#NO. I WAS NOT MADE TO LOVE YOU. I *CHOSE* TO LOVE YOU. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiss-me-muchoo · 2 days ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬

summary_ having an affair with General Acacius overseas while conquering lands turned into a problem after coming back to Rome, when you fell for a gladiator that turned out to be a missing prince.

warnings_ CRINGE, girthy age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, violence, gore, animal death, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. NO PROOFREAD, BEWARE!

note_ i can’t remember if Denzel’s character was named Macrino, I can’t remember which year the movie is set in, I can’t remember many things but let me know if I fucked up too much. And listen to fallen fruit from Lorde while reading.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist | ✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

The sea was a free land. Nobody could conquer it because there wasn’t anything valuable floating around. Perhaps at the bottom of the ocean, a treasure may lay, but no man had shown the desire to dive into the deep.

The screams of the innocents are loud enough to make you feel empathy for them. But Acacius had trained you to put a mask of neutrality when leading war.

Loving the most effective soldier of Rome was your little secret. He married the daughter of an old emperor and he fought to get her privileges and prevent her from danger.

Always the insane little girl running around the palace, rambling about plants, the stars, a dream of Rome in flames. It was enough to be secretly sent to a scribe's university in Egypt for some time.

Upon your return, not much had changed, only that your father, once lead of the council, then the wise of Rome had died. Consequently, your evil stepbrothers were crowned emperors. They named you a soldier and made sure you were at every battlefront, hoping for your death.

But your general trained you well, and with months of practice, you ended up tangled up with him on his sheets in Greece.

Adultery was considered a crime in Rome and you’d give the perfect reason to your brothers to burn you like a witch. Or worse, to send you to fight at the arena of the Colosseum.

But the people who accompanied you and Acacius overseas were loyal and couldn’t care less if you had an older man fucking you each night. They only cared about you being a good soldier on the battlefront and being a good princess in Rome.

With a couple of hours left to be home again, you had your wounds checked. Conquering Numidia was one of the last African cities to be marked by the Romans and your brothers desperately wanted to own it. Only a few burns scattered across your leg and your shoulder needed stitches were the price to pay.

The wooden floor creaked and the general turned around alert but as soon as he saw you, he seemed to calm down.

Your arms wrapped around him and he immediately had to lean and kiss you. His lips tasted like devotion, peace, and lust. Acacius always grabbed your hips first. Then he moved to your waist, only to end up caressing your cheeks as his lips kept marking you his.

“What did the doctor say?” asked Acacius as he gasped for air.

“Nothing to worry about…” You nodded at him and he turned his back to you again, looking at his open windows, to the sea.

“What about yours? How is the scar on your nose?”

“It’s fine. Could’ve been worse” You walked towards him, sensing he had bathed like you as well, his hair looked perfectly curly and you couldn’t help but smile.

You could stay looking at the horizon forever, just because he was by your side. The sound of the waves calmed your mind after another day of calamities brought by war.

“For those who chose the sea, greatness waits at the end of the rainbow,” you said smiley. But the general remained stood silent.

“Those are ludicrous tells, the truth is that even war has infected the sea as well.”

“Because we chose to fight, then yes, the sea is also an arena. But if we chose not to, the way will not depict war” his eyes kept looking at you, completely fixated and even threatening, like Acacius was trying to understand how much you were judging him.

“We do this because we don’t have any other choice, princess y/n,” Acacius said, finally turning to look at you.

“We could run away, to the south, the islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea are empty, nobody wants to live there” your voice trembling, nervous and waiting for his response. He stared at nothing, probably thinking. And that made you uneasy.

“I can’t leave Rome, I have to go back to…” he said coldly.

“Your wife….Right”

Silence. Even the sea seized the sound of the waves.

“Haven’t you told her?”

“What’s there to be told? I said this was only a thing of passion and lust” You bit your tongue at his harsh words.

“Was it? Would you say that all those nights you shared your past with me meant nothing, Marcus?”

There it was. His most personal name, that one nobody used. The general got closer to you, paying attention to your face. Princesses did not have scars, but you did. He wanted to say so much, but he couldn’t. You noticed how his fingers were about to trace the pink scar on your chin but he moved away.

“I was drunk most of the nights, doping the pain” Finally your eyes crystallized.

“Do you love Lucilla, General?” His steps stopped then turned around to face you one last time.

His eyes looked doubtful but soon landed on his feet.

“… I do love her” you nodded, holding the tears and bursting out of his room in anger.

“Of course you do”

Your disappointment was so evident that Acacius was able to look at your face reddening and tears falling freely. He could only sigh and go back to pack his things and get ready to arrive in Rome again.

If only you knew…

…

The crowds of Rome couldn’t stop screaming your name. It was “PRINCESS Y/N!” and “ACACIUS!” everywhere.

You were no hero, you just wanted a peaceful life in a free Rome with the man you loved. And you can feel his hand brushing yours while his left salutes the parade of people chanting both of your names. The truth is you have no purpose but to serve your brothers and pretend that is your life.

The twins always hated you. Their mother was a wealthy woman but yours was the emperor’s true love. The twins used to pull your hair and always picked poisonous berries to give you as a meal while being toddlers. It got worse as everyone noticed you were your father’s favorite. And with him gone, you were utterly alone in the world.

Your clumsy steps made you arrive later. There was no crown for you waiting like it had been for Acacius. Geta and Caracalla were talking to him. And when you noticed the sword in the general’s neck, your face went serious.

“Do not forget the privileges we’ve made for your wife” you heard Geta saying.

“Same benefits we’re making for your whores, frater” The twins turned to look at you, quickly releasing Acacius and going straight to you. Their golden armors were a mere matter of display. They could barely wield a sword. They were bad with the bow and arrow and their reflections were poor too. They were good with numbers and shapes, but that wasn’t much in the city they shaped. One full of segregation and violence.

“Dear, soror… you’re back…” you think Geta gets closer to hug you, but his hand has raised and he gives you a sharp slap across the cheek.

“Dazzling and with such a big mouth as always” he added while you looked down, your cold hand against the reddening skin and sending him the worst look you had.

“Leave the princess alone, emperor. We should be focusing on the games ahead. We brought many slaves that some of them could fit as gladiators” Acacius said, looking affectionately at you, with disguise.

Caracalla only laughs in your face and his monkey reaches you for some seconds, but your brother pulls him away quickly. You wonder how far his disease has spread. Before leaving Rome, he was completely against seeing a doctor.

“Acacius is right, Geta. Let’s focus on the games” the twins agreed but sure, they had to humiliate you one last time.

“Alright then. But the next time I see you, dear y/n… I don’t want to see your hair down freely. You look like a whore and not the princess of Rome” he whispered loud enough to make everyone hear. But finally, the twins were gone.

“Are you alright?” The general asked but you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t need your help, Acacius. I’ve dealt with Geta and Caracalla since the day I was born. Which was before we met you” he sighed, understanding you were still mad from your last conversation. He appreciated your free hair, long and healthy despite the fires you went through while in combat.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. It’s enough they sent you to serve in the war when you should be here, safe from the horrors”

“Go home to your wife, Acacius. Your dinner will be cold…” you spit out with a bitter tone before walking away, disappearing through the walls of the palace.

…

Standing naked, dripping, and waiting for servants to dry you up, you stare at the dress hanging in your room. It had been months since you wore a dress, used to armor and tight braids, and the sensation of the fabric felt odd.

As a kid, you wished to befriend your servants, but they remained professional and apologetically brushed away your questions. Which made you feel even more lonely while they dressed you up; placing gold jewelry and rings with quartz, spraying perfume, and cleaning your teeth. Geta and Caracalla always stole the sweets from you as kids, you thanked them because instead, it was Caracalla who ended up with a decayed tooth and a gold one as a replacement.

“You’re ready, princess,” said one of the servants and you smiled at her as a thank you.

The whole time while you and your brothers awaited to arrive at the Colosseum, you ignored them. You sneaked away as soon as you arrived. Knowing the place like the palm of your hand, you took a secret passage, in hopes to go and tend your horse to delay the entertainment as long as you could.

Gladiator fights were of no interest to you. But the people loved it. Their ignorance made you understand why they hadn’t tried to throw your brothers from the thrones.

But being months away made you forgetful of the architecture of the Colosseum, forgetful enough to end up in the cells of gladiators. Looking perplexed, you gulped nervously. There were indeed many slaves brought.

Being the only woman there made you the center of attention. Even worse when you looked exactly like a princess would do.

“Princess y/n, What are you doing here?” Asked one of the high-rank soldiers, running towards you.

“I wanted to tend my horse. It was brought here by accident” you replied, eyes wandering through the cells, noticing the people inside them were full of new people, probably from Numidia. You wonder if they recognized you.

Your eyes met the ocean-blue ones of a man, he certainly recognized you as he looked at you with anger. You gulped once again, looking away from him. But his gaze had been so strong that you didn’t hear a servant come running from the end of the hallway.

“A TIGER ESCAPED! A TIGER ESCAPED! CLOSE THE DOORS!” he screamed and soon everyone went into panic mode. You didn’t have enough time to process what he said and do anything. You stood there confused for some seconds. The violent roars of the animal could be heard closer. You looked around trying to find a weapon.

“Stay behind me, princess,” said the same soldier but you didn’t trust him so you went to grab a bow and arrow. The prisoners yelled and quickly you understood they were having a private show. They hated you for being Roman, and they thought they would see you dying.

But you wouldn’t give them that satisfaction as much as you sympathized with them.

The tiger appeared, big and imposing. The animal was angry, visibly distressed, and ready to attack.

You had killed men, but an animal was different. There was no exact description of what to do. Just pure instinct. So you try to calm yourself before the tiger spots you and the soldier, who are the only ones that remain vulnerable. The guards closed the entrances as protocol, unbeknownst that you were there. And it had been too late to use the secret passage.

You felt the same man’s eyes on you and indeed, he looked carefully at you, probably wondering what would be your next move.

“PRINCESS, STAY AWAY!” The soldier screamed when the tiger came running towards you two.

The tiger jumped and threw the soldier, roaring as it tried to kill him. So you ran away in hopes of aiming at the eye of the animal to gain time. Your hands shaking and you could feel your legs get tangled up in the fabric of your dress. But your nervousness isn’t visible as your hands work on getting ready for the arrow. You don’t have time to calculate, the tiger has already bitten the soldier’s fingers.

You hit it very near the eye and the animal roared even louder, in pain. That’s when you spotted the sword the soldier had left behind, where you threw yourself to, as the tiger had tried to attack you again. The man with blue eyes pushed the sword towards you from inside the cell and you didn’t even look to thank him, you only grabbed the weapon and rolled to the right before the animal could scratch your face and kill you.

You heard the soldier cry out in pain but you couldn’t help him. Thinking you could end the beast chasing you, you failed, sinking the sword in the ribs of the animal. You felt a deep scratch in your arm and you cried out. Anger quickly builds up as you know you had to get out of there before everyone at the coliseum found out. The tiger roared one last time and before it could throw you to the sandy ground you grabbed another arrow and directly pierced the eye of the animal. Blood starts pouring and before the tiger can try to bite and break your neck, your hands end up in its mouth.

The fangs were dangerously digging into your hands and more blood started coming. Scarlet droplets fell all over your face and you didn’t care. You screamed in pain and pulled all the strength in your body to put the pressure on your arms and hands. The men inside the cells cheered and made you even more angered. Until you had torn open the tiger’s mouth, breaking its jaw and killing the animal.

Breathe….

Pushing the dead animal aside, you sighed, resting on the dirty floor for a couple of seconds before taking a long breath and standing up.

Every man inside each cell looked at you quietly. What’s there to say?

Five guards open the main entrance and look confused at the mess, then at you tending the heavily injured soldier.

“Bring a doctor,” you tell them and they nod without asking more questions. Only one comes to your side.

“The games are about to begin, princess. I must escort you back to where you should be” Trying to catch your breath, you nodded.

“Do not say a word about this mess” The guard only bowed his head in agreement.

The least you could do was to put some bandages around the bloody hand of the soldier. Then you cleaned yourself and noticed you were a mess.

Giving that soon-to-be gladiator one last look, you tried to thank him with your eyes for what he had done to help you. He understood, giving you a cold nod.

And as you walked towards the royal platea, you wondered if that was the slave your brothers mentioned. A poet…

“Oh heavens! What happened to you?” Asked Lucilla as soon as you tried to take a seat beside Geta. Then everyone turned to look at you in horror. You noticed Acacius looked worried and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the blood in your dress and bandaged arm.

“An accident” you replied politely at the woman, not in the mood to face the wife of your ex-lover.

“You look horrible,” said Caracalla.

“It won’t; happen again, frater” you tiredly answered, sinking onto the chair, ignoring Acacius’ eyes on you.

Soon you are surprised to see the gladiator who helped you in the arena. You don’t face him when he ends up winning and he looks at you. But you do notice Lucilla’s behavior and quickly you have connected the dots.

What an odd coincidence…

…

This time, you checked the animals first, then you made sure nobody had seen you entering the cells, but you went where the mysterious gladiator of blue eyes rested.

“Barbarian, monkey eater, slave, gladiator…. Prince of Rome, How may I call you? Hanno or Lucius?” Soon you had him inches away from your face. At that moment, you had time to appreciate his features. He was handsome and looked pretty much like he belonged to Roman royalty. But his gaze was fueled by anger and pain.

“What do you want?”

“I know Lucilla came before me. She had been waiting for you ever since I can remember” he looked at you with cold eyes and unbothered. But you knew he was curious about you too.

“What do you care? You’re the princess, you support all of this” his anger was palpable, it was part of his way of fighting you had noticed.

“Who did you lose?” You asked.

“My wife” he replied after a little silence, you nodded apologetically. He didn’t believe you.

“My father was a friend of your grandfather, part of the council. Now I realize that when he was elected emperor, he started hunting you down. I’m sorry”

“You don’t. You joined their cause and you fight proudly on the battlefront. I saw you…” you chuckle sarcastically.

“The twins you met the other day are my half-brothers. And they have tried to kill me since I was born. They sent me to war as punishment, but Acacius trained me well enough to survive each battle”

“So what? Should I pity you?”

“No, please don’t. But I don’t support any of this. I want to be a free woman and be with the man I love but I don’t think I’ll live enough to make it happen” he seemed interested in your words but pretended he wasn’t. Either way, you kept talking.

“You can’t kill Acacius. He’s leading a rebellion against my brothers” he stood quiet, trying to taste the lies in your words. But you seemed very truthful.

“Interesting that you want his head when all I’ve wanted is his heart” Through the cell his eyes sparkled and looked tentatively at you, for some seconds you got too attached to them.

“What about Macrino?” The old man had been trying to gain your brother’s trust and you thought that was suspicious.

“Don’t trust him. Stop sharing any detail that could tell him what you want or fear”

“I don’t trust you either”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, a little smile unconsciously appearing on your face. And to your surprise, Lucius smiled too. There was something about you that he found lovely. You seemed honest, but he couldn’t trust you yet. So he cursed once you had left, you had him looking forward to meet you again.

…

Across the room runs a large table filled with food. A variety of fruits, bread, lamb, duck, pork, and lots of wine. Your hands float around the punch though, reminding you of the first time you tried Egyptian beer. You ended up drunk with Marcus Acacius, laughing on the sand and soon both ended up naked. You frown, trying to forget that messy night.

“You’ve been oddly quiet these past days,” said Lucilla appearing by your side, grabbing more fruits and placing them on her plate.

“I’ve been busy”

“Have you met Macrino?” She said pointing in disguise at the man who laughs with some senators and your brothers.

“He’s been around for some time. But I don’t like him” you confessed.

“I’ve also met his poet gladiator” you added, opting to not look at her eyes because she responded very shocked.

“What?”

“He wants to kill Acacius for the death of his late wife, avenge his homeland, etcétera etcétera. I told him not to because we plan to free the city. You can’t proceed with the nonsense of taking him out of the Colosseum. Your son can’t be the alibi to start a revolution, Lucilla” you said whispering. She gasped in shock, wondering how you knew already. All while you carefully watched if any of your brothers or that nosy man were looking. Not even Acacius was looking.

