd done?

Before you could react further, everything clicked into place. The moment you registered the tension building in the crowd below, the realization hit you: Caracalla didn’t know.

It wasn’t until the gate opened, and Acacius was led into the arena, dressed in his war attire, as he walked with his sword. His eyes scanned the crowd, but he didn’t look up to the imperial box. His focus was entirely on the upcoming fight, the fire in his gaze unmistakable.

And then, the announcer’s voice boomed, “And now, Emperor Carcalla!”

A stunned silence fell over the arena for a moment. You barely had time to process it before Caracalla’s face contorted with disbelief. His eyes widened, and his hand instinctively gripped the edge of the box as he turned toward you.

“Why is my brother there?” he demanded, his voice tight with anger, his smile replaced by a furrowed brow of confusion and rage.

You could see his shock, his inability to comprehend the situation, but your mind was racing. He didn’t understand the depths of his own manipulation. He hadn’t realized that Geta, his own brother, had been sent to fight against Acacius in the arena. The confusion in his voice was genuine.

For a moment, your heart ached for the twisted, tangled web of family dynamics that had led to this point. But you quickly masked any emotion behind a cold facade. This was the moment to play your part, to keep Caracalla off balance, to use his lack of awareness against him.

You leaned slightly closer to him, your voice steady but carrying a subtle undercurrent of disdain. "It seems, your brother is a contender today. Perhaps... he believes this fight is what will prove his worth." You kept your gaze focused on him, even as Acacius and Geta moved into position.

Caracalla’s expression darkened, and his fingers drummed anxiously against the stone. He looked away, eyes flicking between Geta and Acacius, but it was clear that the shock still hadn’t worn off.

"What trickery is this?" he muttered, barely audible.

"Maybe you should ask him," you said, your voice soft but dripping with subtle irony. "Perhaps your brother has his own plans for you today."

You knew your words were like sharp daggers aimed at his pride, pricking at the cracks in his confidence, feeding his uncertainty. He was starting to realize the weight of his own decisions, and that would make him falter.

The crowd below erupted in excitement as the fight began, but Caracalla remained still, his gaze locked on the two fighters below. You could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind, but it was too late for him to turn back now.

The clash of steel against steel rang out across the arena as the fight began, the crowd’s roar escalating to a deafening level. Acacius and Geta were face to face, the tension between them thickening with every passing second.

Acacius stood tall, his posture unwavering, his eyes fixed on Geta with an intensity that could pierce stone. Geta, in contrast, paced in a circle, a cocky smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the same arrogance you had come to expect from him. He moved with the grace of a seasoned fighter, but there was something in his eyes—something in the way he held himself—that told you he was distracted, uncertain. Perhaps, even now, he was wondering how it had come to this.

"Fight!" The command echoed through the arena, and in that instant, Acacius lunged forward, his blade flashing in the sunlight.

Geta parried the attack with a swift movement, his own weapon raised to meet the strike. Their swords clanged with an explosive sound, a shower of sparks flying from the impact. The crowd roared in approval, the excitement building, but the true fight hadn’t even begun yet. This was just the warm-up.

You watched intently, your heart hammering in your chest as you kept a careful eye on Caracalla, who still seemed to be in a daze, his mind reeling with confusion. He kept glancing down at the fighters below, his brow furrowed, but you knew better than to let him gain control of the situation now.

Acacius pushed forward again, pressing Geta against the edge of the arena. With each strike, it became clear that Acacius was holding back, waiting for the right moment, waiting for your signal. Geta, on the other hand, was using his usual tactics—aiming for the kill, striking hard and fast—but the uncertainty in his movements was starting to show. He had expected a much different fight.

Then, as if on cue, Acacius took a step back, creating a brief opening. Geta lunged, taking the bait.

That was the moment.

You stood, your eyes locked with Caracalla’s for a brief second. His gaze was still filled with uncertainty, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts. In that instant, you gave Acacius the smallest of nods—almost imperceptible.

And with that signal, everything shifted.

Acacius moved with the speed of a predator, his blade slicing through the air. In one fluid motion, he disarmed Geta, knocking his sword to the ground with a clean strike. Geta stumbled back, the shock in his eyes unmistakable. Acacius pressed the advantage, stepping forward, the tip of his sword now at Geta’s throat.

The crowd fell silent. Caracalla’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening slightly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hadn’t expected Acacius to come out on top, especially not in such a dominating fashion.

You could feel Caracalla’s gaze shift to you, the realization dawning on him. But you couldn’t afford to let him focus on you now. Your heart was racing as you kept your attention fixed on Acacius, whose eyes met yours across the arena. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the fire burning in them. The fight wasn’t just about survival anymore, it was about ending the twisted reign that had kept you all captive of two tyrants for so long.

Geta, panting and defeated, raised his hands in surrender, his arrogance shattered, replaced by a growing sense of fear. “Enough!” he spat, his voice raw with anger and humiliation.

Acacius didn’t hesitate. He kicked Geta’s sword away, keeping his own blade raised. “Not until your brother orders you to stop,” he said, his voice cold, his eyes dark with intent.

The crowd kept roaring with excitement, their anticipation rising with every swing of the sword. But it was clear from the start that the fight was not as one-sided as Caracalla had hoped.

Geta, though skilled, was rattled. His gaze flicked nervously around the arena, and it wasn’t long before Acacius used that to his advantage. He was methodical, his every move calculated, his body a machine of precision. Geta, on the other hand, fought with desperation, his movements growing more erratic as the match wore on.

The crowd cheered, sensing the change in momentum. Acacius pressed forward with relentless force, his sword gleaming under the sun, his eyes fixed on Geta with a cold, calculated determination. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, and with each strike, Geta’s defenses crumbled.

"Come on, brother” Caracalla muttered under his breath, his hands clenched tightly, his eyes never leaving the battle below. But it was clear now, he was no longer just watching his brother. His gaze had shifted, filled with uncertainty, even fear. The fight was slipping from Geta’s control.

Acacius feinted to the left, and Geta, unable to maintain his focus, took the bait. In an instant, Acacius closed the distance between them. He was fast, too fast. With one swift, brutal strike, Acacius plunged his sword deep into Geta’s side. The blade cut through flesh with a sickening sound, and Geta stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The crowd went quiet. You could hear the sound of Geta’s armor scraping against the stone floor as he tried to regain his balance, but it was clear that the wound was fatal. Blood poured from the gash in his side, staining the sand beneath him a deep crimson.

Geta dropped to his knees, his face pale and stricken with disbelief. He looked up at the sky, his chest rising and falling in desperate, shallow breaths.

Caracalla’s face went pale. He stood frozen, his expression blank, his mind seemingly unable to process what had just happened. The battle was over, but the ramifications were far from clear.

“No!” Caracalla roared, his voice full of disbelief as he reached forward, as if trying to pull Geta back from the brink, but there was nothing he could do. His brother’s fate had already been sealed.

Acacius stood over Geta; his sword raised in a victorious yet solemn pose. His chest heaved with exertion, but his expression was unreadable. He didn’t gloat. He didn’t revel in the moment. He simply waited.

Geta’s eyes flickered for a moment, his last breath trembling in the air. With a final, strained sigh, he slumped forward, lifeless, collapsing onto the blood-stained sand.

The crowd remained silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in both shock and disbelief. Caracalla’s rage began to boil over, his face twisted in fury, his fists clenching. He couldn’t accept it—his brother, gone. He had underestimated Acacius, and now Geta was dead because of it.

You, standing beside Caracalla, watched the scene unfold before you. The roar of the crowd felt distant, as though muffled by the weight of what had just transpired. You knew this was only the beginning. Geta’s death had set the stage for something far greater, something that would shift the power in the empire forever. And now, with Geta gone, there was no turning back.

Acacius gaze found yours from the arena and you could see his relief at seeing you well.

But Caracalla’s eyes flicked to you, his anger now directed at you. “What have you done?” he spat, his voice full of venom.

But you held your ground, a quiet smirk curling on your lips. “I didn’t do anything. Your brother... he was just too weak.” You kept your voice steady, but inside, your heart raced. It was the perfect moment. The empire had just taken its first step into chaos.

Caracalla’s fury was palpable, his hand gripping your arm with a vice-like force. His eyes, wide with disbelief and anger, burned into you as he pulled you closer, his breath ragged and hot against your skin.

“What did you do?” he hissed, his voice low, dripping with venom. His grip tightened, digging into your flesh as if he could squeeze the answer out of you.

You didn’t flinch. You stood firm, despite the storm of emotions swirling around you—fear, anger, and the unrelenting cold that had settled in your chest. You had done what needed to be done.

“I did what you couldn’t,” you said, your voice steady, unwavering. “I set you free from a weak brother who would’ve only held you back.”

Caracalla’s face contorted with rage. His fist tightened around your arm, his eyes flashing with betrayal. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?” He sneered, dragging you towards the imperial box.

His hand left your arm, and in the blink of an eye, he seized a sword from one of the guards. The cold metal gleamed under the harsh sunlight, but it was the look in Caracalla’s eyes that made your blood run cold.

With a swift, practiced motion, he drew the blade, the sharp edge glinting dangerously. “You were always a threat. A thorn on his side.”

Before you could take a breath, before you could utter another word, he swung the sword. It moved with lightning speed, slicing through the air in a deadly arc.

Pain exploded through your chest as the cold steel bit into your skin, your vision blurring as warmth spread through your body. You gasped, the shock of the wound seizing you, and your knees buckled beneath you.

Caracalla’s eyes remained cold, as if he had already made his peace with your death. He stood over you, breathing heavily, watching as you crumpled to the ground. The sword was still in his hand, blood dripping from its blade, but he didn’t care. You had played your part, and now, you were gone.

The crowd fell silent in an instant, the air thick with shock and disbelief. Gasps echoed through the arena, a collective breath held as they watched the scene unfold before their eyes. The sword, gleaming with your blood, still hung in Caracalla’s hand as he stood there, as if unaware of the magnitude of what he had just done.

Acacius, his heart pounding in his chest, stood frozen at the center of the arena. His eyes locked onto you, on the ground beneath Caracalla’s cruel grip, your lifeless form crumpled and bloodied. His body went cold, every instinct within him screaming at him to run, to save you—but it was too late.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn't think as his legs propelled him forward, his body moving with a speed driven by a desperation he had never known. The guards tried to stop him, to grab hold of him as he surged forward, but Acacius was a force of nature, pushing them aside with a strength born from pure rage and sorrow.

He reached the imperial box in moments, his breath ragged, his eyes fixed on you. His heart shattered as he saw the blood pooling beneath you, the gash in your chest widening with each breath you hadn’t taken.

"No," Acacius whispered, voice breaking, as he knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he reached out to you. His fingers gently brushed your face, his touch tentative, as if he was afraid that if he touched you too hard, you would vanish entirely.

He didn’t notice the guards closing in on Caracalla, nor the soldiers who were grabbing hold of the emperor, taking him into custody. All that mattered in that moment was you. He had failed you, and now he couldn’t even protect your body from the cruelty of the world.

“No, no, no...” he muttered over and over, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your still warm skin. His heart screamed for you to wake up, for the impossible to happen, for you to rise from the blood-soaked ground and tell him everything would be okay.

Acacius’ heart skipped a beat when he saw the faint flutter of your eyes. It was barely a movement, a breath, but it was enough. His hands, shaking with a mixture of disbelief and hope, hovered over you. His breath was shallow, as if the very air he needed to breathe was escaping him.

“You’re alive,” he whispered, barely able to speak the words, as if saying it out loud might break the fragile thread that tethered you to life.

Your eyes flickered again, barely open, and Acacius leaned in closer, his voice urgent but tender. “Please, don’t go. I’m here. You’re going to be alright. I won’t let go.”

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, and all you could manage was a weak breath, the pain too overwhelming to let anything more escape.

Acacius’ hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing the bloodstained skin. “Don’t speak,” he said, his voice breaking, “I’m here. Stay with me.”

For a moment, there was a silence, as if the world had paused for you both, everything hanging in the balance. He could feel your pulse, faint and fragile under his touch, but it was still there. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

"Please," he pleaded softly, "hold on." His own voice cracked, revealing just how much this moment meant to him, how much you meant to him.

But the sounds of chaos in the arena—the shouts of the crowd, the clattering of armor, the commands being shouted in the distance—began to creep into his awareness again. Yet, all of that faded as he focused on you, his entire being centered on you, praying you would survive this, that you would come back from the edge of death.

"Please," he whispered again, his voice hoarse, the weight of everything crashing down on him as he pressed his forehead gently against yours. "I can’t lose you. Not after we had reached the peace”

A weak, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but it was fleeting. Your hand, trembling with the last of your strength, reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines of his jaw, the warmth of his skin still so vivid beneath your fingertips.

“I’ll find you in another life, my love,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the words barely escaping your lips as the darkness began to close in once more.

Tears slipped from your eyes, falling silently, tracing paths down your bloodied cheeks as you gazed up at him. The connection between you, the deep, undeniable bond that had been forged in fire, in pain, in love, and in loss, seemed to transcend time itself in that moment.

Acacius’ breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully as your words echoed in his ears. “No,” he rasped, voice breaking, unable to accept what you were saying. His hands held you tighter, though he feared it was already too late. “No… don’t leave me.”

But as your hand slipped from his, your eyes flickering closed, the silence enveloped you both. His world went still as the final breath left your body, the warmth of your skin fading away as he clutched you to him, his tears falling like rain over your still form.

A deep, guttural sound, a mixture of grief and fury, tore from his throat as he collapsed beside you, holding you desperately, unwilling to believe that this was the end. That he could never hear your voice again, never feel the soft touch of your hand, never look into your eyes.

The arena around them seemed distant now, the chaos of the crowd, the voices, the noise, all irrelevant. All that mattered was that you were gone. His heart, his world, his very reason for fighting, slipping away from him like sand through his fingers.

Acacius' voice cracked with the weight of his grief as he spoke, his words coming out barely above a whisper. "There is no more battle to fight for me if you're not here. You were my heart, and I… I would sail to the ends of the world to have—" His voice faltered, his throat tightening as his emotions overwhelmed him. "To have one chance to meet you again, properly, to love you from the very first time."

He pressed his lips to your cold forehead, the gesture full of longing and heartbreak. His tears fell freely, mingling with the blood that stained your skin. The kiss was tender, full of unspoken promises, but it shattered him all the same. The reality of your absence, the knowledge that he would never hear your voice again, felt like a suffocating weight.

"In every life I have, I'll find you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion, "and I will love you as you deserve. I will give you everything I couldn’t in this one."

He held you tighter, unwilling to let go, his tears slipping from his eyes like a river of sorrow, each one a silent testament to the love that would never be. Time seemed to stand still, the world around him forgotten, as all he could do was hold you in the only way he knew how: with everything he had left in him.

There was no more fight for him now. The greatest battle of his life had already been lost, and all he could do was mourn the one person who had meant everything to him, the one person who had brought him hope in a world that had long since taken it away.

Gods were never kind with lovers like you.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

The familiar scent of lavender surrounded you like a soft embrace, calming the flutter in your chest, even though you couldn’t explain why it stirred something deep inside. It wasn’t the fragrance, but the memories that seemed to follow it. Memories that were not of this life, not of anything you could recall with certainty, but they lingered nonetheless. They whispered to you, pulling you toward something you couldn’t grasp, something you could only feel in the deepest part of your soul. A pair of soft brown eyes. Outlines of a face you could trace with your fingertips in your dreams.

You tried to brush it off, shaking your head slightly as you adjusted the strap of your bag. It was the first day at your new job as a history teacher, and the nerves felt foreign. You had been a teacher for four years, passionate about sharing the stories of ancient civilizations, especially the Roman Empire. This should have been just another day, just another classroom to walk into. But there was something about this place, this school, that felt different.

You didn’t know why, but the air felt thicker here. More intense. As you approached the school gates, the nervousness you had tried to push away returned tenfold. Maybe it was the significance of this particular position, teaching alongside one of the most respected history instructors in the field. Maybe it was because you hadn’t yet had the chance to meet Marcus, though his reputation preceded him. Maybe you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

As you walked through the doors of the school, the familiar hum of the hallways didn’t bring comfort as it usually did. The sound of students laughing, chatting, running to their classes felt distant. You couldn’t shake the sensation of déjà vu, the feeling that you had been here before. A quiet whisper lingered in the back of your mind, telling you this was no ordinary beginning.

When you finally reached the staff room, you saw him. The history teacher. Standing by the window, lost in thought, his gaze distant as though the present world couldn’t quite hold his attention. His brown eyes were the first thing you noticed, the way they were so soft, yet intense, as if they could peer into the very heart of you. And then it hit you, the lavender. The sweet, calming fragrance that seemed to fill the room. It was unmistakable.

You froze for a moment, unsure if you had walked into a dream, or if the universe had suddenly conspired to bring you face-to-face with something from another life, something that shouldn’t have been possible.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow down around you. The noise from the hallway, the faint murmurs of colleagues gathering elsewhere, all of it faded into the background. The air felt heavier, charged with an energy you couldn’t quite explain. Your heart raced, as though you were on the precipice of something monumental, something that had been building in the quiet spaces of your soul for far too long.

You knew him. You didn’t know how, but you knew him. The pull was undeniable, like an invisible thread connecting the two of you through time and space, tying you to a past that seemed just out of reach. Your pulse quickened as your eyes met his.

His gaze flickered to yours, and it was as if the world came rushing back into focus all at once. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable, but there was something there—an emotion that caught in his chest. Recognition. But also confusion, as though he was just as unsure as you were about why this moment felt so familiar, so intense.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. He was already walking toward you, his steps slow, deliberate. His presence was overwhelming, like a force that commanded attention without even trying. As he approached, the lavender scent seemed to grow stronger, and for a moment, it felt like you were standing in the midst of a memory, a memory that was somehow yours, yet not.

“You must be the new teacher,” he said, his voice low but steady, as though he was trying to ground himself in the present moment, as if saying those words could dispel the strange tension that hummed between you. “I’m Marcus. Welcome.”

Your throat tightened, and you had to force the words out. “I’m… yes. I’m the new Roman history teacher.” Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears. How could you have forgotten to introduce yourself first, to speak like a normal person? But the words felt inadequate in the face of what was happening. You were supposed to be teaching history. You were supposed to be starting a new chapter in your life. But standing before him now, none of it mattered.

The silence stretched between you both, filled only with the hum of distant voices in the hallway and the soft rustling of papers on the desks. But it felt like more than that. It felt like the silence before a storm, before everything would change.

For a moment, Marcus didn’t speak, and you couldn’t tell whether he was waiting for you to say something, or if he was lost in the same strange feeling that you were. The air around you seemed thick with something unspoken, a connection you couldn’t quite understand, but it was there, undeniable and present.

“I don’t suppose you’re feeling this,” he said after a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was a tentative smile, as if he, too, was struggling with what was unfolding between you.

“I don’t know what this is,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I think… I think I’ve met you before.”

His eyes widened slightly, and his expression shifted, though it was brief. The smallest flicker of recognition flashed across his face, but it was gone before you could fully grasp it.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softer now. “Maybe we have.”

In that moment, the world outside the staff room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the weight of something far older than either of you. You both stood on the edge of something, and neither of you knew what would happen next.

