#dear god is this ALLOWED?????? IS THIS ALLOWED?

[the-modern-typewriter]

Determined heroes and the villains obsessed with them are my absolute weakness, esp when the hero is absolutely at their mercy. You write protagonist/antagonist so well, thank you for sharing!! Once life stuff settles I want to be a patron again!

"You simply don't give up, do you?"

The hero panted for breath, but still couldn't seem to draw enough air into their heaving chest to reply. They doubled over, bracing one hand against the wall. At least, currently, it looked like a wall. They mustered a glare for the villain.

"You're in my domain, sweetness," the villain said, unbothered. "The only exit you have is the one I give you. You could run five marathons and still not find the way out."

"Then give me an exit!"

"When I get bored, of course."

Abruptly, the wall beneath the hero's hand shimmered and shifted, reality bending nauseatingly to something else. Instead of the endless fancy hotel corridors that the hero had started with, they were suddenly stumbling off-balance into a big squashy armchair. Its softness enveloped the hero on every side, whispering reprieve, a relief for their aching muscles.

They were in an old-fashioned library, filled with dark winding bookcases and honeyed light flowing still and golden through enormous windows. A roaring fireplace sprung to life, filling the room with a welcoming crackle.

"Or would you prefer outside?" The villain raised a hand to snap their fingers, in offer. "Are we feeling more brisk, fresh autumn air or sunny beach vibes?"

"I'd prefer you let me go."

"Well, we both know that, but in the absence of me granting that particular wish, you may wish to play along. Unless you'd prefer I get cross about you trying to run? Maybe create something to actually chase you while you're all tuckered out? All labyrinths have their minotaurs, my dear. Would you like to meet mine?"

No. No, absolutely not.

The hero swallowed. They considered their options for a moment, trying to decide if any particular setting would give them an advantage when reality itself seemed so smittenly under the villain's control.

"...outside would be nice," they said. "What's the best view you've got?"

The villain smiled and snapped their fingers.

The armchair stayed, as did the library shelves, but the walls around them fell flat like an unpacked box and crumbled, transforming into a sweeping bio-luminescent ocean. It was unlike anything the hero had ever seen. It barely seemed like something that could be seen on earth! They glanced up to find an expansive swirl of aurora shading a perfectly clear starry night with bright pinks and greens. The stars, themselves, were nonsense. Nothing like the formations of the world the hero knew.

The hero's breath caught, eyes going wide.

A steaming cup-and-saucer of hot cocoa popped into existence by their left elbow. They could smell the chocolate, sweet as it mixed with the salt of the water around them. A dizzying display of casual power.

"Okay, that's good," the hero allowed. "I'll give you that."

"Only the best for my honoured guest."

The villain sat themselves down opposite, though instead of a squashy armchair they had an elaborate but comfortable looking throne.

"How long does it usually take you to get bored?" the hero asked. "Because, you know, I've learned my lesson."

"Oh?"

"It's ridiculous to try and fight you."

"You're fighting me right now, in your way. Trying to convince a god to give you what you want. Trying your luck."

"You're not a god."

"No, gods are a cute mortal inventions. But I thought the comparison might make sense to you."

The hero's stomach squeezed. Another glance at the sky, at the calm waters of an eternally stretching sea, had them gathering more details. Namely that if this entire universe had an orbit, a centre of gravity, it was the hero's unassuming armchair. Or, worse, the hero themselves.

They turned their attention back to the villain, as if everything around them wasn't in some way the villain.

"Okay," the hero said. "Then surely gods, for want of a better word, have better things to do than sitting with me. Isn't this a bit like having hot chocolate with an ant?"

"But a very charming ant."

"We're more charming outside of captivity. Could do dinner."

"See," the villain cooed. "You just don't give up! This is why I knew I simply had to meet you. And I know you wanted to meet me. You've been trying so hard to find me, out in your little world."

"Is that a no to dinner?"

An elaborate banquet table replaced the library shelves.

"That's not real food," the hero said, with as much surety as they could muster. "You know I can't live on air and fairytales, yeah? If you keep me here forever, or until you get bored, I'll starve."

"Which do you think will happen first?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forever. Or me getting bored of you. Which will come first?"

"Forever, probably, is the vibe I'm currently getting."

The villain laughed, so the hero assumed they'd given the correct answer. It was...it was terrifying. More terrifying was the fact that a small part of the hero wanted to be flattered. They'd never had a universe literally revolve around them before.

The hero took a sip of the cocoa, out of some dangerous, dubious curiosity. It tasted like a childhood memory. Safety as the nights drew in. There was no safety from the abyss they were talking to, though, was there? Not really.

"If this is your domain, then this is...you," the hero said. "Which means if I were to find a way to beat you, it would be here. Seems risky to let me so close."

The villain's smile grew, like they knew something that the hero didn't.

"And you're probably not going to let me die," the hero reasoned, "no matter what I do. Even if you set a minotaur on me, or whatever."

The villain shrugged. "Why kill you when I could stretch your entrails like strawberry laces and hang you up in my study like Christmas lights?"

"Wouldn't that kill me?"

"Not here. Not if I don't want it to. It would hurt, though."

"Most people stomp ants. Especially the biting kind."

"Do you want me to kill you?"

"No. I'm just trying to understand what this...is."

"I believe humans call it 'seduction.'"

The hero nearly choked on the cocoa. They carefully set their drink aside, noting the little clink it made despite themselves. Real. Disturbingly real.

"Seduction is trapping me in your domain?" the hero asked.

"Many of the great love stories start with forced proximity."

"Less start with Stockholm Syndrome."

"And less still involve the two of us," the villain said cheerily. "But isn't the novelty exciting? You like what I can do. You said it was good."

"I meant that it was impressive."

"I am. As are you. A perfect fit."

"Are ants impressive?"

"You made the ant comparison, not me."

The hero studied them.

"Drink your cocoa," the villain said, rolling their eyes, oh so indulgent. "I'll let you go eventually. Unharmed."

"When you get bored."

"Before you starve to death. That would be far too mundane an end to our game."

That was...something. Even if it seemed too easy. Even if it seemed like no promise whatsoever that the villain wouldn't end up drawing them into their domain again. In the real world, surely, the hero could win. They could fight cultists. But that still left this. Them.

"Do you promise? That you'll let me go?"

"Promises," the villain mused. "That's almost as cute an invocation as gods. Very well." They leaned in, eyes bright, smile turning to a grin revealing dozens upon dozens of sharp teeth. "I promise."

Surrounded by sea and stars on every side, with no conceivable way to run, the hero could only hope they meant it.

[coquettepascal]

felicitas and her general

summary: general acacius has caught your attention after being the first mortal to worship you in decades. you only face one challenge: don't get too attached.

warnings: rated g, contains spoilers for gladiator ii, follows the timeline of the movie somewhat, reader is the goddess felicitas (who is the goddess of good luck,) this fic is basically just an add on to the movie.

tags: goddess!reader x general acacius, emotional infidelity, lots of roman mythology stuff, writer is basing all her knowledge out of what she remembers from PJO and HoO, worship, complicated feelings, marcus does not cheat on lucilla physically, yearning, pining, grieving, guilt, major character death(s), stalking (kind of), a lot of obsession/dedication, angst, hurt no comfort but also hurt with comfort.

a/n: i watched gladiator ii and then was too emotionally devastated to finish this fic the way i planned. i really hope you all like this!! also, this fic is also dedicated to my dear friend @pascalssbabyy because she is my biggest cheerleader and i love her <33

wc: 7.2k (not beta read)

It was he who woke you.

A quiet sacrifice in the evening that felt like the freshest breath of air you could have, more intense than what you could have atop any mountain, near any spring. The scent of burning meat and smokey vegetables grasped at your lungs, and you almost choked on it. How long had it been since someone had offered you something so kind? Real food, not just scraps of something they didn’t wish for. 

You’d never complain about how difficult it is to be a minor Goddess, you know that you could be a mortal, but most don’t think of how Gods can fade. It’s a physical process, one where you’d notice how your fingertips passed through things like chalices and bowls, how a spoon slid through your hand once. The clatter of gold on the table was embarrassing, even though you were alone. Nothing about being forgotten, or fading, physically hurt. It was only mentally taxing, knowing that you weren’t as important as you once were, that mortals found you insignificant.

Generals used to come and offer things frequently sometime ago, but you couldn’t even begin to understand how long ago that was. When you’re immortal, or supposed to be, mortal lives seem fleeting. You had taken them for granted, and regret it now, for all you have now are the empty clouds above your temple. 

The last offering you can gather was from a young boy, who wanted to win a board game against his sister the next day. He had given you half a bun with strips of meat. Sure, it was thoughtful, but this was something rich. 

You finish inhaling the offering, and then hear the offerer's voice. But it’s muffled, and you want to see who it is anyways, so you swipe through the clouds and create a window to see. Then you can hear him clearly.

Someone who is clearly a general kneels at your altar, which is chipped and dirty. The ashes of the food are in front of him, smoking still, and you can taste the wealth in his meal. It can’t distract you from him though, he is striking.

Broad shoulders support a heavy, curly, grey, head of hair, which is bowed in honor of you. His body is widely built, sturdy for battle, and his voice is just as powerful. You’re so focused on hearing his voice you only catch the tail end of his request.

“... Allow me to come home safely, if not for Rome, then for my wife.”

Your heart squeezes, and you swear you can feel the ichor gushing through your veins. Scarcely when a General came to give you an offering all those years ago would he mention a wife, only ever wishing for luck in the upcoming battle or war. But here, now, you’ve been given a respectful request and offering. It isn’t a thought in your mind to not favor him now, your eyes closing and your mouth murmuring a blessing to him. It feels intoxicating to use some of your power again, especially on someone who asked for it. It also feels intoxicating to watch this General leave.

He looks around before he goes, seeming to note how degraded your small temple has become. The statue of you that lies ahead of your altar is yellowing, and ironically, multiple fingers have broken off. The General seems displeased by this, sighing as he exits the temple.

His gait is heavy, sandaled steps weighted as he walks down them and into the torch-lit night. You find yourself looking for him even after he’s disappeared from your sight, the warmth of gratefulness hugging around you. Part of you knows better than to play around with the thought, but still you wish to know more about him.

—

It worsens when he comes back. A few times a week he returns, offering rich foods. It’s been a month now, and you are coming back to life.

Fading didn’t feel like anything, but coming back feels like so much more. The first few offerings had your body feeling alight again, like the ichor in you was flowing again, but within the last two weeks you’ve gotten your fingertips back. They were tingling for a day and then the next you were able to properly grasp things again, nothing was slipping through you.

In that time you had also learned his name. A guard had come looking for him one night, and stood behind him whilst he prayed. You had found yourself smiling when he didn’t interrupt himself, instead acting aggravated once he had finished. The guard had apologized for interrupting and let him know that “Your wife wishes to speak to you, General Acacius.”

Acacius. 

You still don’t know his first name, but it is enough. You can think of it when you feel lonely, when you are bored. Something to associate with the offerings, with the blessings. The fact he has been so consistent hints at a desperation, which would usually repel you from blessing him, but he is the only one who seems to recognize you. His efforts are not going to go unseen by you, not when you have so little to do.

You can feel yourself conceding to your need to know him more, but just as you begin to fight yourself again, he shows up.

Tonight he’s dressed a little nicer. Usually he arrives in a plain tunic but this one has golden trim on it, and his hair is a little more tousled. He stumbles into your altar holding something in a cloth, but he’s walking like he’s… drunk? 

Acacius meanders to your altar, grabbing a torch along the way, and then empties the contents of the cloth. It produces a small dessert bun, a Libum, or honey cheesecake, and your mouth waters. So much of the food that is given to you is savory meats, masculine foods that are heavy on the senses, but this is sweet and delicate. You can, of course, eat whatever you’d like. You’re a Goddess, and though you aren’t major, you are still very fortunate.