You sigh, shrugging and looking at the woman.

“As soon as he came out wielding that sword in the arena, your face said everything. Then just by hearing his mysterious backstory. It was obvious, Lucilla” She didn’t say anything else, so you continued.

“I shall repeat myself once again. You won’t encourage Acacius to get your boy out of the Colosseum.”

“Why not?” you chuckled at the woman.

She was very pretty, sweet and caring. No wonder why the general loved her.

“You and your husband were lucky that I found out one of your maids heard everything and was about to spill it”

“What did you do, y/n?” She asked tired, thinking destiny was so meticulous and how you had ended up in such a position to hear and stop the maid before chaos unleashed.

“Let’s say I granted her eternal silence,” you said, Lucilla sighed, understanding. And before she could thank you, you spoke again.

“Wait till Lucius is in the arena to save him. And stop looping Acacius into this madness, you’ll make him get killed” She understood everything by the way your eyes looked at her. It shocked her, but she remained calm as you left to sit at the table. Only a woman in love spoke with a mix of venom and sweetness like that.

Taking a seat beside the General, he turned to look at you.

“What were you talking about there with Lucilla?” He asked in a very low but deep tone.

“Just gossiping about Senator Brutus and his new wife…” he knew you were lying but tried to act normal.

“Princess y/n… How true are those rumors about you breaking the jaw of a tiger?” asked a scribe, making you look away from Acacius, Lucilla returned to the table and your brother was already laughing at you for something you couldn’t hear.

“Well… it’s true, domine.” The table burst into laughter. Only the general and his wife remained silent.

“You did what?” Asked Acacius looking at you in horror.

“A princess shouldn’t be in combat” added Macrino, making you set your eyes on him.

“Oh I am a princess but I’m also a soldier, domine. And I have to thank my brothers because they made me a woman capable of wielding more than one weapon by sending me to war” The twins stopped laughing. Geta sipped from his wine and returned to you.

“That’s true. While you were there getting battle scars, Caracalla and I focused on diplomacy, ensuring we gained more land” You want to laugh at his face. The council did that, not the twins.

“Did you ensure the poor were stable by cutting from the rich? Did you do the math to financially cover each branch Rome rules, Geta? Or did you and Caracalla just point at lands on a map to get like prizes?”

“y/n…” Acacius whispered your name, trying to make you stop. The tension has risen very quickly.

“You have one task, soror. To give us India. A woman shouldn’t even be speaking on the table” Caracalla said when you were about to stand up and burst out. Marcus grabbed your hand under the table.

And immediately calmed you down.

“I’m only saying you should wisely rule this great empire. Do not let it fall…”

Soon the chatting turned into drinking after the awkward moment. When most of the men were getting drunk you returned to the table, cautiously grabbing food again. When you looked up, you encountered the image of Acacius kissing Lucilla. And it made your blood boil.

In a thick piece of fabric, you placed bread, some fruits, cheeses, and a small piece of lamb.

“What are you doing?” you nearly screamed when you noticed Acacius standing by your side.

“I’m grabbing food”

“Isn’t it a little late to eat again?” He wasn’t judging you, he never would, but he was very curious.

You would start up a little fire after seeing the painful image of him kissing his wife.

“It’s not for me…” before he could ask you you sprinted away. His blood boiled too, his hand firmly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“What are you playing?” He asked.

“Playing? I’m definitely not”

“Is this some kind of punishment for what I told you days ago?” You sighed.

“I didn’t mean to say it was nothing. But… you have to wait, y/n” Acacius whispered and you chuckled.

“I’ve waited long enough to realize you will always be trapped in a marriage with two different kinds of love. And Lucilla will never love you like you want because her heart will always beat for that gladiator whose name was carved from the Colosseum”

You had raised your voice, Lucilla was looking at you two, and everyone else was drunk. So you violently flinched away from the man, who looked at you with a mix of pain and rage.

You leave and he immediately sends a guard to follow you in disguise.

“We must talk,” Lucilla said to Acacius, taking his hand.

He nodded.

…

What did that man have that made you feel safe? He didn’t protest when you walked inside his cell. He didn’t demand you to go away. He quietly lets you inside, talk, and explain yourself.

Two visits filled with food from your dinners were enough to let him know you had no intention of killing him. Your curiosity must’ve been too big, his eyes too attractive, and an odd vibration that warmed your chest.

To be honest, you had no idea why you came back to him. You just felt something. And you hated to admit it.

“If the emperors have made your life so difficult, Why didn’t you leave?” Lucius asked. He had eaten everything you gave him and was sitting beside you on the dirty floor.

“Every time I tried to escape, I couldn’t make it far enough. So I stayed and accepted my fate. To serve them will keep me alive ” he nodded, finally understanding why you hadn’t revealed yourself against the evil emperors.

“You didn’t come down here just to talk”

“I didn’t. I- I guess I just want to believe you’ll do something greater than I have always tried. Everyone talks about your rage but I think you quite act like a prospect hero… with honor” you revealed and wanted to cut your thong like you did with that old maid. You hated oversharing. But instead, Lucius chuckled and you frowned confused, expecting him to talk.

“You reminded me of my wife…”

“How so?”

“She said similar things to you” Most unexpectedly, you blushed. Thankfully the darkness of the cell made it unnoticeable.

“I’m trying to find a way to get you out of here before your mother does something rushed”

“I was very harsh with her”

“How couldn’t you? I would have behaved the same way. But she loves you and she doesn’t want to let you go just when she found you” Lucius smiled once again, making you remain still, unsure of what to do next. Soon you realized the sun was very close to coming up again.

How many hours had you spent talking with the rightful Prince of Rome?

“I must go, Geta and Caracalla will know I spent the night away,” you said standing up, trying to clean the mess your dress had become.

“Will I see you again before that revolution happens?” You smiled, walking back near him.

He was tall, you had to completely raise your head to face him.

“The final day of the games is closer. I’ll bring you more food and I’ll try to see what will the next encounters look like”

“Thank you. I judged you too fast…” he said and you chuckled.

“You still have time to change your mind”

You didn’t notice when he closed the distance. Just when his face had been inches away from yours, you gasped.

But neither of you two protested, your lips touched his at the same time.

Tasting the wine you brought him made you feel intoxicated. No intrusive thoughts appeared while you kissed him.

You could only taste his passion, his need to take control. But all his hidden softness too. One of his hand caressed with softness your cheek and the other grasped your neck.

“Stay safe, Lucius,” you said as you moved away from him.

…

The whole day was lost because you spent it sleeping. Only when you woke up for dinner, did you learn you had missed the games of the day. But Lucius was alive at least. You dreamt of his kiss but when you woke up you had an odd sensation in your stomach. Confusion filled you and then… ache.

As you brushed your hair, you got lost looking at a red candle. It had been a present from your father some years ago. A red candle to be lit whenever you felt like you needed to feel love, he had said.

The wise emperor had wished to see his daughter with her true love. Just like had always wanted but couldn’t.

There was a broad shadow that you spotted through the mirror. It made you pull out a silver knife and point a the figure.

Soon the cape was removed and you sighed but also gasped shocked to see Acacius standing in the middle of your room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked worriedly, standing up and hurrying to close your windows.

“You had spent all these past nights in the Colosseum,” he said, sounding a little angered.

“Now you’re spying on me, Acacius?” He sighed exasperated.

“What are you doing with that gladiator?”

“What do you care?” You asked with defiance.

“He’s going to get you in trouble, princess y/n” Your eyes pierced his, but you decided to move away, leaning against the towers of your bed.

“He deserves more. And not only him, but every slave we brought and all those we left in ruins” you admitted, looking at the fire of the candle.

“They do, but it’s not our duty, at least not yet. We need to focus on the plan we have…” you wanted to roll your eyes and yell at him, his wife could’ve ruined everything and he was only paying attention to you.

Only paying attention to you?

“Stop going to see that man”

“His name is Hanno and I’ll visit whenever I desire” you spit out with bitterness and you knew he was angry. Acacius clenched his jaw and sighed once again. Under his cape rested his armor, his hair messy, and his scars fading.

“Why? Because he makes you feel things?”

You remained quiet. As simple as it was, his question took you by surprise.

“I-… I don’t know. I had no reason to go back to him, but I did it anyway”

“Oh heavens, y/n. Don’t you see that I’ve always told you to wait? Because I’m counting every golden coin I have to give you that house on the island you always point at. To leave Rome with you…”

It took you on a curve. You didn’t know what to say, only the tears wanted to be present.

His hands found your hips and his lips seek yours. Sometimes, while being overseas, you two would argue. And the only cure was to be silent and kiss after a day of ignoring each other.

This time feels different. You feel so confused.

His forehead softly bumped yours and you two stayed like that for some time.

“If you had those ideas to fulfill with me. Why do you remain married, Marcus?” He smiled.

“That’s different, satis. I was set to marry when you were very young. I just can’t undo it.”

“Why do I feel like you’re only doing this because you feel pressured?”

“It’s not like that”

“Either way you wouldn’t tell me that you love me. So it’s in vane…”

“BUT I DO LOVE YOU!”

You frowned, biting the inside of your cheek. For a moment you thought you could only hear how your heartbeats slowly thumped. What you wanted to hear for years had been delivered. It felt good, even right to hear it. And when you were about to believe it, something clicked.

“No, Marcus. You just realized you hate the idea of me falling in love with someone else. Even worse when it’s the son of your wife”

Without the strength to say anything else, you moved away. Your feet quickly dragged you out of your room, and then out of the palace.

You walked through the streets of Rome, seeing all the hunger, poverty, the lack of love from the government.

By midnight you arrived at the shore. The warm sand cured your bolting mind.

There was an imminent battle coming up. You had a place in the rebellion. And yet you had to be only thinking in two men. Who had made a mess of you in a matter of days.

You had nothing with any of them. It was just the causality of what they made you feel.

Lucius made you feel like the woman you would’ve been if you had escaped Rome years ago.

Acacius made you feel adored like the woman you turned into wasn’t as bad as you thought. He believed in you.

But it wasn’t enough. None of them were enough. Your mind was spiraling and you realized you were sobbing in the middle of the dark. You can hear and faintly distinguish the sea. You had cracked, like the fallen fruit every poet and philosopher always mentioned.

And even when you knew you had to only focus on the war, you still didn’t know what to do. You barely knew the men that had you losing it.

_________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @willowpains @nicolebarnes

I don’t love the ending but I genuinely don’t know who should reader end up with. PLEASE SEND IDEAS!!

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator x reader #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus #paul mescal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius

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neowinestainedress · 5 hours ago

Text

it’s funny cause i wrote this but i don’t remember it anymore and now i need context for the first phrase cause WHAT???

the fact i just asked you on the other ask “why would you do this to yourself” please ajdjkdk

oh i love that phrase 🥺 don’t worry it hit close to home to me to cause i feel like this 90% of the time since i gained consciousness. i think the only solution is to find someone who loves you for you are and takes everything you have to give. (the problem is finding this person)

you made me want to read this again because i remember so little of it, mostly just the “hate” i got from the ending i chose ☠️ also i will reply with “i’m glad you still like it” because if i say “i’m glad it still hurts you” i will sound like a psychopath

enough for you | lee haechan

title: enough for you | sequel to traitor

pairing: ex!lee haechan x oc/fem reader (no descriptions, no name, written in third person) | side members: huang renjun, lee jeno

genre: angst, song-fic, friends to lovers to exes, (a bit of) fluff, happy ending | requested and inspired by enough for you by olivia rodrigo

summary: all she ever wanted was to be enough for Haechan, even now that they aren’t together anymore. Until someone opens her eyes and makes her realize that she is already enough the way she is.

warnings: angst (but it's not that bad, it's more focused on the healing process)

words: 5.002k

a/n: i hope you’ll like it! let me know what you think with comments, reblogs or asks ♡

Looking back at what had been between her and Haechan she should’ve known. Should’ve seen some red flags before, instead of being so surprised when everything crumbled apart.

Sure, it was all there. But she didn’t feel like blaming herself too much when he did nothing but fool her. She had no idea what kind of Haechan she would’ve had in front of her, every day changing into someone she didn’t know.

But she loved him. Deeply, too much to really hate that push and pull. She loved him too much to see how much all that was getting to her head.

And even now that Haechan wasn’t hers anymore, now that they broke up, those doubts filled her mind.

Her confidence had crumbled into pieces, it was worse than when they started dating when he had to whisper sweet words to her hear and tell her how beautiful he found her.

“Why are you changing so much?” Renjun asked her when he met her in the corridors of their campus.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, fixing her bag full of books on her shoulder, and starting to walk to the library with her friend.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t,” she replied, chuckling.

“You never wore make-up,” he pointed out. Renjun wanted to add ‘not that style, not the kind of make-up Bora wears,’ but didn’t. She knew it.

She sighed, pushing the heavy door and waiting for him to walk inside. “Wanted to change,” she shrugged. “New break-up, new me.”

“Sure,” he huffed, pulling out a chair for her before sitting next to her. “You’re just hurting yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, hiding her face in her bag to look for the books they needed to study.

“You gave him everything you had to give,” Renjun said. “If he’s dumb and doesn’t see the value in you it’s not your fault.”

She lifted her face, glaring at him. “I’m doing this for myself.”

“Yeah, just like you started going to the arcade for you, right?” He asked, placing his elbows on the table, staring at her, making her roll her eyes. “Jeno saw you, you were more concentrated on Bora and Haechan laughing because she got herself killed every two seconds than your own game.”

She wanted to deny it, but she knew there was no point. She saw Jeno too, they made eye contact and then drifted away, but it was too late. And neither he nor Renjun were dumb to don’t know she didn’t care about video games at all.

“He never let me play with him,” she confessed. “He always got mad at me because I wasn’t good. And now he’s laughing with her for the same mistakes I made.”

“And knowing it will make you feel better?”

She chewed her lower lips, head lowered as she pulled a hangnail on her thumb. “No, but I don’t understand. How can she be so much more exciting than me? What does she have that I don’t?”

“He’s an asshole, that’s the only answer you need to give yourself,” Renjun insisted.

“No,” she replied. “You know her better than me, you don’t have to lie. I know she’s more exciting. It took me one night to get she had everything to swipe him off his feet.”

“Her being interesting doesn’t make you less.”

She hummed. Of course, Renjun was going to say something like this to her, but she didn’t want his pity. She didn’t even know what she wanted. No, she knew. She wanted Haechan back and that was something she couldn’t have.

“Let’s study,” she said, opening the first book. “I don’t want to think about him.”

But she thought about him a lot, more than she should’ve.

Every time that she was in her kitchen preparing coffee, she couldn’t help but remember their mornings together.

“I promise coffee is not that bad,” she laughed at Haechan’s disgusted face as he pushed the cup back.

“That’s like a shot of venom,” he said, trying to clean his tongue and get rid of the strong flavor.

“It’s an espresso, of course, it’s strong,” she said before turning around and opening the fridge. “Wait, let me make it better.”

“Yeah, throw it away.”

She rolled her eyes, sitting next to him and pouring the milk into the small cup. “Drink it now, come on.”

Haechan lifted his eyes on her, a furrow on his face, and then hesitantly grabbed the cup. “Just because it’s you,” he said before bringing it to his lips, tongue sticking out to try to taste just a bit before drinking it all.

“So?” She asked, big bright eyes looking at him with hope.

He sighed. “Hate to prove you right, but it’s good.”

She clapped, letting out a squeal, “I told you! You never trust me.”

“You nearly killed me before.”

“I’d never kill you, I can’t live without you.”

And it was true. Because now that he was gone it felt like she was carrying around an empty shell of her body. And she hated the way his favorite songs popped in her mind at the most random times. And she could still hear his angelic voice singing over them when he would let her lay her head against his chest and she could feel it vibrate and then drift to sleep into his hold while his voice lulled her.

She couldn’t move on when he was in every corner of her house. She still had those self-help books she bought just to impress him, to make him think she was smart. Like she had to prove something to him when her history major was going so well, when she always aced everything since she was six. It still wasn’t enough. Somehow Haechan always found a way to don’t make her feel smart enough.

