#it was fun but now it‘s time to move on

[just-two-blokes]

Dear Swiss Jury who decides who to send to Eurovision 2024. I think we learned something this year.

No ballads.

No. Ballads.

NO BALLADS.

Thank you.

[hederasgarden]

Post tenebras lux

Summary: You are gifted to Lucius as a reward for his prowess in the arena. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 5.9 K  Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Heavy angst with a HEA, dubious consent (reader and Lucius are coerced into having sex), public sex (PIV and f receiving), mentions of spousal death, and brief descriptions of blood/injuries from combat in the arena. A/N: I futzed with the timeline in this fic. Instead of coming home after conquering Numidia General Acacius is sent out on another campaign for the emperors. Also, fun fact — the Romans considered oral sex taboo. A HUGE thanks to @aliensupastar, my beloved B, @clairewritesandrambles, @ryebecca, and @faebirdie for their help with the fic. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

The warm steam of the bath clings to the air, thick and heavy, as you move past the large pools where gladiators soak and laugh. Their rough voices fill the humid air and the afternoon sun filters through the open atrium, casting a muted, golden glow across the water. None of the men bother you as you make your way to the quiet alcove at the far end of the room. If Lucius's reputation in the arena hadn’t been enough to keep them away, the man whose hand he took for daring to touch you certainly was.

You’d learned quickly that in this place violence was power, and your gladiator wielded it well. It was a far cry from your life as a fisherman‘s wife, and then as a slave in Macrinus’s household. When you were gifted to Lucius, you braced yourself for the brutal ways of his world, where strength ruled above all else, and men like him took what they wanted without hesitation. But he never did. Instead, Lucius treated you with something you hadn’t expected: respect and kindness. His touch only ever lingered long enough to offer reassurance, never to claim.

In time you both learned to play your parts to survive. By day, Lucius was the victorious gladiator, and you, his spoil of war. They were roles neither of you had chosen, but ones you took on to survive. The night became your refuge, a time where the weight of your reality could be put aside, if only for a while. Curled around one another on the thin cot the ghosts of your past weren’t silenced but shared through whispered admissions. You could speak of the people you had once been – before Rome twisted you both into something unrecognizable.

Trust came with time. And now, as you approach the alcove where he waits, you can feel some of the tension leave your body. You are safe with Lucius, a thought that would have been absurd to you just months ago. 

You shift the small wooden tray — laden with fresh bread, olives, figs, and a jug of strong wine — to your other hip. The soft scrape of your sandals against the stone floor alerts Lucius to your presence. His dark gaze lifts from the water, meeting yours with the quiet intensity that you’ve come to expect. Even in the haze of sweat and steam, his presence is impossible to ignore. 

Where others would let their gaze wander lower, drifting toward the rest of his bare form submerged beneath the water, you always look at his face. It‘s there that you find what you seek: the sharp edges of your own pain and anger mirrored in his dark eyes. It’s a reflection of the hurt you carry, of all that Rome took from you both. 

“You fought well today,” you say, settling beside the pool, the water lapping at the stone. 

The words come easily, practiced—part of the familiar routine you’ve both come to rely on. Though the bath is quiet and you seem to be alone, you know better. You’ve learned the hard way that the walls have ears. Every word, every glance, carries weight here, and even in the relative solitude of this alcove, your interactions could be reported back to Macrinus. Only when you’re hidden away in the cell you share each night can you let the pretense fall away. 

Lucius hums in response as he lets his head fall back against the cool stone. His muscled arm rests on the edge of the pool and you offer him a brief, gentle touch before withdrawing. The tension in his frame eases a fraction and his eyes flutter closed, but the sharpness of his presence doesn’t fade. He’s aware of every shift in the air, every sound around him. Even in the quiet comfort of this place, Lucius is never truly off guard. 

You pick up a ripe fig, its skin velvety and fragrant, and drag it slowly through the warmed honey. Gently, you bring it to his lips, offering it with a quiet gesture. Lucius sighs—softly, almost imperceptibly—and then his lips part, taking the fruit from your fingers. As he bites into it, you feel the heat of his tongue brush against your skin. You try to ignore the traitorous feeling that springs to life in your belly. That feeling has become a frequent companion, one you never asked for, and one that sits uneasily beside the grief you still carry for your late husband.

“You must eat too,” Lucius commands. “You will need your strength for later.”

His rough words carry no real threat, but you react like they do, tucking your chin to your chest in a subtle gesture of submission. At times, it feels like a performance—like you're both actors on a stage, with an unseen audience watching every move. You eat in silence until the tray is bare and the goblet empty. When he rises from the pool, water cascading from his sun-kissed skin, you reach for the fresh robe laid carefully over the stone bench. 

“Do you wish…” you begin, lifting your eyes to Lucius, only to falter at his expression. His eyes flicker briefly past you, and then, just as swiftly, return. He gives no warning before he pulls you forward and drags you into the water. Your cry of surprise is swallowed by the splash your bodies make as ripples spread outward. The wet robes cling to you like a heavy second skin and you sink deeper into the water.

“I’ll have you here,” Lucius announces loudly. He grasps your biceps and easily forces you to straddle him. Your face shields his from the outside world. His expression softens and even as his lips part to speak, you shake your head, stopping him before the words can leave his mouth.

You understand, without needing to hear it. The two of you are no longer alone.

He leans back, arms stretched along the edge of the bath. “Ride me,” he commands. 

You struggle out of the heavy outer robe and your knuckles unwittingly brush over his abdomen. Lucius tenses beneath you. You offer him a quiet apology before withdrawing and rising to your knees. Your hips shift forward in a facsimile of his request, meeting nothing but a swell of water as you keep a careful distance from his body. He groans and you answer him with a quiet moan of your own. You rise up and down almost mechanically, staring at the chipped stone above his head. His hot breath fans over your neck, the heat of it lingering on your skin. You shudder as a warmth that has nothing to do with the pool gathers under your skin, shame twisting your insides. 

Lucius grabs your waist urging you to move faster, and the sounds of his pleasure rise in intensity. The muscles of your thighs protest, burning with effort as you hold the distance between your bodies. The air around you shifts and the murmur of conversation in the other pools begins to fade as the gladiators are drawn in, listening to your performance. The silence grows almost suffocating, but you force yourself to push through the charade. This is just one of many indignities you’ve endured since Rome descended onto the sleepy fishing village you called home. It pales to what could await you if it were gifted to a different gladiator. 

“Fuck,” Lucius growls loudly, abruptly stilling your movement to feign his pleasure. 

After a beat you gather the courage to look over your shoulder, meeting Viggo’s stare. You tense. Calloused fingertips brush lightly over your jaw, drawing your attention back to Lucius. You stare down at him, taking in the light flush of his dusky cheeks and the steady rise and fall of his chest. His touch lingers for a moment more before his hand disappears beneath the water. 

“Use my robe to cover yourself,” he instructs roughly. 

It’s then that you realize how transparent your dress has become in the water. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you slide away, only to freeze when your thigh brushes over an unexpected hardness. Your eyes jump to his and Lucius’s throat bobs, the usual intensity of his features faltering for a brief moment.

"I will fetch more wine," you stammer after a pause, your gaze flicking nervously to Viggo still lingering at the edge of the bath, all too aware that Lucius cannot leave in this state. 

Wrapping your arms around your chest, you rise from the pool. The cool air instantly prickles your damp skin. You reach for a robe nearby and pull it around you quickly, grateful for its modesty. Viggo shoots you a brief, assessing glance, but it’s Lucius who commands his attention next.

"Come to admire what isn't yours?" Lucius taunts.

He leans back casually, as though completely unfazed by the situation. It’s effortless the way he slips into his confident, unshakable mask while you hurry away, eager to break the silence and escape the strange weight of the moment.

–

The clang and clash of metal from the arena become a distant hum, fading into the background as you clean the wounds on Lucius's body. Ravi is occupied, tending to the more seriously injured men, so it falls to you to care for your gladiator. You kneel between his thighs and the coarse sand scrapes against the soft skin of your knees. The heat of the day clings to you both, the air thick with the smell of sweat and blood. But beneath it all, there's a scent you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his — a mix of earth and salt that’s oddly comforting. 

You gently press a cloth to one of the deeper gashes, cleaning away the blood before you begin stitching the wound. Lucius hisses as you draw the needle through his parted skin, and you glance up at him in concern, but his eyes are closed, his breath steady despite the discomfort. His fingers curl into the edge of the cot, gripping it tightly. You smear the thick, fragrant paste Ravi left over the wound once you’re done. 

“You’re getting better at this,” Lucius observes.

“Flesh is not so different from cloth,” you reply.

“A far cry from mending fishing nets,” he says, and for a moment, your eyes meet and you share a small, pained smile.

“And you are a long way from a farm, gladiator,” you acknowledge, shaking your head. 

You help him stand, your hands steady as you support his weight, but you pause when you spot Viggo standing in the doorway. Lately, he seems to haunt your every step, his presence a constant shadow. On instinct you shift a little closer to Lucius, your body seeking the reassurance of his proximity just as he draws you near. The subtle movement doesn’t go unnoticed. A small, knowing smile tugs at Viggo’s lips. It’s a look that sends a trickle of unease down your spine.

“Macrinus is entertaining some important guests tomorrow evening, and you are required to attend,” he announces looking at Lucius. “They wish to see a real gladiator up close, to witness your strength and skill firsthand.”

Then, to your surprise, Viggo turns his gaze toward you. “Your presence is also required,” he adds. Although his tone is casual there's an edge to it that makes your stomach tighten.

Lucius doesn’t speak, but his fingers flex against your hip as he considers the other man’s command. You both know there’s little room for refusal when it comes to Macrinus.

“I understand-” you say at the same time Lucius’s voice cuts through the silence, low and firm.

“She is not needed. I alone will attend.” 

His gaze never leaves Viggo, and you can see the challenge in his eyes. It’s an attempt to shield you, one you appreciate but understand is futile. 

Viggo’s smile remains unchanged. “Macrinus insists.”

The matter is settled and you bow your head, waiting for the other man to leave. Once he is gone you look to Lucius, voice tinged with concern. 

“You should not challenge him.”

Lucius steps away, anger rolling off him in waves. “And you should not submit so easily.”

You touch your throat, then turn away to busy yourself with the bloody scraps of cloth and scattered supplies. There’s no point in arguing. You know the truth: that sometimes submission is the only way to survive in a world ruled by men like Macrinus. As you work the silence between you stretches on, thick and charged before Lucius steps toward you. 

He sighs, his breath warm against the back of your neck. A moment later, his hand rests on your shoulder. The calloused pads of his fingers graze the nape of your neck, sending a fleeting sense of unexpected longing through you as they briefly sweep over your skin.

“I….” His voice trails off and you close your eyes.

“I know,” you say quietly. 

So much of what transpires between you seems left unsaid. You reach back, your hand finding his briefly as the two of you share a quiet moment before he must return to the arena. 

–

The bangles on your wrist are heavy and ornate, far too extravagant for a slave. They feel less like adornments and more like shackles. Beside you, Lucius looks equally as uncomfortable in his fine clothes. They’ve trimmed his beard and his tunic—lined with gold thread—glimmers in the dim light. From across the room, Macrinus raises his goblet to the two of you. All around you his guests mingle, sharing hushed conversation and knowing smirks that deepen your discomfort. 

The servants, once familiar to you from your time as a slave working in Macrinus's kitchen, all avoid your gaze. You spent years alongside them before you were plucked from that world and thrust into Lucius's service. Their hesitation, the way they look past you, is more than simple discomfort, it’s a warning you don’t yet understand. Your fingers tremble where they rest on Lucius’s arm.

“Something is not right,” you whisper, fear rising in your throat.

Before Lucius can reply, the conversation around you falters, and the air grows still as Macrinus moves to the center of the room. Then, with a sharp clap of his hands, the noise dies completely. 

“Our entertainment is about to begin,” he announces, beckoning you forward.

As you approach, his eyes drift between you and Lucius. His smile widens, though it never quite reaches his eyes. “I hope you enjoyed your meal. You’ll both need your strength for the show,” he says. 

“I am to fight?” Lucius questions, his voice edged with suspicion.

“No, not today,” Macrinus replies. “My guests are eager for a performance of another kind.”

Your brow furrows and Lucius stares blankly at Macrinus until two servants, moving in unison, pull a table forward. It is laden with the remnants of the earlier feast — half-finished plates, empty goblets, and discarded silverware. They work to clear away the table until it is left bare. 

“It is no bed, but it’s finer than your cot,” Macrinus assures.  

Lucius jerks back as if struck, his body stiffening in shock while cold dread settles over your shoulder as you both understand Macrinus’s meaning. He watches the small exchange between the two of you with amusement.

“Or, if you prefer not to,” he offers, watching Lucius intently. His voice is smooth with mock consideration as he continues speaking. “I’m sure another gladiator would gladly take your place.”

“No,” Lucius snarls. Before he can move, you dig your nails into his forearm, trying desperately to hold him in place.

Macrinus leans in close, his next words meant only for the two of you. “I expect a good show. Not like that mummer's farce in the bath.”

Ugly surprise washes over you as the full reality of your situation sinks in. Beside you, Lucius shifts and you see the familiar spark in his eyes. It’s the look he gets before a fight when the fire that lives inside him is ready to explode and consume everything in its path. You’ve seen it a thousand times in the arena, and it always ends the same way: with blood. 

You almost wish you could let him fight, but you know better. You step closer to Lucius, your presence a quiet plea for him to stop. It takes a moment before he meets your gaze and when he does you see the pain beneath the rage, the knowledge that this moment is slipping beyond his control. 

There’s no glory in this—only survival. Yet that truth doesn’t make it any easier to watch the fire in his eyes fade as he steps back. It’s the kind of defeat that no arena or battle could ever impose on him. 

“My guests are eager for the show,” Macrinus says and gestures to the table. 

You straighten your shoulders, willing your body to follow the courage your mind struggles to summon. Lucius follows with heavy footsteps. You stop before the table, heart pounding, and take a slow, steadying breath to gather your resolve before you turn to face your gladiator. You know the role you’re meant to play, this moment is just another part of the spectacle your life has become.

Without a word, Lucius steps closer and his hands come to rest on your hips, guiding you to sit on the edge of the table. When he moves between your legs, you can’t read his expression. Unexpectedly, one of his large hands cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Focus on me,” he urges. “It is just us here, no one else matters. Do not think of them. Do not think of anything but me.”

His words are a command and a reassurance all at once, grounding you in the moment even as your pulse quickens. 

When he speaks again, his voice is louder, carrying across the room. “Lay back.”

The table is hard and cold beneath you as you follow his instruction, the chill seeping through the thin silks you wear. Lucius pulls you forward until you’re at the very edge, your legs hanging loosely off the sides. Gently, your dress is peeled away until you’re bare to him. His broad frame blocks the crowd from seeing much but you still feel vulnerable and exposed. You curl your fingers into the palms of your hands, trying to remember Lucius’s words as you close your eyes.

The murmurs of the observers increase, and you feel them shift, edging closer. Then, a woman’s gasp cuts through the tension, followed by a wave of hushed surprise that ripples through the gathered Romans. When you open your eyes you can only see the top of Lucius’s head from where he kneels between your thighs. Guilty anticipation zips through you, followed by a spark of heat that flickers low in your stomach at the sudden realization of what he intends to do. 