But you both felt it. The undeniable pull that connected your souls, the inexplicable bond that no words could explain. His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flashing in them. He didn’t say anything more, but in that moment, you knew, you weren’t just colleagues. You weren’t just two people thrown together by fate. There was a bond here. Something ancient. And no matter how many lifetimes had passed, this connection, this feeling, had never truly gone away.

As the rest of the staff filtered into the room, the moment passed, but neither of you could forget it. You went on to introduce yourself, to go over the basics of the course. But all the while, you could feel his presence beside you, like a shadow, a whisper of the past. You weren’t just teaching history anymore. You were living it. And you both knew it would only be a matter of time before everything else fell into place.

Tags💌: @picketniffler @sptbear @heartpatch @immyowndefender @nobodyssfool @behomewhenthestreetlightscomeon @idkwhylou @jasminedragoon @ro-nahime-things @hduuc56 @mamustreads @itsafullmoon @tuquoquebrute @ccmoonshine @fvispunk @here-briefly @elisha-chloe @geekandbooknerd @guelyury @dlwrish @legoemma @scrappyskin @orcasoul @kluvspedro @onlythehobi @stormseyer @spideybv28 @spacelatinos4life @hduuc56 @foledean @negrita2345 @capswife @missadangel @spencercmlover @leahwwinchester @areyoutheretoru @nosebeers @discowitchyy

You had met before. And now, you were meant to find each other again in this life.

in this life, Gods would be kind to lovers like you.

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #marcus acacius smut #general acacius x you #general acacius

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vettelsvee · 2 days ago

Text

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE | Sebastian Vettel

High School History Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb is stressed because his students did pretty bad in their latest History exam, but he gets more stressed and grumpy when Y/N, the cutest Primary School teacher according to Seb, arrives to the teacher's lounge to "annoy" him, but the truth is that there's more than that ↳ BASED ON THIS POST I MADE THE OTHER DAY!

WORD COUNT: 3099

WARNINGS: LOTS OF GRUMPY (Seb) X SUNSHINE (Reader), some bad words, cursing, nothing else but wait till the end because I assure you you're gonna love it!

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @vampsarereal @gracie23x @cutelittlefakejourneys @scopeiguess @hoziersfrancesca

VEE'S NOTES: I ABSOLUTELY adored writing this, and I hope you like it as much as I do! This goes all the way up to the top of my fave fics written by me. Also, a toast to you because you liked all this Teacher!Seb thing a lot 🥹 I'd love to read your opinions on this, so feel free to leave me a comment, an anon message or reblogging since it helps us creators a lot. Thank you so much for reading, and hope you like it! <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

“How can you say that World War II ended with the fall of the Berlin Wall? My God...”

“It makes no sense at all, but if you ask whoever told you that, they’ll give you a convincing enough answer to make you pass their exam.”

Sebastian lifted his head, even though he didn't need to in order to know who was speaking.

Y/N Y/L/N, the second-grade teacher who is the pure representation of the sunshine itself. Your smile, always revealing your teeth, and your energy, isn’t exactly contagious to him, and even sometimes that'd be enough to make someone want to throw up.

You were standing in front of him, holding an absurd amount of papers. Seb couldn't avoid looking at you. No matter how much you might irritate him at times, he found you more than fascinating. He admired you in every single aspect and, somehow, that made him pretty angry with himself. You took the opportunity to silently show him some drawings of bees. Bees. Happy bees. Sad bees. Damn it, there were even bees wearing party hats and surrounded by confetti, and other baking and having coffee.

Sebastian said nothing. Instead, he ignored you and continued grading exams, but you didn't take it personally since you know how stressed he had to be with his class.

It didn't take long before a series of increasingly loud bangs started to get on his nerves.

When he looked up again, he saw you struggling with the printer, which seemed to have decided not to work.

“Why is it that every time I come here, this stupid, useless piece of junk decides to stop working?” you huffed, nearly shouting. “It’s like… like it’s out to get me!”

“Maybe it’s because you make too many copies every week,” Vettel replies.

“I have to give my students a quality education, Seb. And a quality education includes, among other things, making as many copies as I need to teach the contents properly!”

“And does your quality education include printing an entire colony of bees?”

You shrugged, offering no further explanation. Instead, you grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it until it was next to Sebastian. To his utter surprise, you sat down beside him, placing your absurdly thick stack of papers on top of the ungraded exams.

If you didn’t leave in the next few seconds, Seb swore he'd have a heart attack.

“My kids need all of this, Seb,” you said again, showing him those ridiculous drawings once more. “They’re learning about pollination, and what better way than by coloring little bees and then putting them all over the classroom to represent how they work?”

“I’m currently questioning whether I’m a complete failure as a teacher so, to be completely honest with you, the last thing I need right now is you showing me this... nonsense.”

You scoffed, knowing he didn’t mean it. He was just too stressed. His students failing with embarrassingly low grades didn’t mean his skills as a teacher were declining, but it did mean he’d have an army of parents breathing down his neck, demanding explanations for why their children’s performance was so poor.

“Stop saying things like that!” You smacked his shoulder, and his patience wore even thinner when he noticed a red pen mark on the exam he was grading. One that, knowing all too well his students and their thoughts, they’d probably say looked like a penis.

“You’re not a failure. Teenagers are just… idiots.”

“Is that your opinion as a professional in the education field?2

“Of course!” you shouted, waving your hands dramatically. “Why do you think I teach Primary school? Little kids are way cuter, and they think I’m a genius just because I can spell difficult words without getting any help.”

Seb tried not to, but a small smile started creeping onto his face. He quickly bit his lower lip and shifted in his seat, attempting to maintain his composure even though sitting next to you made him more nervous and, especially, more entertained, than he would have liked to admit.

“Look at you! I made you smile!”

“If I admit that you're almost funny, will you leave me alone?”

“Let me think about it… No.”

Sebastian didn’t even get a chance to answer before you suddenly jumped out of your chair and rushed toward the printer again.

“I just remembered why I came here! Oh my god, why do I have to be sooooooo forgetful?”

“I suppose that’s to make my life more miserable,” the German replied, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s just a bonus, Seb,” you turned to him, still smiling. “So, yeah, this printer isn’t working because… Well, I don’t know why. But I really need to make these copies, so I guess I’ll have to go back to the Primary school teachers' lounge…”

Sebastian stared at you, unsure of what to say.

Was he misunderstanding things because of stress, or he understood that you had actually walked all the way to the High School section, which was not anywhere near the Primary one, just to make copies, despite having a perfectly good printer in your own area?

“Did you come all the way from the Primary section to the High School one just for… some photocopies?”

“Yes!” you nodded enthusiastically.

“You're perfectly aware that there's a much better printer over there, right?”

“Well, that’s debatable if you consider…”

“Y/N, cut the bullshit.”

You pressed your lips together, unsure of how to tell him that your free period, and your desire to see him, was the real reason you had come all this way, even if it had earned you a few questioning looks and whispered comments from some of your colleagues in the upper grades.

“Well… Maybe I also decided to come here to see you,” you admitted.

Vettel had no idea how to reply to that. He tried to think of something friendly and lighthearted, but his stress seemed to take over before he could filter his words.

“I'm this close to kicking you out, Y/N.”

You only laughed, placing a dramatic hand over your chest and letting out a fake gasp. Seb loved when you acted like this, but right now, he hated it more than ever.

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t dare. I’m your favorite person out of all the people in this school.”

“Funny, because right now you happen to be exactly the opposite,” he muttered.

“You didn’t mean that. I know you didn’t.”

Seb shook his head and buried himself back in grading exams. Of course, he hadn’t meant it. No one was perfect, but somehow, you came pretty damn close without even trying.

“Stop making that weird face, or you’re going to get wrinkles ahead of time,” you teased. By now, you had sat back down beside him and were carefully cutting out flower-shaped drawings with impressive precision.

“You are insufferable, Y/N, really,” Vettel shot back as he meticulously corrected a student's answer about the causes of World War II.

“And yet, you still haven’t told me to shut up.”

Seb frowned. He wanted to do it. He should do it. But he couldn’t. You were too kind to him for him to snap at you… just like what was happening now.

He cursed himself mentally and swore that, from now on, he would grade exams at home to avoid this kind of altercation. Though, deep down, he also knew he would do it because, maybe, it would give him a little more time to spend with you.

Suddenly, you moved closer to him, too close, and took his chin. Your eyes locked, and for a few seconds, neither of you could say anything, let alone voice everything running through your minds about each other.

“You need a break, Seb.”

Your hand instinctively moved to his cheek, caressing it with a kind of affection that neither of you expected. He swallowed hard, trying to stay calm, but his heart only pounded faster and faster, and he couldn’t see it as anything other than a betrayal of his feelings for you.

“Why do you always have to be a threat to me, Y/N?”

You simply smiled before leaving a kiss on his cheek and standing up.

“You can keep pretending all you want, but you know you love it,” you said, grabbing your things and heading toward the door, though not before turning back to him.

Sebastian knew exactly what you meant by doing that. He let out a deep sigh and carefully gathered all the exams, placing them in his briefcase along with his pencil case and phone.

“If I go with you wherever you’re going, do you promise to shut up?”

“Nop, there’s no way I’m doing that,” you replied cheerfully, taking his arm the moment he was beside you and dragging him out of the teachers’ lounge with no real destination in mind.

The German was beyond exhausted. He felt his head throbbing more than usual, which he knew was a sign of an oncoming migraine. He felt drained, frustrated, and more plagued by imposter syndrome than ever. It wasn’t the first time he’d had bad results on an exam, but it was the first time they had been this awful.

He decided not to dwell on it and did his best to push his intrusive thoughts aside, focusing instead on the woman beside him.

You couldn’t stop talking. First, you told him about how your kids, as you called your second-grade students, had made Christmas cards for you and even brought you a gift after the holidays. Then, you talked about how, today, your favorite student (because, according to you, yes, teachers had favorites) had dropped a piece of her sandwich on the floor, and you had to give her your own breakfast but it was worth it since she was more than happy to be having Ms. Y/L/N handmade cheesecake.

Now, you had launched into an explanation of the biodiversity project you were preparing for your students, focusing specifically on the importance of bees in the ecosystem. You even showed him some pictures of what you had been working on at home because you wanted it to turn out so well that you couldn’t just work on it during school hours.

“So…” you said after finishing your explanation. “What do you think about my project so far?”

Sebastian kept walking, trying to process the flood of information you had just given him in such a short time. While some of the pictures looked like pure chaos, something completely opposite to him, the embodiment of perfection, he had to admit that it was good. Really good, actually.

“Well… it looked fun,” he admitted.

“Are you serious!?” you squealed, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

He gave you a shy smile.

“Yes, of course, I mean it.”

“Oh, look at him! Grumpy Seb handing out compliments so easily!” you shouted again, now bouncing on your feet, earning a few disapproving looks from the teachers passing by. “This calls for me to get you a coffee!”

“Y/N, I don’t feel like having coffee. I already had one this morning, and I don’t think it’s the best idea, considering how nervous I—”

“That’s nonsense!” you interrupted, marching toward the Primary school section. “You’re going to have coffee with me, no matter what, and you’re going to thank me because I’m convinced my coffee is way better than that vending machine garbage you drink daily.”

“I’ll thank you the day not a single one of my students fails one of my exams,” he told you.

The Primary school teachers' lounge was empty when you both walked in. You didn’t say much, just offered Seb a seat and told him to make himself at home while you headed to your locker. The German pulled out the stack of exams once again, ready to continue grading them, if you didn’t annoy him again. As he kept marking the papers, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Not only were you making him a cup of coffee, but you also seemed to be decorating it. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, you were writing something on a piece of paper.

When you returned, you placed the mug in front of him. It had “Bee positive” written on it, and it was decorated, of course, with a little bee making a heart with its tiny hands. As if that wasn’t enough, you had somehow managed to create an impressive amount of cream, topped with a smiley face that looked like it had been made with cinnamon.

Then, as you took a seat beside him, you slid a note his way, the one he assumed you had been writing earlier.

“Even if you’re having a gray day, remember that you can always make the sun shine! Sincerely, your very own little Miss Sunshine,” followed by a heart and, unsurprisingly, a bunch of smiley faces.

He didn’t know what to say. His eyes, however, when they met yours, seemed to say everything.

“You know, maybe all you need is just a new approach.”

Your sudden change of topic, spoken as you took another bite of your chocolate cupcake, threw him off a little. But he preferred it over the uncomfortable silence you both knew was bound to settle in.

“I’ve already tried, Y/N.”

“Have you tried bribing them?”

Seb narrowed his eyes, impressed and clearly not convinced by what you had just suggested.

“I’m not going to bribe my students, Y/N.”

“Not even by making them work in teams and offering extra credit?” You widened your eyes in surprise. “Have you considered bringing cookies and handing them out? That works incredibly great as a positive reinforcement, trust me”

“I’m not giving my students cookies or anything else,” Seb stated firmly. “I don’t know what to do with them, and that’s what worries me the most. What if I start acting like, no offense, a Primary school teacher, when they’re only two years away from university?”

You shook your head. It annoyed you that Sebastian was so… rigid, so unwilling to change. But what annoyed you even more was that you couldn’t seem to find the right way to help him.

“If you help me with the biodiversity project and actively participate in it, I promise I’ll find a way to make sure all your kids pass the remaining exams this year,” you proposed.

“And what exactly does a primary school teacher know about teenagers and History?”

“First of all, stop being so grumpy with me… I’m just trying to help you!” You huffed, crossing your arms. He wasn’t expecting that answer, and honestly, neither were you. Sebastian straightened in his seat, a bit uncomfortable. “Second, I happen to have a few tricks up my sleeve, but I’m not sharing them until you agree with helping me with the project.”

“Y/N…”

“What is it? What you don’t like: bees, seven-year-olds, or me?"

“I don’t like bees that much, I love being around little kids, and I’m completely captivated by you.”

That was what Sebastian wanted to say. Instead, he stayed silent, absentmindedly playing with the coffee spoon while staring at the note you had written for him.

“You do realize how many exams I still have to grade, right?” was all he managed to reply.

“Seb, you need to relax. I’ve told you before, but I’ll keep saying it as many times as necessary until you actually listen to me.”

“I can’t relax,” Vettel muttered, furrowing his brows. “Do you have any idea how painful it is to read that…?”

You didn’t let him time to finish speaking. You approached him faster than you’d planned, took his face in your hands, and kissed him. At first, Seb was completely caught off guard, but then he placed his right hand on your neck, pulling you closer and making sure the contact between you didn’t break.

Sebastian wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner, while you were more than happy to finally have the courage to take the initiative, especially since it seemed like your work crush was responding with a lot of enthusiasm.

The lack of air forced you to pull away. You readjusted yourself in your seat and couldn’t help but laugh when you saw your lipstick smeared all over Seb’s mouth.

“Did you just…?” Seb tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again,” you kissed him once again, but this time it was shorter. “Sebastian Vettel, I need you to stop worrying about those fucking exams and take a break.”

Now, Sebastian couldn’t stop smiling, and that’s exactly when you knew you had won that battle.

“You’re so lucky you’re too cute and beautiful and you’re keeping me at my feet somehow, because I swear I wouldn’t stop talking and be annoying just for you to shut me up by kissing me.”

Your eyes lit up at his tease, and your mouth opened in surprise at what Seb had just confessed.

“Sorry, did you just call me cute and beautiful, and also say you want me to shut you up by kissing you?” you pressed him.

Seb didn’t know what to say. His cheeks started to turn red out of embarrassment.

“If I’d known this was going to happen between us, I should’ve asked you to work together waaaay sooner!” you shouted, jumping up in excitement and sitting on his lap. If he hadn’t grabbed you tightly around the waist and balanced the chair, you would’ve ended up on the floor. “Say it again, come on!”

“No way I’m repeating that, Y/N.”

“Please, Seb,” you pouted, then kissed him all over his face. “Just one more time, please…”

“No.”

“Please…”

“Y/N…”

“Seeeeeeebastian.”

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” Seb started, “but, somehow, you’re also my very own Little Miss Sunshine.”

You smiled brightly at his words, but you knew this wouldn’t be the end of things between you.

“I’m not your Little Miss Sunshine yet. At least, not officially,” you teased.

“Oh, really?”

You shook your head.

“I’ll be when you finally have the courage to ask me on a date,” you replied cheerfully, wrapping your hands around his neck and kissing him once more. “I’ve taken the first step and kissed you not once, but twice, so now it’s your turn. We’ve got to work as a team, Seb. Haven’t you learned that all these years working as a teacher?”

232 notes · View notes

writeriguess · 12 hours ago

Note

Hello! I hope you had a great day/night🥰

I was wondering If you could make a smutty fem reader x katsuki bakugo

the reader and bakugo have been together for some time and every time they had sex nothing really happened, the did it, did aftercare and went to bed (most of the times) but this time the reader was at bakugo's house visiting him but for some reason bakugo gets riled up and wants to do it with the reader, his parents weren't in the house anyway so he didn't need to stress about someone interrupting so in the end they end up having sex.

But katsukis mom and dad comes early and he doesn't notice, while the reader and katsuki are doing their thing Mitsuki hears strange noises come from bakugos bedroom. She ends up curious and walks towards his room to find out what was happening but then is meet with you and katsuki.

Katsuki gets really embarrassed but mitsuki isn't mad, instead she shouts "Are you finally making my grandkids"

You don't need to write a fanfic about this! You have full right to delete! But this is just an idea that has been roaming in my head for days and I just really want someone to write a fic abt this😅

Anyways! I won't be sad or mad if you delete this, write it if only you're comfortable❤️

(Also sorry for shifting between bakugo and katsuki I didn't know which of them to use😅)

Heat of the Moment

The thing about Bakugo was that he had control. Most of the time.

Sure, he had a temper, and yeah, he was easy to rile up in a fight, but when it came to you? He always kept himself in check. He never let himself get too lost in it, never let his instincts take over, because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

That was… until tonight.

You weren’t even trying to be subtle. Maybe it was the fact that his parents were gone, maybe it was just because you wanted to push his buttons, but every little thing you did was setting him off.

The way you sat so close to him on the couch, your thigh pressed against his. The way your fingers lazily traced the muscles in his forearm while you pretended to be watching the movie on the screen. The way you leaned in, lips just barely ghosting over his ear as you whispered, “You’re so tense, Katsuki… want me to help you relax?”

And fuck, he tried. He really fucking tried to ignore it. To just smirk and brush it off like you weren’t making his dick throb with every slow, deliberate movement.

But when you climbed onto his lap, straddling him without a second thought, and rolled your hips down against the growing bulge in his sweats?

That was it. That was the fucking breaking point.

His hands were on you in an instant, rough and possessive as he grabbed your waist and slammed you back down against his hard length. “You think you’re fuckin’ cute, don’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous, but the way his cock twitched against you gave away just how much you were affecting him.

You bit your lip, looking down at him with those teasing eyes that had been driving him insane all night. “Maybe,” you mused, rolling your hips again, slow and deliberate. “Are you gonna do something about it?”

A guttural growl rumbled in his chest before he flipped you onto your back, pressing you into the couch with his weight. His knee shoved between your thighs, spreading you open for him as he loomed over you, crimson eyes dark and full of hunger.