“It’s not like you’re not smart,” he said, resting on the couch with one leg falling out, dangling back and forth. “You’re too emotional. You let that part of you get the best of you and you end up looking stupid.”

“There’s nothing wrong with emotions,” she retorted, trying to push away the painful emotion she felt at his words.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You panic over anything. The other day you got mad at me just because I was a bit more annoyed over the phone.”

“Lately you are always annoyed,” she replied. “And not only over the phone.”

“I told you, I’m tired,” he cut her off. “Anyway, you should read some self-help books, they might help you.”

And she did, she listened. Starting from one and then reading so many more just to make him happy. But it wasn’t like they worked. She kept being her paranoic, obsessive little self because Haechan gave her enough reasons to be. No book was going to take away the way he acted and how much he pushed her back.

“I thought you were smarter than this.”

The last person she expected to ever talk to her approached her one day, making her turn around with a furrow on her face.

“Shouldn’t you be at your table with your friends?” She asked when Jeno sat next to her in the university cafeteria, ignoring his words because she couldn’t get what he wanted from her, and she couldn’t care about it either.

“Don’t want to deal with Bora and Haechan stuffing their tongues in each other mouths,” he said, making her gag just imagining them so close. “You were much less annoying.”

“Is this a way to slap to my face how much better he’s doing without me?”

Jeno shrugged, grabbing his chopsticks and starting to eat. “No,” he mumbled after swallowing. “I told you, I don’t get why you’re still obsessing over him.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes when she got that he had no intention to leave her alone, and started to eat too. “I don’t care about him.”

Jeno almost choked from laughing at what she said. “Please, be serious,” he said, looking at her up and down. “Look at you, baggy pants, neon tops, sneakers? What happened to your dresses and skirts and pastel colors? From looking like a fairy to looking like a hip-hop dancer.”

“People can’t change?” She asked, tilting her head to look at him, still trying to understand what he wanted from her and why out of all the people he cared.

“Sure,” he said, “but it would be less embarrassing if you didn’t try to be her copy.”

She placed the chopsticks down and turned to him. “Leave.”

“No,” he retorted, turning to face her. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth none of the hurt you’re putting yourself through.”

“You are his friend, not mine,” she said, not getting why he was acting like that. Were those words coming from Haechan? Maybe he saw her changes and found her annoying once again but didn’t dare to confront her?

“I know, and I also told you I can’t stand them.”

“Sure, it didn’t seem like you couldn’t stand her when he was dating me,” she huffed, going back to her food.

“I guess he made you feel incredibly insecure, but,” he said, stopping for a moment because he didn’t know how to let her know what he thought without looking weird. “You are interesting. And you’re not annoying or whatever he made you believe,” he confessed.

She stopped eating again, looking at Jeno with a furrow on her face. “Do you have a fever by chance?”

“Oh, shut up,” he groaned, slapping her hand away from his forehead. “I’m serious.”

“How do you know?” They never talked much, well, now that she thought about it, they never went past greetings and other small talks when they ended up being alone during their group hangouts.

“You don’t want to know,” he said, drifting his gaze from her.

“Oh, no, I do. You sound like a stalker.”

“I’m not, you can be sure about that,” he defended himself immediately.

“Then what it is? I don’t need your sympathy or worse your pity, Jeno. I already have Renjun filling me up with bullshits to make me feel better and trust me, it doesn’t work,” she snapped, raising her voice, making him look around, panicking when people turned around to look at them.

“I didn’t eat,” she whined, barely grabbing her bag and trying to don’t fall on her steps as she hardly followed him when he grabbed her wrist and dragged her outside.

“We’ll skip the last lessons and I’ll pay for something outside,” he said, starting to walk out of campus, still holding her hand.

“Jeno, what the hell,” she complained but then gave up. She couldn’t care less about university either, two hours skipped weren’t going to make her fail.

“I know,” he whispered once they were outside of the garden, walking through Seoul, his hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans, his backpack on one shoulder, and his black hair hiding his face.

“Yeah, how?” She asked, getting inside of his car once they reached it, not even sure why she was following him and maybe ending up getting more hurt than she already was.

“Is there something of your heart left to break?” He asked, lifting his eyes to meet hers and when she looked behind him, he got that yes, there was something more to break. “Nevermind.”

“I want to know anyway,” she begged, grabbing his arm without thinking before letting him go, pulling away.

Jeno sighed, starting the car and driving to a place where they could eat. “Haechan talked a lot about you…” he confessed. “And not always in a positive way.”

She was expecting to feel pain, to hurt more, but maybe there truly was nothing left of her heart to break. There was nothing left of her that Haechan could break because he had already destroyed everything. Her heart, her confidence, her passions, her intelligence.

“I honestly couldn’t get half of the critiques about you,” he admitted, his gaze was concentrated on the street, but she felt a weird nervousness in his voice, and she couldn’t understand why. He always seemed like the confident type, and he wasn’t her friend, so he had no reason to be afraid of hurting her. But she shrugged it off, she, unfortunately, had other things to worry about, like her ex-boyfriend talking shit behind her back when they were together. “A bit because you seemed the total opposite of what he used to tell and also because I couldn’t find flaws in many of the things he hated about you.”

“Hated?” She asked, a look of disbelief on her face. Over the past months, she had come to the conclusion he couldn’t stand her anymore, but she never thought Haechan hated her.

Jeno nodded, not daring to turn around and see her wrecked face. “Maybe your story became too much,” he guessed. He truly couldn’t comprehend how they fell apart. He was there since the start and imagined them to be together for eternity. She had been by Haechan’s side when nobody else was and Jeno couldn’t understand how Haechan could be so stupid to let her go, especially like this. And he couldn’t get an answer from his friend. Not that he asked, it wasn’t his business after all.

“What did he hate about me?” She dared to ask, looking down at her thighs because she felt tears at the corner of her eyes. But they threatened to fall even harder because Jeno was right, she looked pathetic trying to be Bora. She hated those clothes. She wasn’t like her. She wasn’t the kind of girl Haechan wanted and no matter all the clothes she could change, or lipsticks on her face, she was never going to be her.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” He asked, parking the car before signaling her they had arrived.

“You started talking to me,” she reminded him, closing the car door behind and following him as they walked toward the place.

“And not to hurt you,” he said, scratching his neck, and she saw his mouth open again to say something, but no other words came out of his lips.

“Then why?”

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Because I think you’re smarter than this dumb thing of trying to be a copy of her. And because…nothing. We’re here,” he said, turning left and pushing the door open before looking for an empty table.

“No, finish,” she insisted, sitting in front of him, and now it was harder to escape her interrogating gaze.

“Because you deserve better than him,” Jeno confessed, cheeks reddening.

“I will never have him back,” she replied with a bitter chuckle as she felt her heart clench as the realization hit her again.

“That’s why I wish you stopped acting like this,” he said before handing her the menu. “It’s on me, get whatever you want,” he added. “What?” He asked when a smile curled her lips and she hid her face behind the papers.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. “I thought you hated me and here you are, paying for my lunch, trying to wake me up from my fantasies about my ex.”

“You thought I hated you?” He asked, raising a brow, eyes widening in surprise.

“Let’s say you weren’t the most welcoming of his friends,” she explained, smiling at him again before focusing on the menu.

“Let’s say you’re not good at reading people considering how you let him treat you,” he whispered but she heard anyway.

“You do stupid things when you want to keep somebody by your side,” she replied, but she wasn’t mad, not at Jeno at least, because he wasn’t wrong. She was terrible at reading people, especially when she loved them.

“Yeah, but now?”

She hesitated before answering, “I know… but I can’t help but still want to be enough for him. I meant too much for him. I have no idea how I…” she had to stop, feeling her eyes wet again and a gulp form in her throat. “I don’t get how he couldn’t care less about someone that loved him so deeply. I don’t get how after everything that tied us he could forget me that easily.”

Jeno nodded. “I don’t get it either. And I know you don’t want me to be the one saying those things but as I said before, you don’t deserve all this pain.”

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” she confessed. “I don’t know how to make him go away.”

“Or maybe you didn’t even try,” Jeno whispered with a hesitant voice, shily meeting her eyes, and feeling his heart clench seeing that they were off, nothing of her old bright eyes was there anymore.

“I just… I want myself back but I feel that he’s such a big part of me and I know this is wrong, but he took so much of me, Jeno. I cannot erase so many years of my life in the blink of an eye.”

And he wanted to tell her that yes, she could, just like he did. He wanted to tell her that the way he moved on so easily should’ve been enough for her to do the same or to at least don’t let him have so much power over her. But when he looked in front of him and saw her shaking as she tried to hold back the tears, he realised that Haechan was right. She was too emotional for this, too emotional for his careless way. She loved too much and Haechan didn’t know how to deal with so much love. Now that she looked at him, apologizing when a tear rolled down her cheek and ranting about how pathetic she looked and how weird this all was, he realized why she and Haechan didn’t last.

“Hey,” Jeno called her, grabbing her hand that was moving frenetically to fix the bottle with flowers she made fall by mistake, “look at me. It’s alright,” he said, smiling before he wiped her tears away. “Why don’t we eat without thinking about him?”

She nodded, slumping back in the seat, hating herself a bit more because she wasn’t so sure she could’ve avoided thinking about Haechan. Not now that she knew that he truly started slipping out of her hold much longer than that and only God knew how many other girls made him turn his head because she had never been enough for him. Because she was not enough and too much at the same time and she had no idea how to deal with it. Jeno was wrong when he said that their story became too much. The heavy thing that dragged them to the bottom of the sea was her. She was too much to take and at the first chance Haechan got, he ran away.

But weirdly enough Jeno was good at keeping her mind off her ex. He listened to her, something nobody did in ages. And he was funny, unlike the times they hung out together and his jokes never hit. Sure, it wasn’t the kind of humor that anybody could get, but right now it was enough to make her crack a laugh and feel her heart less heavy.

And with time, it turned out that Jeno in general was really good at don’t make her think about Haechan. She had no idea when they started hanging out so much, probably after he had asked for help for a class he was about to fail because he couldn’t even memorize the basis and they spent afternoons in the library studying, occasionally with Renjun’s company, that was finally happy to see that she didn’t look so heartbroken anymore.

��So, you’re finally stepping out of the house without me dragging you by the hair,” Renjun joked, they were sitting on the sidewalk while they waited for Jeno to bring them their orders from the street food stand in Hongdae. “And most importantly,” he said, looking at her dress and the make-up on her face, “you got back to being yourself.”

“You were right, it was dumb trying to be like her,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. “Also, I look better in pink than in bright colors.”

Renjun chuckled, and then asked, “And your heart? Got back to beat for someone else?” He pointed his head to Jeno that briefly turned around to smile at them while he waited in line.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, pushing him off.

“You know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s just a good friend, like you.”

“Are you sure?”

She hummed, biting her nails, before saying, “I’m getting back up on my feet, but I’m still hurt, Injunnie. And…sometimes I still think about you know who.”

Renjun laughed before pinching her cheek. “Take your time, baby. And, next time, fall for someone that won’t hurt you this bad.”

“That someone that hurt me that bad is your friend.”

“And? You have no idea how much I fought with him for the way he treated you.”

Before she could say anything else, Jeno came back.

“Teobokki for my favorite girl,” he said, handing her the cup, making her lower her head and mumble a low ‘thanks’ and then he turned to Renjun, “and a tornado potato for you.”

“Thanks,” Renjun said. “Should we start walking again?”

The other two hummed and started walking through Hongdae again to enjoy more local singers or dancers covering songs. But she couldn’t help but think about what Renjun had told her.

She wasn’t feeling anything for Jeno, right? No, of that she was sure, at least, she believed her heart was too wounded and broken to start beating again. And she also knew that when she occasionally crossed Haechan she could feel a weird sensation in her stomach, but she couldn’t tear the butterflies and the venom apart.

On the other hand, she knew that Jeno made her feel good. But she couldn’t call it love.

She liked the way he would rest his face on his crossed arms and listen to her talk no sense for hours, his eyes crinkling up every time he laughed or smiled at something she said.

She liked the way he never made her feel stupid, even when her emotions would take over and tears fell a bit too easily from her eyes.

She liked the way he listened to her repeat for her history exams and didn’t find it boring even if she knew that it was terribly boring for him and he couldn’t care less about wars, politics, and social dynamics all around the world.

She liked hearing him talk about dance without mocking her when she didn’t understand some specific terms, or when they tried choreographies together and she couldn’t keep up with him. Most of the time it lead to them laughing on the floor like fools while they struggled to breathe from the laughs and the fatigue. And when she laid there, at his side, so close to him feeling light, she could feel her heart beat just a bit faster than usual. And maybe her stomach twisted when he turned around and smiled at her, his shaky hands moving a strand of hair out of her face.

But it was too soon, it definitely wasn’t love, and she couldn’t jump into another relationship without looking. She couldn’t use him as a replacement, she couldn’t hurt him when she was the first one to know how painful being used and betrayed was, so she left Jeno there, in the back of her heart, under the ‘friend’ label because she knew she wasn’t ready for another heartbreak.

“So, Jeno’s the lucky one.”

When she heard those words and that voice she felt her heart drop to the floor, her stomach clenched uncomfortably and she felt struck on the spot. But she still turned around, the lights of the party weren’t enough to don’t make her see Haechan standing there behind her, unfortunately for her with the same handsome face of always. And the music wasn’t loud enough for her to pretend she didn’t hear him.

“Jealous?” She asked, tilting her head and holding the glass in her fingers tighter.

“I just think that it’s just a low move to go with one of my closest friends,” he said.

She laughed, not a chuckle or a smile, a laugh, loud enough to make some others at the party turn around and stare at them before Haechan glared them off. “You talk about what’s a low move or not. You have some gut to come here and teach me a lesson.”

“You broke up with me,” he replied.

“Of course,” she chuckled, shaking her head, “how long has it been? Two months since we spoke last and you still don’t get it, you still don’t get all the pain you put me through.”

“I told you, I never cheated,” he said, taking a step forward but she stopped him with a glare.

“Yeah, because cheating is the only painful thing you can do, right? Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing? Not even respect. I’m not asking you to love me, I don’t need it anymore. No, worse, I don’t want it anymore. But you could at least stop coming in between my happiness. Why are you mad? Because your best friend can give me all the love you were never able to give me?”

“I loved you and you know it. You can’t delete five years of our story just for someone that arrived in your life in what? Two months?” He told her and when she looked at him with a serious face, eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face, it hit him. That was exactly what he did to her but two weeks after they broke things off. He was getting mad at her for the same thing he did, but he did even worse, he hurt her more than she could ever do now.

“So, is it clear now? Do you feel at least half of the pain I felt? Do you feel betrayed like I felt?”

Haechan didn’t answer, he stood there, staring at her while all his mistakes crumbled on his shoulders and pushed him to the ground. He was the reason their story fell apart. He had hurt her. He had betrayed her. And he couldn’t get mad at her for moving on with anybody else, not even if it was Jeno, not even if that meant seeing them together all the time.

That was her payback, and all of a sudden, he realized he had no more reasons to be mad. And probably, it would’ve been better if he simply avoided approaching her in the first place. But he did that, and they were there now, and he deserved it, he deserved to feel all the humiliation he was feeling right now.

But she was glad he did. Sure, those past months not talking to him helped her, but this conversation made him realize what he had put her through. And she loved to see that he was finally bleeding too. Sure, revenge wasn’t a virtue, but she couldn’t care. She was tired of his smug smile, of his confidence when he broke her apart. She was tired of seeing him walking around like a God without realizing all the pain he was causing.

And right now, in front of her, there was a broken-hearted Haechan and she had no idea if he was regretting it because he missed her, because he had realized that Bora couldn’t give him what she gave him, or if simply because he didn’t like losing and his pride now was eating him alive. Knowing him, well, finding out over time who he truly was, she would’ve bet on the latter, but she truly didn’t care.

Haechan wasn’t her problem anymore.

She was done with this story, with him, with his lies, and his games.

And since he seemed to have no intention to talk again, she started walking past him. She had a party to go back to, and an entire night to dance between arms that weren’t his, between the arms of someone that made her feel good and enough. A feeling she had forgotten all these years by his side.