“Barbaric,” a man utters, his voice thick with disdain.

“Now now,” Macrinus says with a slight chuckle. “Remember, our gladiator hails from Numidia. Their customs are not ours."

The first touch from Lucius is barely there, a whisper of contact against your inner thigh, but it grows firmer the higher his fingers climb. Instinctively, you hold your breath, waiting for him to reach the most sacred part of you. At the first touch of his mouth to you, the rest of the world fades away.

Lucius builds your pleasure with slow, steady strokes while his calloused hands knead your thighs. His touch is an anchor and spark all at once. There is little resistance when he curls a finger inside. A second joins the first a moment later and without thought, you thread your fingers into his curls. A long, shuddering moan leaves him, and the vibration tightens the coil in your belly. Lucius’s touch grows rougher and more demanding. He drinks from you like he’s starved for it, as if every drop is the only thing keeping him alive while his fingers work you open.

You come with a throaty cry, your hips leaving the table. Every nerve in your body is alight. You cannot help but hold Lucius against you until the mere brush of his nose against your center makes you quake again, sending waves of warmth through your veins. As much as you want him to stop, you’re desperate for him to continue and keep you in this moment where nothing but the two of you exist. 

Lucius pulls away and reality crashes in with starting clarity while the eyes of the crowd cut through you like a thousand sharp edges. Before it all overwhelms you, he climbs onto the table. He lowers himself onto his forearms and the weight of him presses against you.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs.  

You open your mouth but the words you want to say seem to get caught, trapped somewhere between your chest and your lips. To your surprise, wetness gathers at the corner of your eyes. But even that feels like something you can't fully surrender to. You’re trapped in this strange, painful moment where nothing feels real and everything feels too real all at once. It’s all too much – his tenderness and the horror of the situation.

There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in Lucius’s expression in response, but it’s enough to reveal something beneath the surface and allow you to see the guilt he bears. The lines around his eyes seem to deepen and the tension in his expression makes him look older, wearier, and more vulnerable than you've ever seen him. The desire to soothe him is enough to break the strange spell on you.

"All is well," you assure him, gently brushing your nose against his. “I am no maiden.”

“Fuck her already,” a voice shouts and Lucius pulls back, his handsome face twisting into a snarl. You feel the tension in his muscles, coiling like a spring, ready to snap—and a knot of anxiety tightens in your chest. 

You breathe his name, soft and pleading, and he stills, the clench of his jaw betraying the war within. “It is only us,” you remind him, repeating his own words back to him. 

He stares down at you, nostrils flaring and then suddenly he bows his head. You feel the fight leave him as he chooses restraint over the violence you both know he’s capable of.

"Only us," he replies, strained. 

You hold his gaze as you feel his knuckles brush against your inner thigh to line himself up. He pushes inside slowly and you lift your hips. Your body welcomes him with only the briefest flare of pain, eased by his earlier attention. 

“Oh,” you gasp.

Your eyes close as he fills you completely. The sensation is both comforting and alien all at once. You can’t help but think of your late husband, so different from Lucius in every way. You wonder fleetingly if the man above you is thinking of his lost love too. Does that unspoken grief weigh on him as heavily as it does on you?

Before your mind can wander further, Lucius begins to move and your thoughts fizzle out. He curls his powerful body over yours and keeps up a steady pace that makes your skin buzz. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and the smell of him surrounds you, familiar and comforting. As you move together each breath and shift of your body becomes a silent conversation between only the two of you. 

“Gods,” he groans into your ear. “You take me so well.”

His unexpected praise has you rocking into him, needy for more. The table creaks each time he thrusts back into you. His lips trail along your neck and you feel that familiar climb to ecstasy begin, like a delicate crescendo inside you. Your nails dig into his skin and his rhythm stutters. 

“Sweet girl,” Lucius sighs, pulling back just far enough to meet your gaze.

The tenderness in his eyes is unexpected. Since Macrinus gifted you to Lucius nearly six months ago, you’ve shared many looks; full of pain and grief, anger and understanding, but this is something new, fragile. You stroke his cheek and he surges forward, kissing you roughly.

His lips on yours are a revelation. A storm of emotion rolls through your chest, crystallizing into the realization that you want him. You long for him in a way that goes beyond the need for protection, or a desire for connection. You grasp his face in both hands, your fingers trembling against the hard line of his jaw, and return the kiss with urgency. It’s desperate, almost frantic, as though you’re trying to pull him closer, to merge with him in a way that makes the world outside of the two of you disappear. 

He responds with a sharp thrust, angled so perfectly that it sends a flash of heat up your spine. You taste yourself on him when his tongue delves into your mouth. He hardly lets you catch a breath as he pours himself into you over and over until another orgasm washes through you. It’s more intense than the last, bleeding into his own as he comes with a quiet moan. 

He gives a few more thrusts and stills, his lips hovering over yours as you share the same air. Your thumbs stroke the soft skin under his eyes and you hold his gaze. In the depths of it, you feel a thousand words rising in your chest, aching to spill out, but you are all too aware you’re not alone. 

Before you let the world back in you tilt your chin up, lips brushing over his in a slow, tender kiss that he returns with heartbreaking gentleness. When you finally pull apart, the applause from Macrinus makes you flinch, and Lucius’s expression clouds over.

“What a performance,” Macrinus exclaims.

A titter of applause follows from the audience as though they’ve witnessed something to be praised. Lucius pulls away and you wince as he slips from inside you. A trickle of his seed follows and cold air blankets your body. You curl in on yourself, feeling vulnerable and anxious. When Lucius moves to stand, he carefully pulls your dress to cover you. Then, he helps you upright, and draws you into his side, shielding you with his body. He lifts his chin and offers the crowd a sharp, almost vicious smirk that’s more a baring of teeth than a smile. 

“I thought you might fuck like you fight,” Macrinus says. He lays a hand on Lucius’s shoulder like they are old friends and leans close. “I’m pleased to see that I was wrong.”

There’s some other meaning in his words that you don’t catch but Lucius seems to understand. Anger flickers across his face, but beneath it, you see something more unsettling, something you’ve never seen before. Fear. 

“We will do a great many things together, I think,” Macrinus continues in a pleased tone, his gaze lingering on the hand Lucius settles possessively on your hip. “A great many things.”

This time when he smiles it reaches his eyes; cold, calculating, and full of something far more sinister.

You spend the rest of the party seated on Lucius’s lap, his arm banded around your waist while the other rests on your thigh. He’s tense and angry as you expect but his focus seems distant, lost somewhere far beyond the room. He rubs the fabric of your dress between his thumb and forefinger, the motion almost absentminded. The wine you sip is overly sweet and sits like a sour stone in your belly. Neither of you speak. Occasionally, some guests, perhaps emboldened by drink or bravery, approach, but Lucius quickly sends them on their way with nothing more than a look. 

Only once the party dies down are you dismissed by Viggo. On the journey back to your cell Lucius’s grip on you remains firm, as if he's afraid you might slip away. He doesn't speak, and you notice every so often, his free hand curls into a tight fist at his side, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. It’s not until the door closes behind you, locking you both inside the small, dimly lit space, that Lucius finally speaks. 

"You know my true name,” he begins pacing the length of the cell. “But there are things I have not told you."  

He speaks slowly, each word carefully measured, as though he’s weighing the cost of revealing what’s hidden. He tells you the truth of his origin, and with each sentence, you sink deeper into the thin cot you both share, the weight of his words pressing down on you. When he finally falls silent, you remain there, frozen. A thousand thoughts flood your mind, but none of them seem to form into anything coherent. 

"Does this mean-" you begin, words faltering as you try to process the magnitude of what he’s revealed to you. “Does this mean… you are the rightful emperor?”

“I am.” There’s no pride in his admission, only worry. He releases a harsh breath through his nose like he’s trying to clear something from his chest before he speaks again. “There is a plan in place, with my mother and Acacius, but he will not return from Persia for several weeks yet. We cannot wait for them.”

“What has changed?”

“Surely you must know,” he whispers, regarding you softly.  

You shake your head, a quick, instinctive denial, but a deeper part of you already understands. Or perhaps, hopes you do.  

“You," he says simply. 

It’s the way he says it, so certain and knowing, that makes your breath catch. You stare at him and your heart throbs in your chest, low and sweet like a song.

“I never thought I could want someone again,” he admits. His unexpected words summon the ghost of all you've both lost, and they rise between you like a shadow, lingering for a long painful moment. "I thought it would feel like..." His words trail off.

“A betrayal,” you finish for him, keenly aware of what he must feel. 

The vulnerable look on his face awakens something deep and real inside you that you never expected to feel again. You rise from the cot without thinking and move to stand before him.  

"It feels right," he continues, his voice softer now, but no less certain. "As easy as breathing." 

And then he kisses you, tentative at first, before he grasps your jaw, seeking more of you. The way he holds you, possessively, protectively, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters, like you're his lifeline in a world that’s about to crumble. It fills you with such longing that you chase his lips when they part from yours.

"Macrinus knows now. And he is planning something," Lucius says, his voice tight with urgency, "and whatever it is, it will be at odds with the good of Rome. He will use you to get to me. And I cannot lose you."

“What will you do?” You ask.

"I'll send word to my mother in the morning," he replies. "You and she must leave Rome. It’s the only way."

You shake your head, unwilling to part from him.

“I will come for you when it is safe,” he promises, capturing your lips in another kiss before he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. "But tonight… tonight, I need you again. Will you have me?” He questions.  

You answer him with your lips and he gathers you in his arms. The coarseness of his beard against your chin and the firm press of his lips to yours ignites a bone-deep need within. Suddenly all the danger, the uncertainty, and the inevitability of what’s to come fades into the background. It's just the two of you, the heat of his touch, the depth of his kiss, and the unspoken promise in his embrace. 

When he pulls you down on the cot, urging you on top of him, you let his momentum carry you. 

“Ride me,” he pleads desperately, framing your hips with his hands. 

He gazes up at you with such a mix of desperation and love that you couldn’t deny him, even if you wanted to. The shudder he gives when you take him in hand emboldens you to stroke his length. He groans and pushes his head back, exposing his thickly corded neck. You rise up and sink down on him slowly, savoring each inch. It’s near perfect how he fills you, and even though you’re still sore from earlier, the blend of pain and pleasure thrills you too much to stop. 

“Your dress,” he pants, “remove it. Please. I want to see you. All of you.”

You pull the fabric from your body and shed the bangles on your wrist while Lucius removes his tunic. You’re familiar with every inch of his body from tending to his wounds and time in the bathhouse, but you gaze down at him now with renewed appreciation, resting your hands on his firm shoulders. His eyes are filled with affection and desire as they roam your body. 

“You’re beautiful,” he praises. 

He cups your breasts and draws his thumbs across your nipples until they grow hard. The touch sends sparks of pleasure along your nerves and you twitch around him. He moans and rolls his hips. His arms encircle you, holding you close while he fucks you with strong, powerful thrusts. You bury your face in his neck and drag his skin between your teeth. He answers your action with a groan. 

“Gods, the way you feel. You’re perfect,” he praises. 

You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, moving your hips to take him deeper. You gasp his name and arch your back, rocking forward with an urgent need that eclipses everything else. For the first time in what feels like forever, you close your eyes and let yourself simply feel. There’s no need to shield yourself, no barriers to maintain.

“Look at me,” Lucius begs, grasping your waist to take control of your movements.

Your eyes flutter open and meet his, the beginning of your orgasm rising to the surface like a tide pushing its way to shore. It grows steadily until it finally crashes over you, flooding your senses and leaving you breathless in its wake. Lucius finds his own end moments after with a low, shuddering gasp. It takes several moments for your breathing to return to normal and when it does Lucius sweeps his hands up your sides comfortingly.

"Stay with me like this,” he asks. 

You acquiesce and he gently guides you to rest your cheek against his chest. His hand slides to the middle of your back, his palm warm and steady as he holds you close. Even though he remains inside you still your body relaxes, pooling in his. You close your eyes and listen to the steady drum of his heart, feeling a profound sense of stillness. 

You’ve always felt safe in Lucius’s arms, but now, you feel loved in a way you never dreamed you’d experience again. It’s a kind of peace that settles into you, filling all the broken, hollow spaces in your heart where your grief and pain have lingered for so long.

Whatever comes next, his love and strength are something you can hold onto. And for now, that is all you need. 

Prologue -Ab Initio

♡

My inbox is open for your thoughts on Lucius and requests for drabbles with his character for General Acacius (but I will pretend he is not married to Lucilla).

I am also happy to write a little epilogue for this story if there is an interest.

[dontyouworrydaddy]

welcome back home

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem! Reader

summary: Simon comes home from a mission and he missed you.

warning: NSFW! MINORS DNI! this is just pure sex lol

𝄞────────── 𝄇

You can’t wait for him to enter the house and not giving him enough time to slip out of his boots or gear. The moment he comes through this door you want to jump him and hug him really tight.

It’s been months since you last seen him and you can’t call him because it would be too dangerous. No letters, no photos and no calls. If you guys get to talk, he calls you. But that’s really rare since he would rather not talk to you for a few months than putting your life at risk. But everytime he leaves, he promises to come back.

And he always does.

You hear the door open and close and before Simon could pronouns his appearance you hug him causing him to stumble back.

He hates hugs. He even hates it when people touch him. But he doesn’t mind when you’re doing it. He even likes it. He loves your touch.

He lets out a soft chuckle and hugs you back. "I missed you too, baby" he whispers in your hair and kisses the top of your head.

You look at him and smile at him. Your hands on the corner of his mask, asking him for permission to take it off and nods slightly.

As you take off his mask you see your Simon again. The man you fell in love with. The man that went through hell and back.

“Hello there” you say causing simon to smile. You kiss him softly and he returns the kiss. Your soft kiss explains him how much you missed him and how happy you are that he is back.

“Get inside, I‘ll make you food” you smile at him, hold his hand and lead him with you to the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sleeping?” Simon asks you all of a sudden. You guys went to sleep an hour ago but Simons Insomia makes it hard for him to rest. You turn so you’re facing him and you see his restless eyes in the need for sleep.

But he simply can’t. Because his mind won’t let him.

You feel bad for him. And you get an idea on how you can make him feel good.

Simon is flat on his back and his lap looks a bit lonely… so you decide to get on top of him.

“What are you doing?“ he asks you curiously. A little smirk fights its way on your lips and you start moving on his lap while your hands lay flat on his bare and muscular chest.

Him showing you his chest even through it‘s covered in scars means so much to you. You’re probably the only one that gets to see him like this. And you don’t mind. Not a bit.

“Fuck“ he groans and covers his face with his face.

“I‘m gonna make you fall asleep” you reply to his question and you can feel him getting hard under you. But you don’t stop there. You’re barely clothed which is gonna be even more fun.

“Jesus… You know what you’re doing” he whispers and his hands lay on both sides of your hips now.

With one motion he switches positions, trapping you in his huge muscular body.

His lips smash against your lips and you guys start making out sloppily. The kiss is filled with a lot of passion and desperate for each other. His hands make their way through your whole body, leaving not a single spot untouched.

In the middle of the kiss, you feel his finger make their way into your panties and stop on top of your clit.

You feel a lot of desperation and you need him now.