But this feels thoughtful.

The General drops to his knees after lighting the bun ablaze, swaying slightly, and now you know he must be drunk.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he begins as normal, “I am sorry I am later than usual. Though I don’t know if Goddesses sleep. I was… caught up in other affairs, but I made it in time.”

He is less eloquent than usual and seems particularly focused on how it is nearly past midnight.

“I brought you this though,” he gestures to the half burnt bun. “I wanted to bring you something different than meat and… things. I thought a dessert would be fitting for that task.”

Acacius pauses now. His thoughts are probably muddled from whatever he drank, and you find yourself smiling. Foolery has never been so endearing to you.

“You have been listening to me, I suppose. My requests for luck in battle have been answered, as well as my safety being ensured. Your blessings have brought my wife peace of mind, something I could not previously afford to her.”

He looks so small in your temple tonight. Normally he is not so vulnerable, but his shoulders sag as he mentions his wife. Some sort of shame runs over him at the idea that he could not ease his wife’s worries, but it makes you feel better that you could help. 

“Goddess Felicitas, I come here tonight bearing no requests, just gratitude. Your blessings have soothed wounds I could not see, and I feel like a young soldier again. You invigor me.” 

Then, he leaves. 

You watch helplessly as he stumbles back down the steps and away from your temple, and more than ever you wish to chase him. The love he has for his wife is clear, and you hold no jealousy of that, but you wish it were you. Something in you is deeply attached to this General now. He has awoken you so much more than rekindling your power as a goddess, more than releasing you from the grief that comes with fading. Yes, Acacius has made your heart beat again, your mind curious again, and you feel seen. Being worshipped is not the same as being loved, if that were true you’d have had many children by now, 

But after so long being forgotten, this feels like what you remember being loved as.

—

You try not to interact with the other Gods for the most part. They tend to meddle in things they don’t need to, and are sensitive. You are not exempt from this stereotype, but that’s only more reason for the distance. 

But today, you venture to meet another deity.

Morpheus is not hard to find. He is pretty stationery where he is, usually lounging on a rock or bench near his temple, or above it in the clouds. He is a bit…dramatic, from what you remember, but wise. 

Today he is stretched out on a cloud above his temple, eyes shut. His pale skin stretches taut on his bones as his lean frame breathes deeply. But, he is not asleep. 

“Morpheus,” you speak. 

His body rolls toward your direction, eyes still shut, but a small smile on his face.

“O young goddess Felicitas, what brings you to me?” He questions.

It’s hard not to feel embarrassed. You’ve spoken to Morpheus on very rare occasions, but he’s always been somewhat helpful, though nosy. Dreams tell a lot about people, and when he’s the one giving them to people, it’s hard to hide anything at all.

You don’t want him to know of your true affection for General Acacius, just that he is… worthy of a visit. 

And so you begin to describe it to Morpheus, your need to visit Acacius. He doesn’t open his eyes at all, but he raises his eyebrows a lot and seems bemused at your situation. You’re only halfway through your rambling before he raises a gangly limb and waves at your words.

“Felicitas, you think you are the only Goddess wishing to visit her admirer? You need no explanation,” he says jovially. 

Morpheus reaches into the air and pulls 6 black berries into existence, then drops them into your open palm.

“When you know he is asleep, bite down on one of these and think of him,” he describes to you.

The berries smell like nothing, but a powdery residue is left on your skin as you roll them in your palm. It doesn’t repel you at all.

Tonight, you will visit him and express the same gratitude he did to you. 

—

Marcus lays next to his wife, Lucilla, with her hand in his. She fell asleep sometime ago, leaving him to lie awake by himself.

He didn’t make it to her temple tonight and the guilt is festering in his body. Marcus knows that she is a Goddess, that he probably isn’t a thought in her mind. He knows that he is just another whiney mortal, giving her food that isn’t nearly as good as whatever Gods eat. His insignificance grows as he feeds into his guilt. 

Stress has permeated his life for much of it, from his time as a young soldier up until now, as a General. Battles, politics, and his family, have created a breeding ground for him to be wracked with anxieties, but he stays strong. Thanks to his time in Felicitas temple, it’s been better.

Which is why failing to make it to her temple tonight is making him feel so bad.

He grabs at the linen sheets of his bed, stressing and trying to reassure himself until he falls asleep finally.

—

Being in a dream is weird. It feels much the same as it does when you disguise yourself as a mortal, the out of body experience is semi-familiar, but it’s weird because someone else is there.

You’ve been watching the General enjoy the lake in front of him for a few minutes now. He hasn’t slipped into it, but just walks along the waterline. It seems like he is looking for something. Surely his dreams usually contain more action, or perhaps are memories, so you assume it may be strangely understimulating for him.

The appearance you’ve chosen is one of modesty, but elegance. A seafoam green peplos hangs off your frame delicately, with golden clasps at the wrists and waist. You did your hair so it would be tucked out of your face. There is no guarantee that Acacius will recognize you like this, but you look much like your statue that’s within your temple.

Swallowing your nerves, you shimmer yourself into visibility. The grassy field is odd beneath your feet, and you walk toward him with uncertainty in each step. You’ve never met with a mortal before, and you haven’t stepped on anything earthy in a long while. His broad stature only becomes more daunting as you get closer, especially since he seems so focused.

You will have to speak first. You’re much too quiet in this environment, and you must act fast lest he wake before you get his attention.

“General Acacius,” you speak firmly, though your hands shake. 

This is so unfamiliar to you. You’ve barely even seen his face, as he’s usually bowed at your altar. It is the first time you’ll see him at an equal level, the first time you’ll have brought yourself to him rather than him to you. 

He turns quickly, an instinctual aggressiveness toward the unknown. You stand about 10 feet from him, eyes widening.

Acacius is striking. His nose is what you focus on first, strong in shape and line, but behind it are his eyes which look to you with wide acknowledgement. His hair curls around his head in greying ringlets, like a permanent laurel crowning him. The wide expanse of his back was once impressive, but now you can see the solid wall which he becomes when facing you. Nothing could push him over it seems, a man built to stand.

Your heart squeezes the way it did the first time he gave you a request, a tender rush tingling your whole body. No words come out of either of your mouths, and the General drops to one knee instantly. 

He recognizes you.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he rushes out in a breath. His chest is heaving as he bows his head and no, no this isn’t how you want this.

Your feet are moving before you can focus on your anxiety, bringing you so close to him that you can kneel too. Maybe a goddess should not kneel before a mortal general, but you are just on your knees rather than putting yourself below him. Your peplos billows a little as air rushes through it when you hit the grass.

He is above you like this, and you tilt your head to see his face again. His strong brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like he is afraid of you. 

“Acacius,” you say softly, “I am not here for… for ill reason. Please relax yourself.”

You lean back as he relaxes, head tipping upwards as he kneels in front of you as well. Now you can meet his eyes, see the crinkles that are beside them, and really take him in.

An energy of anxiety is shared wordlessly, with him stiff from the sight of a literal goddess, and you with the fear of… something. 

The identity of your anxieties isn’t something that you can figure out. Maybe it’s too much to see such a handsome mortal, or maybe it’s that you’re going to thank him for his offerings so personally. Maybe it’s humiliation from this act. What would other Gods think of this? Is it not degrading to become so attached to a mortal? Are you no better than Zeus or Hermes, the gods who interact too intimately with mortals? 

The sound of his labored breathing alerts you, calls your attention back to the present moment. 

“I wanted to thank you,” you admit meekly, “for your offerings. You have been very generous and… devoted.”

His eyes are shifty, and you can see the terror in him still. You don’t want him to fear you, but you can understand why. Visits from Gods or other deities can mean trouble, but you aren’t significant like that.

“General Acacius you are the first mortal who has acknowledged me in a long time,” you offer a vulnerability, perhaps trying to soothe him.

It feels so backwards for you to be kneeling in front of him, speaking. He has done so in front of your altar for many weeks now, but now the spots are switched, yet you are still in power. You avert your gaze as you speak up, wanting to request something of him.

“You’ve been so generous to me, General, I was hoping to know more about you.”

And now, rather than scared, he seems suspicious. 

“To know me?” He clarifies. 

You nod.

“I only know your last name. I think I could offer more luck and splendor if we were more… personal.” 

Gods that felt awful to say. You’re no better than the whorish brutes on their thrones, offering petty glories for intimacy. Everything feels flirtatious but that’s not what you’re looking for. Acacius has a wife he clearly loves, you would never want to interrupt that. 

He seems to hesitate, but he knows he cannot refuse you. So far your blessings have brought ease to his life, he wouldn’t want to lose that.

“Then… yes, I suppose I can offer myself if it would please you.” He responds stoically. 

And it does please you, to know his name. Marcus Acacius, the one who woke you, the one who has saved you from being a fragmented memory within the temples. 

Marcus Acacius, who you are too fond of.

—

You visit him 3 more times. In an attempt to space out the usage of the berries Morpheus gave you, you only visit him once a week. The bleak tasting berries are sour on your tongue, a rotten sour which lingers once you wake up, but it’s worth it.

The two of you have grown closer, with Marcus opening up more. He tells you about the stresses in his life, how much anxiety is buried in him. But, he’s confident for the sake of his wife. You’ve learned that her name is Lucilla, and much more about her. Marcus talks about her a lot, in passing or retelling something she told him. In the small amount of time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve gotten to know her as well.

It burns you with a strange warmth, a desire and envy which makes your stomach growl. You are hungry for him to admire you in the same way, to speak of you, but doesn’t he already? Shame grips your throat when you think of it. You are a Goddess who he sacrifices to, who he wishes to have blessings from. What more do you need? A mortal couldn't offer you what another deity could. 

After the fourth meeting, you found yourself lonely. Lazing back in the clouds above your temple, you woke with a deep hunger. Marcus is beautiful, an admirable man, and he loves passionately. You are already being such a glutton for even speaking with him, meeting with him repeatedly, so why must you yearn for him too? 

Worship isn’t enough, you want what you will never let yourself to have.

Nothing hints that he might feel similarly. His starry gaze which lands on you is not due to your beauty, your personality, or anything more. You have blessed him, and that is why his eyes glitter. Goddess status has never made you feel so low and isolated. Still, you are happy to help him achieve what he wishes, even as it cripples your heart.

Tonight you plan on visiting him. That fourth visit was a week and a half ago, he may be wondering where you are. He still comes to your altar each night, but the prayers are less personal. Marcus saves his stories and ramblings for when the two of you are in the field, or near the lake, when the two of you are really alone.

—

You bite into the berry at around midnight. Its tangy yet death-tasting juice floods your mouth, clinging to the crevices between your teeth and staining your gums. Closing your eyes, you think of Marcus, and his curls, and his eyes, and his nose, and his strong hands.

And then you are there, and he is waiting. 

It seems like his subconsciousness has picked to be at the lake today, and he’s sat in the sand at the edge of the water. You walk over to him, but notice how… down he appears to be.

“She is not happy with me,” Marcus confesses before you even sit down.

You stand a few feet back from him, looking at how his curls fall around his bowed head.

“Lucilla?” You ask softly.

He nods.

A wicked feeling begins to steep in your heart. She is upset with him, he is in need of you for something more than a blessing. 

And so you listen. 

It’s one of the longer meetings the two of you have had. Marcus doesn’t cry, but he seems truly upset. He’s been called to go off somewhere far again, to fight and kill. Reassurances that you will protect him as best you can only soothe him so much. 

He doesn't care if he dies, he cares that his beloved is distraught over this. 