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot more than something, baby,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. One hand shot under your shirt, fingers finding your breast and squeezing, rolling your nipple between his rough fingertips as his other hand slid down to your shorts. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

You gasped as he shoved your shorts down, not bothering with finesse. His fingers slid between your thighs, pressing against your already slick folds. “Fuck,” he groaned, a smirk tugging at his lips. “All this from a little teasing? You’re such a fuckin’ slut for me, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, hips arching into his touch, and he chuckled darkly. “Nah, don’t even try to play shy now. You wanted this.”

And then he was lining up, shoving his sweats down just enough to free his cock. Thick, hard, already leaking precum. He didn’t even tease—he just grabbed your hips, lined up, and thrust inside in one deep stroke.

The stretch was sudden, almost too much, but fuck, the way he groaned against your neck made it impossible to care. “So fuckin’ tight,” he growled, giving you barely a second to adjust before pulling out and slamming back in, hard and fast.

You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist as he set a relentless pace, hips snapping against yours with loud, wet slaps. Every thrust had your head spinning, had your body arching up into him as he fucked you deep into the couch.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, huh?” he panted, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanted me to snap? Wanted me to fuck you like I couldn’t wait another second?”

You moaned, nails digging into his back, and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as he drove into you even harder. “You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, lips trailing down your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect—made for me.”

His name fell from your lips over and over, breathless and desperate, and he drank in every sound, every little whimper. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, pounding into you with reckless abandon. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You didn’t even need to be told. The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure hitting you like a shockwave as your walls clamped down around him. Your whole body shook, a high-pitched moan spilling from your lips as you came hard around his cock.

Bakugo snarled, hips stuttering as he chased his own release, burying himself as deep as he could before spilling inside you with a guttural groan. His grip on your wrists tightened as he rode it out, panting against your neck before finally collapsing on top of you.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing of both of you trying to come back down from the high. Then, finally, Bakugo chuckled, low and satisfied.

“Next time you wanna tease me,” he murmured, voice still husky from exertion, “just tell me you wanna get fucked stupid, princess.”

You giggled breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp hair. “Noted.”

Though, judging by the way his cock twitched inside you again, it seemed like one round wasn’t going to be enough tonight.

A while later, you were on it again.

Katsuki had barely given you a break before he was all over you, flipping you onto your stomach and muttering about how you were gonna “pay for riling him up like that.” Not that you were complaining.

The only problem? He was so lost in you that he didn’t hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the sound of keys dropping into the bowl.

Didn’t hear the unmistakable click of his mother’s heels as she walked down the hallway.

You, on the other hand, froze the second you heard a voice call out:

“We’re home! Bakugo, did you clean the—”

And then, before either of you could react, before Katsuki could even think to move—

The bedroom door swung open.

Mitsuki Bakugo stood there, eyes wide, taking in the absolute disaster of a scene before her. Her son, bare-ass naked, hovering over you. Your face buried in the pillow, Katsuki’s hands gripping your hips. The sheer horror on your face as you registered what was happening.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

“HOLY FUCK, MOM—!”

Katsuki launched himself off of you, scrambling for the sheets in sheer panic. You barely managed to yank a blanket over yourself before Mitsuki’s voice rang through the house:

“ARE YOU FINALLY MAKING MY GRANDKIDS?!”

You wanted to die. Right there. On the spot. Instant cardiac arrest. Take me now.

Katsuki’s face was redder than his damn explosions. “WHAT THE HELL, OLD HAG? GET OUT!!”

But Mitsuki wasn’t done. No, she was grinning. Grinning. Hands on her hips like this was the best news of her life.

“Damn, about time!” she continued, ignoring the way Katsuki was practically combusting. “I was starting to think you were incapable—”

“SHUT UP!!” Katsuki grabbed the nearest object—a pillow—and launched it at her with enough force to send it flying down the hallway.

Mitsuki just cackled, dodging effortlessly. “Make sure you’re using protection, brat—unless you’re actually trying to give me grandkids—”

“OUT!!”

With one last laugh, she finally strolled out, still muttering about how she was “too young to be a grandma, but still, wouldn’t mind a little mini-Katsuki running around.”

The moment the door slammed shut, Katsuki flopped onto his back, covering his face with both hands.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you could speak.

Until finally, after what felt like an eternity, you whispered:

“…So, uh. Round three?”

Katsuki groaned. “I hate you.”

But the way he rolled back over you said otherwise.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

127 notes · View notes

kaiyunsim · 2 days ago

Text

guilty—

pairing : best friend!ni-ki x male!reader

summary : you invite ni-ki over and things get kinda hot inside…

warnings : fluff, maybe slightly suggestive, idk ni-ki is shirtless, based on guilty performance

a/n : i WOULDVE used the guilty pics but i just saw these pics and really like them. also probably not taking requests like this anymore cuz i don’t really like writing them… (sorry)

queueing : guilty - taemin

[requested]

— wc : 2.2k — not proof read —

it's not like inviting ni-ki over is weird. you guys are friends. close ones, even. you talk all the time, send each other dumb memes, argue about the best gaming strategies, and hang out like it’s the most natural thing in the world. so this shouldn’t be a big deal.

except it is.

because having a massive, painfully obvious crush on your best friend tends to make things complicated.

when you text him to come over, it takes him all of two seconds to respond with a casual yeah, be there soon, like it’s nothing. because to him, it is nothing. but to you? it’s an hour of trying to calm your racing heart, of overthinking everything, of pacing around your room and wondering if your place is clean enough, if you should change your shirt, if you should act any different than usual (no, that would be weird, right?).

by the time the doorbell rings, you’re already a mess.

you take a deep breath, shake out your hands, and open the door like you weren’t just standing there having a crisis.

ni-ki stands on your doorstep, grinning as he swings a convenience store bag in one hand. “yo.”

“hey,” you say, proud of how normal your voice sounds.

he steps inside like he’s done a hundred times before, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to your couch. he moves so comfortably in your space, like he belongs here. which, in a way, he does. you’ve known each other long enough for this to be second nature, so you really need to pull it together.

“i brought snacks,” ni-ki says, plopping down onto the couch and digging into the bag. “oh, and these.” he tosses a pack of your favorite candy at you.

you barely catch it in time, blinking at him. “you got this for me?”

“yeah?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you always steal mine, so i figured i’d get you your own.”

you want to scream into a pillow. instead, you swallow and mumble, “thanks.”

“no problem.” he leans back, stretching out his long legs. “so? what’s the plan? are you finally ready to accept that i’m the better gamer?”

you scoff, grabbing the controllers. “you wish.”

the game starts, and for a while, everything is normal. you fall into your usual rhythm. trash-talking, shoving each other when one of you pulls off a cheap move, laughing whenever ni-ki yells at the screen. it’s easy, familiar, and for a second, you forget about the whole i have a ridiculous crush on my best friend thing.

but then ni-ki shifts next to you, knee knocking against yours, and just like that, you’re reminded.

you try to focus on the game, but it’s impossible when he’s sitting so close, when his fingers move effortlessly over the buttons, when his face lights up in triumph every time he wins. and god, he’s so pretty. it’s not fair.

“dude, you’re losing so bad,” ni-ki teases, nudging your shoulder. “what’s up with you today?”

“nothing,” you lie, gripping the controller tighter.

he squints at you. “you’re acting weird.”

“no, i’m not.”

“you totally are.”

“just play the game.”

he shrugs, turning his attention back to the screen, but the damage is done. you’re spiraling again, overthinking every little thing, and before you know it, you’ve lost another round.

ni-ki stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. “man, it’s getting hot in here.”

you barely register his words before he reaches for the hem of his hoodie and pulls it over his head in one swift motion. underneath, he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, but then… then he tugs that off too, leaving him in nothing but his sweatpants.

your brain short-circuits.

he doesn’t even hesitate. just tosses his shirt onto the couch like it’s no big deal. “that’s better,” he sighs, shaking out his hair.

you, on the other hand, are not better.

you are not fine.

you are actively malfunctioning.

your mouth opens and closes a few times before you manage to choke out, “what are you doing?”

ni-ki blinks at you. “taking my shirt off?”

“but why?”

he gives you a confused look. “because it’s hot?”

“you can’t just—” you gesture wildly at his very bare, very toned torso, “—do that!”

he frowns. “why not? we’re both guys.”

and logically, sure. there’s no reason for this to be a big deal. but logically, you also shouldn’t be hopelessly in love with your best friend, and yet here you are.

your face is burning. your entire body feels like it’s on fire. ni-ki is still looking at you like you’re the weird one, and you know if you stay here any longer, you’re going to say or do something humiliating.

so you do the only thing you can think of.

you run.

“i need to—uh—get something,” you stammer, practically launching yourself off the couch.

ni-ki watches in confusion as you bolt to your room, slamming the door behind you.

he stares after you for a moment, then shrugs and picks up his phone, completely unaware that you’re currently on the other side of the door, having an actual meltdown.

you press your back against the door, heart pounding like you just ran a marathon. your hands grip at your shirt, trying to ground yourself, but it does nothing to stop the sheer chaos in your brain.

ni-ki is in your living room. ni-ki, your best friend. ni-ki, shirtless.

you squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to calm down. it’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen him like that. you’ve been to the pool together, changed in locker rooms after practice, but something about this is different. maybe because it’s just the two of you, in the privacy of your room, where your stupid, hopeless crush feels ten times heavier.

you shake your head aggressively. get it together. he’s just a guy. a guy who doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to you.

outside, you hear ni-ki shift on the couch, probably wondering what the hell is wrong with you. you know you can’t stay in here forever, but the thought of going back out there, of sitting next to him while trying to act normal… it makes your face heat up all over again.

you take a deep breath, then another, pressing a hand to your chest like that’ll somehow slow down your heart rate. okay. you just need to play it cool. pretend like nothing happened. act like a normal, sane person.

with one last deep inhale, you push the door open and step out.

ni-ki is still on the couch, legs stretched out, casually scrolling through his phone. he looks up when he hears you, tilting his head. “dude, what was that?”

“what was what?” you say way too quickly.

ni-ki raises an eyebrow. “you, running away like i just said something weird.”

you force out a laugh. “i didn’t run away.”

he just stares at you. “you literally ran.”

“i—i needed to, um, check something,” you mumble, walking past him and pretending to be very interested in adjusting the snack bags on the table.

“...right.”

you can feel his eyes on you, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot.

“you good?” he asks after a moment, voice softer.

“yep. totally fine.” you turn back to him with what you hope is a normal expression. “let’s just keep playing.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs, grabbing his controller again. “alright, if you say so.”

you sit down next to him—not too close, just enough that it doesn’t seem weird. ni-ki doesn’t seem to think twice about it, immediately starting the next round. but you? you can barely focus. your eyes keep betraying you, flickering to the curve of his shoulders, the toned muscles in his arms, the way his collarbones shift whenever he moves.

it’s ridiculous, really. he’s not even doing anything. he’s just existing, and it’s driving you insane.

you suck in a sharp breath, forcing yourself to look at the screen. focus. focus on the game. not on ni-ki’s stupidly perfect body.

“hey,” ni-ki says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “why are you playing so bad today?”

you blink, realizing you just drove your character straight off the track. “uh.”

he laughs, nudging your knee with his. “you’re totally off your game, man. maybe i should take my shirt off more often if it distracts you this much.”

you choke.

ni-ki looks at you, amused. “...wait. is that what this is about?”

panic. pure, unfiltered panic floods through you. “w-what? no! obviously not! why would—why would that distract me? that’s so dumb. you’re dumb.”

ni-ki squints at you, his grin growing. “oh my god. you’re flustered.”

“i am not flustered.”

“you totally are.”

“shut up.”

he laughs again, and it’s so unfair how effortlessly good he looks doing it. he leans closer, a teasing glint in his eyes. “i mean, it’s fine if you are. i am pretty good-looking.”

you want the ground to swallow you whole. “i’m going to throw you out the window.”

“uh-huh.” he smirks, and it’s infuriating. “so you don’t think i’m hot?”

your brain short-circuits for the second time that night. “what?”

“you heard me.”

“i’m not answering that.”

“so you do think i’m hot.”

“ni-ki.”

“it’s okay, i get it.” he leans back, smug. “i’d have a crush on me too.”

your soul leaves your body. he says it like a joke, like it’s nothing, like he has no idea how dangerously close he is to the truth.

you grab a pillow and smack him in the face with it.

he bursts out laughing, dodging your second attack. “okay, okay! chill!”

you groan, slumping back against the couch and covering your face with your hands. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

you peek through your fingers, glaring. he’s still grinning, completely unbothered. and, worst of all, still shirtless.

you exhale slowly, trying to gather whatever scraps of dignity you have left. “put your damn shirt back on.”

ni-ki smirks, stretching his arms behind his head like he’s enjoying this. “nah, i’m good.”

you gape at him. “what—ni-ki.”

he grins, tilting his head. “what? you were the one acting all weird about it. now i feel like keeping it off just to mess with you.”

“that’s literally the worst reason.”

“or the best.” he shrugs, completely unbothered. “besides, you never actually answered my question.”

you hesitate. “...what question?”

his smirk grows. “do you think i’m hot?”

you make a noise that’s half a groan, half a dying animal. “i’m not answering that.”

“so yes.”

“so shut up.”

he laughs, absolutely thriving off your suffering, and flops onto the couch like he has no care in the world. “guess i’ll just stay like this, then.”

you stare at him, horrified. “you’re evil.”

he grins. “and you’re flustered.”

you grab the pillow again, ready to smother him with it.

ni-ki smirks, leaning further back into the couch like he has all the time in the world.

you stare at him, exasperated. “ni-ki. put. your. shirt. back. on.”

he raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your suffering. “hmm. no.”

“why not?” you huff, crossing your arms.

he shrugs, completely unbothered. “kinda nice seeing you all flustered. didn’t know this was all it took.”

you groan, feeling your face heat up again. “you are the worst.”

he grins. “and yet, here you are, still staring.”

you snap your head away so fast you might get whiplash. ni-ki laughs at you, full-on cackles, and you swear you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life.

he stretches lazily, arms above his head, on purpose, you know he’s doing it on purpose now. “so,” he says, looking at you with a glint in his eyes. “you got a crush on me or something?”

your stomach drops. your breath catches in your throat.

and ni-ki? ni-ki just smirks like he already knows the answer.

you could deny it. you should deny it. but the way he’s looking at you, teasing, but also strangely expectant, makes you hesitate.

after a long pause, you exhale sharply, rubbing the back of your neck. “...maybe.”

his smirk grows. “maybe?”

you roll your eyes. “fine. yes, okay? i like you. happy now?”

he hums, tilting his head like he’s considering something. “hmm. yeah. i think i am.”

you blink. “wait—what?”

he grins, leaning forward slightly. “would’ve been nice to know earlier, you know. would’ve saved me all this effort.”

you gape at him. “effort? what effort?”

he shrugs, like it’s obvious. “the effort of making you admit it first.”

you stare at him, speechless. “you knew?”

he laughs. “not really. but i hoped.”

your brain short-circuits. “you hoped?”

he just winks, and finally—finally—grabs his shirt off the couch. “now that you’ve confessed, maybe i’ll put this back on.”

you groan, shoving a pillow in his face as he cackles. this is not how you expected today to go.

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meiluu · 3 days ago

Text

Soft and Gentle

Zayne/ Reader(MC)

Zayne pushes himself too far, and you his valiant hunter the woman who he loves with ever fiber of his being is now fusing over his fever. Maybe being sick isn't all that bad... Not Edited

Having just sat down on his couch, Zayne lets out an exhausted sigh fingers reaching up to take of his tie. Head pounding, he throws an arm over his eyes as he lays down onto the soft cushions. And from there he slips into a much needed nap. Though it seems like it only last for but a moment when he is woken up but gentle fingers cupping the side of his jaw. A familiar voice rings through his head, its you. It takes him much longer to come to his sense than usual and when he finally comes to he can hear the worry within your voice, "Zayne you're really warm, do you feel okay?"

Slowly rising from the couch, he brushes your hands away. "I'm probably just tired." Zayne moves to get up from the couch only to halt in his motions when he sees your angry pout. "Nope you sit right there, I'm getting the thermometer if you aren't running a fever I'll let you get up." And with that you quickly turn towards the medicine cabinet in the kitchen, Zayne wants to insist that he truly is fine but he feels so weak and tired that he just sinks right back into the couch. A few moments pass before he feels your hands upon him again and your muffled words. "You're running a fever Zayne." He can picture the sad pout upon your face, opening on of his eyes he finds that to be true. "come on lets get you cleaned up and in bed as soon as possible."

And with those words you are leading him into your shared bathroom, leaving only to come back with a clean pair of pajamas for the both of you. Turning on the tub you let it fill before you help Zayne to take off his clothes. Although any other time you would be flushed from head to toe at your daring moves, but now in its place is a level of intimacy that only you can share with each other. Finally free from his work clothes and in the tub you help him to wash his body and hair. Fingers gently massaging into his scalp, letting the cool water rinse him of the soap while also hopefully quelling some of his fever.

Smelling no longer of antiseptic and papers instead smelling like his favorite soap that has a soft fragrance of jasmine flowers. Grabbing a fluffy white towel you help to quickly dry off Zayne, letting him brush his teeth while you hand him his clothes. With him finally dressed, he heads towards the bedroom sinking heavily into the plush comforter and mattress. Mind drifting off as the sound of you taking a shower lulls him into near unconsciousness. Zayne is again woken up by your familiar hands on his face, "Take this it'll bring down your fever." a quietness falls around you both after Zayne swallows the pills, one that it broken with his tired voice. "I'm sorry." there's a barely noticeable pout upon his lips.

"Zayne there' no need to apologize, everyone gets sick."

"I just-" he lets out a sigh before continuing, "I'm not used to being taken care of like this, the last time was when I was a child."

a soft bout of laughter leaves you, "Zayne I will always be here to take care of you especially when you are sick, just like how you always care for me when I'm hurt or sick. You don't need to go this on your own anymore, you have me now." You reach your hand up, carding through his soft onyx hair. Zayne reaches a scarred hand up to yours cradling it to his face, then bringing it down to his lip to give your palm a chaste but loving kiss. "Thank you, my love"

a.n. I may or may not of had a very vivid dream about helping Zayne while he was sick... (also I've been playing this game for over a year now and I am so in love with it, all the characters hold a special place in my heart. Will definitely be writing for all the boys in the future, I actually have a few ideas I'm writing at the moment.) hopefully you guys like this little drabble :)

...sorry about not posting in literally 6 months, college has been crazy and I've been having the worst writing funk. But I am slowly getting back into my normal rhythm and have begun writing again!

#x reader #fluff #lads zayne #love and deepspace zayne x reader #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #love and deep space #zayne x mc #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #lads x reader #lads #loveanddeepspace #lads mc #love and deepspace zayne #zayne lnds

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suzukiblu · 1 day ago

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hi, question for you, have you ever experienced prolonged writer’s block before? do you happen to have any advice for getting a writing flow going again, that you’d be willing to share?

bc i don’t want to get too heavy in your asks, but between chronic illness/fatigue and longterm autistic burnout i haven’t been able to write a single word in several years now, and GOD am i tired of it. it’s like all the stories and words are stuck inside me and i can see it all in my head but the faucet is jammed and i just can’t get it OUT! i have been slowly feeling like the creative embers are maybe starting to spark again but it’s so hard not to get impatient with myself because it never seems to actually transfer to paper (or word document or notes app). any ideas or tips?

no pressure to answer this if you don’t want to of course, regardless i really enjoy your writing and i’m so glad that i can at least engage with fandom through other authors even when i can’t write my own stories! 💛

Oh god, yeah, I DEFINITELY have experienced that, hahasob. I have gone through at LEAST a year or two without, like, putting down a single word or even drawing anything, just total creative block/not there-ness. Like I feel u on that one, bud.