“And for your information,” she said, turning around again because she needed to put an end to this with a light heart, “between me and Jeno there’s nothing. But who knows, someday I’ll be everything to somebody else. And they’ll think that I’m so exciting. And maybe then, only then, you will be the one who’s crying.”

Haechan didn’t dare to meet her eyes, the floor wouldn’t have hurt as much as meeting her cold heart would’ve, the floor couldn’t remind him that she wasn’t his anymore and it was all his fault.

“All I ever wanted was to be enough for you, Haechan,” she said, looking into his eyes when he lifted them, and not feeling pain, not feeling anything anymore. “But thanks to you I found out I was already enough for someone else. And I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I don’t have to hurt myself just to keep them. They don’t leave me all alone crying, wondering what I did wrong.”

“You were enough for me,” he tried to stop her from leaving him again, grabbing her hand but she swiftly pulled away from his hold, making a crack form in his heart.

“No,” she replied, a bitter smile painted on her face as she stared into his brown eyes, “I don’t think anything could ever be enough for you.”

HAPPIER (finale): READ HERE

#feedback #reblogs

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irrelevantwriter · 3 days ago

Text

His Wife, Her Power

Pairing: Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2) x Female Reader/You

Warnings: NSFW, Ancient Rome type shit, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, power couple tings

Word Count: 3242

Summary: Part 2. The Emperor of Rome learns just who he chose to be his queen.

A/N: Part two is upon us. And its gonna get nasty. Again, I took major liberties with Ancient Rome. Let’s pretend okay. There also might be a part three 👀 Feedback is that good shit.💗

*Read Part One here

*Masterlist

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

You released a breath, feeling the last of your hair being freed from the confines of their pins. Your maiden brushed through your hair gently, nearly lulling you to sleep. Lavender emanated from your skin, making the temptation of slumber all the more intense.

“Your highness, the Emperor has called for you,” she whispered, setting the ivory comb aside.

You nodded, a kind smile aimed her way. “Thank you. I’ll be along shortly,” you gently dismissed, not wanting to be followed.

She understood.

You took a moment to gather yourself in the solitude of your own chambers. You thought back on the day and the events that led you here. It’d started as any other and now you were possibly facing a fate much worse than death.

Geta had been infuriated at you. He did not wish to eat dinner with you nor bathe with you. You hadn’t seen him since he’d threatened a night of merciless tyranny.

Your husband, while sadistic at times, was simply a man. He did not want for much when it came to a wife. But you…you yearned for so much more. More than him crawling atop you. More than the uncoordinated coitus you’d grown accustomed to. And despite your husband’s misgivings, you did love him. You did lust for him.

But he had barely scratched the surface of just what kind of woman he’d married.

A knock from outside your door let you know a guard was waiting to escort you. You glanced down at your attire, pleased with the color choice. A robe of red and gold, similar to that of your husband’s, adorned your frame. It concealed what lay underneath. A sheer stola, the shade similar to the deepest scarlet rose you’d ever seen. One that lay in the gardens just beyond your chambers.

Your sandals padded softly along the marble floors, soft echoes following you. A guard was placed at your front and back. At first glance, it looked to be for your protection. But something told you otherwise.

The journey to your husband’s quarters was long. Unnecessarily so. Once you’d made it to the entrance of his chambers, the guard at your front knocked on the door. It opened, revealing the Emperor’s own maiden. She smiled, eyes downcast and not meeting your own as she greeted you.

“Your highness, the Emperor is waiting.”

She stepped aside, letting you through. You thanked her, holding your robe together as she left, the door closing in a muted thud.

Soft light glowed throughout the room from several candles. A tray of fruits and meats sat near goblets of wine. By the looks of it, your husband had already helped himself.

“You seem nervous.”

His voice startled you. He made himself known when he stepped out of the darkness of the night, sheer curtains blowing in the gentle breeze of his balcony.

He wore a robe that nearly matched yours though his was much more intricate and regal.

“If I appear nervous it is only because I wish to please my emperor,” you said with a bow of your head.

Geta scoffed.

“Placations will not get you far here, my love.”

He reached for you, beckoning your forward. You took his hand, letting him lead you. He bypassed the food and poured you a hearty glass of wine, maroon droplets sloshing over the side as he did so.

“Here. You’ll need it.”

You took the drink, bringing it to your lips. You sipped, the pungent taste of grapes making you feel warm already.

“My, my…someone is in a hurry,” Geta teased, his own glass poised in the air as if to make a toast.

You belatedly realized he’d meant to toast with you. Humiliation crept its way up your spine.

“I’m sorry, Augustus,” you softly offered, licking the excess wine off your lips.

“It’s alright. I’d say that’s the least of your discretions, wouldn’t you?”

He smiled and you couldn’t tell if he was speaking in jest or just waiting for the right moment to strike.

You watched as he took a long pull from his glass, swallowing nearly all of its contents. A wayward drop made its journey down the hill of his Adam’s apple and over his exposed chest. Your stare was unabashed. He took notice.

He looked at you for a long moment and it nearly made you uncomfortable. You took another sip from your wine, feeling that fuzzy sensation start to move through your limbs.

“You, my wife,” he started, placing his cup on the table, “are truly a stunning sight. Do you know that?”

You smiled, eyes aimed down at the rare emotion in your husband’s voice.

“You don’t believe me?”

You placed your glass down, shaking your head. “Of course I do, Augustus.”

“You know all of Rome has you in their hearts. Their Emperor as well. A slave to you. And you dare to seem coy when I remark upon your beauty?”

He was teasing you.

“A true lady of Rome knows of her beauty. But she never lets others know. That is her strength,” you replied, meeting the slow burn beginning to take shape in his eyes.

Geta smiled. A hint of pride in his face at your words.

“Ah, there she is. What did you call yourself earlier?” He mimed as if he was thinking, a ringless hand lifted to his chin. “Oh yes! A jungle cat. My jungle cat.”

His features shifted then. His shoulders squared. His chin up and pointed down at you. An Emperor coming to life.

“You were quite the spectacle today, wife. A rarity even for you,” he remarked as he slowly started to circle you.

“Forgive me, husband. I was speaking out of turn. That is my error.”

You flinched when his hand weaved itself into your loosened tresses. He played with the ends, his chest nearly touching your back.

“While I appreciate the gesture, I much prefer your talk of freedom and sorcery.”

He moved to stand in front of you again, any traces of anger or irritation erased.

“I thought of your words for the remainder of the day. And I have to admit,” he paused, eyes lasciviously roaming across your figure. “I am intrigued.”

You felt your nipples pebble beneath your clothing at the way he was taking you in. He looked starved. A wild animal ready to pounce. It made the heartbeat centered in your chest travel downwards. It stopped between your legs.

“I am not a sorceress,” you attested, squaring your own shoulders when he laughed.

“Some say you are. Displayed by the way the people adore you. The way your Emperor does.”

He stepped closer, hands reaching for the opening of your robe that lay at your breasts.

“I only love who I have a duty to love. There is no crime in that.”

Geta cupped your cheek, tutting down at you. “Of course not, my love. But I want to see what lies beyond that duty.”

He pushed your robe off your shoulders, revealing your barely hidden form beneath it. The fabric fell to your feet, leaving your arms naked. A breeze kicked up, making your nipples even more prominent against the sheer fabric.

Geta took you in slowly, the flames of his gaze heating the chill of the night.

“I want you to give yourself to me. Freely. It is your turn to take, my love. You have my explicit permission.”

A thunderous wave accompanied the heartbeat between your thighs at your husband’s words. His hands made a home at your hips. His lips, at your allowance, pressed gently into yours. And it was you, drunk on the power wielded over to you, that opened your mouth to welcome him in.

Your tongues danced together as one, the taste of wine evident. He grasped at the fabric concealing you and grunted against your lips. You pushed his own robe from his shoulders, baring him to your eager eyes. He was no Roman soldier, but he was built sturdy as any god carved from marble.

“Let me touch you,” he pleaded, the words sounding like a symphony to your ears. You nodded, allowing him to undo the knot at your shoulder.

Your own hands reached for the knot at his waist, the only piece of clothing he wore to cover his modesty. You’d never initiated such a thing. Geta buried himself into your neck at the action.

Within seconds, you were both bare. His hands tangled in your hair while yours tugged at his. He tasted the column of your neck, moaning when he tasted something sweet. Honey.

“I wish to show you something,” you breathed, pulling him from your chest.

He nodded, eyes unfocused as he tried hard to listen to your words.

You led him to his own bed, releasing him so that you could lay back. You were on display for him. Curves highlighted by candlelight. Your hair was fanned around you, creating a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think your husband was worshipping a goddess at her altar. He looked like a man lost in the desert, gazing upon you as if all hope was centered between your thighs.

For him, it was.

You took him in. Unruly curls, wild eyes, and a cock as hard as the stone columns you resided in. He panted as if he’d run a mile to get to you. Sweat glistening off his pale skin. He was his own sight to behold.

“Do you know, my Emperor, that I cast a hand upon myself at night? Without you?”

Geta’s eyes hurriedly found yours at your words, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

To demonstrate your point, you caressed yourself, soft stomach tightening as you traced delicate shapes into the flesh. He followed your movements, entranced.

“Not possible,” he mumbled.

“Why not?”

“It is a man’s duty for pleasure. Not a woman’s.”

You giggled at his ineptitude.

“Oh, on the contrary…,” you cooed, your hand slowly making its way down your body. You passed over the curls nestled at the apex of your thighs and instead dipped a shallow finger beyond your folds. A soft gasp fell from your lips, your eyes closing briefly. An ocean of need sat beyond your walls. Wet and waiting.

“You have aroused yourself?” He asked, somehow looking amazed and stupefied at the same time.

You saw his cock twitch.

“At times, yes,” you answered with a gasp, your finger catching the hidden source of pleasure just above your folds.

“And you seek pleasure on your own? Without me?”

He was not displeased as you’d anticipated. He was curious, hand reaching for himself. You watched as he squeezed the base, surely staving off the same unquenchable need you felt.

“I do,” you admitted, finally plunging a finger into your depths. Your palm brushed the outside of your folds as you did, sending lighting bolts of ecstasy through your veins.

“I want to see,” Geta demanded, one hand still holding himself.

You acquiesced and spread your legs, letting his eyes feast upon you properly. One hand worked another finger in while the other cupped your breast, gently tugging at your nipple.

You moaned at the feeling, nearly forgetting your husband was witness to such a wanton display.

“Do you wish to touch me?”

Geta nodded, swallowing as he joined you on the bed. You reached for his hand, putting a digit to your lips and lathering it in saliva. He watched in rapt fascination as you led him to your core. His hands were hardly calloused, but still rougher and bigger than your own. One of his fingers felt like two of yours, the stretch utterly blissful.

“You’ve drenched your thighs,” he observed, taking a moment to see just how wet you were. You let him do as he wished, giving yourself over to his touch.

He teased your entrance, using your arousal to coat himself. When he used his fingers to spread you, you trapped his hands between your thighs, the emptiness you felt too overpowering.

“Please touch me, Augustus. Fill me,” you begged, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

He dutifully did as you requested, slipping two fingers inside. You arched your back, inching closer to his charitable touch.

“You are mesmerizing,” he rasped, feeling your inner walls tighten around him.

“Curl your fingers. Inside.” You gripped the bedding beneath you as he slowly pushed in and out, taking your instruction. Stars filled your vision as he did so.

You were on the cusp of coming undone and without thinking, you joined his hand, manipulating his thumb so that he brushed against your delicate bundle of nerves. On the fourth pass, your body tightened and bursts of white light appeared behind your eyes. That feeling that you’d never found with him, but always with yourself had descended upon you. And just like every occasion before, you soared.

Your chest heaved as you floated back down, Geta’s touch still strong against you. You whimpered and gently pushed him away, the sensitivity too much. You watched as he looked at his hand, coated in you. He rubbed two fingers together, the digits never meeting. There was too much of you for him to feel his own touch.

“That is what a woman giving herself to you looks like, my husband,” you said with a satisfied smile, nodding to his hand.

Geta looked down at you, searing your skin. His cock was still hard and now dripping with its own need. He used his hand, the one coated in your essence, and began soothing his own ache. His bicep tightened, his stomach taut as he peered down at you, sprawled out and lust drunk.

“I have never met another like you,” he panted, eyes rolling when he paid special attention to the head. “You may not be a sorceress, my dear…but magic is what surely lays beyond your depths.”

You smiled up at him, seeing his chest flush red. You leaned up on your elbows, reaching a hand out to stop him. He did so reluctantly.

“Kiss me.”

He met you in the middle, arms holding himself up as his cock brushed your stomach. He kissed you hungrily and with desperation, hissing when your hand encircled him. His forehead came to rest against yours, completely overtaken by your touch.

“If you want to believe it is a spell between my thighs that has you prisoner, then so be it,” you whispered against his lips.

He grunted when you stopped, the delay of gratification beginning to frustrate him. Before he could complain, you pushed against his chest, signaling that you wanted him beneath you. He’d never had you in this position and you could see him questioning such a request.

“Let me show you, my love. Let me show you what having me means.”

Without another word, he did as you asked.

He sat propped against feathered pillows as you straddled him. His eyes immediately went to your breasts. He feasted on them, pawing and nibbling every inch of honeyed skin. You held him to you, feeling his hips brushing up to meet yours. When he grazed your opening, you both moaned.

You reached between your bodies and steadied him, forcing him to meet your gaze. You placed him at your entrance, sensuously lathering him in you. And as slowly as you could manage, you began to ease him inside. His arms instantly encircled you, fingers digging into the flesh at your hips. You did the same, hugging him to you as you became one. It was not the first time, but it would feel that way for many reasons.

“Gods, that feels…divine,” he exhaled, his lips brushing the tops of your breasts.

“Like this…it feels like you're in the very depths of my soul,” you confessed, shifting your hips ever so slightly. The movement caused you both to draw in a breath. “Only you’ve been here, my love.”

Geta hummed in approval, thrusting his hips upwards. You gasped, your own hips beginning to find a rhythm atop him.

“Are you certain? You speak of this pleasure as if you’ve had it with another.”

You threw your head back when a particularly sharp thrust made you see stars. Geta gripped your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I haven’t,” you assured him, burrowing into his neck. “It’s only been you. You are the only one to see me this way. Explore me so deeply.” He made it a point to seat himself deeper at your words, making you lose your breath. You sought out his lips in return. “You are the only one to fill me with seed.”

He kissed you. It was bruising and matched the speed of his hips below you. You held on tight, feeling him draw pleasure from you unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

His hands held your hips, keeping you in your place above him. He watched you fall apart with every rock of his hips. When he could see tears mount in your eyes, he felt for the spot you’d shown him just above where he was sheathed in you.

His fingers fumbled, unfamiliar with how to touch you. But the moment you tightened and gasped around him, he knew he’d found it.

Your nails dug into his back, his own hands claiming their place on your backside. Euphoria mounted at the highest hill and you could feel yourself getting ready to fall down it. Moisture collected in your eyes, the feeling of it all too much.

“You are mine. You belong to me. To Rome. And you are mine to tame,” Geta growled, pulling your chin down so that you faced him.

“Yes, yes…I’m yours. All yours,” you deliriously agreed.

He nipped at your lips, hips still fucking up into you. “Such a good wife.”

Ironically, his words were your undoing. You began to fall, careening through the heavens as your entire body tensed with ecstasy. You couldn’t make out what was real and what was not as wave after wave dragged you under. The only thing you could be sure of was your husband’s voice as he fell alongside you. Together.

A warmth spread through you as your mind returned to your body. You were utterly satiated, barely able to keep yourself upright. Geta did so, leaning into you as the last of his seed painted your walls. You welcomed it, opening your hips up further to take all that he had to give.

Like a good wife.

When enough time passed and the breeze of the night made itself known again, you shifted your hips, meaning to retreat. Geta stopped you.

“Stay. Like this. Just for a little bit,” he commanded.

You did as he said, not in a rush to part from him.