The more the two of you talk, the closer you get. There are marks on the sand from where you originally sat, but now you kneel in front of him, with creased brows and worried eyes. This isn’t something you can fix, you aren’t familiar with love and its intricacies. 

His knees were tucked closer to his chest before, but they’ve loosened now and his fists rest atop them, clenching. Frustration sits on his face like a mask, one you wish to take off him.

Touching is not… something either of you partake in. Sometimes your shoulders will brush when you sit together, but nothing more has ever been initiated. 

That is why it doesn’t surprise you when he flinches as your hand reaches out to rest on top of his right clenched fist. 

“Marcus,” you say softly, wanting to offer comfort, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he replies swiftly.

At first it hurts, watching as he waves off your hand from his own, but then you look at his face rather than where your hands were joined. The frustrated look on his face is gone, replaced with something worse, something guilty. His eyes aren’t glittering at you like usual, nor are they hardened with anger.

They’re soft pools of conflict that mirror your own.

It doesn’t soothe your burn, satiate your envy. You can see in his eyes that maybe you aren’t alone in these feelings of admiration, of want, but maybe this is not what you want.

Maybe you want a different universe, one where he doesn’t have to be a mortal and you, a Goddess. So you wouldn’t have to worry about him dying, and have this friendship survive off death flavored berries. Maybe you want a universe where he isn’t married, where he could be yours and you wouldn’t feel like a spectator to his heart.

Maybe you want that, but you won’t get it.

Instead the flames of jealousy die in your chest and are replaced with tumors of guilt. Your whole body feels bloated, embarrassed, and ugly. 

The pair of you stare at each other, a stupid realization between the both of you as you realize that your secrets have been spilled, even though it’s the same one.

His eyes don’t move from yours, so you move from his.

The sandy edge of the lake does not look so bright now, even though there are no clouds in Marcus’s dream. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly. 

You will not follow him into whatever battle he’ll win. Don’t embarrass yourself, Goddess.

He tells you two weeks. You say you’ll see him before then.

Then you wake on a cloud again, with a cavity of guilt in your chest.

—

Marcus wakes alone. 

Lucilla had not wanted to sleep with him that night, choosing to stay elsewhere. She didn’t tell him where, she left in a quiet flurry of tears and anguish.

It’s easier for him to feel guilt over his Goddess than it is to hurt his beloved, even if it is the same.

In a moment of frustration he grasps at the sheets, turning over and biting at his pillow. The bed is so cold, and the room smells like stale air even though the window is open, the night breezy. 

He knows she is beautiful because she is a Goddess. All Goddesses are beautiful, ethereal beings that mortals cannot even comprehend at times. Marcus knows he is lucky to even perceive her, for her to have chosen to visit him.

Yet through all her blessings, he feels cursed.

A plague of emotional infidelity is crawling through his body, sticking to his bones and making him stiff. Everything he does has felt flat for so long, from pretending he is grateful to the Emperors, to now pretending nothing is wrong in his marriage. He’s scared, and exhausted.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face after rolling over and sitting up in bed, groaning into his palm. 

At first he tried to blame her for it. What would a Goddess want from a successful General other than a demigod hero son? What could truly be so special about him? He assumed she was manipulating him, using some sort of power to morph his heart, but now he knows it is not true.

If she had wanted to, she would have had him by now, and he knows this. If she had wanted to, her hand would have stayed where it was tonight, and pushed him further. It isn’t unlike the Gods to force themselves on a mortal, but she didn’t.

Instead, his hand feels hot where hers rested, and his mind is spinning. 

Marcus doesn’t fall asleep again, afraid that he’ll see her. 

—

You wait for a full two weeks before you visit him again. He had been coming to your temple less, and you had assumed he was busy with preparations for the coming battle. 

The stubbornness you felt that night has not left you. At first you did not leave your temple in fear that you would grow attached, now you remain there because you have grown attached. 

“Enough is enough,” you had thought to yourself. 

But it is hard not to miss him, and his soothing prayers. The way his offerings tasted of smoke and sweet, and how he’d always burn such a large portion. Marcus never gave you scraps, he seemed to refuse to. 

However, you can only distance yourself so far. 

It is quiet when you approach him. He is sitting in the field this time, the lake a distant glitter in your eyes. He does not face you, but his head isn’t bowed like before.

“Marcus,” you greet, your voice muted.

He raises his head, turning over his shoulder and nodding, as if to direct you to come closer, and so you do.

Tonight’s visit isn’t vulnerable, or even pleasant. Marcus seems so distant as he dryly tells you about how he’s preparing, and his wishes to return safely. His eyes barely meet your own as he talks, and he continuously twists the ring on his finger.

It grows tiring, watching him ramble about politics you could care less about, listening to him say things that have nothing to do with him. He’s so far from the friend you thought you had made. When the air between you goes quiet, you don’t fill it for a while. You listen to the sound of the wind in the grass as his eyes still will not meet yours. It’s breaking you apart.

This is the last night you’re able to visit him, unless you visit Morpheus again. You will not waste it like this.

“What is ailing you, General?” You ask, deciding to prod more than you usually do.

To your surprise, he scoffs in light laughter.

“You,” he responds quietly.

His words don’t hurt, at least not yet. You have the option to walk away now, wake yourself and leave him with his final blessings, but of course you don’t.

“Me?” You ask, “what have I done?”

Marcus rolls his shoulders back, lifting his head to look into the everblue sky above the both of you.

“You have made my life difficult, Goddess.”

Difficult? You have made his life difficult?

You have half a mind to tear him to pieces, curse him with something awful like snakes for toes, or spoons for teeth. After all that you’ve done for him, all the safety you’ve provided, he is telling you that you make things difficult? How dare he? Be outraged, Goddess, for he disrespects the holy luck which you bestowed to him.

That’s what you should think, that’s how most of you should feel.

But instead you feel small, and hurt. Yes, he is disrespecting all that you’ve given, but also you feel like a failure. Your physical existence is because of him, because he did not let you fade. All you wanted to do was make his life easier, help him to have an eased mind and a safer life.

But instead, he’s telling you you’re difficult.

It feels like your body is shrinking in the white peplos you’ve worn, the sheer fabrics swallowing you. Shame is flooding in the form of tears behind your eyes, wetting your orbs with an unexpected outburst of emotion.

“I am sorry,” you manage weakly.

Marcus does not look at you while you cry, and you want to believe it is because he cares too much to watch, but you cannot verify that.

The wind picks up again, but it does nothing to hide the soft cries you can’t hold back. Once you were a fading Goddess, now you are just a failing one.

There is no luck involved with love.

Eventually he speaks again, with his head turned away from you.

“I am sorry too,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that makes you ache.

So much is said in such little words. He is sorry to you, for you, and with you. A sorrow is shared between the two of you, knowing that your hearts ache for one another as they are worlds apart yet on earth together. 

This last berry was only supposed to mark the end of your visits, not the end of everything. It feels like this is all there is for the two of you, since it’s too complicated to continue on like this.

That’s why he doesn’t move away when you move closer and rest your head on his shoulder as tears leak down your cheeks, or at least that’s what you’ll believe. 

—

Time moves weirdly when you’re immortal, but it all happens so quickly.

Marcus stopped coming to offer things for you, and so you were blessing him less. Admittedly you had kept an eye on him, but not a keen one. It didn’t feel right, not when you and him weren’t… friends anymore.

But this feels too soon, too fast, too unfamiliar. Has your sadness caused you to be blind?

You watch as a man kneels in front of Marcus, panting and bloody with a sword beside him on the ground.

The only reason you are here was because you had felt the roar of a crowd all the way at your own temple, a wide distance away. It had drawn you in, and instead you had found this.

That roaring which you had heard crescendos to a new height around you as you shimmer into existence, cloaking yourself to the mortal eyes in the stands of the coliseum, but existing enough to touch him.

Arrows stick out of his front, more crushed beneath his back, as he is slumped on the white, gravel, ground. His hair is curled with tacky blood streaking through it, and he is so, so, still.

You drag your hand across his forehead, feeling the remaining heat, and in the echo of the crowd you begin to sob. 

Everything around you is moving, changing, fighting, and screaming, but you sit invisible in the center of the coliseum, running your hands over the now dead General Acacius. There is nothing you can do to bring him back, to ease Lucilla, to save him and apologize. He is dead beneath your fingers, with arrows lodged deep in his irreparable, mortal, flesh. 

You were supposed to keep him safe.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you keep grasping at his armor, unable to move him or yourself. The last visit felt official, but this feels final. There is nothing more for you here, no friendship in a corpse.

Thoughts are running through your mind at the rate that your breath is puffing from your chest. The question of where he will end up in the afterlife is overwhelming you, and the chance for him to go to Elysium feels reasonable. It’s where he should be, where he deserves to go, especially after all he had done for Rome. You don’t even care why he’s here, or why he seems to have been brutally killed, but after the time you spent with him, Elysium seems right for him.

—

It’s where he should be. Elysium is where he should be.

And it’s where you find him.

His place there is somewhat similar to his and Lucilla’s home back in the mortal world, with lush greenery and airy drapes that flutter in various colours. It seems like he has left space for Lucilla here too, with space left in the chests for her things, and a permanently made half of the bed.

Elysium offers a true celebration of life for heroes, demigodly or not, and you’re sure Marcus has been enjoying that. Anything that he had been shackled to in his mortal life was gone now, and it seems that all he would have to miss is his wife. 

Most of your time is spent there, in his afterlife home. You peer from behind curtains when he comes back, hidden in drapes and keeping yourself small. 

He is already dead, but after the last time you abandoned him, you cannot bear to leave him alone again.

The vision of him, bloodied and murdered on the coliseum floor, flickers into your mind every time you see him lying in his bed. It’s an obsession to be near him, to be looking after him. Pluto might not even know you’re down here anymore, but what does it matter?

Marcus Acacius was the last living mortal to worship you. In the underworld, you are beginning to fade. Your fingers are slipping from you again, which is making it easier to lurk near him, but it is a painful process.

You want to speak to him. No longer do you yearn for his love, not after being in his home and seeing how dedicated his heart truly is to Lucilla, but you yearn to speak to him again. A panicked emotion runs through you at the thought of fading alone, of being entirely forgotten. 

It didn’t matter before he died, fading was just something bound to happen, but now it’s more. Is he forgetting you?

—

You’ve lost most of your arms by the time you work up the courage to speak up. Lucilla arrived sometime ago, joining Marcus in the afterlife. Watching them together brought some warmth to you, some kind of happiness that you couldn’t have for yourself, but seeing it for him was enough.

You sit on the terrace of their home, invisible to their eyes, and somewhat to your own. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbows, you are a specter. Grey shadow fills where your limbs used to be, and they pass through all objects. You couldn’t tap his shoulder if you tried.

Oftentimes you sit, hidden, and ponder by yourself about more than Marcus. There were so many things you were adamant about when he was alive, and you regret it all now. Your determination to avoid your feelings, or at least not show them, and your need to not become attached… it bites at you now, a stinging, grieving, venom, that won’t leave. Your status as a Goddess blinded you to how tender that friendship could have been, and now you sit as a ghost spectator to his afterlife, obsessed with a mortal as a fading immortal. 

The tips of your fingers pass through the glass you try to grab as you think of this on the terrace. You’re glad that you’re such a minor deity, so at least you do not have to feel so humiliated about fading. A smile has just graced your face as you feel blessed for being so unimportant you can essentially stalk this mortal, when suddenly his voice cuts through the humid air of the space.

“Felicitas?” Marcus’ voice asks.

It’s so hesitant that you think you’re imagining it. You thought you had their home to yourself right now, thinking they had gone to do… whatever souls do in Elysium, but when you turn your face, he is there.

