#am i ever going to get over this speech or them

[goldentigerfestival]

Forgot to post this earlier but I did in fact comb the entire Vesperia script to determine how many times he uses ま/まあ throughout the game, along with a few other phrases he uses repeatedly. This counts all of main story, every single sidequest, and every single skit in the game.

Final counts were:

ま/まあ: 280

Ma/Maa; translates to "well". He uses this at the beginning of a sentence usually, but it's sometimes in the middle. "Ma" is usually more quick and snappy. "Maa" is more thoughtful and/or prolonged. Obviously it can vary based on context, but that's the general breakdown.

んじゃ and any variants: 133

Nja, along with variants such as "ja", "soreja", etc. Variants are counted when they're all used to express "let's get going", when they're about to head off ("ja" could be used in a sentence such as "ja/but then, why is xyz like this", etc). They encompass translations such as "well then" (let's get going implied. includes "so then", "then" "alright then", and so on), "we should be off", "let's get going", "let's go", etc. (not to be confused with 行こう(ikou), 行くぜ, (ikuze), and other similar versions of this phrase. That can also mean "let's go", but any instances of Yuri using that particular phrase was not counted because it wasn't a variant of, specifically, んじゃ, which is also his most common "let's go" ja variant).

おい / おいおい: 66

Oi/Oi oi; translates to "hey"/"hey, hey", though "oi" is more or less an accepted word in English nowadays.

おっと: 12

Otto (not to be confused with "oto", referring to sound); an expression of surprise that can translate roughly to "whoa there" (which is the most common translation I do see for it and what I'd use in most cases too, context of course varying). The reason I included this one despite it being so seemingly low in number is because it's not a particularly common expression, much less one used multiple times by a single character? It's so rare from anyone else, which is just a regular thing relative to Yuri and his dialogue/speech (i.e. most characters sparingly use phrases repeatedly, as compared to Yuri... as you can see lol. Other characters use these words/phrases, but nowhere near as regularly, if regularly at all).

Realized along the way I should've included やれやれ (yare yare, "good grief", "oh dear", "oh boy" etc), but by the time I realized I should have in case it was an interesting count, I was too far into the script to be able to handle going all the way back through it LOL.

No. No, I am not joking that Yuri used ま/まあ 279 times throughout the course of the game. That is to say, it could be more if I missed any, but on the assumption I didn't, that's where it stands.

Why do I love this so much? Because it's a very specific character quirk of a character I adore. I'm very fond of his repetition. Thank you.

[kogo-dogo]

Okay, so. Yesterday, my spouse's cat (my beloved, furry stepdaughter) was suddenly very sick. Spouse had the car on the opposite end of the state for work, so I walked down the road to the local vet. Unfortunately, she needed to be rushed to the emergency vet in the next town over, so I had to order an Uber and cross my fingers.

Enter Donald, a gay Puerto Rican man who rolls up in an electric Kia with a rainbow Zelda shirt. I know he is Puerto Rican because that is the theme of his car's decor. He's probably in his late forties. He's gushing over the cat but his demeanor changes when I tell him how sick she is and how I need to get her to the ER. He solemnly informs me, "I'll take care of it," and RIPS out of the parking lot of my building.

Dude is flooring it. The entire time he is sending his husband text-to-speech messages about, "Going to the vet, do you want me to go in and talk to them?" He informs me that he actually needed to go speak to the vet at this clinic anyway--his dog who he just had to put down yesterday went there for renal failure treatments--and that "fate brought us together." He tells the cat to hang in there, that, "Girl, I will take care of you."

He turns on his emergency blinkers. He's weaving through traffic like he used to professionally race. Any gap he sees, he takes it. It is terrifying but I am in awe.

We get to blocked traffic because it is rush hour. He asks me if I trust him. I tell him, "I guess I have to in this situation," and he nods and swings into the shoulder, guns it, whips around the traffic, and takes off on a side road. The GPS means nothing to him. He knows exactly where he's going and he is beating the traffic jams for the sake of the cat. She can't wait.

When we pull into the vet clinic, he goes in with me. As my cat is taken in, he asks me if I want to see pictures of his late dog. He shows me a picture of a chihuahua in a bow tie and it is the cutest fucking dog I've ever seen. He tells me how his husband is a dog trainer and the dog had been around the world, and that this vet is a good one and my cat will be fine.

I compliment his shirt and he nods like Arnold at the end of Terminator 2. Then he just marches out the door.

Anyway. The cat is staying overnight at the emergency vet but seems to be doing fine aside from not wanting to eat. Apparently, this is a $2.5k case of "your cat has a cold and is constipated, and what you thought was respiratory distress was her gagging on snot while nauseous." We pick her up sometime today.

Wherever you are, thank you, Donald. My spouse left you a tip higher than the cost of the trip because you are awesome and your dedication to our cat was inspiring. 10/10, I would endanger myself on the road with you again.

[mageofmadness]

LADS MEN + ANESTHESIA

(2k) 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ sfw [17+] includes: talk of surgery though non-descript, under the influence of anesthesia, pitiful men, pathetic attempts at ass grabbing, possibly ooc. go easy on me, i've never written zayne or xav. we're trying.

SYLUS unfortunately does not handle anesthesia well.

he doesn't handle hospitals well, preferring to take care of any issues he has himself. he hasn’t stepped foot in a hospital in years but cannot take care of this problem himself, and he's mad about it. pissed. he’s dismissive of everything said unless it’s coming from you and you have to remind him on more than one occasion to be nice and to stop acting so childish. no biting the nurse's heads off, the doctors are just doing their jobs, etc. he’s a nightmare patient who is only amicable when you’re by his side. sylus is all bark and no bite, too big for the damn hospital bed as they roll him into surgery.

despite that, everything is going relatively smoothly. you kiss him before he leaves, glaring at him as he says, “if i die in there, wait for me. promise i’ll be back.”

he comes out of it immediately and starts yelling for his wife. you two are not married, but good to know where things are going.

he's the one that freaks out and security almost escorts you from the building. you try to calm him down but he’s beside himself. sylus is too big to be manhandled back into the bed, seemingly forgetting he’s hooked up to all these wires, and he refuses to speak to anyone but his wife. gritting his teeth, “where is she? what did you do with her?” you (the she in question) are standing right there, but there’s been a shift change and new nurses and they don’t recognize you and he starts yelling the moment you touch him, trying to get him to lay back down:

"i am married do NOT touch me. do not...don't touch. my wife will kill you. she will! don't touch me, where are the doctors? get her out of here, my wife...oh she's going to be so mad. you touched me, she's going to be so mad. I'm going to be in so much trouble."

it takes you leaving the room, standing awkwardly in the hall as people glance at the commotion, and walking back in for sylus to suddenly recognize you. he looks absolutely pitiful, relieved beyond thought at the sight of his wife finally, and you know he’s never, ever going to live this down. 

CALEB is relentless.

even under the, quite frankly, insane amount of anesthesia he had to be given before surgery, he’s still trying to do for you. caleb tries to give you his blanket because he’s cold (you are not, but the gesture is sweet.) he offers you his sad hospital food, insisting you need to eat and must be starving “y–you…love jello, pips” (you love jello as much as the next person.)

he tries to give you his only pillow and asks for water from the nurse for you as well. he gets mad there’s nothing you want to watch on the tv: how dare the hospital not have your favorite show. he ignores the doctors and glares at them as he scoots over to make room for you to lie down next to him, scoffing at the suggestion that something as vital as you being as close to him might not be the best idea right now.

“it’s in your best interest to let her lay down,” caleb says, eyelids heavy. the doctors eyes widen and you wince. “i’m paying for this hospital stay, correct? that’s what i thought, so this bed is mine, therefore it’s hers and if you don’t want her laying in bed with me, maybe invest in some more comfortable couches. not just a chair.”

it’s all very sweet, except through all of this his speech is slurred and he keeps nodding off in the middle of talking. it’s hard to take his harsh words and mean looks seriously. it makes his glaring at the doctors quite ineffective and when caleb’s finally brought the water, he doesn’t remember he asked for it for you, and drinks it all. his attempt at fluffing the pillow for you is nothing more than weakly punching it a few times, and he offers you the blanket by half-heartedly pushing it onto the ground before powering down like he’s been unplugged.

he only calms once you are in bed with him, sending apologetic glances at the nurses and doctors. telling him yes the water was great and yes, you’re very warm and content (he still has the entire blanket and you’re sweating actually. he runs so hot.) and yes the pillow is fine (you’re not even laying on the pillow.)

RAFAYEL is a runner.

he’s insistent, the moment his eyes open, that he’s ready to go home. pack everything up, give him his clothes—he’s not taking no for an answer. the hospital smells weird and he wants his own bed. these are the words of a man determined to be heard as if he’d have the ability to stand, let alone put on his pants. rafayel is halfway to unplugging himself from everything, scanning the room for his things, asking you for what you think are the car keys as if the way he’s slurring his words isn’t a great indicator of his ability to operate a motor vehicle right now and he’s an arguer. he’s pouting. he’s rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air, dramatically throwing himself against the pillows.

rafayel insists he’s fine enough to go to the bathroom himself: “if i can piss by myself, i can drive a car.”  his logic is flawed. you also say no when he mumbles from the bathroom, “can you come hold it? my dick while i piss?” which negates his previous logic and you do tell him that to which you get a pout and shoved out of the bathroom. 

rafayel is the type to look you in the eyes and half-consciously mumble something about, “i’m not trying to have domestic dispute in the hospital, are you? take me home.” you gently try to push him back into the bed, reminding him he’s in a hospital gown and his ass is out. you’re amazed at the large words he’s using, not so impressed with the way he’s trying to get out of the bed again. and again. you’re also not impressed with the way he’s swaying in place, telling the nurses with a pout that he’s fine. that you’re there to take care of him now so, “you’re dismissed, your services are no longer needed” and that if you’re not going to take him home, rafayel will just go get the car himself and pull it around. you love how overly confident he is, and it really is ideal that he’s so weak from the drugs that he’s easily overpowered.

it takes three nurses and a doctor and you raising a brow at him, pointing your finger and narrowing your eyes, for him to flop himself back down into the bed. he loses steam quickly after that, waking up later and not remembering a thing but you do remind him that he flashed his bare ass to the entire staff.

XAVIER concerns the doctors with how long it takes him to wake up.

he’s out like a light and wakes up after sleeping like the dead and sees you speaking to the doctor. he’s silent, he’s not yelling. he’s quite sound up there in his head despite the anesthesia but he doesn’t like that doctor or how close he’s standing to you or the doctor’s hand on your shoulder or the way the male nurse comes in to ask you something and while he’s the most level headed of them all, he still can’t help but say something. 

you and the staff seem really chummy, and who knows how long he’s been out. he finally clears his throat, both you and the doctor looking over. 

“leave.”

xavier glances between you and the doctor. you’re tired, you’ve been there since morning, and you give the doctor a clipped smile, thanking him and nodding, letting him know it’s fine, and you’ve got it from here. xavier’s eyes don’t leave the doctor until he’s out the door and for the next few hours, you are confined to the small sliver of hospital bed with him as he silently fumes that the doctor was trying to make a move on you while he was indisposed.

“you smiled at him,” he insists. “i don’t trust him. i’ll report him for medical malpractice.”

you take none of this personally, quickly reminding him being nice as a doctor is a good thing. you almost find humor in it, if xavier’s calm demeanor wasn’t somewhat unnerving after the second and third hour. you ask him if he’s in pain, he says no. you ask him if he wants to rest, he says no. you ask him if he needs anything, he says no. you realize too late that he’s doing everything to avoid the doctor coming back into the room. when he finally does, xavier speaks for himself. slowly, a bit stilted, but he’s impressive with his lucidity. tightening his arms around you and asking for the door to be shut this time when you two are left alone. 

“i’ll sleep when we’re back home.”

safe to say he manages to pull it together well enough to be discharged as soon as possible, and once you’re home, he drops the act, turns into a bit of a baby, and passes out to sleep again.

ZAYNE is 100% handsy.

he’s a doctor, he knows what he’s getting into and what’s going on when he wakes up. he wasn’t worried before, he’s not worried now and you’re actually the one that’s been stressed this entire time. zayne has the wherewithal to understand he’s stuck for a bit in this room, and while his can you hand me that water? is genuine, he narrows his eyes as you walk past him and reaches a limp hand out to grab your ass. you turn around, startled, and he shrugs. he has the drugs as an excuse, not that zayne doesn’t appreciate your ass on the regular, he just has an excuse now to grope you in the hospital bed which, let’s be real, he’s kind of into. not the whole him-in-the-bed situation, or you in the bed if the roles were reversed but, well. the thought of you as a hot nurse does cross his mind. he might not remember this later, but his defenses are down, and he won’t blame himself.

“lay in the bed with me,” zayne mumbles, eyes closed. “c’mon.”

you remind him that’s not the best idea, he’s a doctor, and he should know this but he frowns and opens an eye. it’s endearing, this side of him, and you know what’s coming before you even lay down. zayne’s hand falls from the bed, grabbing your ass again as you slowly try to crawl into the bed with him. the doctors come in, and zayne is dismissive, spouting off responses to their questions with his eyes closed as if this is all a walk in the park as he feels you up still under the blanket. a handful off your ass is squeezed every time he has to answer another annoying question.

you whisper, reminding him that he’s not being the best patient right now, and zayne scoffs, seemingly letting the anesthesia work its magic on his limbs and lack of filter:

“i’m lying in bed resting, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“stress is not good for recovery.” another squeeze. “don’t stress me out.”

you relay all of this to him after he’s fully conscious, even slipping in his mumbles talk of you as a hot nurse he’d let slip while asleep, and he blinks. there’s a slight blush, but he does not deny or condemn his own actions. like he said, he won’t blame himself.