“Simon” you whisper in the middle of the kiss and he chuckles. His fingers circles around your clit obviously trying to tease you. You groan into the kiss and your breathing speeds up.

Without a single warning he slides two of his fingers inside of you leaving your mouth open.

“Fuck… Simon, fuck!” you groan as his fingers move in and out of you. He continues his movement while his other hand is wrapped around your throat kissing you hungrily.

“You’re so wet for me” he tells you and kisses you again.

“Simon. Please~” you moan his name and he knows exactly what you want. He knows what you need.

“Use your words baby” he orders you and you feel yourself so close.

“Please Simon. Please fuck me” you desperately tell him.

You feel empty as soon as his fingers leave your wet and needy pussy. He moves your panties to the side and he removes his boxers and his already hard cock springs free.

You’re breathing hard as simon teases you with sliding his cock on top of your pussy.

“Please Simon just fuck me already” you tell him with so much desperate.

“Whatever my girl wants” and with that said he slides into you. Without a warning, leaving your mouth open. You roll your eyes at the feeling of him inside you.

It’s been months since you had sex. You touched yourself but it was never the same as with Simon. He just knows what you need.

He moves in and out of you slowly. The sound of your bodies fills the room and with every move he speeds up. Even through his hands are resting on your waist, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re whole body is moving with his movements.

You’re pretty moans and his groans fills the room. “You’ve been such a good girl. You were waiting for me for so long. You deserve a little treatment now.” he says while fucking your absolute brains out.

His movements are even faster now and you feel a tear of pleasure leave your left eye. Your hands tightly grab the side of the bed. The bed moves with each thrust and you wonder how strong this bed is.

“You’re so tight… fuck” he moans your name and kisses your slightly open mouth. The kiss is wet and messy and he doesn’t stop fucking you fast.

“good fucking girl” he whispers and groans. His thrusts had him whimpering.

“I‘m so fucking close Simon” you scream his name and he likes it when you scream his name. You feel your leg starting to shake a bit.

“Cum with me” he says and you do as he says. You both came and you feel like you’re in heaven.

“My pretty baby” he whispers in your ear and kisses your cheek while he is still inside of you.

“You got me really tired now“ he says before sliding out of you, leaving you feeling alone. He falls next to you and holds your naked body close to his.

“I love you so much” he kisses your whole face.

“ I love you more” you tell him and you both smile like idiots.

You both fall asleep in each others arms, feeling happier than ever.

And finally Simon can rest a bit too.

[anantaru]

“what’s your favorite color?”

alhaitham at the outset, first replies to your unexpected question with a bewildered look neighboring on his natural, graceful highlights before venturing to answer at last.

"i never concerned myself with that question." he says, crossing his arms around his chest— but a dart of curiosity seized him, there was a spark of interest in his eyes. as might be expected, how overly typical for the akademiya scribe and his tendencies to read into something a little too throughout.

"what would the reasoning behind it be?"

you felt a ripple of chuckles rise in your chest, "so i know what your favorite color is, silly." and alhaitham doesn't point his eyes away from you, they're stagnant, breezing from your brows to your lips and collarbones.

the distance you both shared wasn't that far as you assuredly slant your cheek against his strong shoulder while, at the same time, melt your palm on his slightly shaky thigh as you moved your lips to indicate a contented smile, "don‘t you think it‘s fun to get to know more about your partner?"

well, of course he did, that much goes without saying. but you must've misunderstood him, because alhaitham preferred it the other way around.

by extension, the man always favored to be a serene listener instead of an oversharing talker if anything— something about breaking through his concealed nature or showing a different, more hidden, side wasn‘t as easy from the get go as one might expect it to be.

"i guess." his voice had a surprise in it and a bit of a graveled edge, but he speaks in a firm tone. alhaitham scratches the back of his neck, adding on as a solution to this conversation gathered in his eyes and filled it.

"what’s your favorite color?"

"don’t even try to pull this around."

you bark back, laughing immediately, not even surprised he attempted to switch the situation around. with no punches pulled, for some reason you had seen it coming, ultimately bubbling with hilarity as you saw a sudden faint glint of a smile on your boyfriends lips, a silver like reticent.

"turquoise."

"what?"

"it’s turquoise."

this time, he spelled it out an octave underneath his heaves, as if almost embarrassed or shy to actually state it up more clear. the color in question he had conclusively picked out wasn‘t unknown to you by any circumstances— be it known, his spellbinding eyes were part turquoise, the same eyes you deeply fell in love with.

"is there a specific reason?" it's easier for alhaitham now and he had his own hand on top of yours— indicating the comfort barreling in his heart whenever he was with you.

that said, you had entirely grown invested in him, naturally there were many things interesting about alhaitham, but this time it felt a little more precise— a little more personal.

the near drawn following seconds, there was a warm silence, one that wasn’t defeating nor uncomfortable, it was refreshing and deemed as an effect in tune with alhaitham‘s deep pondering.

nonetheless, it chilled his heart and the man draws in his breath before exhaling through his parted lips.

"it reminds me of a family member."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[jolieblack]

Something finally came to me! (I usually can’t write to prompts to save my life.)

May Prompts 2024 by @calaisreno

May 24th: Imperfect

We've always done things the wrong way round.

We moved in together at a time when we knew no more than four or five facts about each other. Significant facts, granted, such as John being a war veteran and me having no patience with idiots, but neither of us could have claimed to have had anything even close to the full picture at the time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if either of us had. Only on my really bad days, though.

I don’t have all that many of those any more, luckily. And when I do, I have plenty of good memories to help me pull myself up again. Take the ones of how we confessed our love to each other to a beautifully decorated room full of people in festive dress and in even more festive spirit, to much applause and cheering and well-wishing. Yes, you heard that plural right. Those are two separate memories, years apart and in two different places. I got to go first, and it wasn’t even me who was getting married at the time. That’s another thing that most couples would do differently. Coordinate it a bit better, at least.

The second time around, as a lot of you will remember well, it was John's turn to talk, and I‘d been told in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut and say nothing, not even to correct his grammar, till he was done. I can now attest that it is true that the groom never gets to have a say in anything at his own wedding. Someone got his late revenge there. And believe me, that doesn’t depend on whether it’s one groom or two. Yes, and I know there are still people out there even in this day and age who feel that it’s not normal to have two grooms at all. They can all go away and never show their ugly faces again where I can see them, or smell the foul breath of the bigoted filth they’re spouting. That’s not the wrong way around, that couldn’t be more right for both of us.

But we did other things the wrong way around, too. In most romantic stories, killing someone to save the person you love is usually the culmination of long mutual trust and dedication. It‘s supposed to be the crowning glory, the final sealing of a bond that has long been in the making. It’s not supposed to be the starting point. And John is usually the more patient of the two of us, but when it came to this, he could barely contain himself for 36 hours after our very first meeting before he did it. Ever heard of timing and pacing, Doctor, I hear you people wonder? And he’s supposed to be the one with the talent for good storytelling. The timing was good, though. The timing was excellent. There’s another 'what if' for you that is no fun to contemplate at all.

There is killing out of love, and - I have to say it, I can’t not, I‘d be lying by omission if I didn't - there's also dying out of love. I doubt, however, that there’s anyone out there who has ever put a more elaborate effort into pretending to die out of love than I have. As far as I‘m aware, that’s not really a romantic convention, either, and I sincerely hope I haven’t started a trend. I honestly can’t recommend it. Effort is well and good, and I dare say the execution in my case was flawless, but I can’t deny there was a certain lack of forethought as to the emotional impact on both parties concerned. Don‘t try this at home, folks.

People also usually date first, then start cohabiting, then get married, then raise children together. Please don’t ask me to define at what time in our lives exactly John and I were dating and when we weren’t yet. To this day we have never been able to agree on a definition for this mysterious activity that emphatically, according to John, for whatever reason, does not encompass two people who like each other going out together and having fun. But it is an undisputed fact that we had been raising a child together for a good while before we got married. And we have been going out together and having fun for years uncounted now. Crime scenes never fail to work that particular magic on us. Oh wait, no, that was another example I had on my list for what most other couples do differently. Hang on, do I see a certain Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard raise his hand in objection? Raising both hands, actually, showing us… what, seven fingers? Is that the number of couples working for the Metropolitan Police that you know personally who have met at crime scenes? Or are you reminding us of the number of times John and I were actually kicked off a crime scene because we were enjoying ourselves entirely too much, and were told not to come back till we could behave like adults? I could have sworn those were more than seven occasions, but I‘ll take your word for it.

Talking of raising a child together, I‘m sure Rosie will say a word or three about that herself later, but I have never understood why most of you had doubts about the practicability of that particular endeavour. Let me just tell you that a baby carrier is entirely compatible with a cashmere scarf, or didn’t you know cashmere can absorb up to a third of its own dry weight in liquid? And it got only easier from there when Rosie grew older and stopped affectionately drooling on whoever enjoyed the happy privilege of holding her and carrying her around. She hasn’t demanded being carried around in a good while now, and I don’t know what our poor old backs would say to that these days. But we were talking about happy memories, weren’t we, so there’s another. And at least in the metaphorical sense, I hope you know, Rosie, that you’ll be held and carried for as long as you want and need, as long as we both live. You were my daughter even before I was your father’s husband, and that has been one of the greatest honours bestowed on me in my life.

Because this is who we are, isn’t it, our crazy little family, where nothing is as you’d expect it to be. But we still wouldn’t have it any other way, topsy-turvy, weird, flawed and utterly imperfect, but also utterly us, unique, one of a kind. I don’t know if it was fate that threw us together, or if it really was just a whim on the part of the comfortable, corpulent, bespectacled gentleman sitting at this table over here, smirking with his trademark benevolence. But there’s a debt of gratitude to be paid there, and today is a good day to do it. In this at least, we’re doing the conventional thing, but who’s to say we’re not allowed to do that at least once in a quarter-century.

So, ladies and gentlemen, dear friends and family from far and wide, I give you: John Watson, the man of my life, the man at my side for over thirty years, and for exactly twenty-five years in the legal sense on this very day. Please raise your glasses with us to the next twenty-five. And for God’s sake stop snivelling like that, Mycroft. You’re embarrassing the whole room.

[linghxr]

My 2023 in Mandopop/Chinese music (update & recs)

It’s been too long since I last shared some music recommendations/updates on what I’m listening to! Admittedly, I haven’t been discovering as many new artists because I’m busy listening to 薛之谦 on repeat. But we'll focus on the new.

You can check out my Spotify playlist featuring these songs (plus bonus ones). In addition, I’ve included YouTube links below.

五月天 / Mayday 五月天 is a legendary band, so of course I knew of them and had heard a few of their songs over the years. But I never proactively sought out their music until recently. I still haven’t had time to dive into their back catalog, but I’ve already found some songs I really love.

《我又初恋了》 I actually really didn’t like this song the first time I heard it, but it wormed its way into my brain. It’s just a lot of fun! Non-serious songs can be good too.

《转眼》 My favorite 五月天 song <3. I’m probably too young to fully appreciate the lyrics, but they make me feel so nostalgic and bittersweet, like transitioning to a new chapter of life and leaving the old behind.

《因为你 所以我》 This song didn’t stand out to me at first, but it grew on me! I caught myself humming it a lot. It‘s kind of corny, but it sounds so full of hope.

陈奕迅 / Eason Chan I first started listening to 陈奕迅 a couple years ago after my Album a Day August challenge, but I’ve found that his music has grown on me over time. I believe I’ve only mentioned him once before, so I thought now was a good time to highlight my favorite of his songs.

《之外》 This is probably my favorite 陈奕迅 song. The lyrics convey a sense of hopelessness, but the overall song has a smooth, light sound.

《娱乐天空》 You know a song is good when it’s over 6 minutes long but feels like it flies by! It makes me want to get up, get moving, and be productive.

《烟味》 This song is dramatic, and I love it for that. Also has a hint of orchestral flavor.

《淘汰》 One of 陈奕迅’s most well-known songs—for a good reason. It has big Cpop ballad vibes but is definitely livelier.

白举纲 / Bai Jugang You’re going to notice several mentions of 披荆斩棘 in this post. That’s where I “met” 白举纲. I instantly liked his voice and loved seeing him with his “brother” 高瀚宇 and ��dad” 张晋! You may also see his music under his English name, Pax Congo.

《被动失控》 This is the only song on the list you could headbang to.

《Shy Boy》 I love this song because it’s cute and includes a children’s rhyme that I learned as a kid: 找啊找啊找朋友 找到一个好朋友.

苏诗丁 / Su Shiding At some point last year I did a one-month free trial of Apple Music. It was an interesting experience because the recommendations were very different from what Spotify tends to show me. I’m glad Apple Music led me to 苏诗丁!

《LUCIFER（傲慢宗罪）》 All I can say is that this song exudes coolness and confidence. It also has a fair bit of English, but honestly I had to look up the lyrics to tell what some of it was.

《梦幻病》 This song is from the same album. It’s dreamlike but gets more frantic as it builds. Overall, it’s just a bit…unsettling.

队长 / Young Captain I learned about 队长 from a random post on Instagram about his concert in Malaysia. I think these songs might have gone viral on 抖音 or something. I was surprised I liked them so much because they both have some rap (I’m not a rap fan), but it was love at first listen.

《11》 I love how this song builds towards the end. I spend the whole song waiting for the crescendo, and it’s great payoff.

《楼顶上的小斑鸠》 This song is like the slightly mellower sibling of the one above. But I ended up liking this one even more.

金志文 / Jin Zhiwen 金志文 was another artist who Apple Music recommended to me. I definitely need to explore his discography more but haven’t had the chance to do so yet. But he has some good stuff so far!

《自娱自乐》 Smooth and relaxing but in a fun way. Simple and no-frills but will put a smile on your face!

《远走高飞》 This one feels like enjoying the breeze on a beautiful sunny day. I also enjoy the duet with 徐佳莹 version.

163braces 163braces started out as a YouTuber posting song covers. I have watched a couple of her covers, but they didn’t leave much of an impression on me. I was pleasantly surprised by her foray into original music. I look forward to hearing what she does next!

《控制》 The song I would want as my “soundtrack” if I were a video game character. It’s energetic and loud.

《murmur》 Honestly this song is pretty similar to the first one. Sometimes I have trouble distinguishing them. But hey, if ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

小鬼 / Lil Ghost 小鬼 did what I can best describe as “pulling an MGK” by going from more rap to kinda pop-punk? That MGK album was my guilty pleasure when in came out, so I’m all for 小鬼’s new direction.

《Last Day》 This song really gave me MGK vibes. It’s about half in English, but I often don't even notice when he switches between languages.

《不良少年》 I just know I would have loved this song so much in high school. It’s an angsty teen anthem. 

《为明天写封信》 I can totally imagine this song playing at the end of a 2000s teen movie! Maybe while showing a montage of the main characters graduating.

《无所求必满载而归》 by 陈粒 / Chen Li This is technically cheating because I have recommended 陈粒 songs before, but it was at least a couple years ago. I heard this song covered on 披荆斩棘的哥哥 and immediately looked up the original. Honestly I should have known it was a 陈粒 song because you can totally tell it’s her style.

《轻红》 by 曹杨 / Young I keep coming back to this song! It’s from a drama soundtrack. I was super surprised the first time I listened to it because I thought it was going to be a typical ballad based on the first ~45 seconds or so—it wasn’t. There is also another version by 陈雪燃 (the king of cdrama OSTs). But I actually prefer the 曹杨 version.