This was out of the norm for you both, but it was welcomed. You caressed the muscles in his back. He let his hands dip along your waist and hips. Sweat and your releases bound you together as the candles melted down.

“You do not know of the power you possess, my love,” Geta softly confessed, his lips placing barely there kisses along your neck.

You met his eyes, staring down at the cooling depths of mahogany. You cupped his cheek, feeling the beginning roughness of an unshaven face.

“I do, my Emperor. A true lady of Rome knows she holds all the power.”

#emperor geta #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta fanfiction #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fic

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space-blue · 3 days ago

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It's horrible too if Jinx lives!!

OK, I guess we're doing this?

People keep coming at me for my post about Jinx dying being terrible writing and promoting suicide by heroics as a valid way out, and the argument is always "Actually, Jinx is alive because XYZ"

So let me makes myself clear : if Jinx lives, it's also terrible writing!!

Because for all intent and purposes, she DOES DIE! Even if she's alive and fucked off in that blimp, she's still dead to everyone who knew and loved her.

WORSE! Vi will go on thinking for the rest of her life that Jinx died because of her, or at the very least that she couldn't save her.

It's not for no reason that Vi has this scene in the cell with Caitlyn, where she says she always choses wrong. In the scene on the crumbling metal beam, Vi choses not to listen to Jinx!

People got in my comments saying I have no humanity for reproving Vi picking "Vander's corpse" over Jinx. But what we see happen is Jinx telling Vi multiple time to get away and how to get to safety, and Vi completely ignoring her to interact with Vander/WW, only for him to wake up, attack her, and force Jinx to risk her life to save Vi.

Vi made a choice, between more time with Vander and listening to Jinx, and the price paid in the end is Jinx dying.

What if she lived and escaped? Vi doesn't know that! Ekko doesn't know that! Or Sevika! Or anyone!

Thought exercise time: close your eyes and imagine a relative disappearing for your life after a lethal accident you're involved in. You never recover a body and never see them again. How do you feel about it? Mmh?

"Oh but Caitlyn sees the schematics that show a side tunnel…"

Firstly, Caitlyn was nowhere near the event, and she can't frame-by-frame the explosion as we do, so you can hardly claim she's looking for Jinx and not, for example, the arcane gem, or Warwick.

Vander/WW was shown to be entirely impervious to the bullets from Jinx's automatic gun. If anyone has a chance of surviving, it'd be him.

But do you know what? If Jinx is in that blimp, and Caitlyn then tells Vi, "From the schematic, I think your sister could have escaped" (ignoring entirely the fact that Jinx should be cut in half by WW's claws wrapped around her waist), then what would happen???

That would send Vi on a wild goose's chase!! How many years would she spend hunting through Zaun trying to find her sister? How many years until she starts resenting Caitlyn for giving her false hope? How many years until she's forced to accept Jinx isn't anywhere, and so must have died back then, and has to see herself as Jinx's killer all over again??

How is this good for Vi?

And Ekko? He pulled her out of suicide what? 5 times? Had some epic bonding with her painting all over each other, doing self-care and hair dyes and fixing a balloon so they could go on a big attack together.

Maybe he thought he could genuinely finally be close to his world's Powder. Silco just taught him the greatest thing he can do is forgive, and the girl he forgives fakes her death and runs away?

They're barely 20 ffs, Jinx would have plenty of time to struggle on the road to recovery, especially with his help. What if Ekko was ready to be there along the way with her? What about him?

How is it good if Jinx is NOT dead but has NOT told him? What difference does it make to him? She's dead for Ekko, and if he learns later on that she faked her death, all he'll know is that HE wasn't worth her staying. He wasn't even worth telling the truth to!!!

It's fucked! It's not healthy!! Jinx could have her ending removing herself from Zaun without having to fake her death.

But hang on, it gets worse!

Because it's straight up not good writing even on the meta level.

Arcane has millions of viewers. Nobody I know IRL thinks Jinx is alive. Plenty of people in my notes agree she's dead. Do you know what millions of people think? That she is dead!!! Because it's the TEXT OF THE SHOW.

Millions of fans will think Jinx was killed off, because they aren't willing to go frame by frame, extrapolating and make-believing their way into thinking she is alive. Most fans are normal people who aren't terminally online, theorycrafting all day long.

Most normal fans have moved on to watch Dune Prophecy or Sweetpea. And if Jinx comes out alive in another show, the "Somehow Palpatine Jinx returned" memes will abound.

Let's go over the common elements brought forth as arguments.

Jinx uses pink and blue in that bomb, and pink is how she gets away "quick".

No? The bomb she attached to Thieram in season 1 was pink and it was all for glitter and harassment. There is no strong canon association of meaning. If you watch frame by frame, there is a pink "light gleam" over the first blue detonation followed by a very large pink blast and ZERO smoke trails or anything indication someone getting away. Jinx uses the same bomb she used to kill herself very effectively earlier in the show, so we have no indication it wouldn't kill her here too.

We can see the inside of her bomb when she kills herself (with the two liquid vials) and it's the same she uses on Vander/WW and herself.

Besides, even if she used some part of the explosion to get away, WW's claws are around her like this:

She'd be bisected in half.

So some people say that means that Warwick is also alive and let her go! But no. That's make-believe. That's fanon, 100%. The TEXT of the show is that Vander is burnt away (we see the final image of himself burning up) and he has just attacked Vi, trying to kill her. We have no indication he'd want to spare Jinx here.

HOWEVER, he's literally bullet proof, so if there's anything we can conclude is that he's likely to be the one to have made it into a shaft and to safety.

Speaking of shafts: the next argument is that Caitlyn is looking at the tower's schematics to hint that she suspects Jinx lives.

Maybe, but you are reading a character's mind. We see her look at schematics while holding the monkey bomb head, yes, but you don't know what she's thinking, and if the show runners don't make it explicit, then Cait's thoughts about an explosion she hasn't even witnessed aren't worth much. She could think Warwick lived. OR she could think, despite not witnessing the fight, that Jinx lived. But she doesn't KNOW, she doesn't tell us, and so you are INVENTING the thoughts of a character to mean what you want it to mean.

This would be a lot more meaningful if it were Vi investigating this.

There's a blimp going away, it has blue smoke, and then it ends with a Jinx glitch.

No. There is a blimp going away, slowly, without any blue smoke. It's also THE EXACT SAME ONE that opens Season 1 act 1.

Instead of coming towards Piltover, it now is leaving over the sea. This can be fully interpreted as a sign that the hextech era is over. Blimps have to travel the old fashioned way again. It's also going away from Piltover/Zaun, symbolizing future stories taking place there.

Finally, the glitch is 3 frames long and spells "the End". IDK why the fact that it's a little Jinxy means anything to anyone. The end of credits for season 1 was Jinxy as well, and it could simply be about keeping the same visual identity and not a sign of Jinx being alive???

If I wanted to play subtext games, I could say "Wow Jinx writing "the end" would be appropriate if she were dead" and reverse the argument.

Finally, and the thing in most poor taste, IMO.

Jinx kills herself several times in the opening of the episode, and a sad emo song plays over it, with sad fucked up lyrics. Then Ekko comes and pulls her from this…

Only for that EXACT same song to be played while she and Vander/WW fall. They are both crying. Vi is crying and screaming while these lyrics are playing!!

If I could just lay my head down and rest. If there was nothing to fight or protect. Maybe then I could finally be free. Maybe death is like falling asleep. This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. I used to have strength but I ran out of hope. I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone. This world is a wasteland. Please let me go. Go, go, go. Please let me go.

This is literally singing about suicide. When you say "Maybe death is like falling asleep" over the animation of a character pulling the pin, you are not dealing in subtext or metaphor of any kind.

One of the earlier shots literally has her framed in broken glass among shards that are WARWICK'S MAW. It's like a hint of her death being killed by him, furthering the parallel.

And I think it is in very bad taste to have suicide apologia music playing over characters screaming and bawling (Vi)

while others cry (Jinx and WW)

and a bomb goes off (with no hint of survival),

only for some of y'all to come around acting like Cait glowering at a blueprint and a recuring blimp all means Jinx is alive...

It would be grief porn on the part of the writers. It would mean slamming us in our feelings in a brutal way, in an ugly way, while playing a suicide song, only to turn around and say "Syke! didn't you get that Cait is suspicious about Jinx so it totally means it was all a fakeout?"

I don't want a fake-out at this point!! Why would I?? It's legit worse! Because then it means they couldn't spare 5min of animation time to have her rescued by Ekko and being on the mend with him. Even if she has a scene where she tells him "I need to leave. I can't stay in this city), at least it wouldn't be a cruel joke on the fans and the characters.

This entire ending means that either Jinx was better off dying taking out the mad monster made out of her dad with her (making her the ultimate dad killer, yay), or Jinx was better off removing herself from the equation SO THOROUGHLY that MOST fans believe it, everyone in world believe it, and the show offers no concrete textual clue for it.

It means Jinx didn't deserve/or wasn't able to get better. And so she has to die or do the exact-same-as-dying but kind of more fucked up somehow.

---

ULTIMATELY the message to impressionable viewers who struggle a lot with mental health and identified a lot with Jinx, are being told with soft sad music that yeah maybe dying is like going to sleep and your family should let you go, go, go, and that "leaving everything and everyone behind" is about the same.

It's fucked, and it saddens me that people are so focused on the "she lived" narrative that they miss out the fact that a hint she may be alive doesn't change the messaging.

And it saddens me knowing that if Viktor's arc ended with him being validated in feeling like his human body was "broken" and "inferior" and that his disability made him lesser as a human, people would have pitchforks and torches out.

Jinx's mental illness and struggles in interacting with the world were her disability, and she got fucking killed or wiped off the city incognito for it.

P.S: If you're warming up to post hate in comments or tags because you don't like my take and don't know how to politely disagree, please save us both time and block me. I'm open to polite discourse but the next person questioning my humanity over fandom wank will be nuked from orbit with prejudice.

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 hours ago

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sold out, one night only

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event for Black Friday using 'one day night only'

rated m | 2980 words | cw: implied and referenced sexual content | tags: modern era, pop star steve, rock star eddie, semi-famous corroded coffin, exes to lovers, getting back together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

The poster is huge, takes up most of the board in the club announcing new events. It’s surprisingly simple for something so large.

‘One Night Only’ accompanied by a picture of Steve Harrington, recently out queer pop icon, and a date and time.

Tonight is the one night only.

Eddie stares at it, kind of wishes he didn’t feel like sobbing, and then books it out of the club.

If he’s gonna make it across town before Steve’s show is done, he’s gotta hope for the least amount of traffic he’s ever seen and a lot of luck. Maybe, if he’s really lucky, the show was delayed enough that he’s still on stage singing.

He manages to find an Uber only a block away, offers them a 50% tip if they can get him to the arena in less than five minutes, and leans his head back against the seat.

~~~~

Four years ago, when Steve followed Eddie and his band to Chicago, neither of them expected much to happen. Corroded Coffin was small town good, but they quickly found that they weren’t quite what record labels were looking for.

A small indie label from San Francisco was interested, though.

So they packed up and moved to California, and to celebrate the first recording session, they went to a karaoke bar and all took turns singing songs that you’d never expect them to.

Steve took a turn singing a Harry Styles song and it was game over.

The whole bar went silent until he was done, and then it was pandemonium as people rushed him as he got off the stage, telling him he should be famous, and that he had the voice of an angel, and that he should try to sign a record deal.

And Eddie knew he could sing; he’d heard him in the shower and the car plenty.

There was just something about seeing him on stage and knowing that Steve was meant for more that really cut into his heart and made him bleed out on that bar floor.

It was the beginning of the end for them that night.

Eddie pushed him away. Steve stopped fighting it.

Steve signed with a huge company out of New York and moved before Eddie even realized he ruined everything.

He hasn’t spoken to him since, not even the one time Dustin had to have surgery and requested everyone be back in Hawkins in case something went wrong. He was being dramatic about leg splints, but they did it anyway.

Eddie caught one glimpse of Steve walking out of the Henderson home the night that Dustin got to leave the hospital, but he didn’t stop him.

Corroded Coffin is big enough to do festival circuits, even playing on the main stage for some of them.

Steve Harrington is big enough to go to Grammy parties and duet with Sabrina Carpenter.

And Eddie is stupid enough to think he can get backstage to apologize to him for being dumb enough to let him walk away.

~~~~

When he arrives at the arena, he’s told he needs a ticket to enter. This is a fact he knew before getting here, but one he chose to ignore in hopes that he might be able to bribe someone with his romantic story.

Unfortunately, the middle aged man who reminds him a lot of Wayne couldn’t care less about his need to tell Steve he loves him.

“You and the 20,000 others in the audience, bud,” the man says. “No ticket, no entrance.”

“Okay, I know you probably hear this often, but I swear he knows me. He’d let me in,” Eddie explains, but the guy is somehow even less impressed. “Oh! Wait. I have proof.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and opens his photos. The album named ‘Stevie ♥️’ is still in his favorites, even though Robin made him promise he’d delete it after the last time she visited. He may have promised he would, but he never said when.

It’s hundreds of photos of them together, mostly selfies, personal pictures they took on dates or in bed or on their road trip or-

“I told you to delete those.”

Eddie spins around at Robin’s voice. She’s standing near the set of doors at the end of the long line of doors, two security guards flanking her.

“And I will. Eventually.” Eddie walks towards her, ignoring the man telling him he needs to leave.

“What are you doing here?” She asks even though she has to know.

She’s his friend even though she’s Steve’s platonic soulmate. She isn’t being mean on purpose. She’s just being protective of both of them.

“Robin…” he starts.

She holds up a hand. “If I take you backstage, will this be a one night only thing or a start to forever thing? Because honestly, I don’t think he can take seeing you if it’s only for you to leave right after. He’s barely-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening.

“He’s what?” Eddie pushes, needing to know what she was gonna say.

She sighs. He knew he’d get her to give in easily.

“He’s barely holding it together as it is,” she admits. “I had to bribe him to get on stage tonight.”

“Bribe him? For this show?”

“And the last dozen or so. He’s tired. He-” She sighs again, heavier. “He misses you.”

“If he misses me, then he should call. Or text. Send a carrier pigeon.” Eddie doesn’t mean for the words to bite, but he can’t help the way he feels and he knows he’s safe with Robin. She won’t take it personally or let him stew in it for too long. “It’s not like he doesn’t have access to me if he really wants it.”

“Eddie. You made it very clear you didn’t want to hear from him ever again.”

“I made it very clear that I loved him too much to hold him back. He was the one who pushed it to this,” Eddie tries.

He doesn’t succeed. Robin is shaking her head, laughing with disbelief.

“You two are made for each other. I’ll bring you backstage, but if I see a single tear shed in anything other than happiness, I’m calling Jeff and telling on you.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. Calling Jeff isn’t quite the threat it used to be, not since Jeff got himself a very serious girlfriend who keeps him busy. Even if it was, Robin knows Jeff’s just gonna nod along, give Eddie a sad look, and move on.

He follows Robin through the door she came through, waving at the guard who was giving him a hard time– “he’s just doing his job, Eddie” – and feels his throat catch on his next breath when he can hear the beat of the music.

Steve’s pop rock sound isn’t necessarily Eddie’s favorite type of music, but he did stay up until midnight for the release of his debut album. It’s Steve. What’s he gonna do? Not listen to it?

His voice is just this side of raspy, like there’s a scratch of his throat when he hits the lower register his voice will allow. He almost sounds like when Eddie would-

“Alright. He’s got two songs left and an encore. Encore is usually just one song, but this is a special night so he may do a bonus from his new album. Don’t touch anything,” Robin sends him into the green room, waving off the security person who is standing at the door. “Don’t make me regret letting you in here. And don’t hurt yourself.”

“Jesus, Robbie, I’m not a child. I’m not gonna hurt myself-”

“I didn’t mean physically.” She gives him a sad look. “I care about you, too.”

Eddie’s shoulders fall as he breathes out. He didn’t realize how tense he’d been. Robin hugs him and moves to the door.

“I’ll make sure you guys have some privacy for a bit, but we do have a tight schedule. Security’s only here while the crew packs up,” she explains. Eddie nods. He knows the drill. He may not be an international pop star, but he deals with the ins and outs of venues often enough.