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 232.161.195 161.178.232

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ' late night moments with skz !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: this is just sleepy fluff <3 some of the boys get kind of emotional.

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: happy binnie day!! <3 to this day, these are some of my favorite hcs i've ever written so i hope you enjoy! (early morning moments with them right here <3)

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - 2:34 am

“Do you think Berry misses me sometimes?” He mumbles into your lap, voice full of sleep as you gently massage his scalp. Looking down at him, your eyes soften when he hugs your middle and hides his face in your stomach which prompts your other hand to begin tracing his features softly.

“Of course, she does, baby.” Chan almost purrs in response and your heart melts at the sight, managing to contain the sudden urge to squish his cheeks together. “Remember how excited she was the last time you visited? She was jumping, running around you and never left your side the whole time you were there.”

A moment passes and then two with no response from your boyfriend and that’s when you realize, by his even breathing, that he finally fell asleep.

You smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead, whispering a sincere I love you in his ear, not stopping your massage.

Sleeps like this, in your lap, until you’re sure he’s asleep for good before you slowly move him into a more comfortable position and wrap his whole body in a blanket burrito.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - 11:59 pm

“Hug me, I’m cold!”

You hear him groan before he turns over to face you, grumbling under his breath as he envelopes your body in a big hug and begins to squeeze the life out of you. All out of love, of course.

“Better now?” “Minho, I can’t breathe!”

Doesn’t let go but does tilt your head up to look into your eyes and the love you see as you stare back almost has you in tears. A sleepy smile makes its way onto his lips and that’s when you manage to loosen his grip by wiggling into his arms, wasting no time as you begin to plant open-mouthed kisses all over his face.

His smile widens until giggles escape him, loving the way your lips feel on his skin as he lets you do whatever you want until you’re satisfied. When you finally reach his lips but don’t linger for as long as he’d like, instead kissing them repeatedly while also giggling, he takes matters into his own hands and kisses you deeply while still keeping the initial softness of your previous ones.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - 3:47 am

You toss and turn in the sheets for what feels like the millionth time before finally giving up with a frustrated sigh. “Binnie, I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” The response comes instantly and you sit up on your elbows to find him staring at the ceiling, visibly exhausted. You frown, scooting closer to hug him by the middle and rest your chin on his chest.

“Everything okay?”

Your soft voice prompts him to let it all out, to rant about work and his daily struggles at a fast pace that you can barely keep up with. When his voice quivers, you look up and plant comforting kisses on his neck and jaw, one hand gently massaging his chest through his nightshirt.

When he’s done and his speech slows down, Changbin moves to hide his face in your hair, muscular arms wrapping around your body to bring you closer, almost like he wanted to morph your bodies together. Being one with the love of your life sounded great right now – to be able to take all of his pain and discomfort so that he’ll always be happy and healthy was something you dreamt about often. Unfortunately, until that was possible, you hoped from the bottom of your heart that what you’re able to do right now is enough.

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - 1:08 am

“Forget worms, would you still love me if I was a deadly shark?”

Hyunjin looks up from his phone, flabbergasted, just to find you already looking at him. He’s silent, waiting for you to elaborate but when you don’t, he sighs and gives in. “Darling, what the hell are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes, cuddling closer as you place your head in the crock of his neck to inhale his comforting scent. His arms pull you closer instantly, phone long forgotten. “This hypothetical situation, Jinnie, is critical for our relationship. Please take it seriously.”

Is confused the whole time as you ramble on and on about your ‘hypothetical situation’ that at some point, having had enough, he just turns his back to you and gets comfortable on his other side.

When you follow him and throw a leg over his body, continuing on while drawing patterns onto his back, he swiftly turns around to hover over you, pinning you to the mattress. Your eyes meet and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you until your dream is shattered as he begins tickling you mercilessly instead. A tickle war starts that leaves you both breathless and laughing well into the night.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - 1:56 am

“When you’re away and I miss you, I spray this pillow with your cologne and cuddle it as I would cuddle you.”

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly as you speak against his lips, the lingering sadness in your tone pulling at his heartstrings in an unpleasant way. You’re face to face, staring lovingly at each other while talking in hushed voices about everything that comes to mind.

He knows that at this time during the night, he gets all soft and mushy but he wasn’t expecting to cry this soon. You were so good to him, his own angel on earth that would wait for him for as long as it was needed. You deserved so much better.

Gently cupping your cheek, you lean into his touch and close your eyes in contentment, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from crying. “I’m sorry, baby.”

His voice is shaky so without a word, you cuddle closer, burying your head in his chest and holding him tighter while also kissing his covered chest. “Sorry? Sorry for what? Don’t be silly, Ji. Your love makes all this waiting around worth it every single time.”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - 4:02 am

“Wait, what? She said that to you?” Felix asks, voice loud in disbelief as the hand that was combing through your hair stops momentarily.

You nod, looking up at him from where you’re resting your head, on his abs, the bare skin warm and soft under your touch. “Yes! I have receipts, hold on.”

As you scramble out of bed to get your phone from where it's charging, Felix can’t help but smile as his eyes are completely focused on you and nothing else. He always thought you were the most beautiful like this – bare-faced, with your hair slightly messy and missing that furrow between your brows that appeared during the day.

Vulnerable and oh-so cuddly during the late hours of the night, and early hours of the morning you sometimes spent with him, talking, kissing and laughing until the sun rose again to announce another new day.

When you came back to bed, Felix was resting with his back against the headboard and the position allowed him to pull you flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you showed him your phone. It was the domesticity he always craved for which he hoped would never end. That you and him like this never ended.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - 12:32 am

Taking another peek at the bedside clock, you can’t help but sigh as the red digits glare at you, almost mockingly. You’ve been in bed for hours now and you’re still as awake as you were back then too. It was infuriating, and you were this close to actually crying in frustration.

Almost as if sensing your low mood, Seungmin turns on his side to face you. “Everything okay?”

You shake your head and bury your head in the warm pillow. “I can’t sleep, Minnie. Will you sing to me, please?”

His arms come around you to bring your back to his chest, successfully luring you into being the little spoon, which to be honest, you didn’t mind one bit right now. He places a kiss on your cheek, and with one hand softly massaging your hip, he starts humming. Not a lullaby, but one of the group’s title tracks.

When you glare at him over your shoulder, he grins and stifles a chuckle before starting to sing a proper lullaby. Just as suspected – his dreamy voice does have magical powers and you’re asleep in less than five minutes. Or maybe it's the way he holds you so closely and the occasional kiss on the top of your head that does the trick. Either way, you have to let Felix know asap. He owes you 20$.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - 11:45 pm

“Blanket thief.” He complains, however, there’s no real malice in his tone as you roll around into a blanket burrito and leave him completely exposed to all the monsters that come out at night, laughing loudly.

You don’t see him, but he rolls his eyes, trying to appear annoyed as he hides his growing smile. “Come here, baby, let’s share.”

When you shake your head no, still giggling in your pillow, Jeongin takes matters into his own hands, literally, and lifts you up by the waist to trap you into his tight embrace, which causes you to shriek and laugh again. He soon joins in and your laughter fills the tiny room as you begin wrestling for the blanket.

“Come on, be reasonable, there’s enough blanket for the both of us.” “No.” “Y/n.” “But Jeongin, the monsters – “ ,“I’ll beat them up! Now, come here!”

Somehow, he manages to convince you to share and you fall asleep cuddling while watching youtube videos, with his soft voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But during the night, he still ends up uncovered and because he’s petty, he pretends to fall out of bed and says that the monsters got to him because of you and your selfish nature he can’t help but still love so much!

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

can I request ‘accidentally calling the other wife/husband’ for lando please 🥹

girlfriend? wife? ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Prompt: 63. accidentally calling the other wife/husband

𓆉 ln x reader 𐙚

𓆉 fluff 𐙚

masterlist ☾☼

1. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚.

just as the car reached the hotel, lando immediately held your hand. there were crowds of people on both sides, restricted by a barricade.

"you know what to do, right?" he asked you, softly.

"yes, lovie. we've done this hundreds of times before," you replied, unable to keep the smile hidden.

"i know, i know. i just worry. ever since my tiktok started showing me all those videos of celebrities getting attacked, i've been paranoid,"

"i'm aware. you forget, though, that you're the celebrity,"

lando tsked, "half the time, these people talk to me about you. the only reason they're fans of me is because of you,"

you laughed, and lando opened the door, stepping out. you followed. immediately, you walked inside the hotel with your head down, and watched lando from inside the safety of the hotel.

lando was taking his time and signing whatever was getting shoved in his face, smiling and interacting with a few of the fans as well. he took selfies, marvelled at the nail art that some of them had done, had brief discussions about tattoo designs for the fan. he loved it.

somewhere between the cheers of the fans, lando looked at the hotel entrance, searching for you. when he couldn't see you, he pouted, whispering to himself, "where's my wifey?"

the fans nearby heard him, and began cheering louder. lando's eyes widened as he realised his mistake.

well, fuck.

2. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚.

they had another mini break after singapore. the team were all gathered at the mtc, just reviewing the past few races, and discussing what they were planning for the upcoming races.

zak and andrea had given speeches, as were expected, and then oscar and lando were called on stage as well.

oscar gave his speech first, though, it was just him thanking the team, andrea, zak, and lando, and how he was grateful for all their help in hungary and baku especially.

then, it was lando's turn.

"i think, oscar summed it up pretty well, actually. nothing left for me to say."

people laughed.

"um, yeah, no, i'm really thankful for all the hardwork that every person in this room has done. i mean, like oscar said, it wouldn't have been possible with any of y'all. our wins are yours, because really, we just go out and drive. everything else is all you," he said, gesturing to the room full of people.

"and, while i am so happy to be able to work with all of you, i really need to give special mentions to andrea, zak, oscar, jon, my mechanics, my wife-"

the crowd burst out in teasing "ooohs" and lando slapped a hand over his eyes as he laughed.

"we're not married yet. i keep doing that. we're not married yet. besides, when we get married, i'd call all of you. most of you. some. no, all." lando broke off again, as the crowd laughed.

he turned towards his girlfriend, and said, "babe, i've made a commitment now. we gotta have a huge wedding,"

everyone laughed again, including you.

"i'm gonna go bankrupt with so many people at the wedding,"

people continued laughing.

"how about this, the reception would be from mclaren?" zak said, wrapping an arm around lando's shoulders as he laughed.

"oh, how nice of you, zak,"

"no! it's gonna be all papaya! i'm not getting married in papaya colours!" you shouted from the side, smiling.

"huh? it's gonna be all papaya? well, babe, we gotta make sacrifices here," lando said.

the laughs of everyone mixed together, and eventually, lando composed himself enough to continue his speech.

3. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚.

max was streaming on twitch. he wasn't doing anything in particular, really. he was just there, chatting with the chat, but mostly talking to lando who was sprawled on the bed behind him.

niran was on his way to max's apartment, and max and lando were just patiently waiting for their friend.

max began reading some of the comments in the chat, and responding, when one of them caught his eye.

"who is lando texting so angrily?" max read out loud. he turned and looked at his friend, who was still quickly typing on his phone.

"mate, who are you texting?" max asked, watching lando's concentrated face.

"the wifey," lando mumbled.

immediately, max turned to the chat and said, "he's not married! he's a dumbass who gets words mixed up! they're still only dating!"

"huh?" lando looked up, confused.

"you called her your wife." max explained.

lando groaned, "it keeps happening, i don't even know why,"

"right, cause that makes so much sense. what are you fighting with her about anyway?" he asked.

lando looked at his friend, confused, "we're not fighting,"

"then why do you look so mad?"

"do i? we were just planning our trip next month, and i was focused on that," lando revealed.

"that makes sense. do y'all fight though?"

lando's attention was back at his phone as he began typing again, "no. i do something stupid, she yells at me, i apologise,"

"what if she does something stupid?" max asked.

lando looked up from his phone, and the two best friends stare at each other for a few seconds before they burst out laughing. lando rolled on the bed as he laughed, and max fell off his chair.

the chat buzzed, trying to figure out what was so funny, but max and lando couldn't stop laughing.

"what if she does something stupid? oh, max, that was the funniest shit you've ever said," lando laughed.

"i knew it the moment i said it," max responded through his laughter.

"the only stupid thing she does is me," lando said, calming down a little.

"oh, for fuck's sake, lando!" max yelled at him, making him dissolve into laughter again.

+

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚.

lando was sweating, his cap on his head was hiding the mess that his curls had become. he ran a hand through his face to wipe off the excess sweat as he paid attention to the question.

"so, lando, first pole position of the season in the very first race. how do you feel about that?" the interviewer asked.

"um, i mean, i feel good about it, obviously. seems like a good start, honestly, and the car is working beautifully, so i have no complaints there. it all just comes down to me, really," he said, grabbing his water bottle.

"that's good to here. do you think you'll be able to win tomorrow?"

"that's- uh, that's hard to say. i mean, we've got competition from both ferraris, and then there's max and george, who are also excellent drivers, so its hard to say. our goal for today was a pole, and our goal for tomorrow is a podium, if not a win,"

"right. and, who do we have with you as a support for the first race of the season?" the interviewer took a lighter tone, and lando immediately smiled.

"i've got my family here, a few of my friends who could come down here, and i've got my girlfriend," he responded.