Marcus has not worn fancy clothing in a long while now, and right now is no different. He stands before you in a plain looking tunic, which just graces his knees. To see him at ease has been so nice, but he looks distressed at your sudden appearance.

You cannot find your voice as you awkwardly stand up, trying to think quickly. There is no good way to explain what you’re doing here, hidden away in him and his wife’s home. You could just vanish into thin air, but that feels wrong. He has seen you already, any attempts at pretending you aren’t here would be ridiculous.

His eyes scroll from your face down to your arms, and the smoking shadows that used to be there. Concern pinches onto his face with knitted brows and pressed together lips.

Something in you wants him to turn away, so you don’t have to think about why he is worried for you, even after all the trouble you caused, but he doesn’t.

His sandaled steps are heavy as he comes to you, reaching for your hands but finding the gesture fruitless as his own slip right through yours.

“Dulcissima,” he speaks weakly, shock woven in his words.

You had told him about fading a little while ago, when the two of you were in that field. Now it seems the severity of it has hit him.

What is hitting you is the name. Dulcissima, or sweetest. How long had it been since you had been referred to so fondly? All at once you are being remembered, recognized, and shown some affection. It feels like too much and tears are falling out of your control.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, “I was supposed to– to keep you safe.”

Marcus is shaking his head already, refusing your apology.

“No, no. You did keep me safe, you did. I pushed you away, I couldn’t control myself and I caused this,” he argues. 

It does not comfort you that you both blame yourselves. You wish to reach out to him and touch his face like you should have when he was warm and alive. You want to know if he is cold now, and it’s as if he hears you.

Marcus places a hand on your cheek, a softness in his eyes and hold that says that he missed you.

“I saw you,” he claims, “when I was on the ground. You were the last thing I saw.”

Somewhere between life and death for mortals, there are moments of godly clarity. Some see the light, others see their families and memories, but in that tiny glimpse of time, some see Gods. 

He was able to see you as you knelt over him, sobbing as you were cloaked to any mortal's naked eye.  You were the last thing he saw, and the last thing he truly regretted. 

All you can do is stiltedly nod at him, feeling like you were in trouble even though it seems he’s not upset.

For a moment, his eyes flick away, contemplative, but then he meets your gaze again.

“I told Lucilla of you, before I died. Not– not of my feelings which I struggled with, but that you were a close friend, a blessing in many ways.”

A blessing in many ways.

Another choked sob is wracked from your chest, your bottom lip curling out embarrassingly as your face contorts. He almost coos at you, the thumb on your cheek rubbing away your tears.

“Goddess, I have missed you,” he admits. 

Stupid nods are all you can offer, your voice imprisoned in your ever tightening throat which cries. When he was alive he was never this tender, too confused and insecure to ever touch you, but it seems he has been regretting things too.

“Felicitas,” he says quietly, “do you come here for ill reason?”

You shake your head this time, rather than nodding. You have no reason to be here, other than the fact that guilt has taken over your mind and heart since he died.

“Then relax, dulcissima. I have an offering for you.”

Marcus relaxes his stature, eyes still gazing over you. He looks at your fading palms and you watch him swallow nervously.

“I will worship you again, lending you offerings here, and all I ask in return is for our friendship again.”

It’s the opposite of how you met, almost completely, but it’s everything you need. You will not fade, he will not struggle in marriage, and you will have one another again. 

Again, you are nodding stupidly, but soon you’re embraced by him and nodding into his chest. His hands grasp at your back as he tells you how much he missed you in his final weeks, how he regrets losing you entirely, how he requires you as a friend. 

You are satiated in his arms as he comforts you, awakening you again there on the terrace. Unbeknownst to you, Marcus has let tears slip down too as he holds you close. 

“You will keep me safe here?” he asks jokingly.

It makes you smile, the idea of offering luck to a man who already died.

“Yes, General. I will keep you safe here, from all the horrifying glory and splendor,” you assure.

The two of you laugh, breaking the embrace but staying close. A passionate connection is still between the two of you, but in a different way now. Maybe when he was alive it was romantic because it is all you could think of, but through his death the two of you have come to understand it more. 

You require one another in a unique way, and leaning on one another does not have to be intimate the way he is with his wife. Marcus does need you, just as you need him, and now that you are both immortal in a way, you will never be separated again.

please leave a comment, like, reblog, askbox, or ANYTHING. i'd love to hear thoughts on this <33

tags (people who seemed excited for this) (sorry if these dont work)

@pascalssbabyy , @moonshapedflan , @gossipgirl-03 , @kyloispunk , @frannyzooey , @coocoolahh , @bug-boy32 , @honeymarvel , @magicalmorg , @1deakybass , @tuquoquebrute , @harryshousewhore , @teeagain, @chewie-bars , @vampyyweek , @queenslandlover-93 , @amijenn , @aquanatalie

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 4

Writer's Note: Peoples - thank you all so much for the support. It has been really endearing. Forever grateful. Please accept my apologies if I have missed someone off the tag list! I'm finding it hard to navigate the world of tumblr, so I ask you to please be patient with me! Sending all the love, as per X

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear (nothing descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Rudely awakened by Alba opening the curtains allowing the morning’s light filter through, Aurelia groaned as she stretched out her weary body.

“Good morning My Lady. I hope and trust that you slept well?” Alba asked her.

“Yes, thank you. I fear I have a lot to accomplish today. I am to meet with a palace planner?” Aurelia responded. Tearing away from the curtains, Alba took to tidying the linens which Aurelia had just risen from. “Yes, My Lady, that is why I have fetched you. They are waiting in the planning room of the palace. Let us get you washed and changed, and take you to meet them.”

Aurelia tread to a new part of the palace which she was yet to encounter. As she approached the room she could hear raised male voices, Alba reached forward to knock to which she was greeted with speedily opening doors, and two extremely contrasting figures standing behind. One was extremely tall and thin, meanwhile the other was short and rather plump.

“My oh my, Lady Aurelia. The Emperor has chosen well. Please you Highness, please come and sit and let us discuss.” The taller of the two elated as Aurelia thought it was much too early in the morning to be this chirpy.

She sat on the beautifully embroidered cushion which padded the heavy wooden hair, dress catching the fine wind as she lowered herself down. The pair looked at her in awe, there was something so simple, yet breathtaking about her. They knew of the Emperor’s way, particularly his brother and prayed to the gods that they would be kind to this innocent child.

“My Lady, allow us to introduce ourselves, my name is Decimus, chief textile co-ordinator here at the palace, and this is Faunus, my handmaiden.” the taller of the two joked. Faunus turned in fake-disgust, “As if! I think you’ll come to find dear Lady Aurelia that Decimus is the lesser important of the two of us… I am the chief seamster, I am responsible for most gowns in the palace, although I do have my minions. I trust and pray you like our creations which you have seen so far, like what you have on you now.”

Aurelia appreciated the pair’s light-heartedness. It was soothing in an environment which seemed so hostile or ‘egg-shell’ like. She giggled in response to them, “It is a pleasure to meet the both of you, and yes, thank you for your kind creations and alterations; they have been nothing slight of spectacular.” The pair nodded with Decimus starting, “Ma’am, shall we begin the planning? We have much to accomplish today as we have a meeting with Emperor Geta this afternoon to go over our designs.” Aurelia nodded and so the planning began.

The first item for discussion, and arguably the most important, the wedding gown. They started off with the overall shape of the dress. The dress flowed at the bottom, with an almost small pleat right round the skirting area. The top half was gathered fabric, which came in two halves covering each breast, leaving a considerable gap between. The plunge made its way right down to where the skirting started. Decimus grabbed fabric he had to hand, and started to pin the dress as he had sketched on the page. Faunus stepped back to admire Aurelia, but looked puzzled “There’s something missing…” Decimus agreed. The pair decided to grab two small gold clasps, and attached one to each shoulder, which left the arm even more exposed. The skirt was then added with a laurel leaf belt to tie the gold on the shoulder in. Aurelia looked at her reflection, almost taken away by the beauty of the dress.

“Does anyone know what the Emperor’s favourite colour is?” she asked inquisitively.

“I believe Ma’am, it is crimson red.”, Faunus drawing a piece of fabric from his collection to show her an example of the colour. Aurelia took it in her hands and created a quick-win shall, spanning across her back, draping over her forearms. The two designers stepped back and sighed, “That’s it. The dress is complete.”

“Now, we must discuss your garments for after the ceremony.” Decimus stated.

“What do you mean? I have my dress, that will suffice all day?” Aurelia asked. Decimus and Faunus looked at one another and burst out laughing – this girl truly was innocent.

“My Lady, upon marrying the Emperor, you are essentially signing yourself over to him. Body and mind. Enjoy your liberty freedoms now, as once you are married, you must obey every word that Emperor Geta mutters.” Faunus explains.

Decimus could see the worry and confusion in Aurelia’s face, so he begins, “Lady Aurelia, let us explain it gentler. Ignore Faunus and his harsh realistic world formalities. When you are married, that later evening, you must celebrate with your new husband. By celebrate, I mean to form your bodily unions and consummate your marriage.”

Aurelia takes a step back and nods, “Ah, yes, right, okay. Erm, yes, we need to ensure I am to please the Emperor, I do not wish to disappoint.” The pair giggled at her awkwardness and began drafting new garments for her to wear.

The rest of the wedding textiles were based around the choices made for the dress, and once all was finalised, Aurelia suddenly felt a huge wave of emotion come over her, breaking down crying instantaneously. Decimus approached the soon-to-be Empress, asking “My Lady, what ever is the matter? Is there something not to your liking?”

Aurelia sniffled, “People, please forgive my outburst. It’s just that I miss home and my family. I would love for my mother to be here to help me make these decisions, I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”

The duo felt a pang of deep sadness for the young girl. She had been thrust into this position through no fault nor want of her own, and it must be an extremely hard transition. Faunus began, “My Lady, I’m sure your family will be cordially invited to the wedding? Have you asked the Emperor?” Aurelia shook her head, “No, the Emperor and I haven’t discussed really anything as of yet.” Faunus sighs, “My Lady, at our review I will plant the seed. Please do not feel such sadness, you will be best looked after here.”

Aurelia sighs and goes back to planning for what should be the happiest day of her life.

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

She left and retired to her quarters, while she knew the meeting was going on with Geta. She took to sitting on one of the many reading windows scattered throughout the main hall; a book on a love which seemed unrealistic at the start, which blossomed into something so strong that it could conquer for the ages to come. How ironic, she thought. Alba burst in through the doors in a mild panic, “My Lady, Emperor Geta wishes your presence in the courtyard to go for a walk.” Aurelia rises from her perch, leaving her book in its place.

She made her way down the vast hallway, and saw a tall figure at the end. She knew from the stature it was him, she bowed gently at him on approach, to which he offered his arm in which for her to link as they made their way into the courtyard.

The walk was silent, each taking in their surroundings and any activity they could hear going on. Geta broke the silence, “I spoke with Decimus and Faunus. They showed me the designs.” Aurelia looked at him through her long, dark lashes. “For a commoner, you have great taste. There were no amendments, all is to go as you planned.”

“Thank you, my Emperor.”

Geta groaned leaving Aurelia with a degree of fear, what did she do wrong? “Aurelia, what did I tell you last night? When we’re together and others are not around, it’s just Geta. No need for the pageantry.”

“Sorry Sire. I mean, Geta.” Geta looked at her with fierce eyes, then broke down laughing. He pulled her along as they began to walk once more. She sighed in relief, smiling to herself knowing she made him laugh.

“I appreciated the sentiment with the colour scheme. The pair told me of your desire to include my favourite colour.”

“I thought it only fair, considering it is both of our days.”