《时光机》 by 吴克群 / Kenji Wu I was introduced to 吴克群 via 披荆斩棘2. He was instantly one of my favorite contestants after his team’s amazing 《新地球》 performance (check it out). This song is bouncy and a little dreamy. I kinda want to hear a remix with Harry Styles’ As It Was. I just wish it were longer than 3 minutes!

My Spotify Wrapped

I have a tradition of sharing my Spotify Wrapped, and I wanted to continue the streak in some form. So here's a quick rundown.

Top genre: 华语流行音乐 Representative city: Taipei Minutes: 21,750

Top artists

薛之谦 / Xue Zhiqian

林宥嘉 / Yoga Lin

五月天 / Mayday

李荣浩 / Li Ronghao

陈奕迅 / Eason Chan 

Top songs

《木偶人》 - 薛之谦

《狐狸》 - 薛之谦

《骆驼》 - 薛之谦

《转眼》 - 五月天

《后来的我们》 - 五月天

Also, fellow Mandopop fans should check out the Mando Gap newsletter. I stumbled upon it this year, and I know it’s going to be a great resource for discovering new artists in 2024!

[sadienita]

[1:01] “Joong, where- ugh!” You groaned as you spun around to find Hongjoong way behind you yet again. You were meant to be on a cute date, a first date in fact, because after a year of pining Hongjoong had finally mustered up the courage to ask you out. Despite his clear nerves it had been lovely.

Or mostly lovely.

Because despite taking you out to lunch and then to a cute cafe and now for a walk in the park, he had also brought his camera along. And he couldn’t seem to help himself, stopping at every pretty sight to snap a photo, not to mention about fifty photos each from the cafe and restaurant of your food.

It was cute really, but it did mean his attention kept wandering. If you didn’t know him well it might have been rude. But you knew how shy he could be and you could see how nervous he was even if he hid it well. So you simply gave him a smile when he met your gaze with a confused “huh?”

“I’m walking alone.” You chuckled.

“O-Oh, sorry.” He mumbled, scurrying to meet you. He looked even cuter as the blush on his cheeks matched the pink on the tip of his nose from the cold weather. “I got distracted.”

“Was it a good picture?” You hummed.

“Yeah I think so, I think I have at least a few good ones from today. It’s nice that it snowed.” He gazed over the hedge at a few young girls making snow ducks at the side of the walking path. “Everything looks pretty when it snows.”

“Even me?” You teased.

“Y-You always look pretty.” He said quickly. When you glanced at him he was blushing harder. You nudged him with your arm and he looked at you.

“You’re pretty too.”

“You’re just saying that cuz I said it.” He countered.

You put a hand over your heart. “I swear I’m telling the truth.” You reached over to pinch his nose which made him jump. “You’re adorable.”

“I think you just like teasing me.” He muttered.

“I liked teasing you before you asked me out.” You said. “It‘s familiar. It should comfort you.”

“It does the opposite.”

You stepped in front of him, stopping him as you grinned at him. “Do I make you all nervous now, Joongie?”

A blush rushed up his cheeks as he ducked his head. “Why did I think confessing to you was a smart idea?”

“Do I make your heart race?”

“I should have known you would just torture me.”

“Bet you wanna kiss me, don’t you?”

Hongjoong grabbed his camera again, forcing it between the two of you, almost as if creating his own little bubble to withstand your teasing. “Let me take your picture.” He said.

“You didn’t answer any of my questions.” You laughed. He nudged you backwards.

“You already know I like you, do I have to admit to everything?” He mumbled.

“It’s more fun if you do.” You said, wandering down the path as he found you in his viewfinder.

“Don’t I make you feel the same way, anyways?”

Yes. 

Yes, I feel butterflies in my stomach everytime you call my name.

Yes, I feel my heart racing a mile a minute each time you look at me.

Yes, I want you to kiss me.

But you couldn’t just say those things out loud.

“You make me feel…” You thought for a moment as you gazed up at the snow covered branches of the tree. “Make me feel-”

“Wait! Don’t move!” Hongjoong’s sudden exclamation made you jump a little but you held still after that, hearing the snap of his camera shutter. It went off a few more times before you looked at him, ending with him getting one more of you looking right into the camera. You could feel the heat warming you from the inside out as he shyly brought the camera down. He looked so pretty, the shy smile on his face, cheeks and nose tinted pink. The way he looked at you had your heart hammering in your chest, like you were his whole world.

“Sorry, you- it’s a really good picture.” He cleared his throat, tone hopeful when he spoke again. “What were you saying? About how I make you feel?”

A smile tugged at your lips. You didn’t say anything in response, instead waking back down the path towards him. Hongjoong let out a yelp as you dug your fingers into his scarf and pulled him in, pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss that made your heart feel like it had an entire fireworks display going off.

When you pulled back Hongjoong looked just as dazed as you felt.

“You make me feel love.” You hummed, before kissing him again.

[tinkerbelle05]

Characters: Sully family x reader, Neteyam x reader, Jake x reader, Neteyiri x reader, Lo’ak x reader, platonic, fem-reader

Genre: Domestic fluff, fluff

Warning: none :)

Summary: Family days are something important for the Sully’s. So, when they are given a day free of the responsibilities as leaders, they spend the day together as a family.

Word count: 1, 395

Translation : Ma’evi = My child

————————————————————————

It was a bright, sunny day when Neytiri and Jake took you out. These types of days were rare because of how busy both Jake and Neytiri were with clan duties, Jake is the Olo'eyktan after all. So, because of that Jake and Neytiri wanted to let you choose where they’ll be exploring today. Last time you all went swimming in the river at eclipse and Jake even taught you how to fish for the first time.

But today, you were quite content with running through the tropical jungle that you called home. The feeling of the soil underneath your feet, and hearing the ruffles of the plants as you move past them.

“Mom, Mom, look!” You yelled with excitement, sparkles in your eyes. Neytiri watched with soft, fond eyes. They were enormous, twisting and contorting in ways that could always take away your breath. Even your father, Jake Sully, is still blown away at the sight of the alien greenery

At the sight of a plant that resembled a water slide, you looked up to your father, pleading with big puppy dog eyes. Jake knew instantly what your intentions were and let out a soft chuckle. He was always the more lenient parent and would let things slide that Neytiri would never dream of. Like that one time, he let you ride on his ikran.

“Can we pleaseeeee slide on them, Daddy?” Adding that at the end would always increase your chances. Jake was a sucker for you.

All he could do was hide his smirk as he turned to Neytiri, giving her the same puppy dog eyes you had given him just a moment before. On your own, she would often say no but to the both of you, she was at your mercy.

And so, with a roll of her eyes, Neytiri could huff and agree. You did a little victory dance before rushing over to begin climbing the plant. You’d often see other people from the clan sliding down them, and it always looked like they were having a blast. Their laughs danced across the air and smile warmed each other's hearts. So of course you wanted to have a turn, wishing for a moment like that with your parents.

Just as you reached the top your mother called up to you “Now, I know this looks fun but you could get seriously hurt if you’re not careful. So listen to me.” She explained what to do and what not to do when sliding down.

You nodded your head and eagerly listened, not wanting to upset your mom by being careless. You watched as Neytiri showed you what to do with her hands, a habit she’d always had when explaining things. And so whatever direction she turned her body in, whether her body was relaxed or stiff, you committed everything to memory.

“Okay baby, you sure you don’t want daddy to go first?” Jake asked you. “No!” You huffed at him and crossed your arms over your chest. “It‘s my turn. Then you can go, Dad.”

And so, you sat at the top of the slide and pushed yourself. Oh, Eywa now this was an experience that was alien to you and yet you welcomed it all the same. Ringing in your ears as you passed your parents and the adrenaline rushing through you. The leaf was soft but sturdy and held your weight comfortably and the wind was pushing against your face, leaving your hair to fly around you.

Seconds later you landed on the floor with a thud, although that was quickly replaced by your laughter. You leaped up from the ground and ran over to your mom. “Did you see? Did you see me, Mom? Eywa, that was so much fun. May I go again, Mom?”

“You did so well, ma’evi,” Your mother praised, a soft smile on her face at your joy. “Now let’s watch your father before you go again, okay?”

Nodding with excitement you quickly stood up, ecstatic to see your father go down the slide. He’s always doing some extra to see your smile. Whether it was shooting two arrows at once or doing loops with his ikran. However, today was not that day as you watched him slide clumsily down the plant and land with a loud painful thud on the ground.

You gasped in horror before rushing over to check on him. “Daddy, are you okay?” You fell to the floor and patted his shoulder in a comforting manner.

Jake lay on the floor groaning in pain but looked up to you, giving you a small smile. “Gimme a second, baby. Just gimme a second.”

Whereas you were concerned, your mother was rather annoyed and unimpressed with her mate but her daughter saw a smirk forming on her face.

“Seriously, Jake?” she questioned him. “Get up, you skxawng. You should be filled with shame, your child is better at this than you.” She kicks him in his side before walking off.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Several years have passed by and the family has grown. But something that has never changed was the family days. Today it was Netyiri, Neteyam, and you (although now you were older), all sliding down the plant with grace and agility. By this alone it shows that the two of you are definitely your mother’s children.

Once at the base of the plant, the three of you look up to see Jake and Lo’ak.

“It's a shame that Kiri didn't wanna join us,” Neteyam notes while stretching his limbs. “Yea, knowing her, she’s probably running around in her own world.” You chuckle, creating a mental image of what Kiri is doing right now.

When Neteyam saw Lo’ak getting into position, he yelled out, “You got this bro!” He cheered for his brother but you can see the sly smirk on his face. He’s low key hoping that Lo’ak will fall flat on his face.

All of you watched as Jake got into position to slide down as well. Uh oh.

…But then he slipped and while trying to gain balance he grabbed onto something. That something being Lo’ak who wasn’t paying attention AT ALL.

He was more focused on relaying what you and Neytiri have told him and which form to use. All three of you watch as the father and son chaotic duo stumble down the leaf, the complete opposite of how you’ve done it. Neteyam winced at the loud thud their fall caused, and did you hear something breaking??

“Are you guys okay?” Neteyam asks them and walks over. “That must have hurt.” Neither of them answer in favor of trying (and failing) to catch their breaths because the air got knocked right out of them.

“Damn,” Lo’ak groans. “I think I broke something. Or sprained it at the very least.”

“Yea me too..” Jake agreed with him. Netyiri just stares in shock and dismay because they have been both practicing to not fall. At least it wasn’t on their face like last time. Those two somehow always do exactly what she doesn't want them to do.

“Please, Great Mother, give me strength-” Netyiri mutters under her breath, not even sparing a glance to her son and mate.

“Nooo, Lo’ak. You’ve been making good progress too.” You looked down at him in pity.

Neteyam, over his initial worry, is now laughing his ass off. At least someone got something they wanted out of this, and well it is pretty funny. “Like son, like father. Right, (Y/N)?”

Lo’ak looked up at his brother, always looking for a chance to correct his older brother. “Actually, bro, you got it backward. It’s ‘Like father, like son.’”

Jake’ face scrunched up in thought and then nodded. “Yeah, ‘Teyeam he’s right-“

All of you told them to shut up in perfect unison.

“Well in any case, I’m sure our new sibling would be better than you, Lo’ak.” Neteyam taunts with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Oh shut up!” He yells.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading and see ya in the next one 👋🏿

Tags: Special thanks to @missroro for letting me take this prompt, I hope that you liked it and special thanks to my editor @enslique for her hard work.

Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info

My Taglist & Reqs are open!!

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Join us, please?

X-Men fanfic

wc: 5.3 K summary: Charles tries to get you into his school warnings: platonic story! telekinesis!reader, reader has anxiety, stalking but it's not actual stalking, one swear word, use of weed a/n: it started out as a drabble idea, now I'm unsure if I'll ever continue writing for this. (this came out more as a crackfic) Have fun reading, I'd be happy for some feedback!!

Sitting at a bar on a saturday wasn‘t really something you do regurarly, but this is a special occasion. Or rather more of a pathetic attempt to run away from your problems and forget about everything that happened in the last two days. The bitter taste of your pint makes you scrunch up your face a little, but you soon get used to it, and are now trying to drain everything out. Maybe, if you wouldn‘t work at a shitty fast food restaurant and had a normal boss, you wouldn‘t be here. Maybe then, you wouldn‘t think your life is a mess and you wouldn‘t be sulking here by your own pitiful, depressed ass.

The pain in your palms isn‘t doing you any favours, especially since you feel weaker than usual today. You knew using your powers more frequently would lead up to you hurting, but it‘s not like you could neglect your teleknesis. You don‘t want to forget how it works, so you decided to try it out yesterday again. If only you would‘ve kept track of the time, you wouldn‘t be cooling your hands against the glass of beer at the moment.

Right as you are taking another sip, a young man sits beside you, wearing a warm smile on his face. Before you could say something or think more about this, he speaks up.

»Good evening, my name‘s Charles. All alone today?«

God, he speaks like a rich man. Is he a rich man? Maybe you can get rich tonight and finally quit your job.

»Uh, yeah. All alone.«

He keeps smiling lightly at you, a rather awkward silence falling over you both. Finally, your intoxicated brain catches up, realising you haven‘t introduced yourself yet. With a quick apology, you tell him your name and grow sheepish.

»It‘s alright, don‘t worry. I actually have some questions for you. Nothing sketchy, I promise.«

Whoever this man is, he‘s got some charm. But it works, and you‘re already listenening to him anyway. Come to notice, you have never seen this man before. Especially not in such a rowdy bar like this. He seems to be way too organised and polite for this.

After a small moment, he speaks up again, getting to his questions.

»Promise me not to freak out, but I know about your mutation. Your ability to move things around without actually touching them? Yes, so, we have that university in New York, people like you are trained there.«

Panic rises in your gut and you feel like this man is a danger for you. Of course, he expected that reaction, it‘s not the first time he confronted mutants to get them into his university. Before you could actually scream or get physical, he puts his hand up and continues to talk.

»I don‘t mean to harm you. Just help and get you a safe place. We will help you with your telekinesis.« Charles still seems calm and polite like before, seeing a hint of tension behind his expression. Whatever this is about, you are getting a hard time processing it. Now, come to think of it, he actually seems less patient. The way he worded it was polite and calm, but it‘s noticeable that he did this more often probably.

»No.«

Charles face drops at your blunt answer. But he has more ways to convince you.

»Darling, we offer excellent food and rooms to live in. It won‘t even cost you anything, we just want to make sure you‘re safe and learn to control your ability.«

»Yeah, that‘s what they all say. Charming me up at first and then offering me something unrealistic. Who even is ‚we‘?«

You scoff, downing the last few sips of your beer before setting it down and getting up to leave. Charles follows you quickly, making sure he doesn‘t look like a creep. He finds himself feeling stupid, of course someone would think that way when a strange man starts talking like that.

»By ‚we‘ I mean-«

»I don‘t want to hear it.«

You interrupt him, knowing better from studying ciminoligy for half a year by now. Second semester and all you can think about are the various ways of unknowingly getting into the hands of death. Or maybe your paranoia just got worse once you started uni, but that‘s beside the point.