"that's beauti-"

"no, wait. my wife. my girlfriend. no, my wife, my wife. i've been so used to calling her my girlfriend in public and my wife in my head that i keep getting them mixed up," lando laughed, holding his left hand up where his wedding ring glimmered.

"oh yes! you got married at the start of this year!"

"yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. finally married her, and then got her to sign the license. burned it the next day so there's no way she can divorce me now. we're stuck together for life," lando said, making the interviewer laugh.

"it's a beautiful wedding band," the interviewer complimented.

lando put his hand up again, showing the ring to the camera, "right? she picked it. she has amazing taste in stuff like this, i can't even tell you. she's just perfect, man,"

"alright, well, it's nice to see you in such good spirits! crush it tomorrow, yeah?" the interviewer said.

"for her? anything," lando said, scoffing, as if the mere thought of him not doing anything for his wife was just plain stupid.

the interviewer laughed again, as lando walked away.

𓇼🐚☾☼🦪

honestly, one of my favourite things i've ever written. i hope i've done justice to the prompt, anon! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

—���

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

��Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

[divineturtle]

Bothers me when I'm reading a fanfic and they make Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy just like. A mean asshole? MY Doctor McCoy introduced Spock to baby talk. MY Doctor McCoy bounces on his toes and has a smile bright as the sun. MY Doctor McCoy knocked Kirk *and* Spock out with a hypo to sacrifice himself for them even though the aliens said he was almost for sure going to die, and the other two would probably live. MY Doctor McCoy was like, hey, sure Spock committed mutiny, but do we really gotta arrest him? Yeah he's grumpy sometimes, but have you considered the fact that he's stuck on a ship in Space with two assholes that literally never listen?

I just watched the Abraham Lincoln episode and I stg it's a miracle McCoy isn't actually a huge asshole, because wym "this planet WAS deadly but Abraham Lincoln says it's cool so we're going" "hey, don't do that, you could beam down into lava and literally DIE" "Ugh shut UP McCoy we're following Abraham Lincoln onto the Lava Planet That WAS ENTIRELY LAVA until two minutes ago" dude I'd be swinging at a mfer. Especially if I was their doctor knowing it was going to be my job to sew them back together. They're absolute menaces to him and he still loves them and is willing to die for them every other episode.

And I don't ever want to see another "ahh he hates Spock" when he so obviously does not. In the last episode, he wasn't even sure that Kirk and Janice had swapped bodies and yet again, he was ready to commit mutiny with Spock and Scotty (why does Spock love mutiny? 🤨) He does like to rib Spock and get reactions out of him, but Spock likes to do it to McCoy just as much. He's been around humans his ENTIRE life, his mom is a human, he's half human, "I have no idea what you mean, Doctor, I'm just a simple little logic machine," you cannot convince me it's not a game.

And every time I feel like McCoy is being hurtful for actually no reason, the next scene is Spock taking action because of whatever McCoy had said and allowing himself to tap into that human part of him. He has a way of speaking Spock. It's not always nice but it's a way that gets through. Do you think asking Spock to use his Vulcan powers to permanently alter his friend and captain's memory so he forgets his grief over this chick he fell desperately for and then also she died in the span of like four hours is a great idea? No, he'd probably have some moral or logical issues with that. but just speech at him about love and feelings and stuff, throw something in there about how great it'd be if he could just forget, and he'll do it himself.

ANOTHER THING. When he's an asshole, he apologizes. He's not an asshole often, but when he is, he apologizes. Leonard McCoy is a lot of things, but he's not really a dick.

I think he deserves to be represented for the guy he is. He has SO many nice and good moments, he's just subtle about them. Remember when Kirk was like, "Bones, why didn't you tell me she was blind?" And he was like, "Idk Jim maybe because that'd be rude? Have you considered it's not your business?" REAL. Honestly, real.

This is a much longer rant than I meant for it to be and somehow I still have more I could say so imma cut myself off right here ❤️ If you read all that, thanks, you're just as weird as I am, even if you don't agree with my lil character analysis. If you didn't read all that, then you're not reading this ✨️

[mxrcurysb1tch]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Astrology 🐉observations pt. IV ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

: ̗̀➛ Gemini moons are super intelligent and generally study maths or engineering. They’re also super good at getting stuff done even though they never seem to ever be actually working? It’s like a talent.

: ̗̀➛ Ever wonder how someone can think a certain way and yet speak in a totally different way? They likely have their moon and mercury in completely different signs. For example, I’m a Capricorn moon with a Leo Mercury and while I am generally very hard on myself and sometimes pessimistic, it sometimes comes out as me appearing overly confident or self obsessed even though I feel anything but that. Another example is, a Gemini moon I know, he is always overthinking in his mind, feels anxious or flighty but his speech is very calm and levelled, since he is a Capricorn Mercury. This can sometimes lead to frustration especially if Mercury is debilitated or retrograde. People with complimentary or the same moon and mercury sign might have a more congruent way of expressing themselves and because they are sure of their convictions, many people may listen to them and respect them.

: ̗̀➛ Mars and Mercury conjunctions make someone very good at insults or even verbal aggression, depending on the sign/house and other placements. Their humour is likely to be playfully making fun of people or even themselves. They may be witty with it too. When it comes to arguments they always know exactly what to say to win.

: ̗̀➛ Virgo placements especially rising, sun and mars have a tendency to be very connected to their bodies, and even hyper aware of the processes going on inside them. They’re not usually the types to forget to eat or rest. Not because they know better (but let’s face it they usually do) but simply because they feel their internal sensations so strongly. It can also sometimes develop into psycho-somatic conditions or health anxiety if it is too pronounced.

: ̗̀➛ Having multiple detriment placements (especially if you also have no domiciles and if Saturn is involved) can make the native feel like they have to work super hard at everything they do and like nothing comes naturally to them. They might feel like they aren’t talented or gifted in any way or that they weren’t blessed in life like other people are. This usually isn’t true though, what these natives need is a bit of self belief and self love.

: ̗̀➛ Meeting someone with the same moon sign as you is an elite experience. You might just feel connected to them in some way and just intuitively understand each other. Of course it will depend on their other placements too, but usually you guys will feel like you just “get each other” This is because you won’t have to explain to them why you feel a certain way or modify your expression in order to relate to them on a deeper level. My childhood best friend has the same moon sign as me and I have always felt like we are platonic soulmates.

: ̗̀➛ Whichever house you have Scorpio in can show where/what in your life you are most secretive about. For example, if you have Scorpio in your 2nd house you might be very secretive about your money, home or possessions. You might not want people to know how you earn money/how much you earn or you might not like having people come over to your house. If you have Scorpio in the 7th house you might be secretive about your relationships, you might engage in a lot of clandestine flings or affairs.

: ̗̀➛ People with the same sun as their rising feel so warm and genuine, what you see is what you get. They’re usually super confident in their own skin. They can’t help but be transparent and bare their souls to you. The degree to which will depend on the sign, of course. However, People with the same moon as their rising might feel overexposed and vulnerable. They usually have a more quiet presence, or always look like they’re sad or far away. They’re usually lost in thought or emotion though as they can’t help but be forced to examine their inner world in excruciating details.

[pitchsidestories]

look at us now (2) II Renée Slegers x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | part 1 | word count: 1695

summary: the team tries to figure out if Renée and reader are in a relationship or just friendly with each other. requested

author's note: hi everyone, we hope you enjoy the fanfic as much as part one. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Rekindling your relationship with Renée had brought back the same feelings that you had when you dated her back in Sweden. Everything was easy with Renée. You felt safe and secure, loved and cared for. And you loved taking care of her too by making sure she didn’t work until late at night and took enough breaks. The only difference to back then was that this time you decided to keep it a secret.

It should have been easy. You two were professionals after all. But seeing Renée so deflated after Arsenal just lost to Chelsea, made it really hard not to walk over and put your arms around her.

As if she was looking for your closeness, she appeared next to you in the tunnel.

“We were so close.”, she sighed.

You gently put your hand on her upper arm, trying your best to stay positive: “Don’t be upset. It was a good game.”

“I’m not upset. Our team did well but what am I going to tell them? They will be sad and disappointed because of the loss…”

You studied her for a moment, unsure if she was actually talking about your team or herself.

“You’ll find the right words, Renée. You’re never at a loss for words.”, you smiled gently.

Renée didn’t answer. She turned towards the pitch, making sure that no one could see the two of you hidden in the dark hallway leading towards the dressing rooms. And then she kissed you.

It was quick and grateful. A small gesture to let you know that she was happy to have you in her corner.

When you pulled away, you quickly realised that you weren’t alone anymore.

The Chelsea coach passed by, her assistant by her side and to your surprise she winked at you.

“I think your players are looking for you two.“, she said with her strong French accent.

“Oh… uhm , thanks.”, you stammered, the shock of being caught still lingering.

She left with a knowing smile on her lips: “De rien.”

“I think what she wanted to say was you’re welcome. Come on, the girls need us.”, Renée grinned, seemingly unbothered by the interaction and dragged you with her back towards the pitch.

“Hope you have some ideas for your speech now.“, you laughed.

“I do.”

Before Renée could gather the team, Kim came up to you. She frowned, holding herself like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. You weren’t sure if you had ever seen your captain so devastated.

“I’m sorry, coach. I don’t know why I tried to stop Lauren James in the penalty area.”, she apologized, her voice steady but not free of frustration.

Your heart ached for your captain.

“It happens and it’s okay. You were trying to help the defence out. Yes, maybe we lost the match today but also showed that we can keep up with Chelsea. And this is what we should take away from this game.”, Renée said patiently as more and more players formed a circle around you.

Leah clapped her hands with a determined face: “That’s right. We get up and learn from it. Next time, we’ll beat them.”

“Exactly that.”, Renée nodded. The blonde defender's words of encouragement seemed to lighten the load on the players' shoulders a little. Only one footballer looked completely miserable.

As you whispered in Kim’s ear, you hugged her gently:” Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kimmy.”

“I’ll try to.”, she replied with an unhappy smile.

“Promise?”

‘Sure,’ the captain shrugged before making her way to the changing room. It was heartbreaking to see her in this state.

On another evening you attended your first dinner with the team. Between the starters and the main course, Alessia asked you something private, to which you laughed awkwardly.

Reprovingly you clicked your tongue: “Alessia.”

“What I was asking you a simple question.”, she answered, sounding quite innocent.

“That’s not a question that belongs here.”, you stated.

The blonde immediately protested not without a smile:” If you’re seeing anyone? But you know everything about us.”

“Just because you tell her a lot about yourself doesn't mean she has to.”, Renée came to your aid.

With a teasing smile on your lips, you added: “And I never asked you to share everything with me. And I mean literally everything.”

“Hey, why are you looking at me while you said that?!”, Kyra pouted.

“Because I really don’t need to know what you’ve for breakfast. Every day.”, you chuckled.

The Australian midfielder couldn't help but burst out laughing too:” A girl likes to yap, okay?”

“Everyone here knows.”, Steph assured her, patting her lightly on the shoulder.

Caitlin, who was sitting next to them, confirmed it.

You needed a moment for yourself, so you went to the dimly lit restaurant’s bathroom, your girlfriend followed a few minutes later.

There was an amused twinkle in her brown eyes:” Our players are very interested in your love life.”

“I don’t know why though.”, you sighed as she hugged you from behind.

In a sincere tone Renée retorted: “Me neither.”

“When can we go to your place?”, you asked your girlfriend longingly.

“Not yet. They might notice.”

“Maybe we should leave around different times? So, it’s not too obvious.”, you suggested. co

The brunette thought about it for a second, then announced: “Good idea. I’ll leave first.”

After Renée was gone, Beth noticed: “Coach left early.”,

“You know her, there’s always work.”, you waved it off.

“And she likes to be prepared.”, Leah continued.

With a glance at the clock, you realized:” But it’s also late, girls.”

“Don’t say you’re going too.”, Kyra looked at you with big eyes.

“Yes, I am. Bye everyone.”, you told the players.

As soon as you were out of sight, Beth turned excitedly to her teammates: “Girls, did you notice how long the farewell hug was between Renée and our new assistant coach?”

“You’re overinterpreting here, Beth.”, Stina countered.

Quickly, Alessia disagreed: “I think she has a point.”                                 

“Oh, please.”, the Swede rolled her eyes.

“But she didn’t want to talk about it either.”, the English striker reminded the fellow blonde.

A smile lit up Leah's face when she admitted: “Yes, that was suspicious.”

Stina shook her head: “They’ve been over it for a long time.”

“If you say so…”, Beth shrugged, ending the conversation but the sparkle in her eyes was evidence enough that she wasn’t ready to drop the topic yet.

A week later, Arsenal faced Manchester City. The game was chaotic and all over the place. You could barely stay in your seat watching your players move around the pitch. Subconsciously, you cringed. Finally, you had enough. You got up and joined Renée on the sideline.

“Oh, I can’t look. This is turning into a basketball game, no midfield to be seen.”, you complained to her, desperately pointing towards your defensive and central midfielders trying to gain control of the game.

You could tell that Renée followed the game with growing concern but she turned towards you and joked: “If it was basketball, they would use their hands, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and bit back in smile.

“Yes but still, where is our midfield? Get Lia on.”

Renée who had turned back to watch the game only glanced at you this time: “Calm down.”

“I am calm.”, you replied without taking your eyes off of your girlfriend.

“Good.”

Discussion over. You both focused back on the game.

The minutes passed and nothing changed. Finally, Renée gave in and called Lia over to be subbed in. You both shared a look before she entered the pitch. You raised your eyebrow to signal your girlfriend that you had told her so, to which Renée responded with a playful roll of her eyes.