Good news: now if I write less than 2k in a day I think "oh that's kinda low, huh", so like . . . definitely "didn't write jack shit for [ INSERT TIME PERIOD HERE ]" has yet to sink me, and therefore fuck if it's gonna sink ANY of us. We persevere!!

So like, in my experience actually helpful writing advice is just SO wildly "you just gotta try shit 'til something works"-based that I'mma just give you a list made up of a bunch of, like, assorted tips and tricks that I use on myself to make my brain put words down when it's being stubborn about it, though different ones work at different times and obvi YMMV here anyway because for obvious reasons these are all approaches that I have tailored to my own needs, hah, and some of them are a bit facetious and some are also a bit heavy, but absolutely and unironically I reguarly use them all and they have all repeatedly worked for me.

Also, they're all gonna be goin' behind a cut because WOW there's actually a lot more of them than I realized I had, hahaha. The psychiatrist who recently used me as a case study told me I was very self-aware, so take from that what you will, friend.

Get up and do a chore/take a shower/eat a snack/literally just walk through a friggin' doorway, more often than not it'll at least make your brain reorient enough for you to realize you were just beating your head against a wall and need to do [ INSERT DAMAGE CONTROL/HARM REDUCTION BEHAVIOR HERE ].

Track your progress. Write to-do lists and cross shit off 'em. Keep track of your word count when you write; put it in a spreadsheet or a notebook or on a graph on your bulletin board.

Get a NEW way to track your progress. I currently use, like, three different "to-do list" apps to varying degrees in varying ways, not counting just my basic calendar app ( for the record: Finch, Structured, and just a generic notes app, but mostly Finch and Structured and seriously I CANNOT recommend Finch enough, go get yourself a bird buddy immediately. do you want a friend code, I will GIVE you a friend code, I think it gives you a bonus mini-pet or something if you use it. ), and also set myself MANY a phone alarm to remind myself of things that I need to do in case I space out or get distracted by somebody/something/the specific phase of the moon.

Did you take your meds? Take your fucking MEDS, self, good LORD.

Leave the house even if for literally, like, thirty seconds to just stand in some actual natural light. Or leave the house to go eat at a cafe or library or fast food place and just put yourself in a new environment for literally any length of time whatsoever.

Switch pens. Switch notebooks. Get a NEW notebook. Use your laptop instead. Use your PHONE instead. Get a nicer notebook. Get a shittier notebook. Use the scratch paper at work. Use the Procreate app on your friggin' iPad if you gotta, whatever, you do what you want!!

Don't write!!

Seriously just don't, go watch an actual scripted TV show or movie or read a book or a comic or some fic. Feed your brain something you didn't have to make up yourself.

Come up with a convoluted way to trick yourself into being accountable to someone else. Join a writing group. Make a Tumblr post about how you're gonna go write now. Ask Tumblr for their opinion on what you should write now. Ask Tumblr to spin this random wheel spinner game you generated and tell you what answer they got, and then write THAT.

HAVE you had a snack? Did you eat breakfast? Did you eat lunch? Did you remember to move around the house at any point whatsoever during the day? Maybe like, do that. Like, at least the snack part. Maybe a stretch or something wouldn't hurt either though.

Meal prep is so fucking useful and saves you SO much annoying time and also, like, makes you eat actual veggies and fruit and shit, genuinely actually works, the gym bros were not wrong, go figure. Also then you don't have to think about what you're gonna eat all the time and then cook it and then clean up and then--yeah anyway meal prep, god bless it. Once a week I make a batch of pasta salad and roast a pan of good-when-roasted veggies with like, garlic and salt and pepper and some olive oil and add bacon after, and then I portion it all into tupperware and in the morning I add spinach or crack an egg into that day's share of veggies for breakfast and maybe make some toast, and just grab one of the pasta salads whenever I want something lunch-like. It saves SO much time and distraction when you are hurting for free time/focus. So, SO much.

Unfortunately the gym bros were also correct about exercise, if that's doable for you. Exercise does in fact make you feel better and more energized and less depressed, fuck those guys for being right about that shit. Assuming you have enough iron in your blood to actually, like, do it, which admittedly I frequently do not, but the point stands.

Dude why are you even trying to write, you're so tired, go to bed and get up early, you write SO much better in the mornings anyway.

Hey, I know that's how you USED to write, but like, is that actually how you write right now? Is that actually even what works for you anymore? Actually maybe outlines COULD be helpful or maybe you don't need all those worldbuilding notes all at once; maybe your inner architect needs to let the building decay and go back to nature or maybe your inner gardener has developed a taste for trellises, metaphorically speaking and all.

Please eat something. Also please DRINK something. Like ideally water but we'll go for anything that involves a liquid, seriously.

Hey did you know actually if you ONLY eat instant ramen and microwave pizza you'll probably get scurvy and die instead of, like, writing your magnum opus? Like probably?? Put a fucking egg in that ramen, man! Slice up a scallion in that bitch!! EAT AN ACTUAL WHOLE FRUIT or at least, like, buy a smoothie with actual fruit involved somewhere in it on occasional. The whole fruit, unfortunately, is better. I like apples. Apples take a REAL long time to rot if I forget they exist for a couple weeks or whatever. But like, mango smoothies are also the shit, can't turn down a mango smoothie or a good strawberry-banana. Hey did you know the grocery store just, like, will let you just buy one single apple and they don't give a fuck? You're free! The cashier won't remember you in five minutes!! Buy your one single apple and work your way up to maybe two apples next time!! Also now I want an apple!!!!

Don't write. Don't write THAT. Write the other thing. No, the OTHER other thing. No, not THAT other other thing.

The rules are made up and the points don't matter.

Fuck it, we ball.

[ INSERT FULL-THROTTLE STIMMING BEHAVIOR HERE ]

Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic.

God, that's the weirdest fucking idea you've ever had, literally NO ONE but you would read it. So you should write 180k of it and also make it even weirder and yes it will absolutely be the one fic that just about everyone in MCU fandom who knows you exist knows you for, don't even worry about it, this isn't based on a true story at all.

Actually you could probably storyboard this scene to figure out wtf is happening here. Or like just draw literally anything related to this story, a bit of that might work some kinks out of the whole process.

Did you get that snack yet?

Hey go pet your dog, she's very soft and wants attention and also her OWN snack. Pet your dog and eat an apple and idk watch some anime or a weird niche documentary or an even more niche reality show, have you seen Deep-Fried Dynasty yet, it's on Hulu and was surprisingly engrossing.

Why are you even following the rules, we've been over this, they are made up and the points do NOT matter, and also you're not even getting graded for this anyway.

Yeah okay that thing you wrote sucked, but it turns out that Dean Koontz somehow has a writing career and also Twilight happened to all of us, so actually even the suckiest thing you ever write is gonna be better than the perfect ideal of the scene in your head, because the suckiest thing you ever write is something OTHER people can READ. And again: Dean Koontz has a career. Colleen HOOVER has a career. And fucking good for them, they're killing it, they are fucking WRITING!! Who gives a damn anyway, fix it in editing if you're that worried about it, they call it a rough draft for a reason.

Hey if that thing doesn't work you can just, like, delete it. Or rewrite it. Or stick it in your back pocket and do something else for a while. The sunk-cost fallacy is bullshit and you don't have to listen to it.

Maybe drink some more caffeine, that'll calm you down. [ DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE OF ADVICE TAILORED TO A PERSON WITH MORE ADHD THAN LITERALLY NINETY-FIVE PERCENT OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH ADHD; THAT PERCENTAGE IS ON THE ACTUAL LEGITIMATE DIAGNOSTIC PAPERWORK ]

Seriously you can just write anything you want, nobody can stop you. Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic enough that that's like, thirty-seventy odds at BEST.

God that idea is so niche and weird and niche, better tone it the fuck down to--oh wait no mass appeal means you're writing popcorn and literally no one will remember it in five minutes anyway, stop reflexively censoring yourself for some imaginary audience that will just chew straight through your one-size-fits-all story for The Content(tm) and then immediately move onto the next one without even bothering to hit "kudos" or remember anything about it later. I have written shit so weird that people still remember how weird I was TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER, man, and that is why literally anyone will EVER remember that you exist or wanna read your stuff or follow you to a new fandom where they don't even know the source material, fuck it, they'll wiki some shit. And also who cares anyway, it's YOUR stuff and YOU wanna read it. Your agnostically-possible god did not make you this weird and niche for no reason, don't pussy out now!!

Actually you can just write in the bath/on the bus/while waiting for your roommate to finish up with the guy running this estate sale. You've got your phone, right? Fuck it, pack a notebook. Pack an extra notebook. Pack a smaller notebook. Pack a BIGGER notebook.

It's not stupid if it works. You don't have to do what literally ANYONE else is doing, you just have to do what works.

You can literally just skip to the good part and write that, actually. Nobody's gonna throw you in writer-jail. What are we, cops?? Actually do you even need this lead-up here or do you just need to write this one specific blorbo gettin' laid REAL enthusiastically kinkily and/or maybe having a nervous breakdown sobfest over their perception of their personal self-worth and everything else is kinda just window dressing??

I mentioned the snack thing, right? Also sugar rushes are fake but sugar CRASHES are real so maybe be a little careful on that one, maybe buy some trail mix/jerky/smoked salmon, smoked salmon is SO good, smoked salmon is just objectively delicious.

Go talk somebody's ear off about what you're trying to write about. Bonus points if you can find somebody who matches your freak enough that you write, uhhhhh /checks smudged writing on wrist/ a 60k Overwatch fic in two weeks and also like 280k of Witcher fic in less than a year specifically because they're just a real good cheerleader. Wow. Wow that was a lot more Witcher fic than I was aware I had written. THE POINT IS LOOK FOR A WRITING BUDDY, WRITING BUDDIES ARE THE SHIT.

If the writing buddy doesn't work out though the first time I won NaNoWriMo I did it directly out of spite because someone said they didn't think I actually would. So like, spite is always an option, you can always keep that one on tap if you gotta.

Stephen King did not write "On Writing" because he didn't want you to write. Francesca Lia Block did not introduce you to the weirdest and gayest shit teenage!you had ever read so you'd grow up and be a fucking NORMIE about this shit. SIR TERRY PRATCHETT DID NOT WRITE LIKE SIXTEEN OF YOUR FAVORITE BOOKS OF ALL TIME BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT YOU TO WRITE WHAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY FRICKIN' INTO.

Clean your room. No, better than that. Okay fuck it just set a ten-minute timer and do what you can in that time, we work with the spoons we've got.

Random number generator. Random color generator. Random "hey followers here's a very oblique poll, don't even worry about what it's about, just click a button please and thank you".

Did you know the internet will just GIVE you free graphs/trackers/bullet journal page designs and you can just print 'em out and do whatever the heck you want with 'em?? Yes my new little "color in the squares every day you do the thing" tracker IS just six daily writing tasks and two daily "just go pick some stuff up in this specific room" tasks and that is MY BUSINESS, MS. SIR AND MR. MADAM AND MX. [ INSERT BUZZER SOUND ]. And also, like, has done much better at getting me to do chores than anything else has in a minute, go fig.

You can actually just do whatever you want forever.

Literally, like just forever.

Fuck, how many times HAVE you done this? You'll never get better for good, it'll always go bad again, you'll always get sick again, you'll always get SAD again, you'll always fucking forget how to even DO this again and have to start all over.

Well yes, obviously, because you'll always have done it again. So do it again. One more time.

( seriously though did you take your meds-- )

#anonymous #rinquiry

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arthur-lesters-ass-hair · 2 hours ago

Text

(ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ)

(⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)

Noel tsking Larson is way sexier than it should be.

#IM SPREADING THE BRAIN WORM #also their ship name is DetectingGold #< if i ever write noel/yellow because of you itll be an au where Larson gets sent to the dreamlands by himself and fking dies cuz I hate hi #and kayne sticks yellow in Noels head instead and sends him off to spain . because i think it would be so fun to write him trying to recove #from everything (including being in a place he's not familiar with) with basically the kiy in his head he would go insane actually #id need to listen to the episodes with yellow in them again for research purposes #this really does feel like brainworms #actually I'm not going to bed I'm gonna go listen to those episodes #also I just realized I can't remember if you like Larson as a character so if you do #don't take that first thing I said offensively<3 thanks #<i actually have a multific outline that i never got around to if you want to give it a look #<also larson can suck my knee #give yellow a hug #also ptsd of snow

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colibrie · 1 day ago

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Fang AU DTIYS: Compromise

What's this? Me showing up late with a project that was meant to be short but then got way out of hand and became huge...couldn't be me. This is my submission for the wonderful @trilobitepunch DTIYS. I can't draw beyond stick figures, but trilo is a wonderful artist who deserves to be celebrated, so I decided to write something instead. For full context, I highly recommend checking out the full Fang AU tab on Trilo's page. Having said that, congratulations on your milestone trilobug, lets do this!

"Uh...Raphel?"

"Hey CJ," Raph grunted, reveling in the burn of well worked muscles as he pressed the barbell up and away from his chest. Even with the events and marks of the invasion fading further into the past with each day, he didn't think he'd ever again take for granted the ability to control how he moved his body. Whether through the familiar burn of pushing his limits like a boss or fiddling with the puzzles that he'd been assured would help him regain better depth perception in his damaged eye, all of it was beautiful. All of it was...

"It's Raph, remember? Or Raphie. You're pretty much part of the family now kid and pops the only one who regularly bothers with the ael part."

"Oh! Right, sorry Raphae...Raph..."

"Eh, don't sweat it," Raph rumbled, heart squeezing fondly as he set the barbell on its stand and sat up to give the now rather awkward human his full attention. "Didja need somethin?"

"I was just wondering if you'd seen S-Leo around," Casey Jr asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Their future boy was doing a decent job at settling in and moving with the chaos that made up the Hamato family line, likely a benefit from having been raised by alternate and older versions of them. But that familiarity was a doubled edge sword, and ingrained honorifics like "Sensei" and "Master" were slow to fade from the kid’s vocabulary. That went for personal titles too. Raph still had to bite back the urge to laugh when he remembered the fish-eyed stare Donnie had given the first time CJ had slipped up and called him "Uncle Tello". Somethings were just too priceless, and April had been happy to print him a copy from the security stills. While that version of Raph hadn’t been around to raise Casey Jr, the habit of calling him by his full name was one this version of himself was determined to break.

"Raph hasn't seen him," Raph replied, leaning forward to snag his work out towel from its usual spot next to the dumbbell rack. "Have you checked his room."

“Mhm. I also checked the kitchen, the arcade, and the comic nook. There’s no sign of him.”

"Huh. Maybe he's on his skateboard?" Raph pondered as he wiped the towel across his face and neck.

As a family of awesome, world-saving, kick-butt ninjas, it wasn't odd for them to disappear from time to time. No matter how close they were, sometimes space was needed. Mikey would bake, Raph would organize his plushies, Leo would read comics. Donnie had made an art of disappearing from chaotic or boring situations, starting from when they were kids. The soft shell often needed periods of quietly productive tinkering before he could fully join in on the rough and tumble fun preferred by his harder shelled siblings.

What pushed it into the territory of weird, borderline concerning, however, was the lack of heads up. While they currently didn't need permission to leave the lair, the events of the invasion, and more recently the disaster with the GDF lab, had been weighing on all of them. There was a tension in the lair, a near tangible need to see each other, to be close enough to reach out and touch to confirm that, despite everything, they were all still alive. Mikey was alternated between fine and stage five clingy, constantly draped over Raph’s shell, slinging arm around April, or leaning into Casey Jr as he taught the young man how to cook. The twins had been all but glued at hip throughout their recovery. For Raph, it was a constant effort to not give in to paranoia every time he woke up from dreams of pink slime and pleaded apologies, a herculean effort of will to not lunge forward, ninpo ready, whenever one of the twins turned to fast. Heck, even Barry had all but moved in for a while, choosing to engage in his and Splinter’s endless bickering rather than be separated. It had taken a full month before he was fully confident that the serum was working as intended, and another month and a half before the Yokai had been even semi comfortable returning to his apartment.

When they had had to leave, it had never been without a thousand heads up and an iron clad enforcement of the buddy system. So, for Leo to apparently just disappear...

"Have you asked-?"

They both jumped as the front door to their home slammed open, and a loud, irate voice filled the air.

"Alright, where is he?!"

"April?"

Sure enough, the petite form of their adopted older sister was stalking towards them, drenched to the bone and nearly steaming with irritation.

"Whoa, what happened to you Comma...Apirl?" Casey asked, raising his hands and backing up toward Raphs greater bulk as the pissed off eighteen-year-old girl came into swinging range. CJ was a smart kid.

"Donnie was supposed to meet me at the park this afternoon to run some code tests on our tracking system," April growled, wet shoes slapping the concrete as she stomped over to stand by them, water rolling from clothes and hair alike to form a small puddle. "I figured the fresh air, and space would do him some good. And I told him to be on time, cause the weather app said it was supposed to rain at three."

"Wait... are you saying Donnie never showed up?" Casey Jr asked, trepidation clear in his tone as April tried to fruitlessly squeeze the moisture from her hair.

"Uh huh. I'm not trying to turn "soggy" into the next street style," April affirmed, sarcasm thick as she peeled off her sodden backpack and jacket. "Oh, when I get my hands on that boy! I know he's been in hermit mode the last few days, but not even a heads-up text?! He better build me a new laptop if this one kicks the can! I... wait... what's with the look’s boys?"

"You haven't heard from Donnie at all?" Raph pressed, something in his gut sinking as he and Casey Jr looked first at one another, then at April. "No texts, or calls? What about social media posts? Has he made any ta day?"

"No... now that I think about it... it's been kind of quiet on that front too," April replied slowly, her previous scowl rapidly shifting to a concerned frown as she looked at them. "What's going on?"

"I can't find Leo," Casey Jr sighed, one hand running nervously through his hair. "I didn't want to freak everyone out by sounding a code red if he was just chilling somewhere... but if he's missing, and now Donnie's gone radio silent..."

"Crap," April muttered, eyes widening in realization.

"I'll send out the code," Casey Jr said, the kids face and body language shifting into what they'd all come to call his "super soldier" mode. "Raph, find Mikey and send him to the Hidden City. We can't risk them revealing themselves by targeting unsuspecting Yokai. I'll head to Tío's and get him to shut down the portal there. Have Splinter call Draxum, then start sweeping the sewers in-"

"Whoa! Slow down now," April cut in, quickly stepping forward to lay a restraining hand on both boys’ arms. "Let's not overreact yet."

"We've lost the twins April, this ain't an overreaction!" Raph rumbled, hands clenching as anxiety for his brothers burned hot and acidic in his veins. "They'll have a head start, and if they've gone rouge..."

"If they'd gone rouge, we would have heard about it by now," April countered, her touch sympathetic as she squeezed his bicep reassuringly. "It would have been all over the web if two rampaging mutants were murdering people downtown, and Hueso is on high alert for anything that might resemble the virus in the Hidden City. Since we haven't heard either, that means they are probably still safe for now. And if they are having a tough time, the last thing we should do is spook them by overreacting, hear me? "

"Yeah, I hear ya," Raph breathed as Casey jr simultaneously deflated with a muttered "yes ma’am".