Stomping out of the bar, the cold air hits you like a truck, immediately wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck and shoving your hands into your soft jacket. As if this isn‘t giving you an anxiety attack already, the man is following beside you, not letting up.

»Listen, we can talk about this.«

He tries again, putting his own coat as he falls in step with you. You, however, shake your head and keep your eyes forward.

»No. I don‘t want to.«

Charles tries really hard not to let his frustration show, trying out another way of figuring out what to do. He keeps his eyes on you, finally reading your thoughts to find out why you are so reluctant. As he does so, he finds himself more concerned than surprised. The fact that you are afraid of getting killed this way is something he didn‘t expect to hear. At the same time, your mind is so chaotic, it was hard at first to hear what you were thinking. Probably an effect of the alcohol, but something tells him this is most likely normal.

Seeing that he won‘t leave your side, you consider using your ability. Charles is faster, since he is still in your mind, stepping up in front of you.

»If you think using your mutation will solve your every problem, then you are wrong. Well, mostly. But this won‘t solve it, if not make it worse for you.«

He exhales once he is done talking, his expression growing more serious and authoritive.

»How did you even know I was about to use some powers on you?«

You try to pretend you don‘t have any abilities or mutation, not sure where this will lead you to anyway and being on edge from the moment he mentioned your telekinesis.

The man before you just smiles, seeing through the attempt of playing innocent.

»I read minds, dear. No way of hiding.«

His sentence throws a brutal shiver down your spine, feeling the strong urge to run away. Good thing you went the opposite direction of your dorms, so he wouldn‘t know where you live for now.

Charles sees how you are struggling, trying a more gentle approach this time.

»Look, I won‘t force you to come to my school, but I would recommend it to you. Here is my card with my number, tell me if you change your mind.«

He hands you over a small business card, the ink-writing neat and classy, it almost makes you forget how anxious you are. With a last look at him, you make your way back to your dorms with an uneasy and uncomfortable feeling towards this all. Just your lucky saturday.

◐

Next day was hard waking up, the slight hangover from the few beers last night were giving you a headache making you even more tired than usual. The business card from Charles is a constant reminder of how the night ended. In an unpleasant way. You were up for about three more hours, researching about the school and this man who talked to you. It‘s all so strange but familiar at the same time. You don‘t know why, but it doesn‘t sound so bad after constantly thinking about it in your lectures. Even now, as you are taking orders in the drive way, the idea of going to that school is more appealing than getting your dream job as a crime scene detective.

Another car drives up, hearing the motor through your headset and see it on the CCTV in front of you. You can‘t see the person inside yet, speaking the sentence you have to say at least a hundred times since this afternoon already.

The deeper, smooth voice tells you his order, a simple coke and fries. Writing the order onto your pad, you hand it over to your coworker and tell the person to drive up to the front window. Once he does, you help your coworker with the coke, the day being less busy now that it‘s nearing the closing hours.

You step up to the front desk, holding both the cup of soft drink and bag of fires, handing it over the open window. Once you look at the person, you pause. But you decide to pretend you don‘t know him, continuing with your job.

»That‘d be three-nintynine, sir.«

Of course, Charles smiles ever so politely at you and hands you more money than needed in return. You get the change behind the window, but he speaks up.

»Oh, no need for change. That‘s you tip, I know you work hard. However, I do need to speak to you. Your shift ends in fifteen minutes, no?«

Of course he knows that. Of course he knows where you work, probably even knows when you have to wake up for university.

You nod without argument, keeping your head down and sort the money in the cash register, really hoping he will just drive off silently and not cause a scene.

»I‘ll meet you at the back, then.«

Once he is away, you feel relieved and become more anxious in return. You sigh out heavily in attempt to get the uncomfortable feelings away, it not helping your situation.

»That guy bothering you?«

Your coworker at the food questions, looking ready to step in and follow the person you took the order from. But you shake your head in return, reassuring him you just had a long day and you get overwhelmed easily. At least he didn‘t hear exactly what Charles said, or else he‘d be running after that car in a second.

Your coworker is nice for that, also being strong and muscular, but you could handle this on your own.

Cleaning and sorting the rest of the stuff in the last fifteen minutes, and finally getting back into your normal clothes, you make your way outside to meet Charles.

You walk out of the back as usual and see the sillhoute of the man you just saw yesterday at the bar. He walks up to you, hands in pockets and still with that polite expression.

»Good evening. How was your shift?«

Fucking wonderful. You don‘t say that though and get straight to the point.

»Why are you here?« Charles seems either surprised or impressed for a moment, it‘s hard to tell.

»Just here to remind you of my offer. Not sure if you forgot about it since you had a few beers last night,« he answers back, putting his hands behind his back, »did you think more about it yet?«

Of course you have. You have researched about their school as much as you could, sacrificed your sleep for it.

»I haven‘t. I‘m not going, I have other things to do.«

You reply back with more intent behind it, leaving no room for arguments. As you are about to walk past him, he grabs your arm, making sure he doesn‘t hold on too tight and spooks you even further.

»You are making me look like a stalker if you keep doing this. Please, just hear me out on this.«

Charles sighs out, seeming to be done with any kind of options to get you into his school.

You stay firm and clear about your opinion, glad his grip isn‘t tight enough, so you pull your arm back to yourself.

»I‘m too busy for this. Don‘t show up here again, or I will get Robert out.«

The threat may seem empty for Charles, but he isn‘t some kind of creepy stalker who will argue with you on that. Indeed, he respects your words and makes his way back to his car, finally giving you some peace.

◐

It‘s been five days since you‘ve last seen Charles at your work place. Right after that night, he never set a foot into the restaurant you work at again. You have started to feel lighter and relieved that he didn‘t show up afterwards anywhere. Maybe life is worth living if there isn‘t a constant, annoying voice nagging you to join some mutant school. You don‘t even feel like a mutant, what is a mutant anyway?

Everything was peaceful, until you hear a knock at your dorm room door. You didn‘t think too much of it, it could be some of the other students asking for salt or some eggs, even though it‘s about ten PM. It‘s night‘s rest, why would someone actually knock at your door now?

Pushing your slight anxiety away, you answer your door. And you immediately want to close it again.

»Good evening, miss-«

»What in the actual fuck...«

You sigh out a curse, already closing the door but Charles puts his foot in between.

He huffs out, taking a step into your room. It‘s mostly decorated with posters and some personal belongings laying around on the nightstand and your bed, it not being as messy as most dorm rooms.

»Have you thought about it? Actually, forget that. We need you.«

Now he has managed to stun you. There‘s no way a mutant school or actual important people need you.

»What do you mean?«

You ask back, just letting him inside your room at this point, this being your last worry. He enters fully and feels relieved you aren‘t making a scene, starting to explain.

»We need more people in our school, and I‘m sure you have great potential. And we also need more people on our missions… if you are in for it.«

Charles keeps his expectant gaze on you, visibly tense as he waits for your answer. There‘s no way you would take such big responsebility to help mutants, already working on your actual dream job.

Finally, you shake your head in return, denying once more.

»No,« you take a step back, crossing your arms, »I‘m not joining, as I said before. I am not built for this and I‘m definitely not a mutant.«

Charles pauses at your answer, tilting his head a bit.

»Do you even know what a mutant is, dear?«

It feels like he has been living in your head for the last few days, now that you think of it. How did he even find out where your dorm room is?

»How did you get into my room in the first place?«

You ask back, raising your voice lightly at him as the realisation hits, making him a bit annoyed by your question.

»Again with these questions? Look, if you won‘t join us, lives will be at stake-« You inerrupt him, having no energy for this talk.

»I‘m not joining that damn school! I have my own studies and job, I can‘t just drop it.«

Charles understands your concern and eventually nods, speaking up again more softly.

»I get it, we can make sure you can live by our school and also get to your criminoligy classes and job. I promise you, we can get this figured out, if you just let me.«

He sighs out in the end, seeming more exhausted than you at this point. Is he always going after people this way?

»Maybe… I will think about it.«

He nods shortly at your response, seeing that you seem to think straight at least. Charles is really trying not to read into your mind at the moment, eventually speaking up again. More calmly, but still loud enough to alert the guards that walks down the hallway at the moment.

A sharp knock sounds at your door, followed up with a deeper voice.

»Miss? Is there another person in your room? You know very well that it‘s strictly forbidden, especially if boys involved.«

The voice, louder and deeper, tells you it‘s one of the more chill guards from outside. Still, you can‘t help but feel embarrassed and flushed.

»I‘m just talking to my friend on the phone!«

You reply back loud enough for him to hear through the door, glad he isn‘t walking into your room to be sure of your answer. Charles holds back on smiling at the situation, keeping his eyes on something else for now.

»If you say so… have a good night.«

With these words, the guards seems to walk away, leaving you be. You sigh out relieved, looking back to Charles, who seems to be more than amused all of a sudden.

»The term ‚boy‘ would be too young for me, but whatever. Just glad we didn‘t get caught, hm?«

He winks cheekily at you, approaching your window as he keeps his eyes on you for a moment longer.

You really want to punch him right now.

»Just… is it okay if I call you once I think about it?«

He nods in agreement to your question, glad you seem to be more willing to it now than before. The man opens your window and slips out silently, saluting to you shortly before he disappears into the night.

◐

Two days have passed, and you‘ve been a little more on edge these days. It‘s not like you haven‘t before, but this is just getting worse. The strange school and that Charles stays in your mind, being still unsure if he is sometimes flirting with you or not.

You shake your head, focusing back on the assingment in front you, writing another two sentences before growing frustrated again. This is distracting you a lot.

»What about now?«

That familiar, distracting voice sounds behind your ear again, jumping in your seat. You turn around quickly, huffing out annoyed.

»How long have you been standing behind me for?«

You frown, still holding your hand to your chest as you‘re slowly calming down from the jumpscare he just gave you.

He shrugs with a small smirk, keeping his eyes on your essay at your desk.

»A few moments. Your essay‘s good, could use some more words though.« He answers back, giving you some unwanted feedback.

»Well, what‘s your final decision?«

He gets back on track, trailing his eyes back to you as he stays leaned slightly over you shoulder.

»Uh...«

Your brain stops thinking, being still stressed from university work and that tough decision. In the end, you decide to just give in. To stop that endless game of his.

»Sure. I‘m going.«

He actually seems surprised at your response, having expected some reluctance once more. But you seem almost eager to join. Almost. He tilts his head, leaning back and puts his hands into his pockets,

»Huh. I expected more reluctance from you. In fact, I was ready to tell you about your deepest fears and secrets, but it seems like I don‘t need to do that.«

He smiles politely, getting sick of seeing it all the time. You won‘t mention it though, just feeling a bit tense again.

»Yeah, cool… when‘s that school starting again?«

Charles get back on the topic at your question, telling you briefly about the times and how many times a week you need to go to your trainings. It doesn‘t seem too bad, having training three times a week, and you don‘t need to attend to their classes since you are old enough and have your own studies to attend to.

»You can start right tomorrow. I‘m sure I‘ll find you there either way.« You nod back in response, sighing out softly to soothe your nerves about the whole thing. It shouldn‘t be too bad anyway, there‘s no need to be anxious or worried again. Finally, he seems to leave your room through your window again, taking a last look at you.

»Please don‘t worry yourself sick, it‘s not healthy.«

With that, he disappears out of your window, still wondering how he can be so quiet doing that. He doesn‘t even look stupid while doing so, how is that possible?

Getting back to reality, it‘s your time to pack your stuff to live in that Xavier University starting tomorrow afternoon, after your classes.

◐

Now that you‘ve got all your stuff for the university, getting out of your bus with your bag slung over your shoulder. Walking a fair bit, you finally start to see a big, rather gothic-looking building that should hopefully be the school you‘ll be going to for the next few weeks. It looks more like an old castle, but it doesn‘t matter anyway as you feel a strong breeze hit you in full force.

You finally drag yourself up to the big doors, getting in and relax at the warm air inside. There‘s chatter and younger people walking around, them probably being teenagers, which makes you feel out of place. Sure, you are a young adult, basically, but it‘s strange to be in the same space as so many teens. Shaking these strange thoughts away, you get to find the office of Charles.

On the way there, you accidentally bump into some of those younger people, finding them actually quite interesting. Especially the one‘s with obvious, physical differences. For example, a boy with horns, some girl with wings. It doesn‘t seem to end.

»I see you kept your promise.« You turn around to face Charles, again with his charming smile. But before you could answer him with an unmotivated comment, he speaks up and open the door to his office, walking in with you.

»I won‘t waste any more time, so I‘ll get straight to the point.« he goes around his desk, facing you again and leans his hands onto the surface, »We need another person like you on our next mission. Telekinesis is a strong thing, and I‘m sure you can develope your strengths even further. That‘s why I‘m glad you‘re here. You are ready to train, right?«

His serious expression softens, a small grin spreading across his face as he waits for your reaction. It‘s not like you have another choice anyway, being here already.

»Sure, why not?«

Hitting the mat with a loud thud, clothes getting heavy from your sweat and panting like a dog is the most exhausting thing you‘ve ever had to go through. His hand-to-hand combat skills aren‘t making this easier. It‘s almost as if he is trying to give you karma for being so reluctant on joining the school before.

»Fuck – can we stop for a second? I think I hit my head.« You pant tiredly, not having any more strength in your arms and legs left. But Charles doesn‘t show any mercy, chuckling as chalant as he is at you.

»Oh, c‘mon. We‘re only at round two and you‘re already tired out? Is your stamina really that bad?«

The light taunt is not making this any better. Your limbs are slowly recovering from the few sparring rounds and his teasing is starting to get to you.

You manage to stand up again, still catching you breath while he looks totally fine. This man is probably fifteen years older than you and seems to be fitter than you.

With that mentality and new motivation, you become more determined to beat him and become stronger than him. He tilts his head at you, seeming expectant.

With a deep breath, you focus on getting your telekinesis back into control. In this moment, you are glad that you practised your powers a few days ago. Without warning, he falls back, seemingly having been swiped off his feet by the air. Charles grunts and rolls to his side with a low groan and rubs his back lightly.

»Just now realising you can use your powers?« Despite him being in light pain from the fall, he still teases and pokes fun at you.

The older man stands up again and faces you once more, rolling his shoulder to release some tension.

»You didn‘t hesitate on the first time we met, though.«

That stupid smirk. You wish you could wipe it off of him right now, but now that he is your mentor, you can‘t do that.

With a brief shake of your head, he decides to drop it and be more serious for now.

»Okay, but seriously. I was actually surprised when you got me off my feet. I couldn‘t look into your mind at that moment.«

That was new. You didn‘t know you were this cool.

As he explains some more stuff of hand-to-hand combat and how to subtly use your powers. Meaning, you have to use them every day now and get used to it, as well as control it properly. But there‘s one thing you didn‘t tell him before, and now it‘s the perfect opportunity to do so.

»I actually… well, I made a rude costumer faint once. I guess I made his blood pressure drop abruptly with my powers and I don‘t know how I did that, to be honest.«

Charles eye‘s widen and he seems genuinely shocked for a moment. That is until he smiles, of course. He seems strangely excited about that. Able to control something such as blood in a living human being? That‘s the best and most horrifying new he has ever heard in a long time.