With Lia on, the game started to stabilise. But still, it went back and forth between both teams. When the final whistle blew, Arsenal was one goal ahead, winning the game 3:4.

You snuck up to Renée and grinned at her: “See? Getting Lia in was a good idea.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t only that sub.”, she said cooly, still staring out on the pitch and reflecting on the game.

“Of course not.”

Renée finally looked at you and nodded once: “But important three points.”

“Yes, we got a lot to take away from it too for when we play them again in a few days.”

“Yes, a lot of work for us.”, Renée agreed.

“We can do that.”

“I’m sure.” Renées face softened and a smile tugged on her lips as she dragged you along with her towards the player’s tunnel. She kissed you in the safety of the darkness as she so often did after games.

All of a sudden you felt the eyes of your players on you and began to clear your throat nervously: “Uhm Renée the team is staring at us.”

“What?”, your girlfriend followed your gaze with an alarmed look on her face.

Barely audible you whispered:”I think they saw the kiss.”

“Oh no.”, Renée began to curse.

With a proud smile on her lips Beth turned to her teammates:” I told you so, I was right girls!”

“They’re so cute.”, Alessi chirmed much to your surprise.

An amused chuckle escaped your lips:” You know that we can hear you, right?”

“Yes, we do.”, Leah smirked.

Renée ran her fingers through her hair flustered, trying to take her players’ minds off the kiss: “We should give our thanks to our travelling fans.”

“Come on, coach. It’s fine. You don’t have to distract.”, Beth assured the Dutch woman.

The England captain quickly added: “Yeah, we’re glad to see you this happy.”

Without words, Renée picked up Beth, while both started to laugh out loud.

“I think you can tell that she’s happy.”, you remarked smiling.

A teasing grin played around your girlfriend’s lips: “Oh, can you? But yes, I am What about you, love?”

“Our team won, and I got a gorgeous woman on my side. I can’t complain.”, you replied cheerfully.

And this much was true, if you looked at the two of you now, you wouldn’t change a thing.

[no-144444]

HI! i love your writing and i was wondering if you would do a grid reacts to us finding out we were a bet? And if you wouldn't mind adding Logan too?

Thanks ml xxxx

the grid reacts: you find out you're a bet!

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

thank you for requesting! xxxx

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

Oscar Piastri:

He walked into your shared apartment, a smile on his face. He hadn’t seen you in a week, and you’d both been too busy to call or text too much, so finally, he’d be back with his girl. 

He wasn’t expecting the bare apartment he’d known so well before you’d moved in. He wasn’t expecting your things to be gone, or the note on the table, or your engagement ring beside it. 

Dear Oscar, 

I found out. I know we were a bet, and I know you’d try to convince me that you loved me, and that it was all real. I don’t doubt that it was real. I know I loved you, and I felt the love from you (either that, or you’re a brilliant actor and picked the wrong profession). But I feel betrayed. I wish you would’ve just come to me immediately and told me how we started, even if I was mad at you for a while. You kept a huge secret for 2 years, Oscar. That’s not a short amount of time. I love you, and I still love you, but I need some time on my own to figure stuff out. I moved back out into my old apartment, and don’t worry, I’m still your girlfriend, but I just wanted space to think. We’ll work our way back up to being fiancé’s but until then, I am still very much yours, unless you don’t want me to be. I need to trust you again. 

Love, Y/n. 

His heart sank. He knew it was stupid to try and keep it a secret, and it had truly been tearing him apart for the last 2 years, but this… this was too much. He was thankful that you two at least we’re breaking up. But the engagement reversal thing was fucking with him. He adored you. He loved you. Yes, it was stupid, but he did stupid stuff all the time. Forgetting his keys, sleeping through his alarm, wearing his shirt inside out. You always told him it was endearing. 

“Hey,” your voice brought him out of his trance. “I wanted to be here when you came back, sorry, there was traffic.”

He turned around to see you. You looked at him. He was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice broke as you nodded. 

“I know you are,” you stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “We’ll get through this, yeah?”

He nodded, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You let him cry it out for a little while, then pulled away. 

“You’ll be ok, we’ll be ok, yeah?”

He sniffled. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” you reminded him, wiping away tears as you went along. 

“I love you so much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I was so scared a-and-”

“I understand,” you nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

He nodded, playing with your engagement ring in his hands. He broke again, sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him again, letting him calm himself down. “Please put it back on,” he whispered, begging you. 

You thought about it for a moment. You loved Oscar, and you knew you’d forgive him. It was harder not to forgive him, in all honesty. You’d read his hundreds of drafts of the speeches he had planned to say to you. Lando had shown them to you when he told you. You knew how this had been tearing him apart. But you knew how it stung, being betrayed like this. 

“Ok,” you nodded. He slipped the ring back onto your finger and a weight was lifted off of his chest, while one was placed onto yours. 

God, maybe love did conquer all. And that idea fucking terrified you. 

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

Logan Sargeant:

“Go up to her, she’s a McLaren engineer,” Lewis’s friend’s voice rang out over the speaker of your phone. “I’ll give you 2 grand if you can fuck her tonight.”

“It’s not like I need the money,” Logan smirked, cocky as ever. “But I’ll take that.”

The camera panned to Logan walking up to you, and your world shattered. 

------

“Hey babe,” he called, walking into the apartment. There you were sitting, seething on the couch. “How was your weekend?”

“Great,” you answered shortly. “Have you looked at social media recently?”

“No, why?” he asked, resting his hands on your waist. He tried not to read into your stiff posture. Was this the moment? Had you really found out? 

“I was a bet,” you sighed, brushing his hands off of you. “And you didn’t even have the heart to tell me.”

You hadn’t planned on crying, you thought you’d scream at him, give him a piece of your mind, but it was hard to get angry when he was standing there, looking so helpless. You loved him, and all you’d ever been to him was a bet. You’d only met a year ago, started dating 6 months ago. You’d meant nothing the entire time. Just a fuck and a check. You just felt… defeated, and used. 

“Baby please, let me explain, it’s not what-” He started but you sighed.

“Explain what? That you ‘love’ me? I don’t care. I deserve someone who tells me the truth, and you couldn’t even do that. I had to find out with the rest of the world. Don’t you realise how stupid I look? All the posts I made, everything I told my friends and family, and the entire time it’s all been a lie? I look like a fucking idiot.” 

Logan looked down, ashamed. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, taking your hand. “I’ll do anything to make this right, please Y/n, I love you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you? And how am I going to look going back to you? Why did you fuck this all up?” You groaned in frustration. “I fucking loved you!” 

“I love you too!” he pleaded. “Please let me make this right, I don’t care about the media, or whatever, I care about you, and I care about us.”

“What ‘us’? We’ve been based on a lie this entire time!”

“Please don’t say that,” he was crying now, so were you. “Please don’t say it was a lie.” 

You took your hand from his. “Logan, we’re done. Please don’t contact me.”

And that was that. He broke your heart and you broke his. 

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

Daniel Riccardo: 

He watched in horror as you opened the message on his phone from Scotty. 

“You have to tell her. This isn’t right anymore Dan.”

“What is Scott talking about?” You chuckled. 

“Nothing,” Daniel smiled, but it looked forced. 

“Dan, come on, you can tell me,” you smiled sweetly. 

“Seriously, I have no clue what he’s talking about,” he nervously chuckled. 

Your face dropped into an angry frown. “So he was right, you wouldn’t even admit it if I gave you the chance,” you sighed. “That’s great, thanks Daniel.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I know about the bet,” you sighed. “Scotty told me last week.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you turned to him. “Why would you lie?” 

“I was scared.”

“Of what?” 

“Of losing you,” he shrugged. “I thought it would just be better to… keep you in the dark I guess. I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

“I wish you would’ve just told me,” you sighed, looking up at him. 

You were both silent for a moment.

“What does this mean for us?” he asked. 

“What ‘us’? We were based on a lie Daniel. A lie you told for a whole year.”

“So that’s it?” he gritted out. 

“That’s it.”

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

George Russell: 

“Have you talked to her about it yet?” Alex asked. “You have to tell her mate, it’s gone on too long.”

“It’s been 6 months Alex, and, by the way, I actually love her,” he scoffed. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to explain it.”

“Explain what? That you were dared to ask her out for money? Mate, you sound like a dick no matter what, she’ll break up with you no matter what,” Alex sighed, disappointed in his friend. 

“She’s probably right to,” George admitted. “Fuck!” he groaned. 

You stepped into the room, trying to pretend that everything was alright. Both of the men looked up, terrified of what came next. 

“Please let me explain,” George rushed out, taking your hand. Alex quickly left you two to speak alone, patting you on the back as he left. George stood up and took your hand. 

You nodded. “Explain.”

George’s frown lifted slightly, elated that you would even give him the chance to explain. “It was a stupid bet and I never took any money. I stopped speaking to the guys after we met, and I promise I’ve been trying to tell you, I just… I get scared every time that I’ll lose you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you Y/n. And I’m so sorry.”

You nodded. “I just… give me some time, yeah?”

He nodded. “All the time you need, of course.” 

You took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around his neck in a short hug. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

He nodded, letting himself enjoy your embrace. “Please call me. Anytime.”

You pulled back, still holding back your tears somehow. “Yeah. Good luck today.”

“If I win, it’ll be for you. It’s always for you,” he smiled softly. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaving with a broken heart, and a choice to make. 

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

Alex Albon: 

“Can we talk?” Alex asked, 2 months in.

“About what?” you questioned. You were sitting in his apartment in Monaco, eating dinner before catching a movie at a nearby cinema. 

“How we met.”

“Proceed,” you nodded, turning your full attention to him. 

“We met at Jimmy’s, and I was there with my friends, and we were being assholes, and I'm sorry that’s how you met me,” he hesitated. “And that night, I was dared to go up to you, only because they knew I’d never get a chance with you because you’re… well, you’re you, and I’m me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but we were just having so much fun and-”

“You thought you couldn’t get a chance with me?” You chuckled. 

Alex looked up. “Well, no. You’re gorgeous-”

“You’re a very hot Formula 1 driver! Alex, I was losing it when you came up to me!” 

“I thought you didn’t know anything about F1?!” 

“I don’t! But I know about hot famous guys!”

“You liar!” he laughed. 

“You lied too!” you laughed. 

He smiled. “ I guess we’re pretty evenly matched then, yeah?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, then leaned over and pressed your lips to his. 

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

Charles Leclerc: 

You and Charles were new, like new new.But he’d invited you to the paddock nonetheless, and you had the weekend off, so off you went to the Ferrari garage. You’d met the so-called ‘Prince of Monaco’ at an Indycar event a few months back when he got your number, and since then you’d been texting back and forth. He finally asked you out, and you agreed, I mean, who wouldn’t, right? Even though you worked in Indycar, you were a born and raised Monegasquean and you were proud of your heritage, and pretty excited to be dating the Monegasque. 

“Oh shit,” Pierre grumbled, bumping into you. Recognition finally crossed his face and he smiled. “Y/n, right? We met at the Indycar thing, right?”

“Hi Pierre, yeah, nice to see you,” you smiled. Behind him came Charles, a bright smile for you. 

“Are you here for work or-? Oh, for Charles,” he smirked and turned back to Charles . “Le pari est-il toujours valable?” (is the bet still on?)

Your face faltered. Charles didn’t tell you about any bet. What bet?

“Je ne lui ai pas encore dit,” Charles mumbled. Pierre’s smirk grew, as did the sinking pit in your stomach. (I haven’t told her yet.)

“Hey,” Charles turned to you with a smile on his face. 

“Hi,” you nodded, more reserved than before. “Congrats on pole.”

His smile dampened. “Is everything alright?”

“All good,” you mustered up your fakest smile. “Ne parie peut-être pas sur une fille qui vit à Monaco, connard.” (Maybe don't make a bet over a girl who lives in Monaco, asshole.) 

Charles looked dumbstruck for a moment, and you left him like that. You were worth more than that. 

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

Lewis Hamilton: 

“Have you told her yet?” George asked, eying you from the other side of the garage. 

Lewis shook his head. “I can’t find the right time.” “You need to tell her soon, it’s only a matter of time before someone else tells her.” 

“I know I do, I just… everytime I try to bring it up it’s like she’s extra sweet and perfect and I just can’t break her heart like that-”

“Break who’s heart?” you asked, standing beside Lewis. 

George shot him a look to say ‘tell her now’, and he nodded. George left you two to talk. 

“I was… I came up to you… I-”

“It was a bet to ask me out, I know,” you nodded, sipping your drink. “Whose heart are you breaking?”

Lewis’s brow furrowed. “Yours?”

“I overheard you and your friends at the bar that night,” you explained. “I don’t care. We’re dating because of it, I love you, blah, blah, blah,” you smiled. “Unless it’s been a charade the whole time-”

“NO! It hasn’t, I love you, I promise,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed kisses to your cheek as you laughed. 

“You thought that would break my heart?”

His ego was becoming a little bit more than bruised. “Hey!”

You laughed. “OK, ok, relax. Yes, it would’ve broken my heart,” you teased. 

He pushed you off, smiling. “I don’t want your pity-”

“Not even a pity fuck?” you whispered, a mischievous smirk on your lips.  

He smiled. “Well, I always want that.”

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

Max Verstappen: 

“Fuck this game!” Max cursed after his game had crashed for the third time. You made your way into the living room, looking in on the game.

“Everything alright?” you asked. 

“All good, sorry liefje,” he responded, not even turning around. 