"Cool," April confirmed with a nod, huffing as a bedraggled clump of curls flopped across her forehead. "Alright, here's the new plan. I'm going to hunt down a towel and my spare set of clothes. You two are going to calmly find Mikey and Splinter, fill them in, and meet me in Donnie's lab. It looks like we're going to test the new tracking system after all."

"On it, Commander!" Casey Jr replied sharply, snapping into a full on salute before taking off towards the kitchen.

"...Dang," April muttered after a few seconds of shocked silence, "He hasn't done that in over a month..."

"Kids stressed. Not gonna lie, Raph gets the feeling."

"I know big guy," April replied, stepping in to hug him as best she could. "Go get Splints, and then we'll find those dumb-dumbs and give them what for."

"Yeah, Thanks April," Raph replied, arms lifting her in an quick bear hug before moving to find their father. Pizza supreme, they were lucky to have a big sister like April.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, how does this new system work again? I mean, Donnie said he already had trackers on all of us, so why did he make a new one?" Mikey asked from his spot perched atop Raph’s shell as they all huddled around Donnie's computer, watching Aprils' fingers fly across the keys.

"Think of it less as a new system and more of a super charged expansion pack," April replied as her right thumb spammed the space bar. "Donnie wanted a better way to not just track but get ahead of his and Leo's flair ups. Their new chips are, in theory, supposed to transmit bioinformation like cardiovascular rate, respiratory rate, and core temperature. He wanted to include brain waves and neurological patterns, but we agreed to hold off on brain stuff until the base enhancements are out of beta."

"I don't care if they make it all the way through omega. Absolutely no "brain stuff"". Splinter cut in sharply, tail lashing back and forth in an agitated way that had Raph instinctively scooting them back and out of said appendages strike range.

"MmmhmyeahtotalyANYWAY," April quickly agreed, though Mikey watched as a swift click of the mouse swooped several files into a file labeled "Unfolding Genius".

"Point in being is that with this, I can both track the twins and monitor their bio signs for indicators that something has triggered them into a hunt. I had it set up for the trials we were going to run today, but as soon as I disengage that protocol, we'll be able to find both in no time."

"What were you testing today?" Mikey asked, leaning forward to watch as wave after wave of purple binary code rolled across the screen.

"Just some technical stuff, attunement to baselines. Nothing very interesting," April replied nonchalantly.

"Uh, how were you going to get a baseline without-" Casey jr started to ask skeptically, only for the computer to cut in with an obnoxiously loud sound of triumph.

"We got our boys!" April cheered.

"Where are they? Are they hurt? " Raph asked, nearly knocking Mikey from his perch as when the big guy lunged in towards the screen.

"It says they're at... the old lair?"

"Donatello said the area was unstable. Why would they go there?" Splinter asked.

"Who cares? We gotta go get 'em before they move," Raph replied, and Mikey quickly adjusted his grip as the gentle giant lumbered to his feet.

"I don't have access to the full biometric spectrum yet, but their heart rates suggest they are calm and stationary for now. Mikey, are you getting anything on the mystic end of things?" April asked, wheels screeching against the labs concrete floor as she pushed away from the desk and reached for her bat.

"Not really?" Mikey hedged, lips puckering as he turned his attention inward to poke at their collectively connected ninpo. Their family tapestry was whole once move, thank pizza, blue and purple once more interlocked with red, orange, green, silver-gray, and aquamarine. Yet...

"They're still here, but they're...looser than they should be. Duller. Like they're missing some of their pizazz."

"Then let’s go pizazz things up!" Raph barked, making warmth bloom in Mikey's bones as the big guy turned and stalked out of the lab. Though his biggest brother still had moments where he defaulted back to treating Mikey like a baby, Raph always took his opinion on mystic things seriously.

"Dad, you and April and Casey Jr stay-"

"Hey now!"

"I can help!"

"You guys stay here and prep the lair and the med bay," Raph pushed on, deep voice rumbling across the protests. "They may not need it, but it can't hurt to be prepared."

"We'll call you once we've got them," Mikey promised, tossing his remaining a family his warmest smile as he and Raph headed for the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The path to the old lair was painfully familiar, walls and tunnels covered with Mikey's once flawlessly colorful art, now shot with deep cracks and cavernous crevices that still stood as silent testament to the Shredders ferocity. Seeing it, even years later, made something deep in Raph’s heart burn with the urge to either cry or hit something.

They didn't come back here often. The four of them had never discussed it out loud, but the consensus hung like a shroud, a silent accord they'd all secretly signed in their hearts the day they'd scavenged the last of their possessions from the rubble. This place, even for all the happy memories they'd shared with it, was where they had both gained and lost their grandmother. Where home had been forever marred by devastation too painful to be near. The old subway station had been unfamiliar, rough and raw with new potential, but it was their future and all four had leaned into gathering, shaping, and modifying it with every conceivable comfort and curiosity to make that future their new home.

So why would the twins have come here? Had something happened? Were the bio-what-zits wrong? Why hadn't they come to Raph for help? They had promised they'd would, in those family talks with Dr. Feelings (and a rougher session or two with Dr. Delicate Touch). Both Donnie and Leo had sworn to be honest, to tell them if the krangy parts of them were taking over again. Maybe they'd...

"-ph...aph...RAPHAEL!"

"Gah!"

Raph nearly jumped a foot into the air as his baby brother’s shout was accompanied by dexterous fingers prodding at a soft, ticklish spot at the juncture of his neck and shell.

"Aaaaaye! Mikey, what the shell was that for?!" he hissed, jaw flexing as he twisted his head to glare at his passenger.

""I've been calling your name for like the last five minutes!" Mikey scowled in reply, dark eyes returning the heat as they scanned his face. "You missed the turn off for the side door.”

"Oh...Raphs bad," he mumbled, turning away to pretend to look around and "reorient" himself before turning to head back the way they'd come. It was a stupid thing to do. Even half blown to smithereens he still knew these tunnels like the back of his hand, and so did Mikey.

"Soooooooooo...want to talk about it?"

"What "it"?"

"The "it" that's turning your Raph chasm into a Raph crater," Mikey pressed, leaning in closer. "You aren't subtle Raphie. Come on, spit it out."

"Nuthin. I'm jus worried bout the twins," Raph replied, grimacing at how weak and defensive the excuse sounded.

"They haven't moved at all in the last fifteen minutes. Aprils been sending me updates every few minutes to confirm it," Mikey pushed. "What else is rolling around in there?"

"Raph...doesn't like that they went off on their own. I mean, doesn't that bother you too? After all those talks and lectures. After that near miss with April! They oughta know better than to just up and disappear on us!"

"I mean, yeah, you're not wrong. They should have told us they were going out...But they probably wanted their own space, and none of us have been really good at giving them that as of late."

"It's for their own good! They know that! They agreed to it!" Raph growled, agitation growing in his gut as he turned left and stomped down another cross tunnel.

"That's probably why it's taken them this long to pull a Houdini. They've put up with a lot. Draxums checkups, restricted surface time... heck Raphie, we're like, super-limited-edition-mint-condition-lucky that they just went to the old lair instead of the other side of the city."

"So, what do you want us to do Mikey? Cut'em loose in the Hidden City and hope to pizza supreme that they don't lose their cool and maim a whole bunch of Yokai?! Let'em go out with a "have fun, try not to kill any humans on the way home?!"

"I want my family back to normal Raph! I want to be their brother again, not their jailer!"

"And you think I don't?!"

"I think you-"

The happy jingle of Aprils ring tone cut through their budding argument, bouncing and rebounding off the concrete and rebar. Raph turned his head away as Mikey fumbled for his phone, the muscles in his jaw rhythmically clenching as he chewed over what to do or say next.

Deep down, he knew Mikey had a point. The twins couldn't spend their lives locked up at home. And if he was honest, neither could he. As close as their family was, and as reassuring as it was to have them near, the frustration of being continuously chained to one another was a steadily rising tide under the surface of forced calm. Donnie wanted to go out to the junkyard. Leo wanted to bother Hueso. Raph...Raph really missed hanging out with Casey, the nights were the two of them would meet up to spar and end up gushing for hours about the latest wrestling match and which moves they wanted to try out for themselves. The decision to limit both the information about what happened to a few and limit the family's contact with outsiders who weren't Casey Jr or April had made a lot of sense months ago, but...

"Alright, yeah. We're almost there. Tell Barry to hold off for now, we'll call if we need a portal," Mikey said, pulling Raph’s attention away from his thoughts and back to the dimly lit reality of the tunnel. "Uh huh...yep...I'll text you the level once we get to them, promise. Gotta go Apes. Love."

"Everything good?" Raph asked as Mikey ended the call.

"Yeah. She said she did some techno-thingamagiggy with the trackers and got a better signal. Both icons are in Donnie's old room."

"Oh..."

"Dad also called Barry but told him to stay on standby. And Barry agreed, so we have backup!"

"Cool big man..."

"And...um...I'm sorry-"

"Raphs sorry-"

They blinked at each other for a moment, before bursting out in soft peals of laughter that bounced down the path, warming the space around them.

"J-jinx!" Mikey wheezed, "you owe me garlic knots!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll tell Hueso ta add'em next time we go...An we'll go soon."

"Soon?"

"Mhm. You're right big guy. We can't live locked up forever, and Raph's sorry for bein a jerk about it."

"You're not a jerk Raphie. You've been doing a lot to keep us safe. I'm sorry if I made it seem like I don't appreciate that."

"Already forgiven. Now, let’s go get our bozos back."

The original entrance to their old home had remained staunchly buried under tons of rubble, but the side entrance that had once served as the garage was still blessedly accessible to Raph's bulk. Water dripped from the ceiling, a softly rolling symphony of drip, plip, plop that beckoned them further in. It was not hard to find and follow evidence of the twin’s passage. Footprints, two sets, disturbed the thick layer of dust on the ground, and pieces of rubble had clearly been moved to widen the path.

Their bedrooms had suffered various degrees of damage from both the fire and falling rubble, and while his lab had been utterly destroyed, Donnie's bedroom had somehow maintained the most structural integrity. The hollow maw of the open door loomed as they approached, what little metal Donnie hadn't stripped when they moved ragged and rusting, hanging like broken teeth that warned against casual approach. Raph felt Mikey shrink back into his shell slightly as he crouched to peer past the door jam.

The twins were scrunched against the far wall, curled around one another on whatever was left of Donatello's bed. Donnie lay with his head in Leo's lap, long legs tucked to his chest. His goggles sat askew on his head, knocked off center by the hands were loosely pressed over his tympanum. Leo sat slumped against the wall; body curved protectively around his other half. The wicked claws of one hand drummed random patterns across the purple titanium of the battle shell Donnie wore while the other hand toyed with the tails of his mask. Soft hisses and churrs filled the air around them, words replaced by more instinctual vocalizations broken every now and then by a higher whistle or a deeper hum. Neither looked up at or acknowledge Raph and Mikey's intrusion.

Raph opened his mouth to call his brothers, but a quick tap on the shoulder redirected his attention to the other brother sitting on his shoulder, and the phone screen that was promptly pushed towards his face.

"They feel weird, lik thy rn't all there. Don't want to startle thm in here." Mikey had hastily written.

Raph quickly ducked back, tucking them against the outer wall before pulling out his own phone.

"R they full gone?"

"No, just loose. Think they're slippin in an out of it mentally."

"Any ideas? Raphs open."

"Operation BF-Prime?”

"Wow. Pullin out the big guns. Raph likes."

";D"

Raph stifled the urge to chuckle as his thumbs flew across the screen of his phone.

"Alright. Text Apes and CJ the plan, then head back the way we came. We're luring them out to the Atrium."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was easier to breathe here in the dark. The dark protected them, far away from the smells and the sounds and the eyes that always watched, always saw. It concealed their weakness, hid away the urge to lunge and claw and...

tap, tap, tippity-tapity tiptiptiptip…

He hissed weakly as the tapping broke through the buzz of their thoughs, tightening his hands as though smothering the ability to hear could smother the thoughts that raced round and round and round inside his head, wobbling nauseously between he, me, they, we, him, us at what felt like breakneck speeds.

A reassuring purr rumbled from their...from Leo's throat in reply.

That was Leo. His twin. One of four brothers. He was Donatello. A genius. A scientist. He loved fashion and dancing and Atomic Lass, and Leo loved the dramatic twists in soap operas and winning and basketball. He had to remember that. Had to organize and amend and enforce it on the thrashing, howling thing in his skull that though in plurals and endlessly chased and craved connection... to be together...together…

Taptaptaptap-CRASH.

They were on their feet in an instant, claws unsheathed, and teeth bared as they warily looked around. The shadows had not changed, but new smells had entered the safe zone. Familiar, so familiar. Family.

Togetherbite...

Nono...no....nobite…

They hissed in displeasure as they stumbled from their den, disapproval and discord swirling in their heads as they followed the path, and the scents, towards the open space in the center.

Those who belonged together...togetherneeded...theyneeded...Bite? No. Nobite. Promised. Promisedwho? Significantpromise? Yes! Promised...

Something sprang from the shadows, arms the size of trees pinning their arms down before hauling them back and in, lifting their feet clear off the floor.

"Mikey now!"

They screamed as fire exploded in their synapsis, thrashing and snarling as bright marigold and blazing red crashed into that thing in their skull, slamming it down with a devastating suplex before binding it in smoldering gold chains. The colors peeled the thing back, pushing it down, down, down and out of their precious space. His space, his mind...

"Donnie!"

"Mikey?"

The orange flames did not burn this time, permitting only the gentlest heat as they flew back to joyfully whirl around him. His little brother, happiness and sunshine and power incarnate. Their family's true north, constant and sure. He reached for that light, hazy purple seeking relief and finding it offered with open arms. Filaments of marigold wove a gossamer net, pulling him in and up until his head broke the metaphorical surface.

"...be home in five. How they lookin?"

"I got through to Donnie, but he's kinda woozy. I'll work on getting through to Leo next!"

"I sure hope April is ready for us, because we are comin in hot!"

His body was hanging from something, limp legs swaying weakly as whatever held him moved forward in a run. His hands pawed mechanically at something firm and leathery, finding insufficient purchase against whatever held him still. To his right something akin to a lawnmower dying could be heard, high pitched keens sliding down to incoherent rumbles that might, if one were to be extraordinarily generous with the definition, be classified as words.

"Got him! Lee, can you understand me? Blink once for yes, and twice for no!"

Leo...

"GerOooooofffff," Leo moaned, voice guttural as it warbled on the edge of a growl.

His blue-clad brother was tucked under Raphs other arm, hands weakly plucking and scratching at their older brother's forearm in much the same way he had. Slitted pupils glared at their brethren, their...his fangs on full display, a silent warning, and ultimately a hollow one.

Donnie could see it in the light that gleamed from behind those predators’ eyes, feel it distantly echoing from that thing in his skull that was still pinned down by red and orange energies. Leo was awake and rapidly regaining control over their-his, for the love of shell, his-mental faculties. He wouldn't be a threat to the family. If only Donnie could feel so confident of his own self-control. The world still felt...watery for lack of a better word, like it was contained in the cup Mikey used to clean his brushes. Colors and lights bled, melting down in big looping swirls as his mind fought to preserve the tentatively won separation of turtle and monster. The thing wailed, tugging desperately at the barren threads of his thoughts and powers, trying to pull him back in and down. It needed him. It was him. It was...lonely? Scared? Angry? Confused?

"Almost there Lee," Mikey's assurance pulled his attention back, the familiar sight and scents of their new home drifting into view. "Don't worry, Aprils got operation BF-prime ready to roll, so we'll have you feeling better in no time!"

Operation BF Prime... he knew what that was. He helped design it. With April. It had been his way to apologize, as funny enough, Hallmark didn't make a "sorry my freaky genetic makeup and unpredictable virus-based mutations made me hunt you down and almost kill you" card. So instead, he'd spent hours with her, first on the phone and then in person, coming up with safety procedures that covered the serious, the strange, and even some that were downright whacky. They had talked about what happened, and eventually even laughed. She'd promised that they'd fix things to...toge...

"Special delivery!" Raph called, charging through the front door without slowing down.

"Main area. April’s getting the last piece."

Casey Jr's scent hit his nose hard, and a strangled hiss slipped through his teeth before he could stop it.

"Easy Dee. Hold your breath for a minute."

He did as he was told, desperately squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to force himself to think about the code. BF-Prime. BF-Prime. Prime. Part of the Alpha series. Top protocol, used for their "bad days" as April put it. B, not A. Not something they'd need Draxum for.

BF stood for...

He squawked as Raph’s arm suddenly disappeared. Limb’s flailing, he dropped into a nest of...pillows? Yes. Feathery soft, well-worn pillows and felty blankets that smelled of the family's detergent.

Oh right... BF stood for blanket fort.

He churred as instinct had him burrowing down, swiftly burying himself in the ocean of softness as Leo hit the pile with an undignified yelp. Gentle fingers tugged off his goggles, smoothing down the creases in his mask before slipping his noise canceling headphones into place. Something big, heavy, and luxuriously silky covered them both, trapping Leo against his back as divinely weighted warmth infused his tight-strung muscles.

Voices, blessedly muted by the protective cone of his headphones, rumbled overhead. Like the burble of water through the pipes, there but easy to ignore. Less easy to ignore were the fingers that worked their way beneath the blankets and pillows to pry at the safety latches on his battle shell. He growled, mouth opening to snap at the intruder only to be met with something cold and semi-hard being pressed between his teeth. He instinctively bit down, and his mouth was quickly flooded by the refreshingly bland taste of cucumber.

"I know, I know," someone soothed, silky fur tickling the edge of his jaw as that someone adjusted the layers around him. "Bear with us Purple, you and Blue will be more comfortable if they take it off now."

He whined, fangs shredding pleasantly through the cucumber as the latches at his shoulders and hips flipped open. He dipped his head to chase that familiar touch as the weight of his armor was taken away, leaving the softest parts of him open and vulnerable.

"It’s alright, my clever purple. You can rest now; your papa is here."

Weight settled in around him, above and below, side to side, careful not to crowd, but close enough that he could feel their warmth. Leo shifted, rotating until he was laying fully across Donnie’s back, a reassuring pressure protecting his soft shell.

He sighed as cheerful tangerine tugged at the edges of his consciousness, wearily relinquishing his hold on wakefulness as he turned inward, following his little brother’s lead. The supernova that was his family's collective ninpo burst into life, rippling bands of color rich enough to put the aurora borealis to shame eagerly reaching out to draw him closer. Silver-gray, summer green, and vibrant aquamarine joined red and orange in holding back the thing, quieting its incessant howling until it was barely a whisper. He sagged in exhausted relief, swiftly followed by washed out blue as their family bundled them up and held them close.

"You dumb-dumbs," Red buzzed, worry and affection pulling them into its protection. "You scared the shell outa us."

"Sorry Raphie," Leo's blue slurred, sticking close to Donnie's purple even as Casey Jr's aquamarine stubbornly wedged himself in on his other side. "Didn't mean to."

"Why did you leave?" April asked, green sidling in, silently nudging him in gentle recognition when he buzzed in apology.