Geta hummed in agreement, “It made me realise that the union we have will solidify your loyalty to me and the empire. You will be greatly rewarded for your actions.”

Aurelia thanked him. Bravely, she spoke, “Geta. I wish to include my family at the festivities.” He stopped in his tracks, tensing at the idea. He stared intently at the woman, taking in her puppy-dog eyes, with her hair blowing in the wind. If his brother seen this weakness, he feared he would be ripped off the throne. What was it about her that made him go almost soft in nature?

“Okay.”

Aurelia stepped back in shock, “Do you truly mean it?”

“Yes. Prepare the letter, I will get one of the guards to deliver it.”

“Oh Geta, thank you!” Out of instinct, she jumped up and hugged the Emperor. He froze at the prospect of such tactile affection. Aurelia stepped back, and bowed her head, “Please forgive me for my outburst, it was unacceptable. I am sorry.”

Geta cleared his throat and took her arm once more, saying nothing but walking toward the direction of the living quarters once more. He dare not show the electricity that ran through him when she hugged him. That was weakness, and weakness? In his game? Costs lives.

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

Aurelia makes her way back to her quarters, and grabs her writing apparatus. She begins to pen a letter to her family;

“Dearest Mater, Pater, Evander and Claudius I hope this letter finds you all well.

I am writing to inform you that Emperor Geta and I request your presence at our marriage ceremony this coming Dies Vernes.

I would also like to affirm that I am well, and the palace life is treating me kind.

Dearest family, I wish only for your presence and kind support on this day.

Your loving daughter and sister, Aurelia”

She only wished could be more transparent of the occurrences, she feared a guard or other could see her writing so she felt it best to keep all neutral. Walking out of her quarters, she was met with a guard who was readily willing to accept her letter and deliver to her family. She curtly nodded and thanked the guard and sent him on his way.

Sighing she watched the guard walk down the hallway with authority, praying her family would see her request through.

Part 5

[xoxochb]

more… more percy jackson french kissing talk.. please… imagine im dying in a desert and this is the water that will save me…

imagine me, your savior, ascending from the sky through a burst of blinding lights… I am here for you dear anon, I will quench your thirst

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ��� ˖

okay, here we go. firstly, allow me to apologize for my horny thoughts here this is detailed 🤕

okay, percy is the son of a literal greek god meaning not only does he inherit incredibly good looks (n we allll know poseidon is scrumptiousssss mhmmm) the rest of him is nearly god-like to an extent that you wouldn’t believe if I told you. and this, of course, includes kissing!! I just know, like I can feel it in my veins, this boy kisses with everything in him…

but it’s not like he’s rough with you, he wouldn’t dare (unless you asked— that’s a different story for another time), they’re like gentle-passionate kisses that make your tummy twist into tight knots of pleasure. and his hands, gods, he always says “they have a mind of their own” (fucking nerd) though when they’re slipping under your shirt or riding up your skirt that seems to be a stretch of a statement. though even sometimes he keeps a steady hand on your jaw to keep your head in place while he completely devours your mouth like holy shit dude this is NOT a thanksgiving feast!!!!

and now to the real french kissing part— he’s fucking unmerciful, I’m talking tongue exploring your mouth, clashing with your own, teeth rubbing against each other (they’re so gonna be sore the next time you brush them). you’re also kind of concerned that by how far is tongue is shoved into your mouth you might gag at this point, he’s literally awful LMAO

but, to wrap this up— 10/10 make out sesh would TOTALLY recommend!!!!! 😋

[1920sladydectective]

Christmas Tree Smut - NSFW

I wrote this because my wife bought me all of the Rocklove jewellery Ambessa and Mel collection as a surprise for finishing my thesis and then we put up the Christmas tree. So thank her. :D

Not proof read, some pet names and choking but it’s a short drabble so not much.

Ambessa was tall. You were fully aware of this, it had its multitude of uses and attractions. This, though, you had yet to see this year.

There she stood, bundled in furs with a stern eye, surveying the tree.

“I think it’s fine,” You muttered to her left, tipsy smirk on your face.

“Since when has fine been acceptable, Dear? Do you love it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say love,”

“Then it is wrong,” She marched off down the sea of green, analysing as though picking new recruits.

You had been looking for two hours, and she had bought you five glasses of spiked mulled wine. Still she would not pick one. You just wanted to decorate a tree, have too much stollen and then kiss underneath the mistletoe. Instead, she was striking the fear of God into the farm attendant as she looked for her “Perfect” Tree.

From the uncharacteristically loud yell of joy, you hoped she’d found it. You were determined to love it even if it was half dead, just so you could leave. It was, in all fairness to Ambessa, astounding. Ten foot tall, plush and full, it loomed just as she’d wished.

“Will it fit?”

She looked at you like you were an idiot. Of course. Her castle ceilings were insanely high, that’s why you’d come to this farm in the first place.

The farmhand chopped it down, with constant commentary and criticism from Ambessa until you whacked her with your handbag and growled. Poor boy must have been a teenager, and Ambessa was calling him a spineless fool.

Then, in a flash, the magic happened. She picked it up, as though it wasn’t over three feet taller than her, and began to wander off to the soldiers waiting to transport it. You tensed, blindly handing the boy far too much money for the tree as you trailed behind her glamorous, toned form.

Her eyes sparkled as she placed it down, a wry grin on her face, “Something intriguing darling?”

“Don’t tease,” You sighed, gazing happily at her.

The journey back was simple, your wine addled mind floaty and dozing against her shoulder until she kissed you tenderly to wake you.

Once the great, hulking thing was situated, Ambessa began putting the lights on. You were not allowed on the wooden ladder, as if a glass bauble prone to dropping. That was fine with you, you’d just stare at her arse the whole time.

Finally, blissfully, you could decorate the fucking thing. Boxes and boxes of glass ornaments from your marriage and travels were brought into the room by attendants, a large wooden table used to spread them out as you contemplated how you wished to decorate this year.

Humming carols to yourself, you danced around Ambessa placing baubles and standing back to survey. She was only to place them where you said further up, your tone demanding and clear. It made her smirk, your perfectionism. Each year she grew to love it more.

Swiftly, she hugged you from behind and began to nibble your neck as you placed a pair of robins on a lower branch.

“Y-“ A huff, “You’re distracting me,”

“You’re distracting me, Little one,” She purred, nuzzling against your nape, “So commanding, so artistic, how am I supposed to resist such seduction?”

You melted slightly against her, taking in the warm glow of the lights as you tilted your head, offering more of your neck.

Ambessa left large, sharp marks all down your throat and collarbone, relishing in branding you as she wrapped her arm around you and began to tease your nipple.

Your knees buckled, ripping an amused moan from your lips, “You do this every year, you never let me finish the fucking thing,”

She pinches your nipple through your dress, hard enough it hurts, “But I let you finish don’t I? And isn’t that so kind of me? Aren’t you so thankful?”

“Yes,” You slur slightly, going limp in her hold as she tugs whimpers and sighs from you. This was how she liked it, the tree would be half done and she would fuck your under it’s great branches and then allow you to finish it naked with your legs trembling.

This year it seemed she had grown especially impatient, and started the process only a third of the way through. You were powerless to resist though, namely because you didn’t want to.

She lay you on the floor, fluffy blankets and pillows preemptively placed, as her wicked tongue trailed down your body, hands preoccupied with abusing your tits until your eyes rolled. Once she finally touched your molten core, you were already in the blind throes of pleasure, her name echoing for all to hear. She allowed you your wantonness in these moments, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you.

The sparkling of the tree made your vision blur, pleasure merging with whimsy as you smiled dumbly up through the branches.

“Pretty girl,” Ambessa groaned against you, “Perfect slut,”

She stripped herself of all clothes, spreading your legs wider as she positioned herself between them, brushing her cunt against yours. Rutting against you, she wiped your mind of anything other than your clits rubbing against each other, tongue hanging out as you spluttered and leaked.

Panting, her eyes hazy, she squeezed your neck lightly as you came, squirting all over yourself at the overstimulation. Her orgasm was loud and shameless, wrecking you on her search for pleasure as she lent down and bit your nipple between her teeth.

“I love Christmas,” You giggled nonsensically, smiling at the mistletoe bauble directly above your head.

“As do I, my darling,” She huffed, curling you both into a blanket as you basked in each other.

[aofikofi]

/ small little drabble of an idea thats been buzzing in my head ever since the ohmyevbo art :> its somewhat inspired by the manga cherry magic lol

"So what you're saying is you basically can read my mind?"

"If you start the thought with 'Dear God,' or a variation of it, then yes,"

Seawatt sighed, why should he even be surprised anymore. His hands massaged his temples, and slowly going downwards to just cover his face. He groaned loudly, of course his old habit of saying the God's name in vain still stuck to him, from when he was a rebel child and he'd do it just to anger his parents.

He could feel his face heating up and turning red, his mind supplying itself all of the little thoughts he's had in the past week, all surrounding the Parkour God Himself.

'Dear God, he looks so hot being authoritive like that,'

'Oh my God, he needs to stop jumping over us, I can see his cute belly under his giant hoodie,'

'Thank God for the self restraint I have right now from going up to him and taking his pants off-'

"WAIT YOU DON'T HAVE TO REPEAT THEM???"

Evbo squeeked, their faces now two inches from each other as Evbo had ran closer to Seawatt and grabbed his arm in his attempt to shut him up. Seawatt only replied with a flustered groan.

Seawatt lowered his hands slightly, only leaving his eyes visible, staring Evbo down. The God shivered, unsure on what the other's planning this time.

"Sea-"

'Dear God, so you were listening all this time?'

"..yes and I'm sorry-"

'God, oh what I would do to have you bent over the throne right now,'

"WAIT-"

'-my dearest God, will you grant me one wish,'

"SEAWATT!!!! You are not allowed to use this against me now, please,"

Evbo is barely even holding onto Seawatt's arms anymore, his head dropped down to hide his red face.

Seawatt snickered,

"oh you have given me so much power, my God,"

[dobadoo]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ YOU BELONG TO US꒱ ˎˊ˗ yandere twins..

characters — Lumine/f!reader/Aether

warnings — a bit of NSFW at the end, forced relationship, hint of yandere a/n — PLEAS READ! In this AU, Lumine and Aether arrived in Teyvat together, before the disaster in khaenri'ah and long before the very emergence of this region, and they became the rulers of khaenri'ah. sorry in advance for my English, I wrote everything in my native language and translated.

3.964 words

In the progressive kingdom of khaenri'ah, life flowed as measuredly as the wind in the fields, where people did not know about God and did not seek his mercy. There were their own laws and orders. It was according to these laws that a simple family (your name) was forced to sell their only daughter, you, to two royal twins - Lumine and Aether. Your parents did not have the means to feed you, and in a hopeless situation they took a step that changed their lives forever.

When you entered the palace, You was overcome by a feeling of unreality. The spires and golden domes running up to the sky seemed like an illusion, against which she was lost, like a flower among stones. Although the twins looked good-natured and welcoming, You felt something strange under the surface - some kind of understatement, a secret that connected them.

Lumine with her short golden hair and starry eyes looked gorgeous like the sun star of the sky itself, she wore an interesting white dress with golden accents and a star on her stomach while Aether, with the same hair but braided into a long braid and charming eyes, he wore a tom and a star on his chest like Lumine, he wore boots and baggy pants. He cheerfully stands next to Lumine, embarrassing you with his curious but intriguing gaze and bright smile. You couldn't understand why you felt so uneasy. They both waved at you in a friendly manner. Lumine ran up to you, grabbing your hand and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, while you literally froze, staring at her, trying to understand why they were both so friendly to you.. You imagined these two differently…

"Hello.. You are (your name), right? Don't worry, everything will be fine. Dainsleif will show you your room! Get some rest..!"