“Is that the girl we put the bets on?” One of his friends asked. Max panicked and shut down the stream, then immediately turned to you. 

“Liefje…” he started. You stood there in shock. 

“Is that true?” you started. “Was I a fucking bet?!” you shouted. 

“It- I- Yes, it started like that, but I love you, I-I’m in love with you!” 

“How can I ever fucking trust you?” you shot back. “You’re a liar!”

“I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck does ‘sorry’ do? I’m leaving Max. You are so not the man I thought you were,” you pushed past him, grabbing some of your essentials from your bedroom as he followed behind you, begging you to stay. 

You left. He was the one who messed up. 

All because of a dumb bet. 

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

Lando Norris: 

He was sweating through his shirt. Max’s eyes bore into him all night, more specifically, how his arm was draped over your shoulder. He understood his best friend’s confusion. It was mere months ago that Lando had been dared to go up to you and ask you out, mere months ago when he sent a photo into the group chat of you sleeping soundly beside him, asking for the transfers from the men who’d told him to ask you out and somehow get you back into his bed before the next morning. Since then, things had in fact changed. He had changed. You had changed him.

“Lan,” Max hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Max,” Lando mumbled. “Not now.”

“She deserves to know,” Pietra shook her head. “Y/n, listen to me, I know Lando had probably been a lovely guy but he asked you out because he was dared to-”

“Pietra!” Lando groaned. “What the fuck!”

You turned to Pietra, pushing Lando’s arm off of you. “Are you serious?”

“She’s telling the truth,” Max added. 

“Y/n please, just let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to fucking explain. You’re an asshole, don’t call me again,” you scoffed, getting up and leaving with Pietra following quickly behind. 

Lando was helpless.

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part three (final) - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: 18+ descriptions of violence and smut (fingering, pinv, slight biting kink and nipple play, possessive behaviour) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

It had been a long, excruciating week. You had managed to avoid Commodus in that time. Attius was still insistent that you complete your duties despite the injuries, but you had managed to do them all in the lower levels of the palace. In the few instances where you needed to get work done in areas Commodus could be, you chose to do them very late into the night. 

There was not a word you could use to express the heartache you had felt at that time. It is funny that a person could be stamped so permanently onto your ribcage in such a short time of knowing them, but the emperor was a man you would never forget. 

In your dreams, you could still feel the touch of his calloused hands and the warmth that only he could provide – no other form of warmth like fire or the sun could compare or compete. 

The swelling in your face was gone, but you still sported a cut lip and the bruises were still prominent. Each night, you would go to Cassius to get a poultice to put on your wounds, which soothed the skin and removed some of the aching pain. 

While you had been smart in dodging Commodus and staying on the lower levels of the castle, you had to fetch rosemary from the gardens and it could not wait until night. So you found yourself, in the heat of midday, picking some rosemary in a secluded area of the palace gardens. 

It was calm, with a gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You held a woven basket with the handle tucked into your bent arm. With a small knife, you would cut off bundles of rosemary that looked ready to harvest and placed them in the basket. The motions were soft and serene and you found some peace with it. 

Footsteps alerted you to a presence behind you. You wanted to turn, but at the sound of their voice, you knew who it was and could not afford to face them. 

“You are not sick,” Commodus spoke from behind you, his tone full of contempt. 

You stopped your current task but still refused to turn around. Keeping your back to him was incredibly disrespectful, but you feared what he would do if he saw the markings on your face. How quickly would he cast you aside? 

“I have… recovered quickly.” You excused. Commodus scoffed from behind you and stepped closer. He was only a pace or two away from you and his close proximity had your knees weak and resolve crumbling. 

“You were never sick. I am not stupid…” His tone then switched to something that sounded almost insecure, “Have I done something to incur your indifference? Why do you avoid me? Whatever it was, name it and I shall work towards absolution. Shout it at me, insult me even, I give you permission for that. So long as you speak, so long as I can hear you talk because I have learnt that nothing… nothing hurts more than the absence of you.” 

His small speech could have knocked you off your feet. It sent your mind reeling. A strong urge to drop your basket and fling yourself into his arms washed over your body. How much you dearly missed the comfort of his embrace. He sounded vulnerable, not something you ever thought would come out of his mouth.

“It is not you, Caesar.” You hoped the honorific title would make him display more mercy toward you, but you failed to notice the depths of his devotion that had built up long before he invited you to his chamber so many nights ago. 

“Commodus.” He corrected what you addressed him as, “You of all people do not need to call me that. What is it that burdens you so?” He questioned. 

You knew there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Your clothing thankfully covered most of the bruises, except for the one on your face. Slowly, while looking at the stone ground, you turned to face him. Your face raised and made eye contact with him, finding some solace in the green of his eyes. His look of desperation for your attention quickly morphed into simmering rage. You could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed and his jaw set. 

He took the final step to get closer to you. Commodus raised his hand and hovered it right over your bruise, eyes scanning it over and over as if it was not real. 

“Who?” His voice was oddly calm. It was as if his mind had shut down, unable to fully process what he was seeing. 

“I am fine and–”

“Who did this?” Commodus interrupted. He gently traced over the bruise with the tip of his fingers, mapping the way it marred your face. 

“I have neglected my duties as of late. Master Attius did only what was necessary.” You tried to reason. His nostrils flared at your words. 

“It was him that did this to you?” You wanted to answer, but there was a sob that threatened to claw its way through your throat. You did not wish to cry in front of him, but the stress of everything had hit you. He saw the tears that welled in your eyes and pulled you in for a hug. However, his sudden touch on your arms caused you to flinch.

Commodus looked down immediately, grabbed your wrist, and pulled up the sleeve of your dress to see the bruises that littered your forearm and disappeared under the top of the fabric. His breath became laboured. 

“Nothing must go unpunished, he told me.” You bit your lip to hold the sobs back. Commodus let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, letting the warm breeze hit your bodies. 

He eventually moved, lifting his head and planting a kiss on your hairline. His hands reached up and rubbed your shoulders gently, trying to provide comfort while also not wanting to make your pain worse. 

“You are not to do any more work today. Go to my room and wait there.” He instructed you. 

“Wait for what?” You asked. He did not answer you, only giving your temple one last chaste kiss before he turned around and left the garden. You could hear his harsh footfalls as he got further away and you were scared at what he was capable of. 

Commodus was angry and that was dangerous. You worried about what his wrath meant for anyone in the palace. Yet, you could do nothing but stand there as he left, bracing for the coming aftermath of whatever he had planned.

You swore that you would wear down the marble flooring in Commodus’ room. For the last few hours, you had paced back and forth. Sometimes you would sit in a chair for a few moments before becoming restless again and resuming your short march. There had been no word from Commodus or anyone as to what was going on. 

You surmised that was the best outcome. He had not gone on a rampage and caused chaos, which was good. It had only struck you recently that perhaps you had been terribly stupid this whole time. The way he looked at you in the gardens and his vulnerability at thinking he had done something wrong to you. There you came to understand the depths of the situation and that the feelings you held are in some capacity reciprocated. 

That was why you paced so relentlessly. He harboured feelings for you, which in itself felt surreal. You were nothing and would remain nothing, but somehow that was enough to catch his attention. Had it been that festival you sang at so many years ago? Was it that moment when the fates decide to entwin both of your paths?

The door on the other side of the room opened and you stopped pacing. You stood still, hoping to see Commodus. It was hard to conceal your disappointment when another man walked through the doors. He was old and hunched over slightly, but his face appeared kind. He carried a bag with him and set it down on one of the tables. 

“Excuse my brash words, but where is the emperor?” You questioned. 

The old man smiled and began to take items out of his bag; vials and bandages, “The emperor has not been in the palace for hours, my lady.” 

“I am not a lady,” You spoke. 

“I have been instructed by the Caesar to look over his lady that awaits in this room. I am correct in assuming that is you?” He teased you slightly and you felt a little more relaxed around him. You approached the table and looked down at the healing supplies he had laid out. 

“Yes, uh, that would be me.” You shrugged. You did not want to question why Commodus had referred to you as his lady but knew it was not something to take lightly. Whatever he said goes and there was no reversing those words. The more you thought of it, the more it warmed your heart. 

“Well, I am Cosmo, fair lady. Might I check over your injuries?” He questioned. 

You nodded with permission and he moved towards you. While he tended to your wounds, all you could think about was Commodus; where he was and what he was doing. He was not in the palace and Rome was a large city. A sinking feeling of worry and dread washed over you.

After you had been tended to, more servants came in to bring you new attire. The dress you wore was nothing you had ever come close to having. The tunica, stolla, and palla all matched with the vibrancy of orange and black. Commodus had picked it out for you and you could not help but wonder if he chose it because it was similar in colour to your favourite animal, the tiger.  

When you had gotten ready, guards escorted you to a waiting carriage. Each time you tried to ask what was happening, you only got the same short response; Caesar awaits you. By now, slight fear had entered your heart. He had been gone that whole day and the last you saw of him was when he became consumed by rage. Had he hurt others? Had he hurt himself? 

The large imposing figure of the Colosseum entered your vision as the carriage approached. There were not many times in your life when you had time to visit, but each memory had been ingrained in your mind. The sun was setting and cast the stone in a delicate golden light. The heat of the day waned and you became grateful for the clothing wrapped around you to shield you from the occasional cool breeze. 

You do not remember there being a gladiatorial game scheduled for that day and your suspicions got worse as you were led out of the carriage and into the Colosseum. There was no shouting, no screaming, or bounds of cheer. Nothing but silence greeted you as you walked up some stairs and found yourself at the cloth-covered entrance to the emperor's viewing box. 

The guards escorting you grabbed the silk curtains and pulled them away, allowing you to enter alone. The viewing box was grand, filled with seats for the senators. A large stone chair, like a throne, was placed up front in the centre. There, leaning against the stone railing, was Commodus. He had his back to you, but you could see he wore a regal outfit of black armour with silver and gold accents. A gold laurel crown rested over his touseled dark locks. 

Your heartbeat picked up at the sight. 

“Commodus?” You questioned. At the sound of your voice, he turned around and smiled. He raised both of his arms like one would do to welcome someone with a hug. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” He approached you and placed one hand gently over the healing bruise on your face, “How are you?” His other hand rested on your waist to pull you closer. A flush fell over your body. 

“The healer says I am doing well. There are no complications.” You answered. You had no idea what to do with your arms, so you pressed the palms of your hands against the chestpiece he wore, feeling the bends and grooves of the detailed pattern and the coolness of the metal. 

“And how is your mind?” His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheek. 

“I am alright. It hurt for a while… everything is fine now.” You reassured him. During your week of avoiding him, you had missed his comfort dearly. While he had originally gone to you for solace, you became attached to him and learned that you wished to lean on him as well.

“Not quite, darling.” Commodus took your arm and guided you to the big throne. He sat down comfortably. While you looked around for a chair next to him, he pulled you down so you sat on his lap. The movement was abrupt but sent heat through your body. 

“Nothing can go back to normal until you see justice for the crimes you have suffered,” Commodus wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you securely in his lap. The armour he wore was almost cold, but his presence provided a warmth that erased that feeling.  

“Attius was well within his rights to punish me and–” 

Commodus grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. There was a quiet rage within his eyes, though not directed at you. 

“I’ll not have you speak like that, do you hear me?” He told you. You nodded which made him smile and leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good. Now, I have prepared a show for you.” 

“A show?” You questioned. 

“More like a trial,” He motioned with his hands to a set of guards standing within the arena. They began to march towards one of the entrances and he continued to speak, “I will not have my lady wronged. Nothing must go unpunished.” That phrase clicked in your head, the one that Attius had used against you. At that moment, you understood what was happening.

The doors to one of the entrances opened and out came the person you were expecting. Your master, Attius, had his hands bound by shackles in front of him. He was led in by multiple guards, crossing the sandy terrain. You sucked in a breath when they got closer and you could get a better look at him. He was dressed in rags, but his arms and the lower half of his legs were exposed, showing the gnarly bruises that littered his skin. Splotches of blood, some aged more than others, consumed the brown cotton he wore. 

What shocked you the most was the bruise on his face that was almost an exact copy of the one he gave you. 

Commodus chuckled lightly to himself when Attius almost stumbled over. You now understood where he was for those hours of not being at the palace. While undeniably barbaric, something about his protective nature and thirst for vengeance on your part was, in a twisted way, attractive. When Attius got within speaking distance, Commodus tightened his hold on you as if to assure himself you would no longer get hurt. 

“You have committed an egregious crime,” Commodus spoke. Your hands placed over his that rested on your stomach and began to carefully thread your fingers through his. He had gotten tense and you were doing what you could to calm him down, if only slightly. 

“Caesar, please! Mercy! Show me mercy!” Attius was shoved down to his knees by the guards, kicking up some of the sand. 

“Mercy from me? No, it is not me that you wronged,” Commodus turned to you, his face of indifference and hate towards Attius morphing into adoration for you, “My lady, do you grant him mercy?”

For a moment, you wanted to. You may have many weeks ago, but lately, you had come to understand that violence was often necessary; all thanks to Commodus’ guidance. You thought of everything Attius did towards your fellow servants over the years. Each indignity, each strike, each time he would show no clemency. 

You wanted him to feel that fear. 

“No mercy,” You answered. Commodus smiled at you and his eyes twinkled with something akin to excitement. He surged forward to capture you in a heated kiss. You matched the fervour, pushing back and feeling the softness of his lips against yours. He hummed with satisfaction, tasting the fruit you had eaten a while ago on your lips. 