"Now is not the time for questions" Their father declared, silver-grey stretching to surround them all. "You boys need to rest and regain your balance, we'll talk when you wake up." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he woke, pulled from the loving tangle of his family’s network by his body's irritating biological needs. His mouth was dry and tasted of stale cucumber, eyelids itchy and gummy as he tried to blink sleep away from his eyes. His headphones had been knocked off at some point, leaving his tympanum free to begin picking out pieces from the low conversation flowing around him.

"So, who is going to..."

"Hueso said about an hour. Probably accounting for Leo time. So-"

"Dad's going-"

"-been down for a while. Should we wake them?"

"Donnie? Doooooonie. You awake?"

"No," he huffed, shoving his head further into the cradle of his arms when the voices cheered.

"Awake and talking! Good going Dee!"

"I am neither. It's a figment of your imagination."

"Uh huh. Come on big baby, sit up. I've got some flavorless juice here with your name on it."

Warm hands pulled at him, ignoring his grumbles of protest as he was propped upright. A straw slipped between his lips silenced him, but the intrusion swiftly forgiven when his preferred beverage washed the staleness from his tongue and throat.

"There you go. Feel better?"

"Mmmm," he hummed, hand rising to take the cup as he gave up pretense and blinked his eyes open.

He was propped against Raph's plastron at the center of a frankly massive blanket fort. What appeared to be every cushion, pillow, blanket and quilt that the family owned had been piled into the living room, couches and chairs rearranged to provide a stable framework. April knelt to his left, dressed in the spare clothes that she kept in his lab. She seemed to hear his silent question, giving him an exaggerated grimace before replying.

"SOMEONE forgot to meet me at the park, and I got soaked on the walk here."

"Sweet Marie Curie, that was today?!" he gasped, his stomach twisting unpleasantly when April nodded. "I am so sorry April."

"It's alright man. I'm guessing you've been kind of out of it lately."

"Eh, not much more than any other day," Leo chimed in sleepily, and a quick glance to his right found his twin propped up against Raph's legs, firmly sandwiched between Mikey and Casey Jr.

He tried to frown, but like the drowsy smile he got in reply, it lacked any of the real power it should have held. Not when he honestly felt like he could easily fall back asleep if he blinked for too long. His mind was so blessedly silent, the thing muted by the collective weight of his family ninpo, and he was only prevented from drifting by a finger softly poking his cheek.

"Nuh uh, eyes open D. You can go back to sleep after you've eaten something," Mikey nudged, unrepentant as he forced Donnie to open his eyes once more. "Dad is on his way to pick up our favorites from Run of the Mill now. You don't want to miss that!"

"And, while we wait, you two can finally tell us what in the world made you two think disappearing like that was a good idea," Raph groused.

"Oh, yeah...that," Leo replied, voice carefully light and nonchalant as Donnie cringed. "It was really all a big misunderstanding. Dee had an idea, and we wanted to test it out first before we brought it to you guys. Must have lost track of time."

"Leo, you two were basically at alpha level coherence. That's a bit more than "losing track of time"," Mikey countered, his face dressed in earnest concern that border lined on distress, and Donnie felt vindicated when even Leo flinched away from it. "We were really worried about you."

"I'm sorry Mikey. We didn't mean for it to end up like that, I promise," Leo repeated, pulling Mikey in closer for a one-armed hug.

"What were you trying to test?" Casey Jr asked.

"Something, something, big-brained nerd stuff?" Leo replied with a wave of his hand. The attempted deflection fell flat amongst the cushions as all other eyes turned to stare at Donnie.

"I... was testing to see if it were possible for me to "reprogram" the mutations caused by the lingering Krang influence," Donnie answered stiffly, ducking his head as the atmosphere within the fort went tight with tension.

"You what now?!"

"Donnie!"

"And you didn't think we needed to know that?!"

"That's impossible!"

"No, it’s not!" he snapped, neck muscles cramping as he jerked his chin up to glare at the last person to speak, Casey Jr. "Let us recall that I was the one temporarily bonded to the technodrome, and thus I have a far better understanding in regard to its functions than any of you! It was as technological as it was biological. It had functions and subroutines, and it processed information as data. Even if this thing isn't a full technodrome, it still processes information the same way and it is integrated with my ninpo. The same ninpo that lets me replicate any technology I can comprehend?! If I can study this thing, if I can understand its functions, then I should be able to use my ninpo to rewrite them!"

"If it were possible to rewrite krang matter, Uncle Tello would have-"

"That version of me didn't know what I know. I can do things he never even dreamed of."

"Ooookay, let's put that bit aside for now," April cut in quickly as Casey Jr's face darkened. "What were you specifically testing?"

"Nothing complicated," Donnie shrugged, trying his best to ignore the way Raphs unhappy objection vibrated through his leathery carapace. "I was trying to establish what kind of interface the thing requires to send and receive commands."

"And you couldn't have done that here?" Raph prodded.

"No," Donnie replied, shoulders rising as his tone unintentionally turned irritated and snappish.

"Why?" Mikey pressed.

"Because you are all-"

"-distracting," Leo cut in smoothly, one foot nudging Donnie's thigh under the blanket in a clear signal to shut up.

"Oh..."

"It's nothing personal Mikey," Leo soothed, "it's just with everything happening in the lair, it gets loud, and that makes it kind of hard for Donbon to concentrate."

Even after sixteen years, the ease with which Leo pulled together plausible explanations from strands of truth and slivers of fact astounded Donnie.

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't come to us with the idea first," Raph chided, tenacious as a dog with a bone. "Raph isn’t kidding when I say you scared the shell out of us. We nearly called Draxum to find you two!"

"Because you would have listened to us anyway."

The words were bitter on his tongue, and he dragged in another sip of flavorless juice in the awkward silence that followed.

"What do you mean? Of course we would have listened!" Casey Jr protested.

"No, you wouldn't," Donnie shook his head hard, sitting up as he curled his knees up to his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the fingers on Leo's free hand begin to subtly flutter.

"Yes, we would have Dee," April rebutted. "We would have worked with you, just like you and I have been working on the new protocols."

"Any time the thing in my head comes up in conversation, you all shut us down!" Donnie snapped, fingers flexing and flicking as hot irritation filled his chest. "You ask a million questions about what it feels like, what triggers it, how Draxums’ medication does or doesn't affect it, but you don't ask me what I think about it, or what we want to do about it. You act like we'll go rabid if someone sneezes too loud! I can't even be in my own lab without someone watching me. If we'd told you my idea, you would have treated us like invalids, shut it down, and forbidden me to even try!"

"Donatello, that is not fair. We're just trying to-"

"Hang on," Mikey cut in, tone firm as he raised one scarred hand, "Donnie is asking to be heard here, so let's give him the floor and hear him out without interruptions. Go ahead D,"

"It's...I..." Donnie fumbled under the attention, fingers now frantically plucking at handfuls of the blanket as he strained to form some kind of coherent thought from the twisted mess inside of him.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how he wanted to approach things. He needed time to organize his preliminary data, and make a PowerPoint complete with charts and tables. Something visual, and respectable. Something that would make his family understand. Something to tame and order and hold back these gross emotions that stuck to his lungs like tar and gathered along his lashes like pine pitch, burning and stinging and making it hard to breathe or blink. He just wanted...

"We get you guys love us, and we get that you want to keep us safe, but we need you to back off," Leo spoke up, gracefully shifting attention to himself. Donnie shivered in relief, leaning over with silent gratitude when Leo stretched out to tangle their legs together.

"We need you to treat us like us," his twin continued, shoulders thrown back as a spark of leadership entered his eyes and voice, "like Donnie and Leo, not patient x. We need you to include us in the conversations, not hide them behind closed doors when you think we're not paying attention. You see it protecting us, but all it does is make us feel isomalated."

"Isolated," Donnie corrected, hiding a slight smile of affection in the crook of his elbow when Leo nudged him playfully with his ankle.

"What he said," Leo joked, flashing Donnie a smile and a wink before turning back to the others.

"Raph...didn't mean to make you guys feel like that," the giant of their family replied uncomfortably, one hand rubbing at the edge of the scar that stretched over his eye. "We just didn't want you to have to think about it."

"That ship sailed a while ago for both of us Raphie," Leo replied, a hint of sad frustration sneaking in between the syllables as he spoke. "You heard what Drax said, there is no fixing this, only managing it. This thing is with Donnie and me every second of every day. I wake up fighting the urge to bite something. I walk around the lair, and sometimes I have to stop to sort out which are things I'm seeing and feeling, and what things are from Dontron. Sometimes I dream about hunting and...and that's our lives now. We can't go back, and we can't ignore it. We have to figure out how to live with it on our terms."

"Is that why you went to our old place? So, you could face it on your "own terms"?" Mikey asked, his usual sunny face solum as Leo shrugged.

"Maybe a little," the red eared slider allowed, raising one hand palm down before tilting it side to side in a so-so gesture. "We also wanted to have some proof of concept before we got everyone's hopes up, and the lair being so crowded does make it hard to concentrate. We figured the old lair was isolated enough that no one would be in danger if we experimented with the thing, but close enough that we could be back before you guys noticed."

The blanket fort was silent for several minutes, and each second felt like it was drilling into Donnie's brain, winding his muscles into tense springs as he waited for his sibling’s judgement to fall. He could feel the same tension coiling inside Leo, and from the way his fingers were fluttering Donnie had little doubt that if his twin still had his katanas he would have already teleported out of the room.

It was their big sister who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry you guys."

"It's fine Apes,"

"No, it's not," she shook her head, one hand landing on Donnie's shoulder as she reached out to Leo with the other. "You guys shouldn't have to feel like you need to hide things from us in order to have a say, and you shouldn't feel ostracized in your own care either. We did that, and I'm sorry for my part in it."

A chorus of "Me too," "Our bad," and "I'm sorry guys", closely followed her statement.

"Aww, you saps," Leo teased, but the smile he gave as Mikey and Casey Jr pinned him a hug was his genuine smile, big and warm and a little crooked.

"We'll do better. Raph promises," Raphel added, and Donnie allowed himself to be swept into his big brother’s arms with only a minor theatrical groan.

"Yes, yes, acknowledgements and apologies given and received all around. Now please loosen your grip. I don't currently have the proper equipment to withstand a full force Raph hug."

"Yep, that's our Donnie! Sensitive as a soaked cat."

"I beg your considerable pardon! I-"

"-am gonna quit stalling and tell us the results of test you guys ran. Come on, I'm dying to know! " April redirected the conversation with teasing poke to his ribs.

"Sadly, the results were less than conclusive," Donnie reluctantly admitted, resuming his slumped posture against Raph’s plastron once he was released from the hug. "It does seem to have some form of OS, but one that doesn't respond to scripts like java, python, or R."

"Did you really think it would?"

"It was possible," Donnie shrugged, new energy sparking through his thoughts as excitement for his ideas blossomed. "It is part of me after all, so theoretically it could have altered itself to fit my cognitive process the same way it altered itself to my biology. And it has, only it hasn't altered to fit my way of thinking, but rather to fit my ninpo!"

"Wait, you think in code?" Mikey interrupted.

"Sometimes. It saves time."

"How does that even-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh, don't question the nerd logic," Leo counseled as he casually covered Mikey's mouth. "Just roll with it. It's way easier, trust me."

"Are the interruptions done?" Donnie sniffed primly, holding down a smirk by sheer will as his blue and orange dumb-dumbs nodded in tandem.

"Right, as I was saying, I was able to ascertain that the thing is adapted to receive signals from ninpo, which is likely why it can be effectively suppressed for short periods of time by our collective network. We are likely overloading its command center."

"Okay, it takes commands from ninpo. Can that help with you guys going all hissy and bitey on us?"

"Theoretically? The issue is that while it might be responsive to ninpo, there seems to be an additional code needed in order to deliver and process commands. Some combination I have yet to determine. It also seems that the thing is very sensitive regarding the specifics of the delivery method."

"I'll say," Leo chimed in, "that thing is more sensitive than a diva on a bad day."

"Something you'd know nuthin about, right Lee?" Raph teased, sending the whole fort into riotous laughter as Leo gasped with playfully theatrical afront.

"Hey now, don't come crying to me for secrets when you start getting dry scales and crow’s feet while my skin is still dewy soft and gorgeous!" Leo jabbed back, batting his eyes as their big brother roared with laughter.

"Okay, okay, focus guys!" April giggled, leaning over Donnie to swat at Leo's knee. "Finish telling the story."

"Not a whole lot left to tell," Leo shrugged, covertly glancing at Donnie as the others reigned in their mirth. Something pulsed between them, a bundle of wordless intent and questions that Donnie could not parse but understood all the same. The nod he gave was minuscule, barely a dip of his chin, but Leo seemed to read it all the same.

"The thing got all riled when Donnie tried to feed it his nerd script. I think it tried to eat us again, but I kept a grip on things while DonDon here played scientist. It worked pretty good for a while, but I guess it kind of crept up on us without us realizing and won out when you guys startled us. Which, on that note, good call going with the main room for the ambush."

"That was Raph! I was the one who initiated operation BF-Prime" Mikey chimed in, beaming when Leo playfully rubbed his knuckles across the top of Mikey's head.

"Whoa, the big brain over here is coming for my job!" Leo praised.

"So, you were able to keep control, even as Donnie was messing with the thing?" Casey Jr asked, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he looked between Leo and Donnie.

"It appears so," Donnie nodded, the tips of his fangs needling the skin of his lower lip as he searched for the correct descriptive words. "It was like...like being in an ocean. As long as Leo stayed at the surface, I could dive under and still find my way back up."

"If that’s true then...maybe we could use that as the basis for some new protocols."

"Oh?" Donnie replied warily, barely resisting the urge to pull away as the attention zeroed in on Casey Jr. "What kind of protocols did you have in mind?"

"One's that let us help you guys’ figure this out, on your terms," Casey Jr assured, shifting away from Leo slightly to better face the group. "We were wrong to shut you guys out, but we also can't risk what might happen to you guys if we don't proceed with some caution. So, as a compromise, what if we set up a new system, using parts of your old home as a central testing ground. If we outfit it with security features, then you and Leo could have a stable place to both get space from us and to test out your control of the thing. The security could link to your computer here, and one of us could monitor it and be prepared to respond if something goes sideways."

"If we get the new tracking system working, we could even be collecting other lines of data that could be used for comparison later!" April chimed in, excitement growing in her voice.

"And if something did go wrong, we could be there in no time!" Mikey added, nodding enthusiastically.

"Hmmmm...doesn't sound like a terrible idea," Leo slowly nodded, another indescribable pulse pressing against the back on Donnie's mind as he too slowly nodded.

"Indeed... though I have some thoughts. Like, how you would get in to assist us should we need it. Baring the side entrance, most of the old lair is too unstable to provide an additional access point."

"Simple, we'll portal in," Casey Jr replied.

"Wait...you mean I get my katanas back?!" Leo perked up.

"You both said you were able to stay anchored while Donnie poked the krang hound," Casey Jr nodded, fingers drumming back and forth across his knee as he spoke. "Your portals, in combination with the proposed alert system, should mean we'll be able to reach you in time to prevent the situation from devolving to alpha levels. What do you both think?"

"I could definitely handle the security measures so long as we keep it to portions of the atrium, and perhaps my prior abode," Donnie hummed, his mind already whirling through possible schematics and upgrades. "It would necessitate a trip to the junkyard."

"Okay. How about the day after tomorrow? Raph can help you carry back whatever ya need."

"Now that I have portal privileges back, we can drop supplies directly to the old lair and still have time to go to Hueso's!" Leo boasted, the joy from the return of his weapons turning the atmosphere of the fort tangibly sweet as they all continued to throw out ideas and suggestions for what Donnie quickly dubbed the "Theta" protocols. The conversation rolled on, slowly morphing from serious planning to outrageous boasts mixed with increasingly hairbrained proposals and double dares. The soft walls of the fort cocooned them in the warmth of and joy of their laughter, blocking out the world and its many problems for at least one night. Nothing, not even biology altering aliens, could pull them apart. "Heeeello?! Is anyone hungry or will I have to eat these pizzas by myself?"

Well, maybe not nothing.

"Pizza!"

Their fathers voice led to a stampede as the aromatic scent of cheesy, grease goodness filled the air. They all scrambled to find and exit, dirty tactics and old tricks liberally employed as each member of the family raced to be first in the kitchen.

"I call first go!"

"Keep your mitts off my meat lovers!"

"Hawaiian all the way baby!"

"It doesn't matter how many times you say it Nardo, pineapple on pizza is still an affront to decency!"

"Oh yeah? How about you decent deez-"

"Boy, do not even finish that sentence!"

Their father was waiting for them, already tucking into a slice as they all scrambled to grab their plates and divy up the spoils.

"Mmmmmmm is there anything better than the boneman's pies?" Leo moaned as he sank his teeth into a perfectly gooey slice.

"It's no hot soup, but I suppose it will do," Their pops teasingly grumbled, ears swiveling to lay flat as his words garnered rather loud protests.

#angst fairy writes #rottmnt #trilo fang au #trilosartstrikesagain #trilodtiys #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt april #rottmnt casey jr #mentions of draxum but he is not really here.#Remember kids #communication is important #long post

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rivendell-poet · 3 days ago

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*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 - 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « SFW Alphabet »

Guess who's suddenly making a quick appearance again? It's me. Hope everyone likes this one (also this is my first time writing for Boromir on his own??) Also, although most of this alphabet is standard I realise I have replaced some of it overtime with my own. Nothing major, but the changes are as followed : C = Courtship (instead of cuddles), E = Effort (instead of ending), and T = Trinkets (instead of try).

Wordcount : 2.5k

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Physically being close to you and spending time with you are his two big ones, because why would he have a lover who he didn’t want to spend time with? It’s subtle at first, but eventually you notice that your schedules in Gondor work so perfectly well together. There’s a small break between meetings that he happens to be in as well, coming up to you with a smile before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. When asked he simply laughs, and says whoever has designed the days must simply recognise the love between the two of you (it’s him doing this, it’s almost always him).

In terms of physical affection he never gets overbearing, but does seem to have some kind of pathological need to greet you with a hug or kiss whenever he walks into a room with you in. It’s usually chaste, his lips simply grazing your forehead, but his eyes still shine with so much love and he’s grinning as he pulls away.

Boromir is a very naturally affectionate person, and he sees no shame in acknowledging his love for you. He is, however, understanding that not everyone is as affectionate as him - so if you don’t want as much acknowledgement/affection in public, he’ll respect your wishes.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Exceptional best friend, probably one of the most (if not the most) supportive of the men in Middle Earth. He’s a soldier, so he understands the seriousness of topics - how to treat people with tact. But he also is good at raising the mood, at making people see the hope in a dark situation. Having people laugh even when things seem to be falling apart. Also, he’s Faramir’s brother - he simply will be good at being emotionally supportive and validating of feelings. It just comes with the territory.

C = Courtship (How do they finally ask you out? What do they do in the days before?) Has a rather good facade of confidence. The key word there being facade. He’s determined to do it properly, catching you as you’re heading out for the day and asking you if ‘you’ll honour him with a meeting’. You smile as you see the way he lights up when you say ‘yes’ (and then the brief flash of terror in his eyes). Because Boromir doesn’t truly know what he’s doing. He knows how he feels about you, he has for a while, and he knows what he wants to do - to convey - he just doesn’t have the words for it.