»Great! So, we know how far your powers can go and I‘m sure we can work with that. How about we train tomorrow again?« with a quick nod from your side, he speaks up again, »And please don‘t do anything else like that again. At least not until tomorrow.«

◐

Controlling your powers became easier as the days passed and you made it your new habit to unnecessarily use your powers when you were alone or at the Xavier university. Charles was proud of the progress, but your combat skills still needed some improvement. Of course, it‘s not easy to just teach you some tactical stuff when you never threw a bunch before in your life. But it‘s getting better. Slowly but surely.

Sure, he still gets cocky from time to time, but he is actually getting really helpful and seems to enjoy the training sessions too. But these things aside, the most important part is that your progress is quick and effective. Your powers are getting better under control and you‘ve managed to become even stronger.

Overall, your life has become more entertaining and less stressful. You moved to their dorms at Xavier school and managed to fire yourself from that awful fast food restaurant, so you don‘t have to deal with any rude costumers or your lazy manager again.

In all honesty, it feels really cool to be there in that school. You got to know more people and befriended some students and mentors in your age group. Finding out that there‘s more people like you, with various mutations, has been a refreshing and relieving experience. All these years having spent hiding your true self from everyone else, for your own safety, took a toll on you.

Having Charles as your trainer and mentor has its benefits. He actually is a caring person and you have seen him only have good or heartwarming interactions with the kid students around the school. He helps you get along with your powers and seems like the most understanding person on the planet.

Now, after three weeks, a lot of things have changed to the better. But some things also stayed the same. Your anxiety and paranoia, for example. You still feel the need to chek everything thrice and prepare yourself mentally for stuff a few hours before the actual event. It‘s safe to say it is taking energy from you as well.

Charles has mentioned before that his team needs you to help them out in a specific mission. That‘s why you‘ve been training for so long after all. In the briefing, you were sat at the table with the rest of the mutants, trying to pay attention to what Charles is talking about at the front. It seems important, but you can‘t wrap your head around anything he is saying.

Maybe that one joint was a mistake before walking into this.

With you eyes slightly red and watery, your body less stiff and your mind in a constant haze, it wasn‘t that hard to tell that you took something before this meeting. But could anyone blame you? Weed is known for making people relaxed and you were tired of being on edge all the time. Especially with these cool and more experienced mutants around.

However, you seem to have yourself pretty easily under control and no one even bats an eye into your direction, all eyes focused on Charles or the few documents laid in front of them. However, one person notices and he is actually concerned for a moment.

Charles steals a few glances at you, figuring it out a moment later. As he is explaining the plans and states some more information, he tries to read your mind at the same time.

When you have toothache is… is the pain in your mouth or brain?

Charles hears form your mind, glancing to you again before he ignores it and keeps going with the plan.

Wait, I need to focus. Is a hotdog a sandwich?

Eventually, Charles pauses for a brief moment during his speech before he keeps going as if nothing happened and stops reading into your mind for now. Wolverine scrunching his nose lightly and also steals a glance in your direction but won‘t say anything and just looks back at Charles with a light smirk.

Once the meeting is over, he sends everyone out but keeps you there for longer. No one seems to suspect anything, assuming he just needs to prepare you more since you are still a newbie. It‘s a wonder no one actually noticed or said something.

»Did you get how the plan works?«

You nod your head at Charles question, doing your best to focus on him and not on how funny his face looks at the moment.

»Did you also get weed before the meeting?«

Now his face looks less funny. How did he find out, you were doing fine.

»Uh… no?« You are really trying to pretend that you‘re sober and have no idea what he‘s talking about. But you can‘t fool him either way.

»Sure, you didn‘t. I‘ll brief you when you aren‘t high, but first I need to make sure you get back into your room.«

You look down, ashamed. He doesn‘t seem mad, but this is still a humbling experience. Eventually, he escorts you back into your own room and sits down with you to talk. Even when it‘s not easy to hold a serious conversation with you in such a state.

»Do you often smoke weed?«

You shake your head no, sitting upright next to him on the edge of your bed. Definitely not trying to come off sober in front of him.

»Then why did you do it today?« Charles is trying his hardest not to worry too much about it, feeling like it‘s his fault for you to think that drugs could help you in some way. But you only shrug in response and glance around your room as if it‘s the most interesting thing in the world. The man at your side sighs out and keeps his eyes on your, watching the slow movements of you eyes dilated pupils focusing on specific parts of your room.

This is frustrating him. Giving up on the serious conversation, he decides to end it here and try to give you some peace.

»Alright, I‘ll— « You already give up once you hear his first word and slump onto your bed, clumsy laying on it as he stands in front of it. Charles watches your limb body, making sure you‘re still breathing. Once assured, he lets out a breath.

»Just my luck… that‘s what I get for picking up a random person for this.«

He mutters under his breath while getting out of your room, having had enough for today.

◐

←MASTERLIST

[sharenadraculea]

The primarchs having a sleepover, or having a smoke sesh?

Also I love these sm <3

The Primarchs having a sleepover!

Thank you so much! So here is a primarch-sleepover-thing! It was Big Es idea, so they can bond a little.

Lion: He is a bit on edge. His instincts tell him that sleeping in a room with so many people is dangerous. They later play Truth or dare and he ends up getting dared to kiss his crush (depending on my mood Sang, Rob, Leman or Konrad). Insert Gay Panic. Also showed up in his regular sleeping-shirt, which… it‘s a bit short. And has a bit of a deep neckline. Fulgrim: He has the most fancy, ruffliest nightgown ever. Brought make-up, hairstyling stuff and drugs for everyone. He‘s having a great time, except when he and Ferrus are told to stop making out in front of everyone. Proceeds to explain that they are in a open relationship and that he‘s willing to share. Perty: He has no idea what to do. Showed up in full armour, because he usually sleeps in armour. Promptly got dressed up by like half the others. Then built a pillowfort, Magnus falls asleep in it. Starting to think this might be fun. Jagh: One of the ones more used to sleeping in a room with a lot of other people, so he is pretty chill about this. Teaches the other how to braid, Leman is very happy to serve as guinea pig. Ends up cuddeling with Magnus, which is very comfy. Somehow manages to sleep through the whole night and be rested the next morning. Leman: Very happy to have a sleepover (tough he is still confused why this is special, sleeping alone is kind of rare on Fenris). Brought his wolves along. And alcohol, lot’s of alcohol. Somehow he manages to get drunk, and thus very cuddly. Flirts with everyone and tries to smooch most. Ends up sleeping on the floor, in a position that must be uncomfortable. Also barks in his sleep. Does sleep naked (or in his underwear) Rogal: He tries his best, but sleeping in a room with so many people is sensory hell and he wants his own bed again and also sleep at a reasonable time. Rob realizes that Rogal isn‘t doing well too, so the two end up in Rogals room and facetime their brothers so they can still participate in the sleepover while also beeing in a calmer enviroment. Konrad: Fulgrim forced him to take a bath. He is still grumpy because of that and tries to hide in the vents. Then get‘s coaxed out with the power of snacks and spends the rest of the evening parked in someones lap (most likely Fulgrim, Sang or Vulkan) so he doesn’t run away. It‘s very comfy. Refuses to sleep surrounded by so many people. His Sleeping-shirt hasn‘t been washed in years. Sang: Wearing a matching nightgown to Fulgrim. Just with a lowercut back. He is having a very good time and probally ends up kissing everyone at least once. Ends up stealing half the blankets to build a nest. There nearly is a battle royale abput who get‘s to sleep next to him.

Ferrus: Fulgrim is very unhappy that he didn‘t match with him. He and Fulgrim are very cuddly the whole time. Happy to serve as Fulgrims pillow, very good at it. Angron: Not quite sure what‘s going on, but Lorgar put him into a fluffy pijama-sweater and dragged him along and now he keeps getting handed plushies and snacks. It is acceptable. Then he just falls asleeps and doesn‘t move for the next few hours. Roboute: He also tries his best, but this is a total mess that has been organized really badly! Ends up leaving with Rogal and they read some books and infodump on each other, which is very nice. Morty: He‘s very overwhelmed at first and has no idea what to do. Just kind of sits in the corner at first, but then Vulkan comes over and asks if he would like to do something. They end up playing cardgames together and in the end he uses Vulkan as a giant teddybear. Also wears a pijama with cute little moths on it. Magnus: He suggests summoning demons as a fun actinity for the whole family! The others barely manage to stop him. Sulks for a while but then Perturabo shows him his pillowfort, which cheers him up again. Then makes up with everyone from his harem. Clothes that actually cover something? Never heard of that. Horus: Also tries to flirt with literally everyone and get‘s some really hard wingslaps from Sang. Then goes to take Fulgrims drugs and drink Lemans alcohol. Somehow still capable of calling Emps and Malc and assuring them that everything is fine. Horribly hungover the next day. Also sleeps either naked or only in his underwear. Lorgar: Is it fine to sleep in the same room as other people if you are not married? Doesn‘t matter, Angron won‘t let him go anyways. Definetly wearing a sleeping bonnet, he can‘t sleep with cold ears. Vulkan: He remembers to bring actual snacks! Very excited to spend time with his siblings and needs to hug everyone at least ten times. He kind of imagined something diffrent under „playing games“, but this is fun too! Corvus: Kind of staying on the side until Vulkan convices them to play cards with him and Morty. And then they and Morty get pulled into also playing stuff like spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven. Which is fun! Sleeps on the closet (not in the closet, that‘s where Lion is). Also wearing a crow-onesie, it‘s absolutly adorable Alpharius Omegon: This was probally their idea. They are having such a good time with all the chaos. Refuse to explain why there are suddenly two of them.

[jeanbie]

hi, i hope you‘re doing well! :)

i don‘t know if you take requests or if you still write for yelena but i‘m currently rewatching attack on titan season 4 and i thought about yelena being very protective over reader when it comes to drinking the wine (her being protective in general), she can‘t tell reader why though because she still wants to be loyal to zeke‘s plan, despite being in a relationship.

it‘s totally fine if you don‘t wanna do it, feel free to ignore this ask. bye, bye! <3

LOVE AND WAR ★ masterlist.

pairing: yelena x reader

warnings: none | wc: 1.7k

note: thank u so much for requesting and i am so sorry that it took decades to post this! i just suddenly feel very inspired and have written 3 fics in 48 hours!! enjoy anon ଘ( ੭⁰̷̴͈ ᵕ ˘͈)੭* ✩

854

Yelena doesn’t feel regret. She just doesn’t — there has never been a moment where Yelena has felt regretful over any decision she has made. Nothing has been important enough to damage the profound impact of her final goal, which has always been to assist Zeke, to follow Zeke, to devote herself to Zeke. 

But Yelena has to admit to herself that when she looks to the side and sees you, bounding across the dark lawn beneath her from her balcony, a smile of pure elation drawn on your face, that for the first time in her life, the dull ache in her chest might not be the impatience to get on with it all; instead, it might actually be regret.

For all of her life, Yelena has felt a sense of greater purpose in store, a meaning that transcends her body, making her only a vessel of power to help move along the plan of a lifetime — the plan to end an era of suffering and welcome in an age of peace and prosperity. There has been nothing that has ever made her hesitate, ever made her wonder if what she is doing is right.

Until now.

Every couple of minutes, a new group of heckling cadets swarm underneath the swift wave of lawn beneath her balcony, and it wasn’t until she caught sight of you in one of her shirts that she felt the weight of her actions suddenly clam up inside of her, leaving behind not a happy feeling of importance but an ache of fear — fear that drives her out of her room and down the flight of stairs to find you before you’re pulled into the swarm of bodies crowding around open crates of delicious, foreign wine.

“Y/N.”

Somehow over the noise, you hear Yelena’s voice and turn your head, catching her looming height in the angled darkness of the hallway. Nobody blinks an eye at her, which is unusual. Ordinarily, cadets marvelled at the sight of her, pushed forward into her vicinity in a sort of morbid curiosity at her curious impression. Even you, once, had looked at her in a stunned sort of shock, long before the shock transformed into wonder, and the wonder melted into adoration. 

Manoeuvring around the excitement of your friends, you glance at one of them who looks at you questioningly and gesture towards the half-hidden figure standing guard in the dark. They follow your finger, gulp appropriately, and bow their head back into their original state of oblivious happiness, all in the name of good wine and good fun. 

No blonde, blunt and brutally tall foreign woman will stop any of them from their night of drinking. They had, after years of torment from titans that came from no place but that blonde, blunt and brutally tall foreign woman’s previous home, deserved a night of fun.

Yelena welcomes you into her personal space with a smile; a cautious smile that barely lifts any of her features up, but a smile nonetheless, and you reach her with your own surprised joy and let her pull you gently down into the spiralling darkness and back towards one of the doors into a study. 

Inside, the furniture is dripping with a dusty, moonlight glow, the windows flung open to let out the stench of stale wood and alcohol, the disinfectant choking in the broom cupboard joined to the right wall.

“I thought you’d already be at the party,” you say, trying to think of some reason for her guiding you here. There’s nothing indicating her purpose of being in this study, but she seems inclined to keep you here, blocking you in by putting herself between you and the now-closed exit door.

Yelena smiles, truly smiles, then and raises her eyebrows smugly. “There’s a party?”

“A party fully funded and catered to by your comrades,” you reply.

“Comrades,” she repeats, amused. “Please.”

“True, though. I can’t think of anyone in my squad who’s tried foreign wine before,” you continue, feeling your heart thump as Yelena steps over the invisible line between you both and smooths her fingers through your hair, thumbing the back of your head. “I haven’t had a drink since they retook Shiganshina!”

Yelena’s mouth twists at that. “The wine tastes like shit. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“All you talked about once was this wine,” you counter, one brow raised suspiciously. “Best wine in Marley, you said.”

“I had to entice everyone somehow,” she replies. “Wine makes friends. Builds trust. It’s a universal peace offering.”

“Peace I’m apparently not allowed to take part in.”

Yelena frowns. 

When she offered her services to Zeke and completely devoted herself to him and his cause, it came with the consequence of silence — her life and everyone’s future depended on it. Yelena wanted nothing more but to warn you of what was to come, even better to hide you from it, but in doing so would mean running the risk of everything they’ve all worked so hard to set in motion coming crashing down.

While Yelena placed her entire trust in you, she couldn’t assume the same for the others privy to the knowledge she has. Instead, she’s subjected to staring down at your confused expression in a permanent place of horror.

“Look, it’s not that you’re not allowed to take part in the fun tonight, I just think there are better ways to celebrate,” Yelena suggests, her hands finding themselves on your face, cupping you to stop you from turning away towards the disappearing cluster of cadets in the hallway. “Like with me, for example.”

Yelena knows she’s expected to be apart of the festivities happening tonight in an effort to create an alibi, but if missing out means ensuring that you don’t feel suspicious of her, or worse that you feel a distance pulling you further apart, then she’ll happily take that chance. There were loopholes in her devotion to Zeke, and she was sure he would understand should he have any grievances with her disappearance tonight.

But her stomach churns when you smile, thread your fingers through hers and pull her hands from your cheeks. “Unlike you, I happen to like spending time with other people.”

“I like other people, too, but I’d rather be with you if I had the chance,” Yelena replies. She watches closely as you bite your bottom lip to suppress a grin — all the good that does when it spreads over your face regardless. 

“Stop…trying to change my mind,” you force out, leaning up on your toes to press your lips against hers. Yelena feels the tug worsen, her guilt hardening. 