--

In the first days, you tried to return to normal life, believing that if you were quiet enough, the twins would leave you alone. But instead, gradually, like the heat of a fire, a strange attraction flared up within them. Lumine and Aether began to show their affection… And jealousy if you spent time outside the palace or interacted with others.

After some time, you realized that the twins were not just kind or gentle, but something in their behavior went beyond the boundaries of normality. Lumine often repeated that "true love must be owned", and Aether sometimes, with a slight mad glint in her eyes, claimed that "everything that belongs to me must remain with me." You understood what consequences this could lead to, but the overwhelming magic of their attraction clouded her mind.

As time went on, you realized that the twins were subjecting you to control, and this control was becoming more and more oppressive. The doors of her room were always tightly closed, and she was not allowed to walk in the corridors of the palace without an escort under the pretext that they were not always there to protect you

Once, having decided to escape, you went out into the garden at night. It seemed to you that at least the madness would subside there, and you would be able to feel free for at least a moment. But the twins, anticipating your intentions, were nearby. At that moment, not only tenderness flashed in their eyes, but also discontent, anger, which was taut, like a nerve of a taut string.

"Where are you going, my dear?" asked Aether, his voice was as always, lively and friendly, but chilling your soul.. "We promised to be together, forever…"

Lumine was silent, her eyes shone with crazy affection. You realized that you could not get out. Fear seized you. You saw Them - familiar faces, those who loved you, ready to help. But they were silent shadows that could not enter this world, surrounded by the dark bonds of love.

The feelings you had for the twins resembled the magic of an enchanted forest - dangerous and enchanting. And the tenderly scary looks of Lumine and Aether said that they would not let you go.

Finally, fate escalated. In despair, you made a decision. Hiding the confusion inside you, You decided to do what she had dreamed of all these weeks - to try to regain her freedom, even if it required more sacrifices.

"You can't control me!" you screamed, and your voice sounded like a bell humming in the silence. "I am not your property!"

Lumine looked at you with a pitiful expression, putting her hand to her heart, and Aether sighed silently, coming closer to you.

"We just want you to be with us," Lumine whispered, her voice soft as the wind in the grass.

"Yes, forever," Aether added, shuddering with the joy that filled him at the thought of how you would be together.

As soon as they met you in the garden, everything changed. The misunderstanding between them turned into outright tension. Lumine, with her calm voice, suddenly said: "Understand, we made you ours, and no one will dare take you away." She lacked emotional closeness, and the fear of loss enveloped her.

Aether, on the other hand, approached you, his golden eyes shining with love and… something else. "All it takes is a little time, and you will understand that we are perfect for you," he whispered, setting his boundaries.

You felt a chill run down your spine. The twins had changed, their bright personalities drowned in darkness; Every second spent with them became more and more creepy. You tried to justify yourself, planning to run away, but the twins literally surrounded you with attention.

--

One night, when you were trying to escape from this dark world for the last time, you found that the twins were already in your chambers..

..............................................................................................................................

You feel hot palms on your hips. You tremble from gentle kisses. You are caressed gently. You are lying on Aether, between his spread legs in pants and boots. You lean your back against his chest And you yourself touch with hot lips the plump and tender chest under you. Iter, gently touches with gloved fingers between your thighs, gently rubs, making you moan, tearing yourself away from the woman's breast. Gentle gentle hands pull your head back. You look up: Lumine looks at you with tenderness and love.

"shh..Haha. You don't want us to be heard, do you?" Aether cooed tenderly, putting his chin on your shoulder

You close your eyes and, arching slightly, moan in pleasure, feeling the warmth of some hands and the cold of others. Dawn, sunset, rustling of leaves and the voices of dear people in the palace, and your voice - everything turns into an image of something unbearably beautiful in your thoughts, that a cage somewhere inside you collapses, crumbling into fragments of the past.

"you are our girl..only"

You open your eyes.

@himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance

[tumblingxelian]

Oh I have been looking FORWARD to this!!!

Excellent in media res opening, you get us into Fu's insecurities & head-space so smoothly and his ensuing logic, along with setting up Trixx's gambit which I am super curious about to say the least!

As before, more excellent in media res, flashbacks are hard to use but you set it up so smoothly without disrupting the frantic nature of the fight or how off balance Marinette is without a partner this early in her career. It makes sense Marinette's just been low key happy but also not noticing Chloe's absence from her life and is only keying in now, the little details are nice touches as Marinette is a very detail oriented person but one with a heavy reliance on her gut.  Chloe's continuing meltdown outside of the façade Purrge allows her to keep up came off really well, the "I know, I suck!" aspect was especially telling, I like Bustier making an effort though clearly being out of her depth given the circumstances. Also gosh, Chloe hissing XD

Adrien: So the Cat Miraculous does make us behave more like cats! Plagg: No, no I do not, don't pin this on me kid. Chloe: (Climbing to the highest place to hiss at people more)

Also nice to see the rest of the class showing some agency and activity on their own without prompting from the MCs, and that whole bit with Marinette nominating Alya only to realize Alya wasn't gonna nominate her was great, I loved their dialogue exchange they are so witty and fun and oooh the confused ball of Adrien feelings, I love it!

Solid break out from the flashback too, and a very smooth introduction with Fu, I love her not realizing his age due to the Miraculous mask effect and his dialogue. I dunno, I just really like how you write his manner of speech. Also more Adrien feels! Fu's method of just leaving Miraculous with people who's vibes are right may come back to bite him XD

"That which was not known could not be pursued, much less caught."

As before I love the distinct manner in which he comes off with, everyone has their own voices, but Fu's is perhaps the most distinct which makes sense given his age and life experience. Sewer Hat Boy, another victim of the Miraculous mask effect and I love the manner in which Chloe is described, very much feels like a feline in human form. The fight itself was awesome, Fu's general nervousness really did not serve him well (Overall) in this fight, constantly over-thinking and fretting and then losing himself in a flashback while Chloe's turned off everything but fight mode. The swapping of the Cataclysm was an inspired idea and gods:

“Five minutes left to show you just how big of a mistake you’ve made.”

Is such a badass line and mental image!!!

Great intro with Adrien's scene, smoothly setting up Nino's upcoming presence and I love the Marinette ramble slipping out as Ladybug! Also gosh his minimal self worth and wow, thinking he can get the Black Cat back even without a Miraculous of his own, optimism bordering on delusion there I'm afraid.

Very swift intro with the Snake and Aspik, it makes sense to skip it even if I was curious, also love Marinette oscillating between her LB person and Marinette vibes. Also oh dear, he went with the bald cap again and aaaah you fools why did you separate, that didn't work out last time now did it!?

Holy fuck that was brutal, easily her most heartbreaking Adrien chapter, this whole experience is borderline cosmic horror in terms of vibes as a thousand truths overlay and his perceptions crumble, heavy stuff! "Would that have been what made her give it back?" That is still your focus my boi?!

Nino is such a ride or die guy, I love him, great sensation work for Adrien and oooh setting up a future conversation that I really wanna see!

& Trixx is here, to make us all cheer, because oh so many questions now rear! I lost the rhyming scheme but suffice to say excellent lead out location, loved all of this! 

Crossing Blades: An ML Fanfic Chapter 1 of 3

Next installment in my Chloe goes back in time AU! Link to AO3, then full text of the chapter below the cut.

Crossing Blades

The warning continued to blare on the ancient radio. It almost overrode the sounds of panic coming through the thin windows and walls of the backroom apartment. Wang Fu paced like a caged animal, twisting the bracelet on his wrist over and over. Beside him Wayzz hung in the air, concerned but silent.

Master Fu stopped in place, eyes narrowed at some unseen ghosts of the past, or future. “I must act. Wayzz, shell on!”

In a flash of green, casual clothing was replaced with armor and mask. Jade Turtle stepped up to the gramophone with determination in his manner. Tap, taptap, tap. Out came the miracle box.

Ignoring the two that remained on the top layer, he reached into a side drawer and took out the snake miraculous. He paused only once, turning away with the green band in hand. Is this the correct path? A life of running had not prepared him for a fight.

Without looking back, Jade Turtle closed the miracle box. The snap of the lid renewed his flagging conviction. This was right. He could bring things back under control and set them in balance once more.

If only he had looked back, he might have seen the fox tail necklace judder and bounce. He might have seen it hop from the box and hook itself to the back of his belt. He might have seen the little fox kwami blinking into existence, the culprit behind the jewelry’s odd behavior, then blink out again.

But, he did not.

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

Ladybug ducked between two buildings. She had no idea if the narrow alleyway was a dead end, she just needed breathing room. Squads of black armored knights marched up and down the streets, attacking anyone caught outside at will. Dark clouds painted the sky, casting everything into deep shadows.

She believed the source to be at city hall, a new akuma -of course- but she needed more to go on. She also needed a partner. She was *this* close to wishing for the Miraculous thief to show up, just to have someone watch her back against the legion of minions this akuma commanded.

To think, this morning had seemed like such a big deal only a few hours ago.

“Good morning everyone. Before we start for today, it’s time to elect your class representative.” Ms. Bustier had spoken in a chipper but uncertain tone. She gestured to Chloé in the front seat, “Chloé, I haven’t heard from Sabrina yet, but can we count on the two of you again this year?”

“What?” a muddled reply came, “No, ugh. I don’t want to be stupid representative anymore. Someone else do it.”

That had brought Marinette out of her own thoughts. Chloé had been weird lately, but Marinette had had her own problems to deal with. However, passing up prestige, not being the bigwig in the room? That was something else entirely. Marinette looked down at the back of Chloé’s head. Was the ponytail frizzed today? There was body language there that felt off, the set of her shoulders wasn’t right. Marinette had gotten good at reading Chloé’s moods in self defense.

Ms. Bustier’s lips made a surprised ‘oh’ and she looked up,”Well does anyone else want to run for the position?”

The kind of absolute silence that can only come from asking for a volunteer echoed back at her.

Ms. Bustier clasped her hands and tried again, “Chloé, why not be representative again this year? You know the most about it. You’re right here at the front of the room too. If things are a bit hectic, I’m sure we can work something out…”

“I said No!” Chloé slammed her palms down on the desk and stood up so fast Sabrina fell off the bench as it moved. “If being at the front means I have to do it, FINE!”

She grabbed her bag and stalked back to the rear of the room. All eyes followed her but no one dared say a word. Rose scooted closer to Juleka. Ivan’s brows lowered as she passed. Nathaniel’s eyes began to widen as she approached his desk.

*Thump* She shoved her bag onto it. Nathaniel’s eyes darted, he seemed paralyzed. Chloé’s face flushed for a moment then she grabbed his sketchbook from the desk.”You sit in the front now!”

The hurled sketchbook opened in mid-flight like a wounded bird, flapping and spinning until it landed on the front desk then skittered off the other side to the floor. Ms. Bustier’s eyes tracked its entire flight. There was one more beat of silence then she looked up.

“Ms. Bourgeois, that is no way to-”

“I know I know. I suck, whatever. Shut up. I’m in the back now, I can’t be the rep. Someone else do it.” Chloé dropped herself onto the bench beside Nathaniel, who fell off the other side, scrambling to escape.

He scuttled down to the front. Ms. Bustier met him and handed him his sketchbook with a gentle, ”Please put this away during the lesson, Nathaniel.” before looking up to the back. “Ms. Bourgeois, see me after class.”

An honest to God hiss was her answer to that.

Ms. Bustier quickly replaced the serene mask she normally wore, “So, it appears the field is indeed wide open. Would no one else like to take the reins and lead our class to the future?”

Alya’s elbow dug lightly into Marinette’s side. “You should do it,” her friend whispered.