Waiting for you, he wishes he had a silver-tongue like his brother, that he could accurately confess. But as you walk in, he barely needs to. The way he sits up, eyes shining with a smile (the blush across his face), makes it so obvious he’s in love with you. So obvious even you begin to realise, once he’s risen to greet you. Still, you say nothing as he greets you. You feel your own cheeks heat up as he confesses to you. There are times when he rushes, or repeats itself. But it’s sincere, genuine - a singing of your praises, and a gentle ask if you’ll accept his heart.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) Yes. Boromir definitely wants to settle down - it’s part of why he fights so hard. For a home. For somewhere he can truly feel safe. But his brother is also a ranger, so he can accept if you need to be away and travel for a period of time - as long as you could come back to him. (A little piece of his heart always breaks off with you when you leave, but it mends as long as you return.) Also, regarding Finduilas, he knows how much living in happiness and where you want is important. He would not be the one to keep you in Minas Tirith.

Very good at removing dirt and dust from the house, not incredible at keeping it ‘tidy’. His desk is a mess, yet he somehow inexplicably knows where everything is. Sometimes chooses very odd places to put things (‘my sewing needles, they’re probably near the kitchen knives in the small container. Why?’) Decent at cooking - can be very good when he puts the day aside to make things for you.

E = Effort (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, everyday tasks?) Again, Boromir is the type of person to put as much effort as he feasibly can into everything he can. Dates are sometimes spontaneous, when your schedules happen to be clear and the weather is good enough to drag you outside, or around the streets of Minas Tirith (or to cuddle and read with you if not). Other times dates are planned in advance, a nice location or unique activity. As steward’s son, his marriage to you is probably an unofficial holiday (if he was steward, it would probably be an official one). It makes him smile, knowing that so many of the young couples he sees on that day and their smiles are because of the love the two of you share. It also makes it much easier for him to argue for the day off.

In terms of everyday tasks, he’s good at completing them - although it’s never to a perfect standard. From constant duties to attend and wanting to spend a little time with you he doesn’t always have the time to see to his more domestic tasks. Should that be the case he generally tries to send a servant up with his apologies.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Always expected that marriage would, eventually, be something he had to do. He could never have imagined he would be able to marry for love - to be able to marry you. He buys the ring quite quickly, only about a year into courtship, although it takes him longer to present it. There are moments before the proposal he feels he wants too, but the moment he does end up choosing is perfect.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Mixture with both of them. He’s certainly in tune with emotions (his and your own), and is neither afraid to cry in front of you or comfort you if you need it. Similarly, he’ll always look out for you - he’s not going to randomly roughhouse with you or do anything similar - but he also doesn’t see the point in treating you like you're made of glass. He will give you big hugs that, for a second, are accidentally quite tight. He will ask to spar with you, and then laugh when you hit him successfully with a sword.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like? What about cuddles?) I think I say this for all Tolkien characters, but he’s also a very tactile person. Will certainly hug you when he can. It’s a proper hug as well, fully enveloping you as he rests his head on yours (or the other way around). Definitely a cuddles person. Cannot get the armour off fast enough for him to cuddle you after a battle, to feel your heartbeat next to his and be reassured you’re alive. Generally the big spoon in bed, but should you ask he’s happy to switch roles.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Like with proposing, it happens quite early in the relationship. He means for it to be a large moment, a grand gesture. Instead it’s after a battle. The two of you finding each other - you’d just run into his arms and he could breathe knowing the blood wasn’t yours. In his arms, he’d whispered how much he loved you. Both of you stilled realising what he’d said, before you repeated it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) He does get jealous of people. Not horribly, he can behave himself, but it’s something that you notice. Generally more hover-y or protective after he’s jealous, staying closer to you with one of your hands in his. Faramir likes to tease him about it, which can often break his mood when he stops to laugh and realises what he’s doing.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Views kissing as very intimate, so isn’t always as liberal with them as some of the others are. A kiss in public will often be reserved to a gentle, almost ghost-touch on your hand at formal occasions. The number of times he's kissed you in public are few and far between, but always full of joy and emotion. The strength of his love for you outweighing almost anything else.

When in private, his kisses are full but not demanding. A hand gently cupping your face, with complete love and devotion in his eyes. Occasionally a kiss is simply pressed onto your form while cuddling, but it’s even rarer. Boromir enjoys kisses more as personal ones - a show of affection, but he does enjoy you peppering him with kisses. A soft touch while your in his arms will always make him smile.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Boromir is great around kids. He’s strong enough to lift them, which they always love, and is very willing to play with them and listen to them talk. Thought he’d have to be a father one day, so did take effort to make sure he was good with them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Likes to lie with you in bed for as long as is socially acceptable. Perhaps a tiny bit longer. (Has been late to at least one meeting because he was tired and just didn’t want to leave your arms.) Generally both of you will get up around the same time, and he’ll either start making a drink or some breakfast. Occasionally he surprises you with breakfast in bed (does it very successfully as well, there’s about six different options that are all beautifully cooked).

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Tends to stay up later at nights talking to you. At first you can see Boromir scribbling away over some important document, but he’ll always be nearby you. Taking some strength in your company - in a way, you’re the reason he gets everything done so quickly, so he can spend more time with you. (You’re also the reason his resolve begins to crumble, but he digresses.) Once he's finished he’ll come directly beside you, and then you often talk with each other until one is too tired to continue. He does often carry you into bed.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Boromir is open about most of his life stories because, as Captain of the White Tower, if he doesn’t tell you a number of his men wil volunteer. And he’d rather you hear his life story from him. The only thing that takes him longer to open up about is his personal life, his true opinions of Gondor’s fight and of his family. This comes more slowly, and when he truly trusts you. But it does prove his love for you yet again.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Okay, he did train to be a diplomat. He tends to be quicker to use harsh words or let his emotions slip than some men, but you always know there’s no malice behind it - just his frustration at his inability to help in this specific moment. Generally good at recognising when he needs to calm down, and he will give an apology before briefly leaving the situation. Is always very obviously guilty afterwards.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Pretty good at remembering things, both the big picture and some small details. I think it comes from him listening to Faramir so much when they were children, and remembering all the facts and stories. You’re important to him - and it will make you happy for him to remember things, therefore he does. Some details do slip his mind sometimes, but they’re rarely anything that’s actually important.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?) When he finally proposes to you. There have been moments before, but the stars seem to align on that day. It had just been the two of you, on a date and laughing together. Your face had been illuminated by starlight and he’d realised he’d never loved someone this much before. That he’d never love someone as much as he would you. You didn’t even register he’d stopped laughing until he was on one knee in front of you, a ring box in his hand. He gets very emotional and almost chokes finishing the speech (his voice does break a few times) but you wait patiently. And he is the happiest man alive when you say yes.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Protective person. ‘Just let me come with you, please.’ ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Do you need anything?’ He is a certified hoverer, who has realised that and now pretends to look busy. Does a very similar thing to you as he does to Merry and Pippin. He will always try and be there for you, but if he cannot be then he wants you to be able to take care of yourself. Very patient and remarkably good teacher.

He’ll say he doesn’t need protection, or to be protected. And in a way he doesn’t - Boromir can handle himself. What he needs is more of a net, a wall that he can lean against and be sure of. For the days when he’s working too hard and everything is going wrong, something about you helps to bring him out of it. Some of the protection you end up offering him is from his own mind.

T = Trinkets (Do they give gifts to you? What kind of gifts do they give?) Not a massive, massive gifts person. A lot of them will be practical, although thoughtful. A new cloak with the softest lining you’ve ever felt, dyed in the colours of Gondor and with embroidery like a night sky. A new set of quills and an inkwell after you had a mishap with one a few days earlier. Occasionally he’ll get you something nicer, a commissioned necklace or bracelet that made him think of you, although he always blushes incredibly when he presents them to you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) To state the obvious of overworking himself. To state the second obvious, the feeling he shouldn’t need to ask for help. He knows you’ll always be there for him but - especially in the early stages of your relationship - he doesn’t want to intrude upon your help when he’s ‘sure’ he can deal with it himself.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Does want to look nice, both for you and for himself. As a public figure he always tries to keep some level of presentability - but he’d be lying if he said most of his nicer dressing up wasn’t because he wanted to see your reaction.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Yes. Boromir has spent most of his life fighting for various beliefs or ideals and they become a part of him (in a way). You are a part of him. Your love is a part of him. Yes, if you were gone he’d seem just as occupied as before - but in reality he’s trying to replace the bit of his heart he gave to you with work. And that won’t work.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Really good at hair maintenance. Including curly/wavy hair. Great at brushing it without making it hurt, and putting it in elaborate hairstyles. Always compliments it and - somehow - knows exactly what you did to make it that way.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Someone without duty, honour, and discipline. They’re all things that have simply been ingrained in him for so long that the lack of them would be too alien for him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?) Goes to bed late, wakes up.. In the middle. As mentioned, he will lie with you for a long period of time. It’s only to be close to you, but he does truly enjoy your presence.

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @hastyhobbit (I know you're not on any taglist, but this is from your request... so) @permanently-nothere / @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @wordbunch / @bespectacledhuman / @howling-medic / @paigemackenzie0206 / @northernwing / @awayaesworld / @ferns-fics / @fleurdemiel-145 / @anchy-bananchy / @deannie13 / @eliosberry ✧ wish to be tagged?

#lotr x reader #lotr x you #boromir x reader #boromir x you #sfw alphabet #boromir sfw alphabet #lotr sfw alphabet

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athenagc94 · 3 days ago

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Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 6

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

I'm also posting this story on AO3 which you can find here.

TW: Violence

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 6

Dear Mr. Wayne.

Or should I just call you Bruce?

I might not address you at all. Hopefully, that doesn’t bother you. I know some people are weird about that kind of stuff. Have you read Daddy Long Legs? I can only assume you have if you want me to write letters, but I might be wrong. For all I know, you just want people to thank you profusely for your generosity. That sounds more likely.

But I digress.

You wanted to know about my studies.

Classes are going well.

You probably expected more, but it’s only week two. I’m still getting my bearings. I promise to share more with you next time, but I was already late getting this first letter to you. Sorry. I’m not great at talking about myself, so this is hard for me.

I think I should start with why this scholarship is so important to me. Writing isn’t the most lucrative business, nor do writers change the world the doctors and scientists. You could have thrown my application away, but you didn’t, which must mean we understand the same thing.

Writers wield a special kind of magic.

When I have a pen in my hand, I feel invincible, and the stories I plan to write will offer people a reprieve from the harsh realities of the world.

As someone who strives to do good, I figured you’d understand.

I was hesitant to accept this scholarship. The kindness of strangers makes me wary, but I’m starting to see that might be my cynicism talking. Kindness doesn’t have to have an ulterior motive.

Thank you for taking a chance on me.

I promise I won’t disappoint you.

Jason sat on the edge of a parapet that overlooked Crime Alley, your letter resting on his thigh. His helmet sat off to the side, leaving him in his domino mask instead. He wanted more, obviously, but seeing how nervous writing this letter made you; he was just grateful to receive something.

It was surprisingly vulnerable. He never imagined tender words hiding behind those dubious stares. At the end of the day, you just wanted to bring a little magic to the world. It was an admirable thing, even if you considered it small by comparison.

He smiled to himself as he tucked the letter in the inner pocket of his jacket, satisfied with himself.

And Tim thought the letters were stupid.

His comm beeped with an incoming call. He tapped it and said, “Go ahead.”

“Hood.”

“Oracle.” He sat a little straighter, ready to bolt, not that running did him any good. She likely already had tabs on him. “If this has anything to do with the raid on Black Mask and the ensuing property damage, I plead the fifth.”

“If I did know anything about it, the evidence I’ve compiled wouldn’t require a confession.”

She knew. Babs knew everything.

“But that’s not why I’m calling,” she continued, “We have a hostage situation that could go south and fast if we don’t act quickly.”

Jason sagged. “Yeah, I don’t really do—”

“It’s at Wayne Manor.”

His protests died on a wheeze. “And you called me?”

“Bruce and Damian are inside, but Robin managed to slip away. He needs back up, and you’re the closest to Gotham Heights.”

“What about Orphan?”

“Recon for the Birds of Prey.”

“Spoiler?”

“She has a night class.”

Jason gnawed at the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper. Exhausting the growing list of Gotham vigilantes wouldn’t help him here. As if sensing his thoughts, Babs said, “I wouldn’t have called on you if I didn’t have to. You know that.”

He sighed as he reached for his helmet. “You owe me.”

“Consider the property damage forgotten until the next time you irritate me.”

“So, next week?”

Her snort crackled in his ear. “I’m assuming you know where to go.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m heading that way now. ETA is about ten minutes.”

“Can you make it in eight?”

“Is that permission to speed?”

“That never stopped any of you before.” He chuckled as he grappled down, landing with a soft thud near his motorcycle. “I’ll link you with Robin when he’s online. Shouldn’t be more than a minute. He has a better idea of the situation than I do.”

“Yeah, about that,” Jason said as he kicked up the stand of his bike and sped off toward Wayne Manor, “Dear, old Robin may or may not have me blocked.”

Babs waited for a beat before she asked, “Why?”

“No idea. I’m a fucking delight to talk to.”

“Uh huh.” Her indifference stung more than he cared to admit. For all the contacts in his phone, his phone stayed silent most days.

It didn’t bother him.

Why would it bother him?

“That won’t be a problem. I could also unblock you.”

“Ignore him, Oracle. He knows exactly why he’s blocked.”

“Tiny Tim!”

“Codenames,” Babs warned.

“Robin!” he corrected without missing a beat. He took a sharp left, his body shifting with his bike. “Managed to evade a hostage situation this go around? There’s a first time for everything, I guess. This is why I’m not a fan of parties.”

“You get invited to parties?”

Jason clenched his teeth. “Fuck off.”

“Aw, did I hurt the big, bad Hood’s feelings?”

“Boys,” Babs chided, “Can we keep the bickering to a minimum? I haven’t had nearly enough coffee, and there are lives on the line. Hostages, men with guns. Whatever beef you have right now can wait.”

“Right,” Tim said more seriously, “We’ve got Blood Knuckles at the manor.”

“I’m sorry. Blood Knuckles? Are you shitting me?” Jason grunted as he took another sharp turn, “What is a Crime Alley gang doing in Gotham Heights?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. Here’s what we’re working with.”

“Tell me everything. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Three minutes later, Jason found Tim stooped outside the window that looked onto the sitting room. Its familiarity knotted his stomach. Jason used to spend hours reading on those leather couches while a roaring fire crackled on the hearth. He shoved away the nostalgia and tried to focus on the present.

Bits of plaster and crystal littered the floor. Guests huddled in small clusters throughout the room as four armed men circled the room. Bruce stood near a middle-aged man who clutched his arm. Blood oozed through his fingers as Bruce addressed the man looming over them. He held a gun aloft in his hand, his knuckles marked with a telltale red.

“That’s Oscar Franz,” Tim provided, “He’s CEO of a pharmaceutical company based in Star City. Oracle, what can you tell us about him?”

“Not as clean as people believe,” she said, “It looks like he’s been smuggling experimental narcotics into Gotham for distribution.”

“Not anymore,” Jason cut in, “I intercepted his line a few weeks ago and haven’t allowed anything since.” Experimental drugs and unchecked suppliers made his operation messy. He didn’t have time for messy when he expected things to run without his constant supervision. “He supplied for a few dealers in my territory, so I’m not sure who paid for a hit on him.”

“We can figure that out after we save the hostages,” Babs assured him.

“We have one injured already.”

“Two,” Tim corrected as he motioned to the body that lay crumpled near the bar, “A server dropped their platter. It distracted out targets, giving me a chance to slip out, but it looks like she paid the price.”

“Is she breathing?”

“I hope so.”

That was reassuring.

“Four guys, armed,” Jason continued, “You could have taken them without me.”

“In tight quarters like this, we don’t want anyone else getting hurt. Two people will ensure that doesn’t happen.” Tim reached for his belt. “I’ll create a distraction, so Bruce and Damian can duck out. Can you take out the gunmen?”

“Piece of cake.”

“We really do appreciate you doing this,” Babs said in earnest.

Jason tried to avoid Bat business where he could. If they called on him, it was usually as a last resort like this. He always stepped up because, well, old habits die hard. He was still a Robin—somewhere deep down, even if no one else believed it.

If he managed to escape without speaking to Bruce, he’d consider it a successful night. They were going on three months without speaking, and he’d hate to break the streak tonight.

“Wait for my signal.”

“Wait. What sign—”

Tim had already vanished.

Jason grumbled and turned back to the window. “I hate when he does that.”

Babs chuckled. “Not a trait you picked up from B?”

“No.”

He peered through the glass and waited for the signal. Tim always had something up his sleeve, though he rarely saw fit to share it. Minutes passed—too many minutes given the gravity of the situation.

His fingers curled around the grip of his gun. “Robin.”

Silence.

A growl ripped from his throat. “Robin. Respond.”

Nothing.

He was a half-second away from breaking the glass to handle the situation himself when he heard a pop, followed by three more in rapid succession. Hairline fractures webbed along the ceiling.

“You know, I always hated this chandelier,” Tim finally said.

The crystal monstrosity at the center of the room shuddered before it plummeted to the ground, scattering crystal and glass across the expensive carpet. People dove to avoid it, including the Knuckle speaking with Bruce.

“FYI. That was your signal.”

Jason shouldered through the glass with one gun drawn, catching the closest Knuckle off-guard. His arm locked around his throat as the pair slid across the floor. He kicked the air as Jason applied a bit of pressure on his windpipe. A vein bulged along his forehead as he choked on a whimper. No matter how tough they looked, they always went down whimpering.

If he had more time, he would have waited for him to pass out, but alas. With a swift blow to the temple, the first guy was down for the count.

Two more went down just as quickly as the first. Jason turned to face their leader. Bruce had vanished, leaving Damian to tend to Oscar. Displeasure curled his lip as he applied pressure to Oscar’s wound. His face had gone from pale to ghostly in the span of a few minutes.

“A little far from your turf, eh, buddy?”

He trained his gun on Jason. “Oh, you know. A chance to expand into a new market presented itself and we couldn't say no to a decent payout. I figured an opportunist like yourself would appreciate that. You and I, we’re not so different.”

“You’re right,” he agreed as he raised his gun to mirror him, “I’m not, but unlike you, I’m not afraid to finish the job.”

“You wouldn’t shoot me. Not in front of all these people.”

He flipped his safety off. “Try me.”

“Hood. Stand down,” Babs hissed in his ear.

Jason tapped his comm off as he fingered the trigger. Every instinct told him to shoot the bastard dead. To be done with it and get the hell out of dodge. He strove to be better. Not good per se, but better.

Blood already stained his hands. What was a little more if it meant there was one less criminal plaguing the streets?

No one expected Red Hood to make the good choice, but he would make the right one. He was right. This was right.

Do it, the anger whispered, Be the difference you want to see in the world.

His hand trembled as he willed himself to pull the trigger.

A batarang clipped the man’s hand and he dropped his gun. He saw the cowl, a flutter of black, the reverent gasps as the Caped Crusader came to save the day.

His knees buckled. A hand fell over his, lowering the gun for him. “Easy there,” Tim said gently, “It’s over.”

Jason shrugged him off. “I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because you were about to—”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped.

Tim held up his hands to concede. “I believe you.”

It didn’t sound that way. Jason flipped the safety back and shoved it in its holster.