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re perfect,” He then turned to face Attius again, losing all sense of warmth in his gaze, “It is, with my fair judgement, deemed that the offended parties will fight until death.” Your brows furrowed at his words. He did not mean that you would fight, right? 

Attius looked just as confused as you, “Caesar, surely I will not fight her?” 

“Of course not,” Commodus scoffed as if the mere notion was the worst idea ever proposed, “No, you will not be fighting my lady. Moreover, my lady’s favourite animal shall fight for her.” 

While Attius was still perplexed, your face dropped. You looked around the arena, suddenly aware of a looming threat. Commodus would not, would he? But then again, this kind of violence was in his nature. You understood why he picked out your outfit for that night, how the colours matched that of a tiger. The same animal he had seen you weaving into the pattern of a carpet. 

Suddenly, growling could be heard, looming ever closer. With a loud thundering snap, a section of the ground was pulled back quickly. There was no time to spare as a tiger, large and snarling, lept out from the depths. A chain was linked to a collar on its neck but did little to disrupt its movements. 

Your eyes were glued to the scene, stuck in a state of both stupor and intrigue. Commodus was smiling madly and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You revelled in his warmth while you watched Attius fail to fight back with nothing but a short sword. 

The fight did not last long. Even if he was not beaten and frail, there was no winning against the ravenous beast. It lunged and sunk its teeth into his side. You could see the tiger's jaw clench down and elicit screams of pain from Attius’ mouth. When he fell, the tiger took it as an advantage and aimed for his throat, cutting off his wails. As the beast fed, Commodus leaned back in his throne and used a hand to turn your chin to face him. 

“Do you see what I have done for you?” He began, “Take it as a vow. All those that lay a finger on you will be eaten like scraps. That was the fate of that filthy vermin that marked your arm, the fate of your master, and the fate of anyone who dares come after you now. You belong to me and me alone. Right, darling?” 

You nodded, too lost in the trance of his eyes to speak. His thumb brushed your lower lip before retreating. From a small round side table, Commodus lifted a woven laurel wreath that was as green as his eyes. He placed it on you and adjusted it so it sat along the crown of your head. 

“It appears you won the fight. Congratulations, my victor.” He kissed you on the cheek before gently tracing the bruise on your face. There was still an air of contempt that he held while looking at your injury, but Attius’ death gave him more satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Commodus.” You said. 

“We shall celebrate,” He squeezed your hips as a signal to get up and you did. He stood up after you and held out his hand, “Come,” 

You placed your hand in his, warming at the familiarity of his touch. Taking one last glance at Attius’ still body, you followed Commodus out of the viewing box.

You had been eating at a table in Commodus’ chambers since the two of you arrived back at the palace. It was a private dinner, but still grand in the assembly of food laid out. The two of you ate and talked like you once did before you avoided him. It felt right to go back into that routine like all was finally right with the world. 

The sun had long set and the both of you finished eating and only talked after. As the night got older, you began to unwind. Commodus stood off to the side, facing away from you as he took off his armour pieces. You occasionally glanced towards him while sipping on wine – not remembering the amount of cups you had. By the time he had gotten down to his underclothes and was unfastening his forearm braces, you decided to voice a question that had been burning you inside. 

“Commodus?” He turned to give you his attention and hummed. You took another quick sip, “Why did you choose me?” He paused for a moment, as if your question did not entirely make sense.

“I’ve already told you. At the very least, part of it,” He took off his braces and placed them next to his other armour pieces. His footsteps echoed off of the marble flooring as he came back to you. Commodus rested his forearm over the top of your chair as he leaned over you. 

“You sang at that festival and I felt warmth for the first time. It followed me in my dreams ever since. Admittedly, I did not know if you were still in the palace as you did not frequent above the lower levels. I should have hanged Attius for keeping you from the light.” His fingers reached out to trace your arm, moving up the length, across your shoulder, and towards the exposed collarbone. 

All of a sudden, his posture went rigid. You could see the bump on his throat move up and down as he swallowed nervously. After a few tense seconds, he lowered himself to your eye level, crouching slightly. The gesture alone was incredible. Never would you have predicted an emperor would lower himself to your level, both literally and figuratively. 

“I am correct in assuming these feelings are reciprocated?” He asked. You understood why he had become so nervous. While naturally ruthless, Commodus was an insecure man who looked for approval in the faces of everyone around him. Whether one could consider that a weakness or a strength was up to them. For you, none of that mattered. 

It was almost comical the way you shared that same worry for a while. You too were scared that the depths of his dedication and care were shallow, but if today had taught you anything, it was that a notion like that was far from the truth. 

“You are correct, Commodus.” You responded, “I deeply care for you.” Those words washed over him and you could see how he instantly relaxed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, scanning you up and down as if to see if you were real. 

He surged forward and captured your lips with his, an ecstasy of heat. You melted into the feeling and relished in the attention. His hands gripped your waist tightly and pulled you up from the chair until your lower back dug into the table. He lifted you to sit on the table, the plates and cutlery jostling with the movement. Commodus was devouring you and at that moment you realized you did not mind it at all.

His movement to pick you up and place you on the table caused you to gasp, which he used to his advantage. His tongue entered your mouth, exploring and dominant. Your breathing became laboured and your body felt fuzzy – as if all the sensations around you that were not Commodus faded into the background. 

He kissed you a few more times before gently biting on your lower lip, pulling away and letting it go. You opened your eyes and saw him staring right at you. His chest was heaving slightly and he kept his forehead resting on yours; completely unwilling to be further from you in any way. 

“That…” Your whispered voice trailed off. Commodus smiled at how dazed you were and was happy to see his power over you. 

Glancing out the window near you, you saw just how dark it was and understood that it had to be closer to twilight. Your mood instantly died. You would need to go to bed immediately. Already you had lost out on valuable sleeping time and knew it would cause you to lack in your chores tomorrow. 

“Commodus, there is nothing I would like more than to stay with you, believe me. But I need to go and rest. There are many tasks I have to get to tomorrow.” 

He looked at you like you had said something incredibly bizarre, “Did you not hear what I told you in the arena? You are mine and because of that, you will do no more work. From now on, my room is yours. You are my lady, the emperor’s lady.” His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as he pushed himself to stand between them. Even sitting on the table, you did not reach his height. 

“And what will people say?” You questioned. 

“They’ll say nothing if they favour their heads.” Something in the way he said those words made you more eager for him. Deciding to take charge for once, you grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Commodus moved with you as he was eager to participate, but remained gentle to not hurt your bruises.

There was a heat that bubbled in your stomach, fueling a hunger that you had never felt before. Instinctively, your hips ground against his. Commodus reciprocated, moving the clothed area of his hardening length against your core. The kiss got more intense, a mesh of heated breath and knocking teeth. He clung to you like a last resort, like you were his last chance to arrive in the Elysium fields. 

Your hands roamed everywhere, up his arms and down his chest, feeling the muscles that lay under the fabric of his tunic. The table moved with the force of each of your movements, becoming unstable. Commodus gripped your thighs, pushing them against his sides and wrapping around his waist. You let him pull your arms around his neck and he lifted you off of the table. 

His strength nearly shocked you, but it was not surprising. He pulled away from the kiss long enough so he could walk up the marble steps to the raised dias that held his bed. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling onto the plush silk sheets of his bed; or more accurately what he has now framed as your shared bed. The thought sent a fluttering feeling to the already burning part of your stomach and lodged up towards your chest. 

Commodus leaned down over you and rested on one forearm while he used his free hand to trace across your collarbone and neck, “You’re mine. Not the senate’s, not Rome’s, not anyone’s.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, begging for more attention from him, “Yours, only yours.”

Commodus leaned down and began to assail your neck; licking, kissing, and biting every inch. You trembled under his touch and became reduced to nothing but breathless moans. His hands pulled away at the fabrics that wrapped your form, the pretty assemble being torn off you. You would have been sad about it if it were not for the fact that he could easily buy you another. 

He took away each layer and left you bare under him. Commodus stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back to look at you. Despite the occasional bruise on your arms and legs and a fading one on your stomach, he reached out and gripped your hip and swiped his thumb back and forth as his gaze travelled over you. 

“My Venus,” He whispered. If you were not already unwound below him, you would have melted right there. 

“Commodus,” His name fell like a plea on your lips. You needed him desperately and began to tug at his clothing. He humoured you, smiling softly as he stripped down. Once he was bare, you latched onto his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. You felt the softness of his lips as your tongues explored one another. His chest brushed against yours and the skin contact made you moan. He felt just as hot as your blood, pulsing and begging under the skin. 

One of his large hands trailed down your stomach and brushed over your hip bone before caressing your inner thigh. In an instant, you opened your legs – entirely ready to surrender to him. Sensing how eager you were, he chuckled against your lips. 

“So impatient, my love.” His fingers moved up your inner thigh but stopped just as he got close to your core. You whimpered when he ceased his movements. “Beg, darling. Tell me how much you want me.” 

“Commodus please,” You moved your hips to try and get closer to his touch but he used his other hand to hold you down. He tsked and shook his head from side to side. 

“That’s not playing fair,” He scolded you. While his hands were preoccupied with holding you down, yours were free and you used that to your advantage. He may be able to bring you to heel, but you know you could do just the same. 

“Fuck being fair,” It was the first time you swore in front of him and his eyes sparkled at that, “Fuck me, Commodus, please.” Your hands moved to his lower stomach, lower and lower until you were able to grasp his hard cock. His entire body shuddered and his nostrils flared. Something clicked in him, a snap and his patience was gone. 

Commodus pushed up further on the bed and crawled on top of the sheets, moving right up to you. You had shuffled towards the headboard with your legs bent at the knees and together. His hands gripped your knees and spread your legs so he could slot himself between them. 

“Do you want this?” His warm breath tickled your neck as he trailed his lips across the skin, just barely touching but feeling so right. 

You grabbed his jaw with both of your hands and moved his head to look him in the eyes, “Would I have spread my legs for you otherwise?” His eyes darkened at that and you could feel his jaw clench. 

It was then that you had an idea that may not have been the best. You had seen how possessive he was of you and the violence he was willing to give to others on your behalf. You wanted to test the waters and see how much you could rile him up. 

“Are you going to stop teasing and fuck me or do I have to find someone else?” It was a fake threat. There was nobody else that could ever compare to Commodus; nobody else you would ever want to even speak to. His face fell into incredible seriousness and you let go of him, only for his hand to grip your chin. It was not strong enough to hurt but it held your attention. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, darling.” He leaned down with his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “By the time I am done, you won’t even be able to think about anybody else.” 

In an instant, his warm fingers brushed through your folds. You sucked in a breath at the contact. His fingers moved meticulously, discovering each stroke that made you shake under him and moan. Commodus kissed across the expanse of your neck and chest, dragging his teeth along the skin occasionally. You found it hard to keep your eyes open as you were entranced by what you felt. 

Your hands moved to cart through his hair. When you tugged at the strands, Commodus groaned. It appeared he was particularly sensitive there and you made a note to remember that in the future. He retaliated by latching his lips on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch. You felt one of his fingers slip into you at the same time while his thumb circled your bud. The fire that coursed through your veins was overwhelming and your breathing became erratic. He slipped another finger into you and upped the pace, dragging in and out with the rhythm of your hips moving. 

His name tumbled from your lips over and over again like you were reciting a prayer. His mouth left marks across your chest and neck, some of which you knew would not be able to cover. You had a feeling it was deliberate. In your haze of pleasure, you could feel your body pull taught. The point of no return was met. 

“Com… Commodus, I–” Your voice hitched as his thumb rolled over your bud once more. 

Against the heat of your skin, his voice murmured, “I know, darling. Let go.” It was as if that was the final straw you needed. 

The tense string of your body snapped and you found yourself shattering. He continued his movements, helping you ride out your high. Your head lolled to the side as you shut your eyes. His fingers moved out of you and you suddenly felt sad at the loss of contact. You craved more and wished to spend the rest of your time living in this bed with Commodus. 

“Open your eyes for me,” Commodus’ hands cradled your face. You slowly opened your eyes, staring right into his. His lips turned up, “There’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss you and groaned at the feeling. Your body was still sensitive and recovering from your orgasm, but you craved more of him. 

“Commodus… please.” There were no other words that needed to be said. His movements were eager, but not rushed. He shifted up so he was on his knees and grabbed his cock that was slick with precum. Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged the tip along your folds. You whimpered at the feeling and lifted your hips to feel more friction. 

The haze of your previous peak was still heavy. You understood then why some people were so provocative in their transgressions. If you could stay like this with him forever you would stake your life to the ground and take that deal in a heartbeat. 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too much at just the feel of his cock against your folds. He collected your slick on his skin, trailing up again until the head got caught right at your entrance. Gradually, he pushed forward until he bottomed out. You saw his eyebrows furrow and noise leave his mouth that was a mix of a sigh and a groan. He muttered a few curses. 

Commodus did not rush as he was content at the pace he was going because it made you come undone and desperate for anything more. The feeling of being so full made you squirm. You wanted friction or anything to bring back the feeling of ecstasy you had. Your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. Being connected like this with him was the best feeling in the world and you cursed your past self for believing it was a silly fantasy. This was real; real and raw and so good.

He slowly pulled out, dragging until the last moment to make you feel empty. You whined at the loss of his warmth but quickly shut up when he pushed back in, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated that action a few times, each getting faster until he set a steady pace. Your hips matched his movements. His face was buried in your neck with his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You could hear his moans and grunts which only spurred you on further. 

You scratched the planes of his back, digging deeper with each thrust. Even when so deeply connected it did not feel like it was enough. Nothing could ever feel enough to be connected with him. Your scratching made Commodus move faster, picking up the pace. 