It is entirely her own fault that she happened to fall in love on this stupid island. She was only supposed to be here to speed along Zeke’s plan, but she had never factored in meeting someone like you, someone so unaccustomed to outsiders yet so welcoming of them. 

If she closes her eyes, Yelena can still remember the first time she saw you, passing you by in the halls as she walked flanked by Hange and Levi. You turned to greet your superior soldiers with a smile and a salute, one that Hange simply nudged away with their hand followed by a quick fuss of your hair before continuing forward — and then your eyes met. 

Whatever followed is insignificant when Yelena considers how she got from point A to B: point A being seeing you that day in the hallway and point B being now, where she looks at you and feels her entire body go rigid. 

Yelena’s never felt love, either, but if she had to wager a guess, she’d say that love was what she felt when she saw you.

She pulls you in closer when you try to break away from your kiss, swallowing your laugh as she lifts you up off the floor and in a circle on the spot. She ignores the ache in her heart when you squirm away and nudge your nose against her cheekbone; tries to will away the guilt in her chest, the flipping of her stomach. 

“Why don’t we just go together?” you compromise once she relents and sets you back on your feet. You stare up at her expectantly. “You might be surprised to find that people actually want to talk to you.”

“I think you mean interrogate me,” Yelena replies. She has a point — people don’t know if to trust Yelena or not, even though thus far she’s done nothing wrong except step off the enemies boat. 

“Then… Why don’t we go and show our faces, spend some time in the fun, and then we can spend time together after,” you suggest, if only to see the light return to Yelena’s suddenly dark eyes. She peers at you, trying to figure out how someone as awful as her ended up with something as precious as you.

“Just as long as you don’t touch that shitty wine,” she counters.

Yelena flicks your chin when you roll your eyes. 

“You and that bloody wine…”

“I mean it, Y/N,” she says. The way her voice sounds suddenly so somber and serious makes you pause, questioningly raising your brows at her face. “Please don’t.”

Yelena has already sworn her own voice away for Zeke’s noble cause, but she needn’t use her words to convey her true feelings. You search for any indication that she might be fooling around and find nothing. Yelena seems as serious about this as the scouts had once been about titans, and you fidget in space before swallowing and giving her a sincere nod.

“Fine,” you agree, reaching for her fists by her side. “I’ll skip the wine and stick to ale. But it’s your fault if I puke everywhere. I’ve never been good at handling it.”

“Consider me threatened,” Yelena remarks, trying to tame the hammering of her heart in her chest when you lace your fingers with hers and smile, all before pulling her towards the worn wooden doors that connect to the hallway and string of festive rooms full of unsuspecting soldiers downing bottles of wine.

Wine that Yelena knows will play a much larger role in the orchestration of Zeke’s great plan — but wine that she has managed to save you from. And she can only pray to whichever God took pity on her here in this hallway that you can understand her when the truth comes out.

[bettsfic]

Hi, Betts! Apologies if you‘ve already answered something of the sort before, I tend to forget that tumblr exists for a few months every once in a while, so I‘m not super up to date with all the topics you‘ve previously discussed! But. I‘ve been writing fics for a couple of years now and, after getting medicated for my adhd, I‘ve also established a pretty reliable and enjoyable system to finish the (long) fic projects I start! However, every time I try to work on something original, I usually tap out after 5-10k words. The excitement, the itch, the brainrot, the daydreaming, it‘s all there but I just lose my motivation at a certain point. Part of it is that creating and writing original characters is incredibly challenging. I‘m using to having a solid base when I write fic characters so it makes sense that having to come up with that base all by myself is new and slightly overwhelming, but ok, I already have ideas to deal with that. However, there is also the fact that I *know* my original stories won’t see the light of day for a hot while — not like my fics that I get to share on ao3 — and that kills my ends up killing my motivation more often than not… I think! Some of my friends and mutuals have offered to beta/read my original stories, so that could help, but since I‘m here writing this, I still haven’t found that push to properly work on my original wips. (Also, I feel like my original writing style is just 10x worse than my fic style… but maybe that‘s just the normal new project bad kind of writing?) I was wondering if you have dealt with something similar and whether you have any tips and tricks to convince myself that my original wips are fun and worth the effort too? Love your advice and your fics :3

when you've written fanfic for a long time, there's one creative muscle that can atrophy, and that's building parameters. in fanfic, the most ridiculous, far fetched AU is still grounded in some way by the text it's responding to. you're playing a game that more or less already has rules. but in original fiction, you have to write the rules before you can play the game. a lot of times that means you write an entire book to figure out the book you're trying to write, and then you rewrite the book.

i almost always come to a grinding halt at about 10k of any original project because that's how long it takes me to find the parameters of the inciting incident. and once i have the parameters, i start over. usually there's one or two paragraphs i keep and which end up guiding the rest of the project. sometimes the parameters are never set and i have to set the whole thing down until a solution comes to me, which can take months or years.

as for external validation/motivation, if you can find a couple good cheerleaders who will read chapters as you finish them and who get invested in the story you're writing, i find that can offer a simulacrum of the immediate satisfaction of posting/updating a fic. i had to have cheerleaders through my first two original novels. i can motivate myself now and don't need them anymore, but lacking them does make writing original work a very lonely endeavor. but if you have good cheerleaders, do whatever you can to keep them. buy them little trinkets, send them birthday cards, kiss them on the mouth. because that kind of friendship and dedication can be such a rarity in the grand scheme of things.

and as always, writing is an endurance sport. it can take years to build up the patience, discipline, and drive to write a novel. even if it doesn't feel like it, getting down a bunch of false starts is still progress. like chess, it's good to know your opening moves, and that initial 5-10k of parameter-building goes waaaaay faster when you know you're going to scrap it anyway. all you're looking for in those early words is that one paragraph that turns the ignition. and once you're on the road and headed in a direction, there's no better feeling than seeing your word count go up and getting obsessed with your own world and characters.

[iztea]

Do you like drawing in a sense that it relaxes you? Like a hobby you‘re looking forward to after a day of work. Do you feel joy while you draw?

I‘m currently battling my art demons and came to the conclusion that drawing actually makes me feel shitty a lot of the time because I only take joy out of the results yk? So if it‘s good, great! If I get overwhelmed woah my world is breaking down. My therapist told me I need a hobby that actually relaxes me and that I like solely for itself, not connected to performance, and I was wondering if drawing is just generally the wrong thing for that or if there‘s a way for people to actually enjoy it in a relaxing way.

You‘re so open about your drawing process and you‘re my favorite art account so you fell victim to my question haha but I get that this ask is pretty specific and kinda weird, don‘t feel pressured to answer :)

i do very much enjoy drawing in a relaxing way; for me, it's the equivalent of playing video games or watching Netflix so, in a way, i think of drawing as "unproductive work". Not sure if you're actually looking for a solution-based answer to your problem or if you just want to hear my side/my opinion on the matter, but I'll try to delve into both. 

I think for me personally, I've always found drawing to be relaxing for the most part. Frustration is always to be expected, of course, but I wouldn't say it ruins the mood, it's just something that comes and goes. The only unpleasant part about drawing for me is strictly related to the social media aspect or just making it public. Now, I'm not sure if you have an art account as well or how much you relate to this but I very often dread posting stuff online. I kinda have to force myself almost every time to make something public because I hate the applause but I am also rational enough to understand that art is meant to be shared with others, even if I personally don't feel a strong need to... It's just one of those human behaviour things you have to mimic or adapt to get by, similar to many other things that don't make sense to me personally but I cognitively understand why they happen but I digress

 When it comes to the process itself, I actually enjoy it more than the final result. If I had a lot of fun experimenting with brushes and new techniques and crazy effects i saw online then i get a sense of joy no matter the end result, and here is where my first piece of advice comes into play: learn to enjoy the process without thinking of the destination. For me, even when I do have a clear idea in mind, it always fluctuates and I let it fluctuate. Sometimes it even looks like shit. So what? It's just for your eyes, who cares if it doesn't look good? Just call it a flop and move to another thing, or revisit it sometime later when your skills improve. This is even easier when you do not have an art account where you share your art, there's zero pressure, you're creating the pressure yourself.

Just think about it: 

>why do you feel shitty and overwhelmed? -> because you care about the end result

>why do you care? -> because if it turns out bad, it feels like wasted time. or because you put your worth into what you create or because [  fill in your answer here ]

>do you still want to continue drawing? -> if there is a way to enjoy it in a relaxing way, then yes i assume

Ok great! Then, the solution is to remove that root feeling of disappointment, overwhelm or despair by learning to appreciate the process of creation and bask in the uncertainty of it instead of being so dead-set on the final piece. If you are not content enough with your skills to end up drawing something that you're always satisfied with, and if it causes you this much distress, then drop your expectations and don't reach the finish line. I mean this literally: draw forever-WIPs. Sketches. Doodles. Don't render, don't even try to think of a color palette. Don't Finish Your Art. Enjoy the process of discovery, of trial-and-error of indecision and I can assure you it will be during these moments when you'll find the relaxation you're looking for.

Enjoyment and relaxation, in my experience, come from two places/approaches: 1. the subject itself and/or 2. noticing improvement in your skills.

To give you an example, when I was sick with fever I drew Dazai as that "let's take ibuprofen together" meme and I thought it was the best shit in the world I was on cloud nine and giggling to myself. Looking back on that art, I now realize it looks terrible (and i lowkey want to redraw it) but back then i was laughing while drawing it and felt Great. because I was drawing something i thought it was funny. Not even once did I think "oh man, I hope this turns out nice ohh it will be so awful if it doesn't the world will explode" because that was not its purpose. Granted i was a bit,,,,,, unwell given my sickly state but my point still stands! So, what I'm trying to say here is that you can try drawing "funny/silly" things as a way to sort of lessen that burden of expectations. Or just something you reaaalllly want to see and you know no one else will do it. Taking matters in your own hands type beat

The second way to enjoy drawing in a relaxing way is by taking the other route: instead of focusing on the subject matter, try focusing on new techniques, new brushes, new tutorials or approaches you found online. Basically, focus on improving your skills in a fun-no-pressure-no-strings-attached way while keeping your subject of choice neutral or uninteresting. Or maybe take the artwork of an artist you really like and try to deconstruct it/ reverse engineer it and apply it to your own art. But whatever you do or choose, just never finish it. let them stay as wips or else you won't be very.. relaxed.

*please note this is an "and/or" statement, so you can absolutely do both: try a new technique you found while drawing something that you also enjoy for uhhhhhhhhhhh relaxmaxxing as the would kids say

Lastly, what I would highly recommend is listening to Adam Duff's podcasts, he really hits the nail on the head when it comes to such topics and more, he really narrates and explores that soulful part of an artist way better than I ever could with this answer so please check him out, I think you'll find your answers there

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice.)

• Characters: Levi Ackerman, fem!Reader

• Genre: angst, fluff

• Warnings: mentions of death, grieving, mental breakdown

Ascot

...:::**•°✾°•**:::...✾...:::**•°✾°•**:::...

-Levis Pov-

My hands shake uncontrollably as I look down on the torn white fabric in them. I was always so careful, always washed it separately, looking closely that it wouldn’t be exposed to too much soap. I even put it in an extra drawer so I wouldn’t lose it by accident. I feel so dumb for wearing it all the time, even in battles, because I should have known that someday this worn out piece of fabric would fall apart. My favorite ascot, my lucky charm, the last memorabilia of my mother now had a nasty cut at the bottom, splitting the white fabric and exposing the seams that had held it together.

The tears that spill out of my eyes are burning like acid and leave an itch on my cheeks behind. My cries are loud and ugly, unnecessary dramatic over something so small but I just can’t hold them back. Sob after sob, whimper after whimper squeeze it’s way around the big knot in my throat and escapes into the suddenly thick air. „No no no no no no…“

Crying suddenly feels so exhausting that I have to sit down on the dusty floor, so I sink down, my eyes never leaving the precious cloth in my hands.

I don’t recognize that someone comes in at first, not until they kneel in front of me. „Levi?“ A voice soft like a feather speaks to me. „What happened?“

I look up and see (e/c) eyes filled with concern through my teary vision. (Y/n) must have heard me crying while passing my office door. Hopefully no one else did.

I opened my mouth but shut it tight again because I was so embarrassed to admit it and I didn’t want her to think poorly of me. What kind of a captain am I for crying over something so insignificant?

But it‘s not. It’s not insignificant.

My thoughts race while I try to figure out if it’s better to keep it to myself or to tell her. (Y/n) is a loving person, calm and I never heard or see her judging someone. She is a dear person to me and while I look at her another wave of embarrassment washes over me, this time for worrying she, out of all people, would make fun of me.

Slowly I open my hand and reveal the cloth to her. „My ascot ripped“, I whisper while shaking like a leaf. Her hands cup mine while she eyes the fabric. „It’s not just a regular ascot“ I continue. „It’s a piece of my mothers dress. It’s all I had left of her and now“ My voice breaks again. „Now I destroyed it.“

(Y/n)s hands move from mine to my face and she gently cups my cheeks while wiping away the tears with her thumbs, just to be met with new ones. It feels like I can never stop crying again.

„I can sew.“ Her voice breaks through the wall of sadness that has built up in my ears and I look up again. „I can sew“, she repeats. „I can fix it Levi. It’s going to be okay.“ My eyes are glued to hers as she stands up and reaches for my hands to help me up too. „I’m just going to get my stuff. I will be back in a minute.“ She squeezes my hands before letting go of them and walking out of the room.

Completely overwhelmed by all kinds of emotions I am feeling I just stay still, waiting for her to come back and just like promised does (Y/n) walk back in a minute later with a small basket full of yarn, buttons and needles.

She places the basket on my desk and walks around it to sit down on my chair. Then she holds out her hand to me, asking for the cloth in my hands, which I hand to her. Completely in awe I watch her as she licks the tip of the yarn in order to get it smoothly through the small hole in the needle. Then she rips the yarn with her teeth and ties a tiny knot at the end of it. She guides the needle with skilled hands through the fabric and I can watch how the ripped pieces of my precious ascot become one again. It looks like magic when she does it. She closes her work with another knot and hands me my ascot back with a smile. „This should work.“

I take it back and look at it. If you don’t look closely, you wouldn’t know it got sewed. (Y/n) is already in her feet again as I look back to her. „Thank you“, I say while returning her smile. I don’t think anyone has ever done such a nice and meaningful thing for me.

Her hands find mine once more, but this time they take my cravat back in, just to move to the back of my head and tying it neatly around my neck. „I have a memorabilia from my parents too“, she tells me while bringing my cravat in place. „It would destroy me if something happened to it.“ Proudly she eyes her work. Then she takes the basket back in her hands and steps back. „I see you at lunch.“

Just as she is about to walk out the door I raise my voice one last time before I can change my mind, causing her to turn around again. „You’re my favorite person, you know?“

The joy in her smile creeps from her lips through the room to me, tickling the corners of my mouth until I rise them up too. „And you’re my favorite person“, she answers before leaving my office.

[auroragehenna]

How about an ask for your OC soup bingo?

Non-con body mod

with Harmonia and Electra

Would that be something?

Have fun with that!