Tim took a step towards him. He matched with one of his own to keep the distance between them. They stared at each other, the tension between them palpable. A siren blared in the distance.

Tim retreated and said, “You should get out of here before the first responders get here. B will be preoccupied for a while so you can slip out without him noticing.”

Several guests stared at him with fear in their eyes. His anger flared as he turned his back on them. Red Hood was a spectacle here—and not the good kind.

He would never be a hero.

Not really.

“Hey, hey. Come on. Wake up. We’re safe.”

A man with strawberry blonde hair knelt beside the downed server, speaking in a panicked whisper. His hands shook as he smoothed the hair from her face. His heart sank. Not just any face—yours.

Jason moved before he fully realized what he was doing. He sank to his knees, searching for bullet holes or blood. Your pulse fluttered beneath his fingers, and his shoulders sagged with relief. At least you were breathing.

“What happened?”

“She took a gun to the back of the head. It knocked her out co—”

The man stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape wide enough to catch flies. Jason rolled his eyes as he brushed his fingers over the back of your head. No lumps or blood, but you were in for a killer headache when you finally came to.

“A concussion probably. Does she have any family?”

“N-No family in the area. Not that I know of. She prefers to keep to herself.”

Yeah. Jason gathered that much about you.

If the paramedics got ahold of you, they’d take you in for overnight monitoring. The cost of an ambulance alone would cripple you, let alone the hospital bill. Sure, Bruce would pay for it like he paid for everything, but another charitable handout might rub you the wrong way.

Another stupid idea took shape in his mind. He’d likely regret it, but he needed a win. Nothing about tonight felt good, but there was still hope. “I’ll make sure the paramedics get a good look at her. Go and wait with the rest of the guests. The GCPD will want your statement.”

He stood, albeit reluctantly, and left to join the rest of the people congregating near the fireplace.

Your eyelids fluttered as Jason gathered you in his arms. He exited through the window he came in before anyone noticed. “You’ll thank me for this later.”

Probably.

Hopefully.

#writing #fanfiction #jason todd #batman #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake #red hood #dear daddy long legs fic #barbara gordon #x reader

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abyssalwavezz · 7 hours ago

Note

ok since caleb is back i NEEDDDD to see him and zayne interact and they have like a rivalry since they’re all childhood friends in case infold doesn’t give it to me idk how it would work tho but i trust you

Fire and Ice

Author's note: I really almost went a very dark romance direction with this, but it would've needed to be multiple parts and Caleb would've been like a villain, so I did my best to condense it into a single chapter uwu plus, this is my first LADS fic, so I am really getting a feel for the characterization and what kind of storylines I want to write after so long of not writing fics.

Contains: College AU! Zayne x MC/YN x Caleb love triangle (except MC doesn't really like Caleb back) where Zayne ultimately wins over MC teehee, shameless cameos of the other boys because I can, and several time skips because yeah <3

Warnings: cursing I guess? and Caleb being kind of a creep lol but we all know he is one canonically anyway, and also this wasn't proofread because who has time for that

Word Count: 3,743

Class started at 9:00 today just like it did every other day. Today though, you were late. And of course, it was an exam day.

You jumped out of bed as soon as you realized it was 8:41. Could you get ready and make it across campus in 20 minutes?

Only one way to find out.

Had you looked at your phone, you would've realized that a certain someone had been trying to message you. But he was unable to since your phone was on DND. You were too busy throwing on clothes and making yourself look presentable to think about anything else, anyway.

Once you had an outfit on and had somewhat cleaned yourself up, you glanced at the clock on the wall.

8:53...shit.

On a good day, it took about 10 minutes to walk to this class. Today, you would have to run there in 7. If only you hadn't skipped running the mile for gym...

You grabbed your bag, keys, and phone (that you still hadn't looked at) before running out the door.

However, something very sturdy and tall stopped you halfway down the hallway.

"Oof," you grunted as you came into contact with this tall, sturdy thing.

Turns out, it was a person. The person who had been trying to text you all morning.

"Caleb! What the hell?"

You looked up at him in frustration.

"I'm trying to get to class! The one you should be in too? We have an exam!"

Caleb, who still hadn't actually spoken, only laughed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked a few things on the screen before turning it towards you.

It showed an email from your professor to your class, letting you all know that he was sick and that both class and the exam was cancelled.

It took you a few seconds to decide if you were happy or upset about the situation. Ultimately, you decided you were happy.

"If your phone hadn't been on 'Ignore Caleb Mode,' this could've been avoided," he chuckled out, putting his own phone back in his pocket.

You finally got yours out and noticed that you had, in fact, missed three texts and four calls from Caleb.

The most recent one though, wasn't from Caleb. It was from Zayne. Just reading his name on your phone made your heart skip a beat.

"You wanna go get breakfast or something?" Caleb asked, snapping you away from your Zayne-themed thoughts.

Your eyes met his excited ones, but it only took him a second to realize what your answer would be.

"Come onnnn," he groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "Your next class isn't until 12 and mine is at 12:30. You got some big plans or something?"

You hesitated. You weren't sure how much you should tell Caleb. He could be a bit funny about things sometimes.

"I...I told Zayne I would meet him for coffee after our class. Which has now been cancelled, so he texted me asking if I wanted to meet him earlier instead."

Caleb grew silent, whatever was left of his initial hopeful expression now nonexistent.

"Oh...I see. Forgot he was in our class too."

"Caleb, come on. How about I have dinner with you to make up for it? Whatever happened with you two anyway? We all used to be great friends."

He scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at the floor halfheartedly.

"Don't worry about it. Go have fun, I won't get in the way."

With that, Caleb walked away.

You sighed as you swirled the last bit of your now cold coffee around the bottom of the mug.

"And so then he just walked away," you said quietly, still not sure what you did to deserve that from Caleb.

You looked up at the dark-haired man in front of you.

Zayne hadn't said much yet, he was just listening to you go on and on. But this really wasn't out of the ordinary for you two.

"Never mind that! Tell me about your day so far Zayne. I have really been yapping since we sat down."

Zayne lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, breathing slightly through his nose before raising his mug to his lips for a drink, and then setting it back down.

"I wouldn't call it yapping. I enjoy listening to you speak, and it sounds like you had an eventful day right from the start."

Your face burned slightly from Zayne's words, and you prayed he didn't notice.

"But my day before now really only consisted of some early morning studying, if you really wanted to know."

You chuckled a bit and raised your eyebrow playfully at Zayne.

"Future Dr. Zayne needs to study? We should all feel a little better about ourselves then!"

Zayne shook his head at your comment, in the way he always does when he thinks something is funny but doesn't want to show it and give you the satisfaction.

"Everyone would benefit from studying. Some of us...more than others," he said so only you could hear, glancing at the farthest corner of the cafe.

You followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at.

At the table in the corner was the well-known quiet kid, Xavier. His head was down on the top of the table in its usual position, and even from where you were sitting you could hear his signature snores.

What was really funny though, was not Xavier, but something else.

There were three people sitting across from him at another table with their phones out, taking pictures of him sleeping. Their stifled laughs and giggles were infectious, and you realized it was the class clown group of Sylus and his two sidekicks, Luke and Kieran. They truly were always getting into trouble or causing it.

You snorted and quickly covered your mouth and nose with both hands, hoping no one heard it. But of course Zayne did, and even he had to laugh quietly.

After the moment passed and it got quiet again, you decided to ask Zayne the real question that had been on your mind. The same one you asked Caleb a couple of hours ago.

"So... what did happen between you two? There must have been something."

Zayne stared into his dry coffee mug, pushing his glasses up slightly with the tip of his index finger.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, (Y/N)."

"You know what I'm talking about. Caleb? The three of us used to have so much fun together as kids. Then when we started college together, everything got so tense a few weeks into the first semester."

"There are some things that you don't know, and it would be better if it remained that way. At least...for now."

You knew not to push Zayne. And you did trust him, so you decided to leave it alone for the moment.

Hopefully you would get to the bottom of it, sooner or later.

The two of you had stayed at the cafe much longer than you meant to. So you decided to go through the to-go lunch line before Zayne walked you to your next class.

You wondered if Zayne knew how you felt at times like these. Of course he was smart, but was he able to tell how you truly felt about him? What would he think? What would he say, if he knew? There's no way he would feel the same, so would he at least still want to be your friend?

Stupid.

Once Zayne had gotten his food as well, he turned towards you but stopped before he moved any closer.

"(Y/N), don't move."

You clicked your tongue in fake annoyance and put your hands on your hips, putting all your weight onto one side as you glared at Zayne.

"Why? Is there a big spider on me or something?"

"Yes."

"What?"

You immediately froze, your bag of food falling to the ground with a slight plop noise. Then you screamed and flailed your hands around, trying to brush off whatever spawn of Satan was on you.

In the commotion, you lost your balance, and fell backwards, colliding with another person. Whoever it was broke your fall, at least.

"Ouch, my hand!" the person whined underneath you.

As quickly as you could, you got up onto your feet and saw a big brown spider on the floor, scurrying away from the scene.

Huh, so Zayne really was telling the truth.

Snapping back to reality, you bent down with your hand outstretched to help the purple haired boy up.

"I am so sorry. It's Rafayel, right? Is your hand okay?"

Rafayel groaned and rubbed his right hand with his left before making eye contact with you.

"No thanks to you. I need my hands for painting, you know."

Rafayel bent over to pick up his bookbag that had fallen down, and then shot you another look.

"But I suppose that spider was a fearsome creature. You're forgiven."

Before you could apologize again, he turned on his heel and marched away.

Blinking rapidly, you stood up straight and scanned the cafeteria. As you made eye contact with people, they looked away away in a hurry. All except Zayne, who stood holding your forgotten bag of food.

"Shut up, Zayne."

"But I didn't say anything."

Classes were now over for the day, and you thought it was strange that you hadn't seen Caleb anymore. Usually, he was waiting outside your classrooms whenever he could, almost like he had your schedule memorized and watched you from a distance somehow. To be honest, you wouldn't put it past him. He had always been super protective of you, which you appreciated. But sometimes, it could be a bit much. Especially as you have gotten older, and are starting to feel differently and do more things on your own.

Did Caleb...like you? Is that why he has been like that? Or was he just being the best friend he could be for you?

Nah, no way he liked you. You guys were just really good friends, and had been for years. That was enough for you.

Zayne, on the other hand, often had your emotions and thoughts in a knot. You couldn't put your finger on when exactly, but you had fallen for him as more than just a friend, and you thought about him often.

Would his lips be as cold as his hands usually were?

You shook your head, trying to shake the thought itself from your brain. No sense in getting too deep. Zayne was here for school and to become a doctor. And he could have anyone he wanted, so why on Earth would that person be you?

You decided to take a walk before it got too dark. After all, it would be nice to be by yourself for a bit since the day had been so chaotic so far.

Glancing out the window of your room, you tried to plan the route you would walk. But when you did, you noticed someone duck behind the bushes nearby.

What the hell?

Now curious about who was watching you in your own room, you decided to go around the back of your dorm building to try and catch whoever it was.

Once you were outside, you crouched a bit and tried to come around the corner of the building as quietly as possible. You took each step with a sense of purpose, willing the person to still be there. The bushes were now only a few steps away.

In a flash, you lunged, separating the bushes with your hands to find out who the creep was. But there was no one there.

Defeated, you plopped down onto the grass, trying to decide if you even wanted to go for a walk anymore.

"Whatcha doing down there on the ground?" a familiar voice behind you asked.

"Caleb!"

You stood up excitedly and clasped your hands together.

Caleb bent down to your eye-level and smiled, his usual sparkle back in his gaze.

"Were you lookin' for something?"

You shook your head, looking back over at the disheveled bush.

"No, it was really weird. I thought someone was watching me from the bushes right there. It's right underneath my window. I was gonna punch them in the mouth!"

Caleb coughed.

"Yeah, that is really weird. Anyway, wanna grab dinner soon? You offered, after all."

"Oh, sure! It's gonna get dark soon anyway, so no time for a walk after all."

You walked with Caleb to the cafeteria in silence. Usually the two of you would be talking about random things, whether that be you trying to decide on a major or Caleb's newest model airplane he built. But today, it was nothing. And you didn't really like that.

"Caleb, do you care about me?"

Your sudden question startled him, the silence around you quickly dissipating. But he didn't miss a beat.

"Well, of course I do. It's about time you noticed! But why are you asking?"

"Because I feel like you're hiding something from me. And so is Zayne, and it really bothers me. Today was especially bothersome."

Caleb sighed, opening the door to the cafeteria for you.

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes! I miss the two of you getting along. We had some great times."

Caleb grabbed two empty lunch trays and handed you one. You mumbled a quick thanks as you watched his conflicted facial expression manifest.

"We just had a fight, okay? That's all. Sometimes that happens and people aren't friends anymore."

You weren't satisfied. You knew there was more to it after the way he reacted earlier when you told him you were meeting Zayne for coffee.

"You're still leaving something out."

"What, you wanna know what we fought about?"

"Yes! Maybe I can help."

Caleb shook his head, reaching for a serving spoon to get some rice.

"Hmm, I don't think so, (Y/N). Not this time. This isn't like when we argued over the last Popsicle in Grandma's freezer."

"Oh, come on. I'm not a little girl anymore. You don't have to hide things from me."

He gripped the next serving spoon tightly, causing the food on it to wobble slightly.

"I know you aren't a little girl anymore, and that's part of the problem. You don't need me as much anymore."

"Caleb," you groaned, "You know I still want you around, no matter what. I love you, you know?"

Caleb's head seemed to be on a swivel, as fast as he turned towards you.

"You do?"

"Well yeah! You're my best friend."

Caleb's face fell slowly, starting with his eyebrows and ending with his lips.

"Yeah, best friends love each other, I guess..."

You followed him out of line to the closest table where he flopped onto one of the seats.

"I don't understand, Caleb. You don't want me to love you?"

"He does, but not in the way you are referring to, (Y/N)," a male voice said from behind where you were sitting. A voice you knew very well.

"Zayne?" you gasped. "How did you know I was here?"

You turned away from Caleb to look at him fully. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and the expression on his face was completely unreadable.

"This is usually the time you eat dinner, and I was hoping I would find you here. I did some thinking after our conversation earlier and wanted to talk to you."

A sudden loud noise caused you to jump. Looking towards the sound, you saw Caleb's tight fist against the table, surrounded by stray grains of rice.

"You've got a lot of nerve comin' up to our table right now, Zayne."

"I suppose I have just as much nerve as someone who enjoys stalking women due to their own insecurities."

Caleb stood up from the table, attracting the eyes of other students sitting down for dinner.

"Um, guys. Maybe we should all go talk outside?"

You felt something cold against your hand, and then another on your cheek.

They were snowflakes from Zayne's Evol, melting against the heat of your flushed skin.

You quickly glanced at Zayne, who was completely focused on Caleb. He hadn't even realized that he was causing them to appear in his emotional state.

A few of them stuck to your eyelashes, but you quickly blinked them away, risking a look at Caleb.

He was just as focused on Zayne, his jaw set in place and his hands now gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles.

"I think that's a great idea," Caleb spat, still not breaking eye contact with Zayne.

Without another word, he stomped towards the door, bumping Zayne's shoulder on the way by.

Though you hadn't moved, you felt out of breath as you finally met Zayne's eyes.

He was stoic, the anger he felt inside radiating off of him like a heatwave.

"Sorry about the snow," he said quietly.

You shook your head.

"What is going on? This is the first time the two of you have interacted in a long time, and it's already going to shit."

"He wants you all to himself, (Y/N). And that is just something I cannot abide."

"He what? Zayne, what-."

Before you could finish, he left to walk outside as well, taking the remaining snowflakes with him.

You ignored the onlookers and the mess left on your table before following after them.

Once you had them in your sights, you realized Caleb was getting in Zayne's face, challenging him to make a move.

Your walk turned into a run so you could catch up to them in the clearing that they were in behind the cafeteria. It seemed that they were in the middle of a new argument.

"...doesn't know what she wants. How would you know, nerd?"

"You aren't right for her, and you act strangely when it comes to her. What would any sane person think?"

Caleb was getting loud, but Zayne was speaking in his usual measured tone.

"What is going on?"

The boys froze, seeing that you had followed them outside. Caleb started to back away, and Zayne cleared his throat, moving to push up his glasses before realizing they weren't there.

"Explain yourselves. Now."

They didn't start talking right away. Instead, they took a step farther away from each other and stood silently.

"I mean it. You two are acting so damn weird. I don't deserve this."

Zayne sighed.

"She's right, Caleb."

Caleb crossed his arms.

"Yeah, I know."

Zayne started speaking first.

"When we first came here, Caleb and I had a conversation. About you."

You didn't say anything, in fear of causing them to change their minds about telling you.

"(Y/N), I was going to let you know that...that I felt a different way about you now than you might've expected. And I told Zayne about it, thinking he would support me."

"Except I found out about the...peculiar ways he chooses to look out for you and protect you. And I let him know that I strongly disapprove of his intentions."

Caleb glared at Zayne once more, and you shushed him when you saw that he was opening his mouth to fuss at Zayne.

"You follow me around to classes and stuff right? I figured. And I'm now guessing that was you in the bushes earlier?"

Zayne raised an eyebrow.

"I don't need you to watch over me like a hawk, Caleb. I am a grown up, a grown woman. And I can take care of myself."

His head lowered slightly, a hand meeting his neck to rub it awkwardly.

"I know it comes from an honest place in your heart, but I need you to stop. And..."

You hesitantly reached out to touch his arm.

"I'm sorry, but you're like my brother. I love you...in that way. Do you still want to be around me?"

Caleb sighed, laying a hand over top of yours.

"You can't get rid of me that easily. I will always be around. In whatever way you want, pipsqueak." Caleb flashed you a sad smile.

You let out a nervous chuckle, glad to see that he took it at least somewhat well. Never in your life would you have expected Caleb to have a crush on you. But you knew you didn't want to lose him, no matter what.

"Zayne..." Caleb said, turning away from you and letting his hand fall away, "I'm sorry, man."

"It's alright. I look forward to moving past this with you."

Caleb nodded without speaking, and then he walked away. You decided you wouldn't call out for him since he seemed like he needed some time alone.

That just left you with Zayne and the awkward space between you.

"Zayne..." you began.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something now?"

A glimmer of hope could be felt, deep within the pit of your stomach. You couldn't stop thinking about something Zayne had said a few moments ago, and though this might not be the best time, you figured it was as good a time as any. If Caleb could do it, so could you.

"Anything. And for what it's worth, I am sorry too. Our behavior was inexcusable."

"What exactly did you mean earlier? When you said he wanted me all to himself? I thought you were upset with him because he chose to look out for me in unique ways."

The edges of Zayne's ears turned red, and he placed a hand against his chin, refusing to look directly at you.

"Were you...jealous, too?"

Zayne remained still and quiet, not sure what to say next.

"Because I really like you. I have for a long time. And no, I know what you're thinking...I am not just saying that because of what happened tonight. Actually it kind of inspired me to tell you."

Something suddenly caused your eye to water. You rubbed it hurriedly, then pulled your hand away to see a trail of moisture run down your thumb. But not long passed before you figured out what it was, a white speck falling in front of your field of vision giving it away as it landed on your outstretched hand.

"I wouldn't call it jealousy but..."

You shivered slightly as the snowflakes turned into a small flurry.

"I knew he wasn't right for you. And...one can have hopes."

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