The change of speed caused you to release your hold on him, finding little energy to lift your arms. It was like you were under a spell and completely under his influence. 

“That’s it, gods, good girl,” Commodus murmured into your ear. You moaned back with small babbles of his name as your brain was unable to form a single thought other than him; his presence, his feel, him, him, him. It consumed your mind and left you a squirming mess. 

He took your hands that had fallen, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. Your legs wrapped around his waist and it changed the angle at which he was thrusting into you. The tip of his cock hit a soft spot in you that had you chasing stars at the back of your eyes. The stretch that he gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core and burned through your body.  

Commodus began to mutter words with each thrust, “Mine. My girl. My Venus.” He went on and on. Your chest rose against his, pushing for a bit more contact. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but his grip on your wrist was tight. His breath hit the shell of your ear, tickling it slightly. 

The familiar feeling of your build-up hit you and Commodus could tell. He continued the steady rhythm but changed the angle to reach deeper. You nearly shouted at the difference. While he was relentless, his posture changed slightly, becoming less composed as he chased the same high you were experiencing. Both of you could feel the bed moving under you, its sturdy build taking the movement. 

You were wound up again and pulled taught, but this time it felt more intense than the previous. Commodus lost his movement and fucked you with reckless abandon. All manner of control was lost and his perfect posture faltered. It seemed, like you, he had become just as mindless and broken down – doing everything possible to chase pleasure. Despite it all, you could still feel the care that he had for you in the way he muttered sweet nothings into your ear. You squeezed around his length as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

“Let go, love. Let me hear you.” Commodus instructed. 

Suddenly, like the waves that crashed against the shores of the home of your childhood, a flood of ecstasy came over you as you reached your peak and descended off of it. Your wanton moans filled the room, matching the sounds the two of you had been making for a while. Commodus visibly relished in it, nipping at your earlobe and kissing your neck. The feeling of your orgasm caused your walls to squeeze and made his movements falter. 

He pulled out suddenly, right as he came. The hot strings of cum coated your lower abdomen. He moved to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed and face scrunched in the heat of his pleasure. Your legs felt numb. Commodus almost collapsed on top of you. He released his hold on your wrists and held himself up by his forearms on either side of your head. 

The two of you joined in a kiss. This one was a sharp contrast to the quick pace you had. It was slow and passionate, full of trust and care. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing it back with a gentleness unseen. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the perspiration that gathered there. Both of your bodies came down from the high, chests rising and falling. 

You thought back to just a few short weeks ago when you were invited into his room. You were incredibly glad he only wanted company then. If not for that, you would have never been able to build this relationship with him. Moreso, you were incredibly thankful your younger self decided to sing at that festival and caught his attention. It seemed that little actions in life led to big changes. 

It still felt absurd now with your change of position. You were no longer a servant, no longer expected to fulfill the duties that had your body aching and mind hurting at the end of the day. 

It was so ridiculous to you, that you could not help but let out a chuckle. Commodus moved his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You wished to get lost in those eyes. 

“And what do you find so amusing, hm?” He spoke. 

You looked at him with adoration, “Is it wrong to be happy?” 

“No,” Commodus moved to rest beside you, taking a spare cloth from the wash basin placed beside the bed and wiping your stomach down. There was something in his movements that felt almost… domestic. It was not something you ever thought of an emperor doing. “I’m glad you are happy.” 

A beat of silence passed as he laid down next to you on his back and used an arm to pull you flush against him. Your head rested on his pec, hearing the thumping of his heart. 

“Are you happy?” You asked. He squeezed you closer and kissed your temple.

“You made me happy long before all of this.” He answered. Your face scrunched up with wonder. 

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head to look into his eyes, fingers tracing patterns onto his chest. 

“Your singing. It followed me everywhere since that festival. From my mind,” He placed one hand over yours and guided it right above where his heart would be, “to here.” 

There were no words you could think of to respond with. The poetics of his words hit you. You wanted to drown in him, to stay there in that moment for a lifetime. You reached out to trace his jaw, thumb massaging the top of his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and kissed the pulse point of your wrist. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you, for everything,” You could barely imagine what it would be like back in your old life, under the constant fear of your old master, “I may not know what I can do to repay you but–”

“Stay with me.” He interrupted you. There was a shine in his eyes, “You want to repay me? Stay. That is all I need.” 

You stared at him and nodded your head, “I’ll always stay.”

The two of you understood the depths of the promise. It was your own declaration of love, without the words being spoken. A mutual understanding and a promise of forever. It was not traditional to other couples, but again you knew this relationship already did not fit within the bounds of traditionality. It did not matter. 

You kissed him again, sealing the words upon both of your lips. There, you were content to start a new life; a better life.

This was incredibly fun to write! I am 100% open to writing more fics for any characters in the Gladiator films and plan to open up requests. So, if that's something ya'll are interested in, let me know.

Thank you all for the support! <3

taglist: @scrumptiousloser @juliusceasersblog @po1sonddol @cheesecakeluver @oscarisdaddy69

[cupidkenji]

Doctor, Doctor, please listen!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Tension (I tried), cursing, the smallest physical description of reader in the last portion (just mentions their stomach going over their pants), reader has scars from previous cases, rivals to lovers?, lmk if i'm missing smth Summary: 3 times you called him doctor, 3 times he wonders why. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but I don't really ever describe their bodies that much cause it's x READER and every body has a different body <3 WC: 3,596 I am literally so obsessed with criminal minds somebody save my soul OBLIVOUS IDIOTS WHO WANT EACH OTHER MY BELOVED. Title from mad hatter by Melanie Martinez don't even @ me for that

1.

“...she will be an important part of making your team function quicker. We fought hard to get her here. I ask that you all treat her with respect and not make me intervene.” 

Strauss finished her introductory spiel with a familiar “mom-glare” towards the team, walking away once she finished her speech. Unfortunately, her departure left you standing alone in front of the most intimidating man you’ve ever seen and four of his team members. You had been practically still until now. You hated the pressure of everyone’s eyes on you, causing a general freeze response to the stress of a new team. Fawn, you thought, the newest addition to the fight or flight categories and also the lovely thing forcing you to practically disassociate in front of your new boss and co-workers. 

“Welcome, Dr. L/N. We’ve heard good things. I’m Aaron Hotchner, I supervise the team.” He was leaning on the table before he stepped forward to shake your hand as he spoke. “This is Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid.” He pointed towards the corresponding people as he spoke of them. “Agent Rossi is away right now, and you’ll meet our T.I. later…she’s been excited.” If you hadn’t been good at your job, you’re sure you would have missed the way his lips turned up slightly at the edges when mentioning the woman. He didn’t seem so scary anymore, more like a father of the team. You’d been expecting a drill sergeant - your last team leader could have given a bull a run for it’s money with how much aggression that guy had. You welcomed the rush of excitement you felt at the discovery, mentally shaking off the stiffness you were carrying. 

“I’m happy to be here, sir. I’ve heard good things about the team, too. Your boss seems to think highly of your capabilities.” You addressed the room as you spoke. Public speaking was a skill you were still trying to master, so you practiced whenever you could. 

Your statement earned a chuckle from the table. Nobody bothered to explain the reason. You figured it was too much history to sum up on the spot. Your eyes wanted to linger on Reid. He seemed so young, and you wondered if he’d been told that his entire career - lord knows you had too. A fellow doctor. You assumed he was a bit of a stickler about the title, as even his boss kept it tacked onto his name when introducing him. You’d originally hoped to find some comfort in the man, on the surface he seemed a lot like you. He was probably too smart for his own good as well. Given the way he was staring at you, though, you felt the realization sink in that the man had no intention of welcoming you. 

“Why exactly do we need another profiler?” His voice held no malice as he spoke in the direction of his boss. There was more curiosity in his voice than anything, however you did pick up on the sense of superiority that sat just beneath the surface of his words. You guessed that’s how he behaved generally - as though he was superior. Still, your head tilted slightly to the side at the question. 

Damn. Tough crowd. 

You saw the intake of breath in Hotchner as he prepared to defend your place here but you spoke before he could start. “While I am a profiler, sir, first and foremost I am a psychiatrist - a doctor. As I’m sure you heard from Strauss, the board is unhappy with your recent efficiency rates and would also like to aid your team in dealing with mental health crises. I’ve spent my entire life studying the effects and conditions of the mentally diseased brain. I’ll be able to tell you the most efficient and effective way of interacting with these individuals, along with more accurately predicting their actions and methodology. I’m an agent, I took the same oath everyone here did but I was brought here for my expertise.” You were on a bit of a tangent, you knew that, but something about the smug feel of the man forced an emergence of competitiveness. He looked at you so indifferent, and you couldn’t help the tiny sparks of anger lighting beneath your skin. You kept a friendly disposition towards the man - you were a professional, after all, not a teenager - but you sensed a rivalry sprouting it’s roots.

The others at the table suppressed their smiles or looked down to hide it. Nobody had ever challenged Spencer like that. They could all feel he was a tad bit territorial. He was the guy people went to when they needed to know something. He was the Doctor of the group. They didn’t think he would take too kindly to another one encroaching his land. They saw the way he was tense, even more so after you responded. It was a riveting sight, though. The lot of them saw Spencer as a younger brother, and him meeting his match was something they were all so excited to see.

“Play nice, pretty boy.” Derek muttered to him, Spencer was slightly slouched in his chair now, not losing sight of you. Derek followed suit, turning his attention towards you. “We’re glad to have you, Doctor. We’ve spoken about an addition like you before, I’m glad to see the higher ups finally listened. I look forward to working with you - excuse me.” He left once his phone rang. 

The others took his exit as an excuse for their own, everyone giving you a warm welcome as they left. You reciprocated happily, telling everyone they could just call you by your first name, never having been one for titles. ‘There’s one difference.’ You thought, even your internal dialogue was bitter. Aside from him, there was a warmth here that you had been desperate to find in your last team. If you had to work passive aggressively with one uptight man in exchange for a team like this - you were going to take that deal. 

He refused to leave it seemed. He just sat looking inquisitively at the table, occasionally extending his stare to look at you before returning. How did you two end up alone in this room?

“Are you gonna have a problem with me, Doctor?” You shifted slightly on your feet. A notoriously nervous sign, one he definitely picked up on.

He stared again. It was his mind that kept him rooted in his seat. You were fucking alluring. He’d never met someone so like himself in his line of work. He was being a dick and he knew it but it seemed to be instinctual - some type of precaution, maybe. He didn’t know why you were being so respectful. Doctor. God, he didn’t know if the title had ever sounded so good being directed at him. His frustration only rose as he thought on the issue more. He wasn’t welcoming, it would be so easy to drop the formality, something he knew you knew would get on his nerves. But you didn’t. It didn’t seem like a question of dignity. You didn’t seem like the type to refuse a little pettiness - he sure wasn’t the type either. A thought stirred, an unsafe one he wanted to squash immediately but one he also couldn’t help but lean into. Did you want a power imbalance?

“No.” He stood abruptly, obviously still focused on the thoughts in his head. “Welcome to the team.” He addressed you one last time and then walked out of the room.

You followed shortly after, ready to make home on your couch and be done with being the newbie for the day. Your stress would follow you home, though, as the last thing you heard before you left the building was “Oh my god they’re perfect for each other.”

2.

The first few weeks were always the hardest. This was something you knew and were prepared for but it did nothing to calm your nerves. You’d been on countless missions having worked this job for a while now, but this was an entirely new dynamic to learn. You were an outsider for the first time in four years and it was scary. This case was shaping up to be a rough one, too. A man was having delusions telling him to kill. An extremely rare manifestation of his Schizophrenia, only elevated by the newly acquired aspect of him being an insomniac. 

Spencer hadn’t ceased being headstrong in cases either. Every time you wanted to help he made it his mission to overcompensate in order to snuff you out. On the contrary, he’d warmed up to you a little. It wasn’t major, he barely held any positive feelings toward you, but barely was better than not at all, so you coped. You two had managed a couple small talk conversations outside the battle of one-upping that you were currently losing. You absolutely hated it, but you liked him. You liked him a lot, actually. You don’t know when in the past few days that anger morphed into fondness but it had shifted hard. The casual dominance he exuded drew you in like a porchlight lures a moth. You doubted the opposite proved true for him, and that stung. You came to enjoy the banter, the competition, even if you were always playing the losing hand. It was the only way to get his undivided attention and the feeling of his eyes on you started to follow you home. 

You thought a lot about how you could get the relationship to pivot into something better. You didn’t want to be the girl he bickered with at work. You didn’t know what it was you wanted but you knew that your current fate sounded horrid. He was an ass, though, and he did not make it easy to admit those feelings. Every time he undermined you, you grew more attached and also more angry at yourself for doing so. It was because he’s so much like you, you thought. You knew from the way he interacted with his team that he wasn’t a cold guy, didn’t hold malice towards people for no reason. He needs time. He needs to know you, and God how badly you wanted to know him. 

You had sustained good relations with everyone the past few weeks you’ve been here. Meeting Garcia and Rossi had been a treat - both of them being delightful company. You’d heard them whispering about you and Spencer when they thought you weren’t around. The whole team seems to think that you’re basically fated to be together. It was unnerving how comforting that thought was to you. You hoped they were right. 