Marinette bit her lip. It would be work, more work on top of Ladybug. She didn’t want to let anyone down either. She was always late, even before the miraculous. Surely someone else could do it, right?

“I don’t have time. Why don’t you try it?” Marinette whispered back.

“La-dy Blog,” Alya sing-songed. “Come on, maybe you could get Adrien to be your assistant.”

That sparked a whole ball of feelings. Imagined black cat ears popped into being atop Adrien’s head in Marinette’s mind. Adrien, Cat Noir, a chance to be partners again?

“Mylene!” Alix broke the silence that had settled again.

The redhead gave the girl beside her a friendly shove.

“You’re always into political stuff. Why don’t you do it?”

Mylene smiled for a second before shrinking in her seat. “I umm, don’t know. I’ve never actually been in charge of anything before.”

Alix leaned grinned down at Ms. Bustier, “I nominate Mylene! We can do that, right?”

The relief was clear on the teacher’s face, “Yes! Yes of course, nominations are allowed, though they need to be accepted.”

“Cool. Then that. I nominate. Come on, Mylene. Show us what you got.”

After a look towards Ivan, and another downcast fidget in her seat, Mylene finally nodded.

Marinette sagged with relief. That was taken care-

Alya’s voice, “Well, I nomi-”

A storm of images hit Marinette. Pressure, uncertainty, working with Adrien, not working with Adrien. Mylene working with Adrien, of all the oddball things.

She shot to her feet, “I nominate Alya!”

There was a general classwide blink.

Ms. Bustier nodded, “Alya, would you accept?”

Alya missed a beat, but recovered. “Yeah, sure. That way we get an election, right?” She leaned around Marinette, “We’ll highlight important issues with our speeches, right Mylene?”

Mylene brightened, “Yes, of course!”

There was a general murmur of excitement. Marinette took her seat again, giving Alya a smug look before whispering, “Beat you to it.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Girl, I was gonna nominate Adrien. You already said you didn’t want to. I figured it could work the other way too.”

Marinette’s triumphant smile melted into sadness. She slumped face first onto the desk. Alya patted her gently on the back.

“I dunno what about Mr. Modelpants does it for you, but I was trying to help.”

Marinette mumbled against the wood, “You got my vote.” She pushed herself upright and looked down to the row in front of them. “He just seems… nice. I think he deserves a chance.”

Alya’s snort was anything but subtle, “A chance with you, that is quite a reward.”

Marinette went instantly red. “I didn’t- I mean-”

Alya laid a hand on her shoulder, “Relax, girl. I got you.”

“You can speak at my funeral when I die of embarrassment,” Marinette groused.

“I will move the crowds to tears.” Alya nodded solemnly.

Much needed giggles slipped from Marinette’s lips. A sharply cleared throat cut her reply short though.

“Miss Cesaire, you will be ready to deliver your speech in the morning?” Ms. Bustier asked pointedly.

Alya saluted. “Yes Ma’am.”

At the time it had all seemed so important.

Breather over, Ladybug considered her options. She wasn’t even sure where the akuma was. City Hall seemed a good bet. The roving packs of armored warriors were a risk. One on one, she trusted her miraculous enhanced reflexes, but five on one? Ten? She wished for Cat Noir. In a moment of weakness she even felt she would settle for the thief. She needed someone to watch her back. She needed a partner.

A flash of motion -above!- Ladybug lashed out and dodged.

Spang!

Her yo-yo rebounded off the wide-brimmed metal hat of a green glad warrior. “Hold, Ladybug! I am ally, not foe!”

Ladybug kept her yo-yo at the ready. “Ally? Who are you?”

He raised his head, revealing the green mask and a smile. “I am the Guardian of the Miraculous. You may call me Jade Turtle.”

She sized him up quickly. Her height, her age? It was impossible to tell much from behind a mask. He held himself with poise, but also hunched like his namesake, as if awaiting a blow. “Guardian? What is that? Do you know what’s going on?”

He bowed his head a fraction, “I do, and I will share what I can with you once the crisis has passed. I have brought you the means to garner an ally in this battle.”

He unhooked a small box from his belt and opened it. Inside lay an unassuming bracelet of Jade.

“This is the Miraculous of the snake, which holds the power of intuition. It will allow the wearer to loop time, up to five minutes, to find the correct path to victory. Give it to one you trust.”

Adrien. The name popped instantly into Ladybug’s mind. She could have her partner back. She reached for the box but paused. “Will you be fighting with us too?”

Jade Turtle shook his head, “I am here to reclaim what is lost. I expect the black cat will make an appearance, and I will be ready. It is vital the miraculous not fall into the wrong hands.”

Ladybug took the box. Something nagged the back of her mind, but it didn’t translate properly and only, “Are you sure?” left her lips.

Jade Turtle nodded and ran his fingers along the brim of his metal hat. “Yes, almost as sure as I was in choosing you to be Ladybug.”

With that he turned and vaulted up out of the alley to the rooftops.

The box was heavy in Ladybug’s hand as her eyes lingered after the only person with any answers to her questions. Adrien. I can get this to Adrien. No rooftops for me though. I can’t risk being seen and followed.

Ladybug checked the end of the alleyway and then scurried back towards school, and she hoped, an ally.

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

Jade Turtle moved quickly as possible, keeping to the shadows. Avoiding being seen was still an ingrained habit. That which was not known could not be pursued, much less caught. The city swarmed with units of armored knights marching in formations. They were a concern, but also, he suspected, the perfect bait. His instincts proved correct. Commotion, running soldiers, and sounds of battle drew him to his quarry. 

The new holder of the black cat stood in a swath of carnage. Fallen knights littered the ground like leaves, but there was a lull. Only one knight still stood, sword held robotically en garde against her.

Jade Turtle's eyes scanned the scene quickly. He broke cover, “No! Wait!”

Too late. The black cat moved, slipping the knight's stiff guard and lashing out. Claws tore metal and everything beneath with equal ease. The knight crumpled into the pile.

“You! You! They are being controlled by the akuma! They are innocent people!”

She seemed to register only slowly. Feline disinterest painted across her sharp features. “Who are you supposed to be? Sewer Hat Boy?”

He raised his own guard as he approached. He knew better than to trust the languid curiosity in those mismatched eyes. “My name is unimportant. My purpose is to reclaim the black cat from you. You are not the one destined to hold it.” He directed a pointed glance down to the fallen bodies. “And you paint yourself unworthy by deed as well.”

She tilted her head slowly, then kicked the body at her feet. “They’ll be fine once stupid Ladybug does her thing. As for my miraculous, oh just you try to take it.”

Jade Turtle steeled himself and dropped into a fighting stance. “As you wish. These bones may be old, but they know many secrets.”

With the moment at hand Jade Turtle hesitated, how best to attack? He must strip the ring from her hand. Protection would be the key. He cou-

There was no warning in her eyes, no tension in her stance, none of the things he had learned to look for. She dropped into a hunched run, legs powering her into a lurching drunken charge that devoured the space between them.

Jade turtle jerked backwards. A clawed swipe slashed through the air where his throat had been. Another lunged for his eyes.

Block. Block. Redirect. Turn. Clear roo- no she was on him again. Catch. Twist. Her whole body moved as bonelessly as her namesake, spinning her whole body in the air around the pivot of his wristlock. Her claw toed boot scored lines in his metal hat.

Jade Turtle tried to disengage. He just needed space, time. She dogged his every move. He was being chased again, chased across the street just as he had been chased his whole life. Flashbacks warred with reality. His foe lunged and it wasn’t a child, it was a grown man in a black leather uniform with a very different meaning. Jade Turtle had been helpless then, he wasn’t now.

He lashed out and struck the man a deeply deserved killing blow to the sternum. Contact evaporated the memory. The child collapsed the ground in its place, but rebounded impossibly.

“So that’s how it is…” She gritted through clenched fangs. “Cataclysm!”

He’d lost control! Dodge. Dodge. Stagger. Dodge. Dodge. Backpedal. Something in that heterochromic gaze dredged up every fear from his two centuries of running. He couldn’t- he needed- She wouldn’t give him room.

“Protection!”

Instinct took over when reason fled. He met her next swipe and caught her just inside the wrist. The turtle Miraculous did the rest. A bubble of Green around that black death-clad hand.

He panted, keeping her wrist held firmly. ”Now… I’ve got you. Surrender. You can not-”

The Cataclysm vanished.

Motion.

Jade Turtle flinched and it saved his life.

Her free hand came around, sparking with destruction. It met the dipping edge of his shield hat and blasted it apart in an instant. The feedback robbed him of his senses and strength. Jade turtle fell. He sensed more than saw the shadow looming over him.

“Five minutes left to show you just how big of a mistake you’ve made.”

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

The difference five minutes could make; a million times over.

“Adrien!”

Adrien skidded to a stop at the sound of that voice. He cast a quick glance back over his shoulder, it looked like he had finally lost them. He turns his gaze skyward just as Ladybug landed beside him.

She unclipped a small box from her hip as she straightened up, holding it out.  “Am I glad to see you! I looked at your house first and you weren’t there, so then I checked the school. You weren't there either, so I tried all the streets in between and-”

She paused, withdrawing the box slightly.

“What are you doing out here?”

Adrien looked down, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I thought, I mean I hoped, maybe I might still be useful. If I could, maybe at least find the akuma and report back.”

Or find Chloé and get the cat back. Or anything just to not be a disappointment. Well, not a disappointment to her. He was pretty sure Alya and Nino wouldn’t be happy with him for running off. He had glimpsed Nino running after him, even.

Ladybug made a soft sound in her throat, “Adrien, you’re amazing,” his heart swelled, “I don’t want you to be running around without a miraculous though. It’s dangerous out here. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught and turned into one of these knight-zombie things. That’s why-”

Adrien looked up, sure the axe would fall now. He couldn’t account for the color on Ladybug’s cheeks, or the softness when she held the box out again.

“That’s why I’ve got something for you. It’s the snake Miraculous. With it you can help me again. We can defeat this akuma, get back your miraculous, and stop Hawkmoth!”

She’d laid out the snake’s powers. Sass had been more reserved than Plagg, but polite. When Adrien had transformed into Aspik he’d thought he’d caught Ladybug giggling behind her hand, but she flashed him a big smile nonetheless. She even rubbed his new costume’s smooth head ‘for Luck’. The plan was simple, split up and circle City Hall north and south. See what could be seen and meet up on the other side.

That had been less than ten minutes ago.

It had been months ago.

Aspik had spotted Chloé midway through his sweep. She ran on rooftops, wielding the power of the black cat, his power. The power he’d lost. He had the perfect chance to get it back, as many chances as needed. Aspik had activated Second Chance and altered his course. He couldn’t fail.

Reset. Come from the right. Reset. Try the left. Reset. Try reasoning. Reset. Threatening. Reset. Bargaining. Reset. Fight. Reset. Angry. Reset. Screaming. Reset. Go for the ring. Reset. Go for a knockout. Reset. Try to call Ladybug. Reset. Ladybug arrives on her own and catches a cataclysm. Reset. Reveal who he is. Reset. Again. Reset. Again. Reset. Reset. Reset. He’s hanging over the edge of a roof, danglinging from her grip on his wrist. The last light is blinking on the bracelet. He can’t reach- She smirks and twists the bracelet for him. Reset. Reset. Reset. Something is happening. Reset. The world feels thin. Reset. Spots at the edges of his vision. Reset. No, spots in the sky. Reset. Destruction. Reset. Cataclysm lingering. Reset. Wearing away these five minutes like a thread pulled back and forth through the eye of a needle too many times. Reset. He can’t fail! Reset. He has to prove- Reset. To Ladybug. Reset. He is-

Falling…

He can’t remember what he said this time. He can’t remember who threw the first punch. A thousand thousand truths overlap and spill out, covering his senses.  There’s only one consistency. He lost, again.