Robin leaves and the only sound is the bass thumping of Steve’s last song. Eddie looks around at how bare the room is. Usually, Corroded Coffin has to share a green room with a few other bands unless they pull off headlining the main stage. Those rooms are usually cluttered, crews and musicians constantly coming and going, leaving trash and guitar picks behind. The only thing in this room that would hint at Steve using it is a bag of half-eaten white cheddar popcorn on the table next to an empty water bottle and a mug of what looks like green tea.

Steve’s a big enough star to make absurd requests for backstage, but it’s clear he doesn’t. Eddie isn’t surprised. Steve’s never really been one to ask for things that would benefit him.

He hears the screaming, knows Steve’s just left the stage. He’s probably standing nearby, hiding behind curtains or stacks of speakers, maybe even in plain sight.

“Wait!” Robin’s voice is right outside the door.

The door opens.

Steve’s there, breathless, sweaty, hot as hell.

“Steve, you still have a song,” another woman in khakis and a polo shirt is rushing up to him, waving a clipboard in his face.

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice is rough when he speaks. Eddie can tell it’s more from emotion than the nearly two hour set list he just performed.

“Steve.” Eddie is waiting for Steve to move, for anyone to move. He can’t.

“Steve, you need to go back onstage.”

Eddie has his arms full of Steve before anyone can respond to the woman just trying to do her job. She looks like she’s a tech manager, but usually they wear all black, and Eddie doesn’t know all there is to know about an international superstar performing a concert even though he does know all there is to know about Steve.

He knows that he prefers earl gray tea with real sugar, not the green tea with honey that’s sitting on the coffee table. He knows that his favorite treats are the mini Kit Kats– “not the regular ones, they taste different, I swear!”-- not popcorn that gets stuck in his teeth for hours. He knows that he likes making places feel like home no matter how temporary he’s there, and there’s not a single item in this room that makes it feel lived in.

The woman seems to give up on getting Steve back on stage, and he’s pretty sure he has Robin to thank for it.

He has Steve in his arms for the first time in way too long. He isn’t wasting a second of it thinking about anyone else.

Steve’s sweat is soaking through Eddie’s shirt already, but he doesn’t really care. He used to love having Steve’s sweat on him; It meant he was doing something right.

He knows a reunion isn’t this easy, and any second now, Steve’s gonna pull away and yell at him, and they’ll fight and Eddie will let it happen because he deserves it and-

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve sobs against his neck, breath tickling his skin as his lips brush against him in an almost-kiss.

Suddenly, Eddie knows that Steve planned this. This whole sold out, one night only show was only so Eddie would come see him.

Eddie should be pissed.

Steve could have just fucking called him. Texted him. Sent a carrier pigeon!

But he’s got Steve in his arms and it’s always been pretty hard to be pissed at him when he’s pressed perfectly against his chest.

Robin is clearing the room and cursing Steve for making her clean up his messes, but Eddie can hear the fondness in her voice. She wouldn’t bother giving them time alone together if she didn’t want them to have it.

“Robin said I shouldn’t do it. She said you wouldn’t show.” Tears are falling from Steve’s eyes on Eddie's shirt. “I swore you would. She thought I was crazy.”

“You are crazy,” Eddie laughs, squeezing his arms to pull him in tighter. “Planning something this big in the hopes that I’d come to a pop concert is fucking insane, Stevie.”

“But you did.” Steve leans back and looks at him, watery smile enough to make Eddie feel like he could melt into the floor. “I knew you would.”

Eddie wants to kiss him, wants to ignore everything that went wrong and everything they need to talk about, wants to take Steve apart in this room and make it feel like home because Steve didn’t do that on his own. He doesn’t think he’s made any place feel like home in a long time.

“You put a lot of faith in a guy who let you go,” Eddie whispers.

“You showed up for a guy who left,” Steve says back.

“You only left because I pushed you away,” Eddie argues.

“You only pushed me away because you thought it was best for me,” Steve raises a brow, challenging him to keep going.

Eddie knows Steve has a response for everything, though. He’ll keep putting blame on himself the same way Eddie keeps putting it on himself, and they’ll go round and round and waste precious time that they could be doing other things. Instead of pushing, Eddie sighs and lets his shoulders drop.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead of arguing.

“I’m sorry, too,” Steve relaxes in his arms.

“We still have to talk, Stevie,” Eddie reminds him as he leans in, feels Steve’s breath against his lips.

“We will,” Steve barely gets out before their lips crash together, bruising and needy.

There’s a lot that Eddie missed about Steve. He’s spent countless hours harping over everything he messed up to himself, to Robin, to Wayne, to the band. Steve was forever going to be the one that got away.

“Can we…” Steve gasps against his mouth, hands grasping at every inch of Eddie that they can.

“What do you need?” Eddie wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrists to still him, to make him focus on what he wants.

“Just need you.”

It’s a cop out and they both know it, but Eddie’s fine with it tonight. If he has to be the one to take charge and assume what Steve wants, then he will. For tonight, he can give Steve what he wants to, and Steve will take it.

It’s a little anticlimactic when they come barely five minutes later. They don’t even get a chance to properly remove any clothing before they’re making a mess between them, moaning as if they can’t be heard.

As they come down, and Eddie manages to find a rag that may or may not have been used for other things already, Eddie sees Steve wipe his eyes.

He stops what he’s doing and drops the rag on the floor, pulling Steve close again.

“What’s wrong?” He asks because he can’t let Steve leave him again. Not this time.

“I just don’t want this to be one night only,” Steve cries.

“It won’t be, sweetheart,” Eddie assures him, brushing the fresh tears away as they fall. “We’re gonna figure out how to make it work. The band doesn’t have anything for the next few weeks, so we’ve got time, okay?”

“But I have to leave tomorrow. I have a GQ interview in London,” Steve pouts.

Eddie tries not to be distracted by his bitten-red lips, but they’re just so…biteable.

“I could go to London,” Eddie offers, only slightly joking.

Steve’s eyes light up. “You can?”

“I mean, I can definitely blow some of my savings to follow you around for a bit,” Eddie shrugs.

“As if I’d let you pay.” Steve’s beaming at him. “You really wanna come with me? Even though people will start spreading rumors and it’ll ruin your metal band image?”

“Baby, I’ll stand on that stage right now and scream to everyone who will listen that I’m yours.”

There’s still time to do that, too. Even though it can’t have been more than 20 minutes since Steve left the stage, he has no doubt that there are plenty of stragglers in the arena hoping for Steve to still come out and perform his encore.

“Some fans are kind of-”

“Crazy?” Steve nods. “That’s because you’re perfect. But they can’t have you, right? Not like I can.”

“No. Nobody gets to have me like you do.”

If Robin wasn’t banging on the door to warn them they only had five minutes, Eddie would be trying for another round. Maybe this time, he’d get his mouth on Steve instead of just his hand.

“I guess we should get to the car before fans figure out I’m still here,” Steve suggests. “And before Robin kills us both.”

“Imagine that news story,” Eddie laughs. “Best friend and manager of pop icon Steve Harrington charged with double homicide after seeing more dicks than she’s ever seen in her life.”

“Bold of you to assume she hasn’t seen mine,” Steve laughs as he pulls away. When he sees Eddie’s shocked face, he pats his cheek. “I sleep naked, babe. You knew that.”

Eddie’s face goes back to normal quickly. “Still? I thought that was just so I would-”

“I’m coming in!” Robin shouts as she opens the door. Steve turns away to finish buttoning his pants, but Eddie’s soft dick is right out in the open.

“Seriously?” Robin groans.

Eddie finishes making himself presentable and smirks. “You’ve seen what he’s got. You can’t blame me.”

“I can and I will. Car’s already surrounded, so. Hope you’re good with a hard launch.”

Eddie looks at Steve to check in. Steve gives him a nod.

“Blast off, I guess.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #corroded coffin fest #pop star steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #exes to lovers #getting back together

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haveihitanerve · 2 days ago

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THIS because its so important. Dick Grayson isn't just Bruce Wayne's ward. He's not the charity case that was so graciously taken in, despite what people may believe. He is Bruce's son. His greatest success, his true heir, his one true partner. There is nothing Dick wouldn't do for him, and very few lines Bruce wouldn't cross for Dick as well, that he won't for the other batkids, no matter how much he loves them. Dick isn't a pawn, Dick isn't just his son, thats his partner, his best friend, the boy who brought back the light in his life, made him believe things were worth hoping for. Dick is his anchor and Bruce is Dicks whole world. Its a very unhealthy codependent relationship but they've managed to work around it, create two separate worlds apart, build a name for themselves without the other, but they're like a rubber band, once it stretches too far, it snaps right back. Dick will not go against Batman's orders- I like to think of him and Bruce in terms of Washington and Hamilton- he might hate him behind closed doors, scream until his voice is hoarse and lecture until his dying day, pointing out every flaw and fucked up thing Bruce has done- but in public? Not a single bad word will leave Dick's mouth you better believe that. He might complain with his siblings, might throw Bruce under the bus to his friends- but he will never openly criticize or call out Batman's plans. Never. Especially not in front of the League. He won't go against him, and he will not cross those boundaries that have been so deeply ingrained in him since he was eight for anybody. He might be Nightwing now, but he was The Boy Wonder, Robin, the Golden Boy, Batman's right hand man. And he will not break all of that just to maintain his Nightwing persona now. He will always chose Bruce.

in the realm of like, rich kid problems, I want to someday read/write a fic where Nightwing is slowly establishing himself as a full-fledged JL member and everyone is relieved because finally, there's a nice Bat on the Watchtower who doesn't just shoot down their plans and deny their mission requests. but. while Nightwing is kind, and polite, and charming in all the ways the Bat isn't, he's still Dick Grayson. and Dick Grayson grew up as a very rich kid's suddenly very rich kid, which is to say while Bruce might not take it personally, Dick has been fending off people almost his entire life who were trying to use him for his Dad's money. which is to say, I think once Nightwing is on board and the relationship between him and Batman is at least somewhat well-known, there is suddenly a rush of younger, less-experienced members trying to take advantage of Nightwing, mistaking that kindness and openness for willingness to either voluntarily, or involuntarily, infringe upon and cross Batman's clear-cut boundaries. bribing Dick for a better monitor shift with Batman is one thing (it doesn't really work, Dick can't bribe Bruce with much as it is) but trying to convince Nightwing to lie to Batman? to go against him? his dad? the man who pulled him up when he had nothing and gave him meaning again? that man?? and then comes the inevitable, chilling realization, that while Nightwing might wear a different mask, might wear an open smile on the Watchtower and with friends off-shift, there are some lines he won't cross, same as Bruce. he won't, sure as the sun rises and the rot rolls off the Gotham Harbor in the morning.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #batman and robin #sry i kinda went on a rant #i hope it made a semblance of sense #to at least one person #i have very strong feelings abt them sry #:P #i just love them so much #my rambles

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ssentimentals · 2 days ago

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Minghao + suggestive prompt 8 please. Love your writing style, thankyouu ♡

hi anon, happy that you're loving the drabbles :) thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'don't give me that look.'

'this would look so good on you!' minghao thrusted up several dresses in your hands. 'now go and change.'

'what about you?' you asked, unsure. first time shopping with your boyfriend made you nervous. 'go and check men section while i'm changing.'

minghao shook his head, sending you a reassuring smile. 'it's okay, let's first finish with you.'

you nod, going to the changing rooms with bunch of clothes in your hands. it'd be hard to call you a fashion enthusiast, but shopping with minghao sounded like such an exciting idea that you agreed immediately and you could see why - while you went and chose clothes from your usual style, minghao picked something completely different on which you'd never look on your own. wanting to appease to him, you changed first into one of the dresses of his choice, not recognizing yourself in the mirror. you never went for more open things in general, not out of modesty but more of them not being your style, but the slit on the leg of this dress made you look... dare you say, sexy. the 'i did a double take' kind of beautiful. it felt good - you smiled, albeit a bit out of your element and walked out to patiently waiting minghao. he was on his phone but at the sound of footsteps he looked up and froze with his jaw open at the sight of you.

'what do you think?' you asked, trying to sound more flirty than insecure. yes, you two are together but you still had hard time believing in it. 'i think it's alright.'

minghao swallowed. 'it's not alright,' he said strongly, coming up closer. 'it's gorgeous, my dear. you are utterly gorgeous.'

minghao always complimented you left and right but this one sounded a bit different. and it had a lot to do with his gaze, with the way his eyes roamed on every single inch of your body with a hunger that you never saw before. it made you feel inferior, made you cock your hip a bit to the side, accentuating your waist. minghao's eyes instantly snapped there, intense. this gaze of his started fire in your chest and you gulped, turning away. 'don't give me that look,' you muttered shyly, taking one step back.

'what look?' minghao asked, smirking at the way you bit your lower lip. he chuckled, deciding not to tease you anymore. 'it's hard not to, love. especially when you look like that. but i'll try, yeah? go and try another dress.'

you didn't want to try another dress. you wanted to go somewhere, where minghao could pull you close and whisper everything what he thinks right in your ear, making you moan. minghao could read that in your gaze and before you turned around, he grabbed your wrist: 'or not. go and change, grab this dress and another too - i'll buy them and we're going home, love.'

now that sounded like a good plan you'd gladly follow.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

#seventeen imagine #seventeen reaction #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao imagines #xu minghao #seventeen xu minghao #svt minghao #svt the8 #seventeen the8 #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #minghao imagine #seventeen prompt #seventeen scenarios

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mehiwilldoitlater · 2 days ago

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"Ready... to give up?!" His panting voice cracked his confident Facade.

You didn't need to answer, only cleaning your cheeks from the dust, Take your training rod and rise up again. You preferred to be beaten than admit defeat.

Yuán Fèn's younger siblings couldn't decide if they felt excitement about the match or guilty about making you both fight... Well, it wasn't like you two were really fighting, but now neither of the two of you wanted to back down...

Everything started so many hours ago...

When the two of you weren't training, Yuán Fèn's duty around the Mountain was quite simple: training the youngest monkey. You had the chance to observe him, and what you learned was that he was quite good at it! He was patient and understanding with those who found some difficulty in mastering a few techniques, yet severe and authoritarian with the ones that crossed the line far too much.

That day, on the other hand, was quite an event for his young disciples! It was the day of your first fighting lesson!

You, on your side, were nervous. For them The first time, you would have held a staff and learned the basics of Yuán Fèn fighting skills, a way to finally be more helpful in your mission, but the idea of not being even able to hold a simple wooden rod scared you. You gulped when a strong pat was given on your back; a chuckle escaped from him while you tried to fix your bandages on your hands.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah... a little..."

"You'll be great! I bet you'll be amazing!"

You smiled a little, yet still a little worried.

All those thoughts were put aside when you and Yuán Fèn faced each other while he showed you how a few stances needed to be done properly. Maybe, you thought, the standing in the actual scene helped you against your anxiety, and, all things considered, you weren't that bad at all! Even Yuán Fèn needed to admit you were a natural!

"This is a defensive stance. In case of danger, it will help you."

"Like this?" You mimicked his same pose. He loves a little of your arms, but besides that, he hasn't touched you at all.

"Good.... Good, very good! Let's try it. A few more stances, okay?"

You really were a natural one there. You were sucking in learning writings and reading the scrolls, always asking their meaning and all, but maybe your talent was fighting! The thought still made the monkey a little uneasy, but if it gave you confidence, then why stop you?

And you were getting confident!

"Come on, give me something REALLY hard!"

Ok, maybe too much. He did take your challenge to heart and decided to take the thing to another level...a small fighting session.

"Come on," he said, taking his position. "I thought you wanted something harder..."

"...ah!" You followed him, taking yours.

More than once, his staff hit your hand with the only intent of disarming you, and every time you had to message your hands and take back your weapon fast, even when he was clearly waiting for you to take it back.

More than once you were able to hit him at least once, but he was able to strike at least three more times. And every time he looked at you, waiting for you to give up.

He had cornered you many times, even when he was clearly telling you to take a look at your surroundings, only for you to hit your back against the wooden wall.