Non-con Body Modification

OC soup Bingo

Harmonia had never moved much in her sleep. Not when she was still living with her stuck-up family, not during her time working as a hit-woman and not now, being prisoner of a demon. She lay rolled together near the fireplace. Despite the fire burning 24/7 she never seemed to be able to warm up. Goosebumps and stiffness always being a part of her body. Just as now the fresh bruises, cuts and scars from Electra‘s lightning strikes. Her face was the only thing that truly seemed relaxed as she slept. Beautiful brown wings covering her body, trying desperately to warm it. Subconsciously the muscles stretched, reaching for the warmth of the crackling flames. A little further. Just a little more.

A scream tore through the stone cell room as Harmonia jerked out of her sleep and away from the glowing embers. Panting heavily she pressed her burned wing close to her body.

Then she heard footsteps echo across the king‘s blue marble floor outside her cell room door.

Oh no no no no no no! She can‘t see this, no no! I’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep after the last torture!

Quickly she scrambled back stretching her wings out behind her despite the pain. She needed a story. Now!

| Electra sighed as she stopped in front of her newest doll‘s room and unlocked it. She had only just put her to bed a couple hours before. Hoping to encounter nothing more during her patrol. But alas let‘s see what it was. |

Harmonia had started shaking when she heard the sound or the door unlocking. Which was so twisted-she should be happy to be let our of her prison room…

„My dear doll, what‘s going on? I heard a scream.“, the demoness asked sternly.

The angel gulped and straightened her back. Meeting the demon‘s gaze. „I just had a nightmare and got scared, I apologize for screaming.“

Electra cocked an eyebrow. „I also heard metal clanking. You‘re not by any chance lying to me, are you, doll?“, she asked, threat lacing her stern composed words.

Harmonia‘s wings flapped, a nervous tick she couldn’t control as usual. „N-No. I hit my wing on the metal gate of the fireplace in the process but I didn‘t damage it, I promise!“, she explained hastily. Not a complete lie…

As those gorgeous fluffy feathers of her doll rustled the demoness‘s eyes snapped to the wingtips. Completely by accident, instinct. And only for a moment but that was enough. Something was wrong. Determined she stepped forward.

The angel scrambled further back as her captor stepped forth and pulled her wings back, framing her body, to seem more intimidating. Ready to fight. But by doing so she also revealed the charred feathers. Realizing it far too late.

The demon‘s silvery blue eyes grew even colder as far as that was even possible. „So you did lie to me…I’m too tired to be mad, but I am disappointed.“

Ouch! Why did that hurt? Maybe because it sounded like my mother. My entire family for that matter. Disappointed. And now she was gonna get hurt again. Harmonia dropped her head, gaze getting fixed onto the stone floor.

„Now let‘s take care of those burned feathers.“, Electra spoke again. Very much noticing her angels hurt behaviour. It was good progress.

Harmonia‘s head snapped up. What!? „It‘s alright, I can take care of them they‘re only a bit charred. And I don‘t want to keep you up!“ I don‘t want you near my wings!!

„Nonsense it‘ll heal a lot nicer if I’m doing it. You don‘t have magic.“

As if I needed a reminder of that. But she submitted to her fate and relaxed her wings, laying them bare for Electra.

„Don‘t worry, I‘ll be gentle.“ She smiled at Harmonia as she sat down next to her on the stone floor. Legs splayed out legerly, as if this was some elegant couch and not bare, dusty stone. Carefully she let her fingers dance over the injured wing tips, as if she was playing a harp.

Slowly but surely the char residue on them started to disappear and the burn in the muscles and the thin skin over them relaxed and cooled down.

The angel couldn’t help it when a groan of relief escaped her lips.

Electra chuckled. „Feels good, doesn‘t it, my dear doll? It could be like this a lot more, you know? If you would just..let me.“, she explained. Purposely underlining her words by stroking some of the sensitive, uninjured feathers on the side. A checking side glance told her that her doll had closed her eyes.

The wings were healing well and Electra would have no issue healing them completely-making them appear the exact same as they had looked before. But where would be the profit in that. So she purposely healed them so it would leave messy-ugly scars. When she was done she pulled her girl closer into her lap and hugged her, being gracious with warmth and gentleness. It would surely go a long way. „I can‘t fully heal it in a way that would leave no scars unfortunately. But I do know a way to take care of the scars that would make them less bad. Less of a reminder for both of us, don‘t you think?“, the demoness asked her angel. Nodding down at her.

Harmonia still had her eyes closed. Pressed close by now actually. She didn‘t want to see-didn‘t want to acknowledge that the one giving out this gentle touch and taking care of her was the same one that had tortured her only hours prior. She didn‘t want anything done to her wings. Angel wings aren‘t meant to be toyed with, ever! But she didn‘t want to argue, didn‘t want to lose this gentle touch and warmth. She was so exhausted. It would probably really be better for both of them. So still with closed eyes she nodded.

„Use your words, my doll. I don‘t want to accidentally hurt you because you were unclear.“, Electra gently warned her. Voice by no means matching the sadistic grin that adorned her lips as she looked down at her doll. It‘s not like she had to hide it right now.

Harmonia wanted to die inside. Maybe she already had. „Can you please. take care of the scars on my wings…?“

„Of course I can, my dearest.“, Electra agreed delighted. Giving Harmonia a kiss on her pink wild hair. Then she went back to dancing her fingertips over Harmonia‘s wings. Making it feel oh so good as she itched the pattern into the wings. Gold markings, lines and stains seemingly randomly stretching out over the whole wing-both of them. Covering up the scars and turning the beautifully unique wings into an even bigger art piece. As if somebody poured gold into the cracks. The same way she had done with her floors whenever they had cracked. So Harmonia knew she never had to be worried about imperfections as long as she tried to avoid them. As long as she came to her to let her help. And admit that she wanted her help.

Eventually after she had already been done with marking the wings and had just continued petting them her doll had fallen back asleep in her lap. This was so much progress that the demoness decided not to wake her. She called for a maid to bring her pillows and blankets and so they both stayed like that for the rest of the night…

In the morning Harmonia slowly awoken to somebody touching her hair. Groggily she jerked away and tried to scramble out of reach but a gentle but firm arm wrapped around her waist and pinned her where she was. „Now now, no need to panic it‘s only me“ Electra‘s voice sneaked itself though her ears and Harmonia shivered upon hearing it. As if that‘s in any way reassuring! The demoness informed her that she had stayed with her after fixing her wings, as she had fallen asleep. Right. My wings. How are the-She had pulled her wings fourth to look at them and her breath caught in her throat. The brown, HER brown was laced with gold specks and lines! It was so..different!

„Do you like it?“, Electra asked, smiling down at her doll sweetly.

I HATE it. She thought. Take it away, take it away, get it off of me. Those are my wings, mine. What did you do to them!? But she couldn‘t show her emotions, she‘d only get in trouble again. So she gulped down the vomit and tears. All the hurt and how violated she felt. „It‘s beautiful and I can‘t see the scars anymore. Thank you.“, she managed to coax out. Voice rough from sleep and emotions.

Electra wound a hand through her dolls hair and cupped her cheek. „You very welcome, my dearest. Now you should get ready and so must I. I shall tend to you later.“, she said as she stood up. Leaving the room to see after her other dolls.

Harmonia kept sitting. She had nowhere to go until the maid came for her. She couldn’t cry, didn‘t feel that she had the right to either. After all she agreed to it! But it didn‘t change how it felt inside, didn‘t change that she hated it more than she would have hated the scars. That she wanted to tear the markings off her wings. Her wings HER wings. That didn‘t feel like her wings anymore. That she wanted to tear them off her back. She felt sick.

[bastetwastaken]

15. for the writing thing! Ship: puzzleshipping. They met over a dating app and it‘s their first date. Awkwardness and something funny and fluffy is very welcome if you can think of anything^^

Thanks friend <3 Oh you know I love any opportunity to write funny and fluffyness for these two ^^ I had fun with this one.

Happy holidays! I hope you enjoy the little gift <3

.........

Why did I suggest this? 

He shifted nervously where he stood, a hand rubbed his arm awkwardly as he pressed himself back against the wall. 

Of course the city was busy today. Of course the market was packed. It was the week before Christmas and he really should have expected this. 

Well actually, the truth was that he had expected this, and he thought he’d been prepared. 

In an effort to take his mind off the rapidly rising anxiety, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to be greeted by his open messages. Atem hadn’t said anything else since he’d messaged him letting him know that he was on the train about half an hour ago. 

The non-anxious part of him wanted to laugh at the situation he found himself in. He never would have put himself down as the type to use a dating app to find a boyfriend, he would have scoffed if any of his friends had suggested that he’d find someone as…wonderful as Atem on an app like this. 

Of course, he’d had his fair share of strange messages, and he’d had to wade through a lot of unwanted attention to find this guy, but he was so glad he’d persisted. 

He’d never agreed to meet anyone from this app though, and he’d wanted to suggest somewhere public, somewhere that he wouldn’t feel so exposed and vulnerable if Atem turned out to not be the person he said he was. 

He wanted him to be who he seemed though, so fucking badly. 

Swiping his thumb across the screen, he returned to Atems profile. His stomach filled with butterflies as he swiped through the photos of him, and he buried his face into his thick scarf in an attempt to hide the smile on his face. 

He sighed happily. Obviously, the photos had attracted him to Atems profile in the first place, but not because they were the standard shit he usually saw on the app, shirtless men taking risque photos, trying to see how close they could get to nude without being banned. No, Atems photos were just…normal. 

Photos of him in an oversized jumper and jeans grinning in front of a sculpture at an art exhibition, him in a t-shirt cuddling a grey cat which was licking his face, Atem laughing happily whilst holding a huge plush Kuriboh at Kaibaland. 

He’d sent a message and had no idea how hard he’d fall for this man in only three months of talking, and now here he was. Waiting for him to show up so they could finally meet in person for the first time. 

A couple walked past him, a little too close for his liking, so he slid his phone back into his pocket and resigned himself to looking around the street awkwardly. 

He shouldn’t have gotten here so early…but he couldn’t stop himself. He was a mess of nerves, excited to finally meet this man who he felt so much for and he couldn’t wait at home any longer. 

Only now, he was stuck standing in the cold, trying to stay out of the way of the people who had decided to visit the market that day too. He looked up and drew a steady breath, the soft lights strung between leafless trees helped to calm him. 

“Yugi?” 

The voice startled him and he jumped, looking quickly to his side, eyes seeking out who had managed to sneak up on him and finding a gentle face he knew so well but had never seen in person, soft red eyes lined with perfect makeup which he’d not expected to be so vibrant in real life. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was soft and familiar. Maybe a little different from when they’d spoken on the phone, but still recognisable to him. 

He smiled, eyes quickly moving over the other man, taking in the dark clothing he wore which seemed to suit him so well. It took some real effort for him to pull his eyes back to Atems face, but when he did he was rewarded with a gentle smile which brought butterflies to his stomach. 

“Yep.” He laughed awkwardly. “Atem?” 

“Yeah.” Atem smiled shyly, eyes dropping to the ground for a moment before looking back at him. “I’m not late am I?”

Atem sounded panicked and he shook his head. 

“Oh no.” He was quick to reassure him. “I just like to get to places way earlier than I need to.” He explained. “It, um, makes me feel better about…stuff.” He waved a hand vaguely around them. 

Atem smiled softly and nodded. 

“I understand.” Atem said. “Just so you know, if stuff gets too much, we can always try another day. No pressure.” 

Atems words made him feel better immediately and he sighed in relief. He’d been right about him, Atem was genuinely a nice person and that made him feel so much better about being in such a crowded space. 

“Thank you.” He said with a smile. “But I’ll be okay, don’t worry.” 

“Okay.” Atems eyes moved down his body quickly and he blushed. “You look amazing by the way. I can’t believe we’re finally meeting in person.” 

“Me neither.” He said, a soft laugh leaving his lips as he readjusted the scarf around his neck. “You look so much better in person.” 

Atem laughed and he chewed his lip, that probably didn’t come out right….but he’d said it now. 

“I mean…” He trailed off awkwardly when Atem shook his head. 

“I know.” Atem said kindly. 

Neither of them spoke for a moment, they just looked at each other in silence and he wasn’t sure what to do now. He’d been the one to suggest this place for their first date and now he was just standing there…doing nothing. 

“So-” 

“I-” 

They began speaking at the same time then stopped, laughing softly and Yugi instantly felt more at ease. 

“You first.” Atem said with a smile. 

“I was going to ask if you’d been here before.” He said awkwardly. 

“To the city? Or to the market?” Atem asked. 

“Both?” He said. 

“Um, I’ve been to the city before, yeah. But not the market…” Atem smiled at him. “How about you?” 

“I don’t live far from here so yeah, I’ve been a few times…” He trailed off, not sure where he was going with this conversation. 

Fuck, this was so awkward. Atem was going to think he was weird and he’d leave. 

“In that case, I trust you to show me around.” Atem said happily, holding out a hand to him and smiling. “Shall we?”

He was so glad Atem seemed better at conversation than he was and he nodded quickly, looking down at Atems hand and blushing as he took it in his. 

What was wrong with him? He was a grown man. In his late twenties, with a real life job and a flat and everything. Why was he blushing like a child just because a pretty guy wanted to hold his hand? 

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and began walking down the street, Atem walking next to him, the hand in his warm and comforting. “I love christmas.” He said as they made their way through the steady stream of people walking around them, past the stalls set up in the middle of the street. 

“I’d guessed.” Atem teased, his arm bumping against his gently. “So do I…it’s just such a cosy time of year. You know? The cold weather, thick cosy jumpers, mulled wine if you like that kind of thing.” 

“Right?” He said happily. “You get it. I’ve always been a sucker for an excuse to stay indoors and get comfy and cosy, watch a nice movie, eat some comfort food…but I do love the social side of christmas too, like seeing family and coming to places like this.” 

“Oh, I get that.” Atem laughed. “Especially the staying in and being warm part. I don’t do well with the cold, honestly.” 

Atem laughed off the comment but he suddenly felt awful for making him come out, and on a day where the temperature had barely risen beyond freezing too. 

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “We can go find somewhere to be inside if you like?” 

He slowed his pace and Atem stopped entirely, pulling his hand to turn him toward him. Atems smile was soft and gentle, his laugh was quiet. 

“I really don’t mind being here with you.” Atem said, his voice soft and smooth. “I’d stay out here all night if it meant spending time with you.” 

He laughed happily, the words were so cheesy but for some reason, he really didn’t mind that when they came from Atem. They didn’t feel cheap and empty from him. 

“Careful what you say.” He said. “They stay open late, you know.” 

“Good.” Atem smiled. “That means we can spend loads of time together.” Atems smile turned shy and he looked down at their hands. “If you want to, of course.” 

“I want to.” He said quickly, laughing when Atem looked back up at him. Someone walked past behind him, nudging him closer to Atem but he didn’t mind at all. 

“I’m glad.” Atem said softly, letting him step closer again when another person huffed and pushed past them. 

They should probably move. They were standing in the middle of where people were walking, so clearly in the way, but Atems chest was warm against his and a hand was resting against his waist and suddenly the next logical step was for him to lean in just a little closer and press his lips to Atems. 

He hadn’t fully registered that he’d actually moved until he felt soft warm lips against his. He would have been shocked at how forward he’d been, but Atems hand moved to the small of his back and pulled him closer and he wasn’t sure how he was meant to think about much of anything after that. 

........

Want a little christmassy/winter themed drabble? Find the list here and send me an ask ^.^ <3