Aspik hits the pavement hard. A storm of black lightning tears at the sky for three, two, one. The snake Miraculous chirps one last warning and powers down. The storm vanishes. Time, no longer abused, marches on. It leaves him behind again. Chloé didn’t even spare him the benefit of a backward glance this time. Would it have even mattered if she did? Would seeing him defeated by her hand again have been the right or wrong thing to do? Would it have made her pause? Would that have been what made her give it back?

He feels numb. The street is a too-hard bed but he feels like he could sleep for a decade if he just closed his eyes. The overcast clouds no longer threaten the end, but are still a reminder of the akuma at large.

“Adrien!” Nino’s voice is so out of place it takes a moment for Adrien to recognize it.

Adrien turns his head, still not ready to move beyond that, to watch his friend rushing headlong down the empty street. Nino? Why are you here? It’s dangerous. Too dangerous.

“Dude! Are you okay? Can you stand?” Nino drops to one knee and tries to haul Adrien to his feet.

The answers quickly present themselves. No, and No. Adrien is beyond exhausted. His legs won’t hold him. He stumbles into Nino. His throat feels like sandpaper. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, dude.” Nino loops Adrien’s arm over his shoulders and tries to take on more of the weight. Adrien’s legs still aren’t cooperating.

Ha. Hero saved by a civilian. But then, what’s the difference? Adrien found the strength to push Nino off gently, but not the strength to keep standing once he had. He sat down hard, but pulled the Snake Miraculous off his wrist.  A weary Sass sprang into being, hovering low in the air.

Nino blinked, ”Dude?”

Adrien waved him off with a floppy hand. “No time. Ladybug needs help. Defeat the Akuma. Tell Sass ‘Scales Slither.’ Bracelet resets things. Five minutes tops. Help Ladybug.”

Nino’s eyes darted between Sass and the bracelet Adrien was holding out in a trembling hand. Shock and fear each had a turn, but determination was right on their heels. He took the bracelet from Adrien’s hand, “I’ll try.”

Adrien remembered, “Get the cat back for Ladybug, if you can.”

Sass managed to perk some, and the transformation worked. Snake-clad Nino turned in the direction Adrien pointed, but before leaping away called back over his shoulder, “You have so much explaining to do, dude.”

And with that, he was gone.

Adrien fell back onto his back, ready to let the darkness of sleep take him, hopefully before more knights showed up.  Instead a new, high pitched, scratchy voice reached his ears.

“Hey. Hey you. I’ve got a proposition for you. We can both help each other out.”

[casualavocados]

im gonna break down my last gifset: the second half of the ep12 intimacy scene, because nat and louis are such good actors ive been rendered slightly braindead more than once due to how well they SOLD this scene and SOLD ai di and chen yi's love for each other through their physicality.

WARNING: if you read this and then use the words top or bottom to describe anything going on here, i will deadass block you. ♥️ don't even think about it. ♥️

this is gonna be unhinged but the mix of horny and pure adoring each other is an ever-crisscrossing line that is simply underappreciated from what ive seen in previous posts of this particular part.

so they've been making out for a while with ai di in chen yi's lap and chen yi decides to push them over… i did not cut a single frame of this btw.

starting with the first two gifs:

i love the way ai di's hand comes to rest perfectly at the nape of chen yi's neck during the impact. then there's a brief "are we gonna kiss?" half of a second before chen yi goes for ai di's neck. and ai di responds appreciatively: with his head tilted back, his hand in chen yi's hair… you see in the second gif his fingers curling a little, to gently trail his nails down chen yi's neck, wordlessly telling chen yi to keep going. and he does, moving from ai di's neck to his chest.

and here we get a moment of ai di going oh. his mouth literally opens a little wider—

—and he lifts up his head as if to check that that's really chen yi doing this to him. all the while his hand has moved from chen yi's neck/hair to rubbing chen yi's shoulder. again in a reassuring "yes that's good" way, and also, i imagine, just for the sake of touching chen yi too.

he looks at chen yi and then full body relaxes into feeling it, while still rubbing chen yi's shoulder. i cant get over ai di's face here, i can't. the whole shot is art, with chen yi kissing just below his ribs.

bc chen yi is so focused on adoring him, on pouring all this love he has for ai di into these gentle kisses and the way he's touching him, too: sliding his hand up ai di's chest to grip his shoulder in return. (also notice ai di's sweatshirt from four years ago hanging up in the background. chen yi has been waiting so long for this too and needs to show it.)

and then— WELL. then ai di slides his hand back up into chen yi's hair…

and chen yi responds to the feeling of it immediately. it's almost like ai di is saying yes, that's good, now come here, and you see chen yi's eyes open and his body immediately follow that cue. perfect wordless communication. ai di's hand is literally pulling him closer (with barely any pressure) and chen yi instinctively responds to it by making his way back up with another soft kiss.

and ai di is watching him, waiting for him. chen yi's hand is sliding along ai di's chest again… you even see ai di's legs open a little at the end of the gif to make room for chen yi to take that space again.

and chen yi does. he really does:

and he does that on purpose. (it's like he's responding to ai di's satisfaction by saying, "let me make it feel even better". while also saying "i love you this much".)

and ai di responds by intentionally adjusting himself to feel more of it:

chen yi moves back from the neck kiss and ai di really said with his body: no, don't you dare take that pressure away.

there is so much going on in those two gifs. starting with the former: you can see ai di leaning back for the neck kiss, and then his hand moves down to chen yi's hip the instant he feels the pressure between his legs, in such a perfectly instinctive movement you can literally see his fingers tighten in chen yi's hair and his toes curl at the edge of the gif. he is completely 100% feeling it. he lifts his head to look.

—& i can't get over the way ai di is always trying to see, to watch chen yi doing this to him. it's chen yi. he has to make sure it's real. he has waited for and wanted this for so long and he isnt dreaming anymore.

and then in the latter: ai di tilts his head back again a little before his shift. his very intentional shifting of hips that physically lifts his back from the bed a little to align them more comfortably and to keep the friction. this movement stops chen yi from kissing ai di's neck again, bringing him to his mouth instead— but not until after ai di's hand on the back of chen yi's neck slides down to cup his cheek. (as if this whole gif says, not only "yes, that feels good, don't stop", but also, "i need you to know i love you".)

they kiss like that: pressed together, looking at each other, ai di cradling chen yi's face with one of his hands. you can see his thumb holding the base of chen yi's jaw in the next gif:

while chen yi in turn pulls his arm out from underneath ai di to prop (only) his chest up a bit higher for the express purpose of just looking at ai di. feeling ai di touching him like this, too. both of them gentle and needy, adoring and eager; all of that fully communicated through their body language.

there is not an inch of them that isnt feeling this moment and isnt completely tuned in to both themselves and the other. it's so intimate and vulnerable and so intentional. and the fact that they are taking their time, always looking at each other, is what makes it so loving and sweet and is also exactly what makes it so hot.

it's chen yi's turn now to check that this is real. to soak this all in and breathe. that's ai di beneath him. against him. loving him.

and it takes a full gif but ai di allows maybe 2 seconds more of looking at each other before reaching up and pulling chen yi into a deeper kiss. he's waited for this for so long—

although first you see ai di's eyes flick down and back up. and let me tell you— he's not looking at chen yi's lips.

chen yi's hand perfectly supports the back of ai di's head and neck as ai di surges up to wrap chen yi in his arms—cup the nape of chen yi's neck in his fingers—pulling himself up and chen yi closer in the same movement.

and this is when and why the camera pans away. because those kisses are getting deeper. they are locked in, they're attached, they are feeling all of it, everything is intentional and loving and very clear about where this scene will be going next.

i just— this is a lot, for me. because it is so intensely loving. and also so intensely horny. like, i've seen some good sex scenes, but it takes some really incredible acting to pull off seeming so fully, devotedly, in love, and be able to show that alongside and through attraction. personally? i haven't seen any bl actors do it better than nat and louis in this scene right here. please notice, as well, that all thirteen of these gifs are of one, continuous, shot.

simply put, it's a very. very. well done scene. AND I NEED TO CHEW DRYWALL.

(final note: a reminder of my warning at the start of this post bc i am serious. there are too many infinitesimal things happening in this scene for these characters to be reduced to stereotypes that, frankly, do not matter in real life. ♥️ no need to respond to this warning either… feel free to focus on what the post is saying instead.)

and that's why chen yi and ai di are better and more real than every other bl couple in existence. ok bye.

[erinwantstowrite]

saw some pants on pinterest.... thought of discowing... couldn't be stopped...

[will80sbyers]

the silliest

[dovewingkinnie]

ai x computer cursor my favorite

[tojisun]

the gaz drabble with reader and her daughter penelope was so so beautiful and sweet I loved it <3

thank you so so much omg 🥹🫶🏼

it’s just one of those days yk when you hear something so nostalgic you begin longing for something you’ve never had? projected it as much as i can to kyle and rambled and ended up falling in love w it :(

little pen and mama dancing in the rain. little pen (she’s two!) stumbling and laughing and chasing after her mom. little pen and mama matching raincoats and boots. little pen who lets rain water pool in her boots before jumping to make the loudest sploosh sound that makes her and mama giggle.

oh how precious she is 🥹

(kyle and little pen having matching boas and tiaras during her grand tea pary.

kyle and little pen drinking their teas with pinkies up. she shows mr. kyle what proper ‘pinky up’ is because mama said little pen is her smart duckling so she’s gots to teach mr. kyle so mr. kyle can impress mama.

kyle and little pen passing out in the living room in their exhaustion, and both waking up to the wafting aroma of hot chocolate.

kyle and little pen stumbling to the kitchen, both groggy, and drawing out their sleepy, “thank you” to mama who just giggles because her two treasures are so alike, even in drowsiness.

kyle and little pen being best friends because they both love mama and people who love mama should stick together.)

[dirtytransmasc]

when you read an absolutely heart wrenching, soul destroying, tear jerking, yet simultaneously sweet, hilarious, down right beautiful fic you've ever read in your life, you've gone through every stage of grief, you've cried, you've laughed, you've mourned... and you have to act normal to everyone around you....

I hate this

[feathers-little-nest]

I think there's not enough G cup Mobei-Jun fanarts. Everyone is talking about large Mobei-Jun boobs and how much Shang Qinghua loves them, but no one actually gives him boobs. I feel like I'm being gaslighted here

[dreamingofep]

You know how Elvis would “smoke” those cigarettes but not really smoke them because he said we just wanted something to do with his hands/mouth? It got me thinking about how much Elvis seemed to have an oral fixation as you can always see him putting things in his mouth (fingers and body parts included). I just thought this was funny because I am now imagining vampire Elvis using cigarettes as a way to calm his need to suck blood. Like he’s trying to cut back sucking on necks by instead sucking on cigarettes 😆 This was just a funny little thought I had that I thought you would appreciate lol

Anon you just made my whole day 😂 Oh my god I can’t stop laughing this is hilarious! This was very unexpected but I love it! I love this anecdote! I think that’s a great way to look at it of why he smokes as a vampire. I have written some parts where he is smoking a cigar because, 1.) he looks so hot when he’s smoking, dear god! [I believe the first time I mentioned he smoked a cigar in the fic was where he was sitting there naked right after some intense love making 🫠] But 2.) I chose to make him do that because I thought it would remind him of his human side and make him feel like less a monster. But the way of thinking that he does it to distract himself from feeding! Oh this is fantastic 🤭 Thank you for sharing your thoughts about vampire Elvis with me! He never fails to make us✨think✨huh?😏😮‍💨