You were good, but he was better, and that...frustrated you.

Now there you were, your hands trembling from the many strikes, hickeys ready to form all over your body and your breath heavy. He was painting, but it was clear that he wasn't in as bad a shape as you.

"I... I won't... stand down..."

"You really should... with those hands too..."

You only grasped harder your hands on the rod, attacking again. Both of your staff crashed together, with his feet trying to not let him lose his balance.

You tried to put more force into it, using your body as a weight, but he quickly chose to move away and broke the stall. You tumbled around, falling badly on the dust, coughing and trying to get up as quickly as possible, only to find his staff again pointed at you.

"Okay...you've got some good moves, Y/n...but I'm still stronger here!"

You held your breath...then suddenly kicked his leg with your foot. The sudden attack made him tumble down, with you stopping him by climbing on him, sitting on his waist. Your rod is pointing at him, a satisfied grin on your face, feeling a small victory on you.

"And I'm smarter!"

You waited for another retort, only to meet a shocked face, with a small tint of red on his ears. Only then did you realize in what kind of position you were, especially when you felt his hands on your hips ...

A few seconds of silence, of pure nothing between the two of you... then he raised his hands like he had touched iron hot, and you jumped away, feeling your face melting by your heating.

"NICE FIGHT! GREAT LESSON! GOTTA GO!" You screamed while practically running away from the scene, while your poor monkey was there, on the ground, trying to make sense of everything.

He did the only thing he could do, putting himself in fetal position with his face in his hands, his tails frantically moving around. His siblings, slowly approaching him, decided to climb on him, chirping around and laughing a little.

"What a show, Brother! Such a show!"

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writingblogsandothers · 2 days ago

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The Chosen One

Part 7

Writer's Note: Don't forget to submit your answer for our poll Sending all the love, as per X

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear // Mild violence // Mild kissing // Mild indications of sleeping together (nothing overly descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Readers over the age of 18 only please

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

Aurelia sat back, upright in her seat. She didn’t know where to look or how to help her brothers. She looked to Geta who was discussing who his odds were on with Acacius. Lucilla looked down at her to see her distress. She rose from her chair before Caracalla stood, making her take her former position.

Looking at him with sheer disgust, Aurelia began to open her mouth – it was quickly quashed.

“People of Rome! Welcome to the games which I have so graciously planned and orchestrated for your entertainment. These are in celebration of my dear brother, and my new sister. Isn’t she marvellous? Congratulate them!” The crowd erupted into great cheers to which Geta stood and waved. He looked down at his wife as though to usher her to her feet, but he could see the look of total devastation pour over her features.

“Aurelia, stand for your subjects.” He demanded through gritted teeth, ignoring her issue for now. She stood slowly to her feet when the crowd roared louder, “I think they like you, dear one.” Geta told her. She simply nodded but couldn’t take her eyes off her brothers who were below, with their heads bowed.

“Romans, we have much to see today. Your gladiators have so graciously entered this arena for our entertainment and well, we must be entertained! Today, we will see the elite shine through. Guards – draft in Macrinus’ gladiators, others may reside back to their quarters. NOW!” the guards took action at Caracalla’s demand and Aurelia sighed a breath of relief when she saw that her brothers were not part of Macrinus’ crowd. Geta looked down at her with a degree of disgust and curiosity, ‘What has gotten into her today?’ he thought to himself.

“RELEASE THE LIONS!”

Everyone in the Royal balcony sat to watch the carnage unfold. The two brothers laughed and giggled as the Colosseum arena lit up red with destruction. Three of Macrinus’ gladiators were already mauled, “Not so muscular now, are they Macrinus?” Caracalla jibed to his new ‘friend’. “My dear Emperor, no they are not. There is one but, he’s special. Watch him prevail.” And sure enough, he was the gladiator to lead the remainder of his crowd to victory. Aurelia couldn’t help but shed a tear for the injured and dead, animals and people alike. Why must the games be so cruel? Was it the games, or the organiser?

“Fetch me this gladiator, I would like to thank him for the show he put on for my wife and I.” Geta shouted over his shoulder to Macrinus. He nodded, “As you wish, my Lord.” He made his way to the enclosure for fighters, and everyone else stayed put. Aurelia turned over her shoulder to see a concerned Lucilla staring at her. She stiffened her upper lip, in a bid to tell her to do the same. With that, Aurelia sobered up and put on a frosty front.

Once the games were over for the day, Geta took his wife on a walk across the gardens. “What was the matter with you earlier? You really were gunning to embarrass me, Aurelia! I think it might serve you well to remember who you are married to and who you serve!” he screamed at her.

Aurelia took a step away from him, not caring for consequences. “Embarrass you? I think you might want to have a word with your brother in regard to embarrassing people, Geta. Not only embarrassing, but humiliation and darn right torture!”

“You need to get over this soft patch you have, even for these gladiators. They wanted this life. They chose it. They-”

“MY BROTHERS ARE IN THERE GETA! MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD ARE THERE. I know them, they did not choose this life. They have been hand selected – summonsed. So please don’t stand there and patronise me and try to tell me they wanted this life. None of them did.”

Geta was shocked at her outburst, for both not knowing she had seen her brothers in the arena, as well as the way she spoke to him. “Your brother did this. He has done this to spite me, for whatever reason. I have been nothing but kind and accepting of him and his vile ways, yet he has done not only me, but my family a grave injustice.”

“Aurelia, please. Have you heard yourself?”

“Geta. Why would you taunt someone with “Surprise!” if you didn’t know nothing about the people below you?” as she mocked Caracalla’s child-like ways.

Geta took a step back to take all in what he heard. How was he to resolve this problem? He knew if he pardoned the two brothers that he would be seen as weak and cowardly and would also enrage his brother further. Whereas he knew the reality if nothing was done, those men were done for, and his wife would resent him forever.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Aurelia asked him dead-toned, with a tear-stained face.

Geta looked up to her slowly. It broke his cold heart to see her look so desperate, yet at this time, he couldn’t show weakness by caressing her to comfort.

“I will equip them with the best training and armour until I can find a resolution. We have to be careful Aurelia, my brother, he doesn’t like when things don’t go his way.”

Aurelia walked up to Geta and grabbed him by the loose fabric at his chest, “Your call. But let me assure you, if there’s so much as a hair touched on either of my brothers heads – your brother’s head will be served on a cold, silver platter.” She let go of his garment and stormed back to her quarters, leaving Geta in a state of disarray. Firstly, how dare she speak to him like that, he was the Emperor?! On the other hand, something deep down within him, halfway liked the fiery side to his wife. Decisions, decisions.

***

A knock came to Aurelia’s door to which Alba rose to answer. It was Lucilla. Alba welcomed her in, and Aurelia ran to her arms. She saw Lucilla as not only a friend, but almost like a mother figure to her within the palace.

“My dear child, what is the matter? I saw you so upset earlier at the games, is it just the carnage you do not enjoy?”

Aurelia sobbed into her shoulder, grabbing her tighter. Lucilla dismissed Alba for a moment, while she brought Aurelia to the sofa in front of her. The two ladies sat while Lucilla took Aurelia’s hands into hers. She breathed in deeply to compose herself.

“It is Caracalla. He drafted in my two brothers to join the gladiators for the games. He took great glee in telling me this was his ‘surprise’. I can’t let anything happen to them Lucilla. It would kill my parents, truly. They already lost me – losing the boys would be too much to face.”

Lucilla sighed deeply, she knew only too well how menacing the Emperors were, but Caracalla has taken it to another level – for someone who had done nothing to him, only show grace.

“Sweet girl, do not fear. I will tell Marcus everything, he will see to it sorted. He will free them back to their rightful home.”

“No Lucilla, you mustn’t! Geta said it would only enrage him further to do such a thing. I fear he would go outside the palace walls and hurt my parents, or destroy their home, or something I truly don’t know what he is capable of.”

Lucilla nodded in response. She knew what Geta had said was right, surprised by the sudden sense of empathy which he suddenly had.

“Do not fret. We will see to ensure that they are looked after. No harm will come to them. I will see to arrange a meeting with Marcus and Geta. We need to protect them without Caracalla knowing.”

Another loud knock came from the door, Alba entered the room once more, “My Lady, may I enter to answer the door?”

“Alba, of course, please come in.”

Alba made her way to the door where the Emperor stood outside. She bowed as he entered and he swiftly made his way over to his wife.

“Lucilla.” He nodded in her direction.

“Emperor.” She curtsied in his direction.

“Aurelia, do you wish to come with me to meet Macrinus’ gladiators?” he stared at his wife intently, “I think it would serve you well to keep up appearances if we are to win Caracalla round.” Lucilla looked to the girl to nod in agreement with Geta.

“Okay, but one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Meet with Marcus Acacius. Work with him to protect my brothers discreetly.”

He looked to his wife, narrowed his eyes, “Aurelia, I am a man of my word. Marcus and I have discussed already. They have been placed into their own cell and have been guarded with the best of armour and weaponry. For now, it will suffice.”

Aurelia thanked him quietly, “Lucilla, would you like to join us? Marcus is already down there.” Geta asked. Lucilla nodded, and they made their way toward Caracalla’s quarter.

***

Upon entering, they saw Marcus Acacius speaking with Macrinus, and Caracalla with Dondus along with his usual entourage. He rose from his seat, “Sister, Sister!” He kissed either side of her cheek, “How lovely to see you here! What did you think of your surprise? Wasn’t it grand?”

Aurelia fought every single fibre of her being from taking this short little pathetic man down to the ground and showing how she would fare in the arena, but instead she curtly smiled at him, “Oh yes Emperor, it was most grand. Thank you.” He stood back to admire her, taking her in from her flowing locks to the white sandals on her feet. “Good, good. I am glad you enjoyed dear Sister.” There was a short silence that followed, and Aurelia stared as equally as intently at Caracalla. Geta looked behind him to make sure she was okay. “Come, come. I want you to meet Macrinus. OH MACRINUS!” He took Aurelia by the hand and ushered her over to where Geta stood and presented her to Macrinus.

“Empress, pleasure to meet you again.”

“As it is you, Macrinus. So, tell me… how do you get these gladiators in such great performant shape?”

Macrinus lets a hearty laugh from his stomach, taking Aurelia by the arm to approach the balcony from Caracalla’s living quarters where it was visible to see the gladiators gathered in the courtyard.

Geta watches on. He was perplexed how his wife could put on such face when he knew the trials and tribulations she was currently going through. She really was something to behold.

***

“My, my Empress I must say, the palace is very admirable. I can see why you would have settled in so quickly.” Macrinus states as he tries to suss Aurelia out.

“Yes, it is nothing short of impressive. I have a lot to thank Emperor Geta for, he truly is magnificent.” She bums her husband up, in a bid to try and establish where his loyalties lay.

“You are lucky Empress indeed. He is a great man.” She noticed the way he turned away to observe the landscape as he said that. Something with this man did not sit right with her, so she decided to pry a bit more.

“Macrinus, do tell how you got to such powers. You have established quite the name for yourself here around the palace. Emperor Caracalla seems to hold you with great regard.”

He ushered his hand for Aurelia to sit, as he did the same, “I came from nothing. I have worked very hard to build this empire for myself, and I like to have nice things Aurelia – that really motivates me.” Aurelia nods in response for him to continue, “Seeing the way I used to live compared to now, it can really change a man.”

“I know how you mean.” Aurelia agrees to appease him, when secretly she didn’t like where this conversation was headed. He was about to continue when Caracalla interrupted, “Sister, forgive us, we have to leave. I must present Macrinus to the Senate – they are going to love him!”

“Please be on your way, thank you. I trust I shall be seeing you around Macrinus?” Aurelia asks.

Macrinus turns on his heels, “Indeed you will, Empress. Good day.” He curtsied toward her and followed Caracalla out into the halls.

Geta walked over to take her face in his hands, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Come darling, let us dine and settle for the evening.”

She took him by the arm and followed him into the hall, turning her back to watch the warm pink hue of the sunset over her shoulder. She only hoped for a better day tomorrow.

Part 8

#emperorgeta #emperor geta #joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #emperor geta imagine #emperor geta x reader #marcus acacius #lucius #gladiator 2 #fanfic #emperor geta x female reader #gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #caracalla x reader #emperor geta fanfic #fanfiction #geta x reader #joe quinn

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artbymesa · 2 days ago

Note

I was just gonna put this in the tags, but maybe this will help someone else to share my story if anyone else feels less alone. And it got long. I was a valedictorian in highschool. I would not recommend it.

Take it from me-- Do well in school, absolutely. Please try to do well in school. Please. But Do Not let it destroy your mental health the way I let it. I had a very unhealthy relationship with it and tied it to my self worth.

(Story time under read more if it helps anyone)

Oversharing time-- it was my priority in highschool. It was a goal I set for myself to prove I could do it, and if I didn't, I think I saw myself as a failure. This was mostly self imposed, and theres probably a psychological explanation for this I wont get into for the sake of length. But I thought if I could at least do this, I had something on paper that I could point to for myself in a sort of external self validation or worth. "I dont know what metric to gauge myself on, but at least I accomplished this". Call it a method of self soothing, I suppose.

It led to almost daily panic attacks that I could not publically control. The whole nine yards, too. It was exhausting and physically draining. If I were honest with me-- I isolated myself. More human contact, more going out with friends, more of me being the one to make the point of reaching out to other people would have made a world of a healthier difference. My focus might not have been so singular and borderline obsessive because it was the only thing i held onto. It put me in a horrible place mentally, and it has severely affected my adult life. I am still trying to unlearn the "if I mess up learning how to do this on the first try, i am a failure" when its like....just learning how to pipe icing on cupcakes or something. I tied my worth to my ability to learn, and that can become extremely unhealthy in a hurry. Especially when I already had mental health issues that were at odds with learning quickly-- like panic attacks that come on fast and wipe my memory and ability to think clearly. Its like I chose the hardest thing for my brain to do, and that was the metric I weighed my self worth on.

What I told myself at the time was some variation of "if I do this, i'll have the best chance at financial support or a full ride for college." That doing this means I will become self sufficient.

That's not how it works, and thats not how it worked.

I got a $1k grant, which was nice, but nowhere near the full ride or anything close to the "heavens of opportunity rain down upon me" sort of thing I had hoped for in my head.

Valedictorians make for good metrics for the school. Attendance records make for good records for the school. Not in any way saying kids SHOULDN'T try to do well in school (please for the love of god, we need every scrap of education we can get in this country), but please find a healthy medium too.

Doing well enough in school and not letting it destroy your mental health do not have to be mutually exclusive. A 3.5 is probably good enough. That was the cut off for one of my bigger transfer scholarships later down the road, transfering from one college to another. Nowhere did I have to continue maintaining a 4.0.

Besides. I didnt get a 4.0 by retaining functional information. I got it by gaming the system of how testing worked.

The example I use is a very dry history class in college I had. Our final exam was the culmination of all of our final tests. Same questions, same answers. I did not remember the content. I did not learn anything. What I did? I remembered the first three words of the question and the first three words of the answer, and remembered them by association. And then I forgot it all within the hour.

In the meantime, foster your friendships. Good friendships. This can create business connections in the future. Kindness and community will get the majority of people further in life than being any kind of top of your class, I promise you.

But most of all, be kind to yourself and treat yourself gently.

are you or have you ever been a straight-A student?

#valedictorian #tw anxiety #tw panic attack #tw perfectionism

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coco-loco-nut · 2 days ago

Text

High Flyer - Part 3

pairing: charles x reader

summary: life never goes as planned, as evidenced by a phone call mid race

a/n: thank you so much for the request 🫶 its given me an idea for a fourth part too

masterlist requests open

——————————

There is nothing more that a driver looks forward to more than breaks, and you were practically counting down the days until the summer shutdown.

Not that you don’t like racing, you love racing, but you miss your bed and home in Vence, just outside of Nice. You and Charles chose the property due to its proximity to Monaco and the space to grow your family in the future. The garage space also helps with your car collection.

You started searching the property soon after your elopement, and you closed on it quickly. It even was the site where your official wedding ceremony was held, a relatively small and intimate gathering of close family and friends. The backyard made for the perfect backdrop, and it was nice to have a dinner with everyone to celebrate.

“Is that Charles? Can I say hi?” Arthur pops his head into your drivers room as you are on the phone.

“Of course, don’t take too long,” you pass off your phone, watching your brother-in-law’s face light up. Arthur hands back the phone after a couple minutes so you can finish your conversation.

“I don’t have too long left,” Charles sighs, not wanting the call to end.

“I know, deployment and F1 don’t really mesh well. Are you flying soon?” you ask, the hole in your heart growing as the end of the call gets closer.

“It will be over before we know it. I have a flight scheduled soon, training for a mission. What are you doing for break?” Charles asks, trying to get a little more conversation in and a feeble attempt to distract you from his job.

“I’ll travel with Arthur for a week, he is keeping the location a surprise, then I’m hosting the boys for a few days,” you didn’t really plan much.

“That sounds nice. My call time is almost up, I love you,” Charles says sadly.

“We will talk soon, I love you more,” the connection ends and you frown at your phone, already missing him.

“Even if he isn’t here, you have the next best thing right here,” Arthur grins and you can’t fight your smile. The two of you have grown close, you would disown your grid kids for him if necessary.

“Espressos?” you ask, needing a boost of energy.

“This isn’t Haas,” Arthur teases Ollie, who is patiently waiting for a Macchiato.

“Can’t a boy visit his grid mom?” Ollie smiles as you hug him.

“Of course, but no stealing strategies,” you say, happily taking your espresso from the barista.

The three of you chat until Ollie gets called back to Haas. As the self-proclaimed empty nester in the paddock, you enjoy when your boys stop in.

The race weekend drags on, and on, and on, until you finally get to the race. Each lap is one lap closer to your break.

A reporter noticed your eagerness for break before the race and asked you about it.

“Well, I’m no spring chicken anymore. My body and mind is looking forward to a few weeks off to relax and rejuvenate. I’m not as young as my kids are, they could probably race for a few more weeks back-to-back before needing the summer break,” you joke. Seven seasons in is a long time for motorsport, the average career in F1 is around 8 years - not that you plan on retiring any time soon. Ferrari will probably have to drag you out of Maranello when you are old and grey. Legit grey though, not Oscar and Jack joking that you have a grey hair and making you freak out.

Your manager, Nicholas, watches from the garage, standing with Arthur as they watch you closely. On lap 32 your phone begins buzzing with a call, and without really looking at the number he answers is.

“Nicholas Todd speaking for Mrs. Leclerc, how can I help you,” he answers almost robotically.

“This is an urgent message for Mrs. Leclerc regarding her husband, can she be on the phone?” A voice replies, sounding overly formal. Nicholas shifts a little nervously, glancing at the screen.

“Not at the moment,” he replies, Arthur looks at him, curious as to what’s happening. Nicholas catches sight of Arthur and hurriedly adds to his statement. “I can put you on with Mr. Leclerc’s brother,” he says, earning a satisfied response from the caller. Arthur curiously takes the phone, stepping into a quieter spot.

“Arthur Leclerc speaking,” he says a little warily.

“Good Afternoon Mr. Leclerc, your brother, Charles, has been wounded in a training incident and is currently being transported back to France for recovery,” Arthur listens carefully as the necessary details are conveyed.

“I will pass the message along to Charles’ wife, will you be notifying our mother?” Arthur asks, receiving confirmation of the next people that will be notified. As the call ends, Arthur’s mind kicks into crisis mode.

“What was the issue?” Nicholas asks, watching as you have a stellar overtake for P3.

“Charles is wounded, he’s being evacuated for recovery,” Arthur does his best not to panic. He knows that Charles must be okay for it to just be a phone call, but he can’t help but worry. It doesn’t help that you are none the wiser as you drive.

“Shit. Do you think we should pass the information along to her now?” Nicholas also goes into crisis management mode.

“No, she’d want to pull out of the race and it’s almost over. I’ll talk to the team, book the earliest flight back to Nice that you can,” Arthur instructs before searching for the PR team so they can get you out of media duties. Fred is his next stop, catching the team principal as soon as the race ends.

“I can’t get her out of the podium, but I can make sure she gets out of everything else,” Fred promises, sending Arthur on his way to intercept you.

“Great drive,” Arthur smiles as he hugs you.

“Thanks,” you eye him warily. “Something is off, what are you hiding?”

“Something happened, Charles is fine, I will tell you more about the call after the podium,” Arthur says, sending your mind in a spin.

“What happened?” you press, heart rate rising. Arthur walks with you to the cooldown room.

“I don’t know exactly, he’s injured but he’s okay. I promise I will tell you more right after the podium. Nicholas is rebooking our flights now and Fred is getting you out of the post-podium duties,” Arthur tries to soothe you. You feel a little numb as your brain tries to process everything without panicking.

“He’s okay?”

“It wouldn’t have been a phone call if it were serious,” Arthur says, trying to reassure himself too.

It seems to be enough for you to mask your worry with a nod.

“Meet me in my drivers room after the podium,” your voice is a little shaky as you part from Arthur. You feel numb throughout the ceremony, leaving as soon as champagne starts to be sprayed.

“I called Maman and booked a hotel near the base, our flights have been successfully updated,” Arthur says as you get back.

“Thank you,” you pull him into a tight hug.

“What are brothers for?” Arthur says, melting into your hug a little. You’ve never gotten ready to leave the paddock so quickly or packed a hotel room, but you soon find yourself on a plane back to Nice.

Pascale awaits the two of you at the airport, a coffee in her hand for you. You didn’t sleep on the flight at all. Even though that you know Charles is okay, you can’t fight the anxiety and fear the courses through you.

“Hi sweetheart,” Pascale hugs you after handing you the coffee.

“Wow, I thought I was your favorite child?” Arthur jokes, earning an eye roll from Pascale.

“I love all my biological children equally, I just happen to love Y/n more,” Pascale says cheekily, making you chuckle.

“Don’t let Enzo and Charlotte hear that,” you say, happily taking a seat in the car. Arthur sits in the back with you since Lorenzo is in the front seat.

“It’s a party in here,” Arthur smiles, trying to liven up the car.

“Phenomenal drive,” Lorenzo looks back at you.

“Thanks,” your tired smile is enough to end the conversation. The gentle sway of the vehicle as Pascale is enough to make you fall asleep.

As you are asleep, Arthur gets a text from Charles letting him know that he’s back on base. Arthur sends back a picture of you sleeping against the window, cozy in one of Charles’ hoodies, as well as when you will be there to visit. Your phone buzzes with a good night and congratulations text from Charles, but you don’t stir. The exhaustion of the day hit you hard and you couldn’t fight it any longer.

Arthur carries you to your hotel room while Lorenzo and Pascale worry about the luggage.

You wake up to sun peeking through the blinds. Arthur is sprawled out on the queen bed beside yours, lightly snoring into the pillow. You turn and see your phone plugged in on the nightstand. Scrolling through your notifications you see the text from Charles. A smile tugs at your lips as you quickly fire off a reply. An alarm starts going off, making you jump a little.

“No,” Arthur groans, barely conscious while pressing snooze. Silently you get out of bed, finding your suitcase and retrieving everything you need for a shower.

The hour creeps by as you anxiously meet up with the family and go to the base. Following the directions, you make your way to the hotel room Charles is being kept in for the moment. As you reach the door, the sterile environment surrounding you, you feel a wave of nerves consume you. Almost like you are a little kid.

“Go ahead, I need a second,” you whisper to Pascale who gently squeezes your hand and offers an understanding smile.

“It’s scary, we will be inside waiting for you,” Pascale says, entering behind Lorenzo and Arthur. “Y/n will be here in a moment, she had to take a call,” Pascale buys you time. She knows how scary it is seeing the person you love hurt. You let your heart rate settle before stepping into the room, watching Charles’ face light up when he sees you.

“Mon ange,” Charles whispers as you lean in to kiss him.

“You aren’t allowed to scare me like that,” you smile, a tear threatening to escape.

“Now you know how I feel when you drive,” Charles replies, reaching up and pushing back a piece of hair.

“I feel like we are intruding,” Lorenzo jokes. Charles awkwardly shifts to the side of the bed, pulling you down with him. Pascale creates an excuse that involves them stepping out for a moment, giving you and Charles a quiet moment alone.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m alive and well,” Charles grabs your hand, pressing it to his heart.

“I know, it just isn’t what you want to hear first thing after a race,” you feel yourself relax as you rest your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat reassuring.

“I think I might leave after my commitment,” Charles admits softly, drawing your eyes up to him.

“Next year?”

“I want to be with you, help build our future, maybe even be a stay at home dad one day,” Charles runs a hand through your hair.

“I could always hire you to be my private jet pilot,” you suggest.

“But then I couldn’t be with you mid flight,” Charles winks, making you flush.

“Cheeky,” you lightly nudge him.

“Let’s not worry about what I will do career wise yet,”

“My full time WAG,” you chuckle, letting out a sigh of content when Charles pulls you close.

“When I get discharged today I can go home and recover. I just have to do paperwork remotely and come back for medical appointments,” Charles reveals, drawing your eyes back up to him.

“Really? Is it wrong to say that I’m glad it’s summer break?” you ask, hand moving up to play with the ends of his hair.

“No, it is nice to be home with you,” Charles agrees. He leans down and you tilt your head up so your lips can meet his in a soft kiss. Charles lets out a soft groan of content as his mind wanders to the few weeks ahead of you while he heals.

“We brought food,” Arthur breaks your quiet conversation. The rest of the morning is spent eagerly awaiting discharge. When you do eventually get home, Pascale helps to get Charles settled while Lorenzo cooks dinner. You and Arthur prep the guest rooms so they can stay the night.

“Sorry you had to cancel the trip,” you apologize to Arthur who just shrugs as he puts the pillowcase on a pillow.

“That’s okay, we can go during the next break. I think I’ll go back to Monaco for a bit then come back here when the boys get here,” Arthur says, not fussed about missing the trip.

“I’ll let you settle in,” you leave the room, going to your own so you can change into sweatpants and a hoodie.

Charles beat you to it, you open the door to see him shirtless with sweatpants sitting low on his hips. You catch yourself staring hungrily until you snap out of it.

“Sit back down on the bed, how are you even standing without crutches,” you chastise him, closing the bedroom door behind you before crossing the room.

“Putting my weight on one leg works well enough,” Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him.

“Well you shouldn’t be doing that when you just had surgery on the ankle,” you frown, trying not to look at your ridiculously hot husband in front of you. His hands slip under your shirt, traveling up your back. Shivers run down your spine as one hand slides forward.

“Hmm, well maybe I should just lay down then and let you do the work,” Charles murmurs huskily, as you glance at the door.

“We’d have to be quick,” you reply quietly.

“5 months without you, I’m pretty sure I can be quick,” he smiles, letting you take over. His rough hands gliding across your skin as you straddle his waist.

“I guess we should rejoin them before they get suspicious,” Charles sighs, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggle into his side.

“I guess so, but tomorrow afternoon we will have the whole house to ourselves,” you grin, rolling away to throw comfy clothes back on.

“I can’t wait,” Charles pulls on the hoodie that you tossed to him as well as some shorts.

“Use the crutches,” you narrow your eyes as he stands up, likely planning on just hopping to the kitchen.

“Or I could use you as my support,” Charles takes the crutches from you. You glance down at the cast encompassing his ankle.

“Are your feet cold?” you frown, brows furrowed with worry.

“I’m okay, if something hurts you will be the first to know. I promise,” Charles tries to ease your worry. You nod as there is a knock on the bedroom door.

“Dinner is ready kids,” Pascale says as you open the door.

“Thank you, Maman. We were about to come down,” Charles answers before you can.

“Take it easy,” you stress. The first two weeks are important to recovery and you know he isn’t great at sitting still. Pascale watches you fuss and she feels her heart warm at how careful you are with each other.

“Took you long enough,” Arthur says, mouth half full. Lorenzo fights a laugh as Pascale scolds him.

“We were busy,” Charles smirks. You whip your head towards him, smacking his shoulder.

“Charles,” you gasp, voice a mix of scolding and being scandalized.

“What?” he says innocently as you sit at the table.

“Enough, let’s enjoy this meal,” Pascale says, taking in the sight of all her children minus Charlotte.

“Oh, I have the perfect bottle of wine for this, I’ll be right back,” you quickly stand up, going to find the bottle.

“So when am I getting a grandchild?” Pascale looks at her three boys with a raised brow. Arthur chooses that moment to closely study the rug beneath the oak table.

“This decor is quite nice, I like that vase,” Arthur says.

“Charlotte and I aren’t even married yet,” Lorenzo protests, turning the attention to Charles.

“Buying our home was the first step, but we are waiting for Y/n to at least win the championship first,” Charles shrugs.

“Doesn’t she have a good lead right now?” Lorenzo asks, a smile smile playing on Charles face.

“Is she? I had no idea,” he says slyly.

“She could probably drive for the first few months of pregnancy,” Arthur interjects, feeling left out.

“If she has the smoothest pregnancy ever that is,” Pascale adds.

“Alright, let’s not rush it that soon. We will discuss it over winter break,” Charles shuts it down.

“Discuss what over winter break?” you ask, holding a bottle of wine and four glasses in your hands.

“When you and Charles are going to have a kid,” Arthur answers first as you sit down.

“Ah. Yes, no plans of being pregnant mid-season. Not really keen on missing a whole season either,” you say, pouring the wine.

“Where’s mine?” Charles asks as everyone gets a glass but him.

“No wine with your medicine, mon amour,” you tell him.

“We don’t even need to be here, you have his care handled,” Lorenzo chuckles.

“He will be locked down,” you joke.

The night passes quick and soon you and Charles are home alone for the first time in a long time. You take the opportunity to get in a run while Charles takes a nap, but when you get home he is in the kitchen.

“Hey, I’m making us lunch,” Charles greets you as you pull off your headphones.

“Yum. I’m going to take a quick shower then I’ll be back,” you say, eager to clean the sweat off you.

The two of you quickly fall into a routine. Charles for the most part rests, keeping his ankle propped, but he does occasionally join you in the gym to keep active a bit. He also does his best to help you clean and prep the house for the group of guys who are crashing your home.

“All of our privacy, gone so fast,” Charles pouts while you make a bed.

“I know, it’s only for a few days though,” you try and find the bright side. Summer break is passing quickly and a part of you doesn’t want to race again just yet.

“I have a meeting with my commander tomorrow morning,” Charles says. You pause, the white sheet in your hand going taught as your hand grips it tighter.

“What about?”

“I’m not sure, maybe about the medical check yesterday,” Charles plays it cool, but you can hear the concern in his voice.

You shove the sheet under the bed, making it slightly more aggressive than before. “You don’t think-“

“It’s possible. The check went well, I’m making progress healing, but I will still have to go through PT and make other clearances for fly again. I still have three months of recovery and some more physical therapy on top of that,” Charles says.

“But you’d still have time left in your commitment,”

“I know, I just need to be ready for anything they may say,” Charles sighs.

“I’m right by your side, whatever happens,” you take his hand. Charles gives you a small smile, heart swelling at the support.

“Thank you, mon ange. Now, tell me all about how you are going to win this year,” you finish making the bed and sit down on the edge. Charles sits beside you, hand sliding down your palm to interlock your fingers.

“I’m trying not to think about it or really speak on it. I feel like the past few years it’s been like a dangling carrot, just out of reach. I want it so bad but I’m so nervous that I won’t get it,” you admit, feeling like a bit of weight is off your shoulders. It doesn’t help that you haven’t signed a contract yet for the next year and beyond.

“You are the best driver I know. You are persistent and resilient, you have worked so hard to get to this point. If you don’t win your fans will still love you just the same as they will when you do win and I will love you even more regardless of the outcome,” Charles returns your support. You feel the warmth of his free hand brush away a stray tear on your cheek.

“There is no one else that I want to go through life with other than you,” your voice breaks slightly, thick with emotion.

“I feel the same way. I love you more and more every day,” Charles leans closer to you, a feeling from deep within telling him that everything will be okay.

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc

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