Spencer hoped they were right too. He’d heard the same whispers you had, chastising the team when he got the chance as if he didn’t think about you every moment he could. His eyes seemed to naturally land on you if you were around. He watched you walk around the bureau more and more lately, enjoying the gained confidence in your step as you cemented your place in the team. The sway of your hips or the swing of your arms. You mesmerized him no matter what you did. One time he got so caught up in his thoughts of you that Prentiss had to check he wasn’t having a silent panic attack. He clung to his sense of resentment, tried so hard to remind himself of the feelings he had when he first met you - you were beautiful, of course you were - but you were on claimed land and he was anything but eager for you to make home on it. That had faded fast, seeing how kind you were, scrambling to help and earn respect from everyone. The only reason he kept up the act of  “man who wants you gone” was so that he could keep talking to you. Spencer was a genius but he didn’t know how to handle someone like you. He’d been interested in girls before, hell he’d had girlfriends before but it had never felt like this in such little time. Such intense infatuation was crippling for someone who’s brain worked in patterns - this was new ground for him. 

“Everybody suit up. We have Foster’s location and we need to move quickly. He’s going after the source of his rage and we don’t have time to spare.” Hotch came down the stairs two at a time, spurring the team into action. 

“This man is highly dangerous but also highly deluded. The cases I’ve read similar to this say it’s best to speak gently. He’s sick but he can be reasoned with.” Spencer pulls from his memory as he sets his ‘FBI’ vest into place on his chest. 

“No, not this time. This man is too severe, his mind is too far gone. If these hallucinations of his are strong enough for him to touch them it’ll be extremely easy for him to rearrange or imagine your words differently. You need to be loud, direct, and assertive. Speak as little as possible. The quieter you are, the easier it will be for him to change what you’re saying in his head.” You also spoke while putting your vest on. You didn’t carry a weapon - a personal vow of yours, as you were more than classified to - so there were no holsters to fill. The contradictions between the two doctors of the team made everyone hesitate even though they lacked the time to do so.

Spencer looked at you, slightly out of breath from working so quickly. “You’re questioning my memory?” 

“I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor. I’m questioning your sources. There’s a higher risk level if we do what you’re suggesting. Let me do my job.” You made the final adjustments to your attire as you finished speaking. You returned his eye contact for just a beat too long, letting the others rush out of the building while you stood your ground, the two of you begrudgingly following after them a moment later.

You had been assigned a different car than him for the ride over. ‘Thank God’ was the only thing you could think when you saw him heading to the other SUV. After another confrontation - another public one, at that - you weren’t sure you could handle being pressed leg to leg with him in the backseat. Your words were a looping record in his head as he rode towards Foster. They were about to attempt a hostage negotiation with a man seeing people who weren’t there but all he could think about was that fucking word you refused to drop. 

I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor

You had to be doing this on purpose, he thought. He originally believed this had started because you knew stripping him of his beloved title would cause irritation. Now he suspected you knew how badly he wanted his name in your mouth and this was your way of torturing him. ‘It’s working.’ He thought. God was it working. He agreed with his team, you were perfect for him. You had knowledge to match his, kept him on his toes. One time the start of a ramble slipped through his “I don’t like you” façade and he felt his heart speed up at the genuine interest that roused in your eyes. You wanted to know him and he was an idiot for all the shit he was doing. 

He wasn’t surprised when your strategy worked and Ben Foster was taken into custody. You were the one to talk him down, and if you hadn’t already been accepted to the team, he knew then and there that they needed you. You were flawless. He knew you’d been doing this as long as he had and it showed. He pleaded with himself to stay focused, zeroed in on the weight of the gun in his hand to save face. His mind never left you, though, much like his eyes. This was the expertise you spoke of - no wonder they fought hard to get you here. 

“You were excellent in there.” It was just the two of you now. Even in the dull, flashing police lights, you were breathtaking. “Good job.” He said. Then he walked away because he was on the brink of kissing you and didn’t feel like breaking about 18 workplace rules while at the scene of a crime. You wouldn’t have been complaining if he did.

3.

Every time something like this happened it was difficult to remind yourself that not carrying a weapon was a choice you made willingly. You were currently sitting in the back of an open ambulance, about to be hoisted onto a stretcher and driven to the ER for stitches. You’ve been with the BAU for almost 3 months now and have miraculously managed to avoid injury in that time. This had been one of the easier cases. No chases or clues to follow, just a sick man who left a fairly obvious paper trail. You were the speaker on almost all cases. You were in charge of de-escalating a situation, making sure the bomb didn’t blow. You’ve never carried a weapon, always preferring to take the wounds of a job over using a gun to back up your words. You were a psychiatrist, you wanted to make people better, not vilify them. It worked, usually. People did tend to trust you more when you were unarmed. This time, though, it got you stabbed.

It wasn’t a bad injury, the blood had already stopped and was mildly dry by the time Spencer was joining you. Just one more scar to your collection. It was to the side of your quad, missing any artery by miles and just serving as a pain source at this point. A little numbing and some stitches and you’d be right as rain is what the doctor in the ambulance had said. 

“What happened?” He spoke softly to you. There wasn’t a rivalry between you two, not really. The banter hadn’t stopped, but it changed. It was playful and actually fun now. The both of you weren’t obsessed with outdoing the other anymore. Some casual boastfulness and a budding friendship is where you were at with him currently. 

“I got stabbed.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

He exhaled like he couldn’t comprehend the stupidity of your answer. You laughed at that. One enjoyable pastime you’d picked up in the past month was trying to bewilder him. The EMT said he needed to check the rest of your body for injury despite your protest of such a procedure. It was typical and you knew that, but you held onto the fear of your own body that middle school gave you. There was a man you liked here, and the thought of him seeing the bit of stomach that hung outside the waistline of your pants scared you more than you thought it would. You forced yourself to be rational in spite of this. It was Spencer, you wanted to be seen by him. 

“Holy shit.”

You chuckled at that. You forgot that maybe a warning was in order for the amount of scars that littered your stomach.

“Probably should have told you about those.” There were dozens. You amassed a countless amount of scars over the course of your job. Stab wounds, bullet grazes, burn marks. Unsubs, as much as you tried to empathize, were often violent at the end of the day and usually lashed out before they could be helped. 

He was staring - well, gazing more like. Not like someone stares at a car accident on the freeway but instead how someone stares at the moon - awe. He was in awe of you. Your strength, your courage, the fact that you went through all these individual events and still chose not to arm yourself. Some of these were in places that could have been fatal, and he thanked whatever entity may be listening that you persevered, begged them to continue that streak. He crashed hard into the desire to touch you, to run his hands over what little of your past he could see. He wondered if you would let him. If you’d fit into his palms the way he thought you would - if that was something you even wanted. The EMT was gone by now, having moved to the passenger seat for the ride to the hospital. 

“Could I - " He hesitated for a moment, this was definitely the wrong question to ask. “Can I touch you?”

Your eyes glazed over slightly. Jesus. You felt your lips part a little.

“You want to?” Genuine surprise. You didn’t think you looked particularly desirable in your current state. He wanted to touch your fucking scars. Who does he think he is?

“Please.” He was looking at you in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes were glazed over too. You held his eyes as you nodded. The heat was so stifling that you laughed just a little at the tension.

“Fucking hell, Spence.”

Blood shot to his ears when you said his name. It had been well worth the wait to hear you say it like that - breathy and confused and so fucking pretty that he wondered how he ever lived before you said it. 

“Will you tell me about them?” He was breathy too, but he wouldn’t have you here, not like this. He just needed to feel you. 

“I’ll tell you anything you want, Doc.”

His hands were warm. It wouldn’t be the last time you felt them.

[sofiawritesstuff]

Apologise

pairing: oscar piastri x norris!reader

based on the most recent race day events

warnings: a little bit suggestive towards the end but nothing major, lando being an ass but he makes up for it

(I love Lando and Oscar both, this isn’t to make Lando look like a bad person)

You knew it would somehow end up being tough at one point, although you didn’t realise how bad it was going to be.

Your brother and your boyfriend. The two most important men in your life, other than your father of course.

As teammates you would think it would be easier, but not when it was their own team that had created tension in the air.

Waiting in Oscar’s drivers room, your legs bounced with the thought wondering how on Earth you were going to support both of them.

The door flew open and Oscar stood with a proud smile, holding his P1 trophy in hand.

“I’m so proud of you baby” you smiled, opening your arms for him, you felt him sigh and he hugged you tightly, him nuzzling his head into your neck “Thank you” he mumbled against you.

“Is everything okay?” you asks pulling away from him “I’m happy, I really am but I think Lando is mad at me”

“Baby, Lando isn’t mad with you, he might be mad but he is mad with the team. Never you. It was team orders and he had to follow them. He’s probably just annoyed that he didn’t get another win, but he will come back and get another. Just like you will. Let’s go out for dinner tonight. We can celebrate!”

“I don’t know, it feels a little disrespectful to Lando”

“Oscar”

“Alright, sounds good. I’m going to get a shower before we leave. Maybe go check on Lando, he will want a little comfort right now”

“I’ll go see him now, call me when you’re ready” you kiss him gently before leaving, making your way along the hall to your brothers room.

Lando could get mad, yes. Just like anyone. But you knew today he was really mad. With the look on his face after the race. You knew you weren’t walking in to your cheerful brother.

You knocked the door before entering, you seen him throwing all of his stuff into his bag “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your boyfriend?” he asks bitterly without glancing at you

“Lan-“

“No Y/N. I don’t want to hear it. Go away. Celebrate with the race winner”

You scoff causing him to look at you “Don’t you dare do that to me Lando, you know it was the team’s fault today. Not Oscars”

“Yeah take his side! I’ve been embarrassed enough today i don’t need a pity speech from my little sister. He probably waiting for you right now to go out and celebrate. Don’t worry I won’t tell him you were here!” he begins shouting

“Stop shouting at me! It was actually Oscar that told me to come talk to you. He feels guilty enough for what happened today he doesn’t need your bad attitude getting in the way either! If you’re going to blame anyone blame your stupid team and not my boyfriend”

“So you’re choosing your boyfriend over your brother? Okay”

“Stop twisting things! Have you actually lost your mind? Oscar did nothing wrong. He was hesitant on even going out tonight because he felt guilty towards you! Oscar looks up to you Lando, he’s done so much for you in races before. I’m done with this conversation. Come talk to me when you decide to be an adult and when you want to apologise to my boyfriend” you tell him, slamming the door behind you.

It was rare for you and Lando to have an argument, what made it even worse is you felt like you had to pick a side. Lando or Oscar. You knew what your brother was saying what out of anger, he would never actually mean disrespect towards his younger teammate.

But you couldn’t help but let the tears fall. It was a short lived argument, but also one of the worst you had ever had.

“Baby?” Oscar asks confused, popping his head out of the bathroom “What happened? Is everything okay?” he rushes over to comfort you, putting on him clothes while he does

“I’m okay, just a silly fight with Lando” you smile, wiping away your tears, he stops you holding both your hands with one hand and moving the other to your cheek, wiping the fresh tears “Let’s go back to hotel and go out for a nice meal”

“I’m not bothered about that right now, I’m bothered about you. It must have been a bad fight if you’re crying”

“This is your night Osc, let’s ignore everything else” you nod trying to stop the topic of conversation “Alright, I understand that you don’t want to talk about it right now but I hope we can when you’re ready, if it’s tonight or tomorrow. I hate seeing you cry”

“I’m sorry, I’m ruining your special moment”

“Hey, come on. You’re not ruining anything. Here’s a better idea. We will go back to the hotel, order room service and have a movie night with a bottle of champagne. Sounds like a perfect way to end this night of an eventful day”

“If that’s what you want”

“All I want is to spend time with my beautiful girlfriend. Come on” he stands up, taking your hand.

Leaving the paddock felt weird, usually you would have both McLaren drivers either side but tonight you only had one. But you had to remind yourself that this was Oscar’s night and nothing was going to ruin it for both of you.

He swayed your hands back and forth walking towards the hotel, he stopped for the few fans waiting close by for him, signing the notebooks and hats held out to him.

You smiled to yourself as everyone congratulated him, trying to ignore the sympathetic smiles a group of girls gave you as you waited.

As you got comfortable in your room and turned on a movie you heard a knock at the door, Oscar quickly got up to answer it

“I’ll get it, it will probably be room service” he kisses you, leaving the bed “Oh hi mate” you head Oscar stutter.

You knew the stutter, the same stutter that came from Oscar when Lando first found out that his teammate was dating his sister.

“Can I come in?” you hear Lando’s voice asks before the door closes. Oscar sits next to you on the bed while Lando stands at the end of it, playing with his fingers.

“I owe you an apology, both of you”

“Osc I’m sorry that I was rude to you earlier, I was so frustrated with the team and I took my anger out on someone which was wrong of me. I am disappointed with myself but I’m also really happy for you and I’m proud of you. It’s great points for the team and you”

“Thanks Lando, I appreciate the apology. I think we need to have a meeting with the team to discuss a better strategy so nothing like this happens again in the future”

Lando nods agreeing with him, before turning his eye contact to you “And to you, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, you were defending both of us and I took it the wrong way and I knew it. Thank you for being an amazing sister, I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you”

“You’re so lucky that you’re my favourite” you smirk, getting up to hug him “I love you” Lando whispers “I love you too, even if you are Dad’s favourite”

“Thats false, you are definitely your Dad’s favourite” Oscar jokes “See! you are Dad’s favourite” Lando agrees “You’re his favourite! Remember when I was 13 and I got grounded for a week because you threw and egg at me and it hit Dad’s car? I got grounded for that because he didn’t think that you would ever do that”

“Or the time when we had your birthday dinner and you were feeding the cake to the dog and you blamed it on Lando later on in the day when the dog was pooping everywhere”

“Alright, I don’t need the two of you ganging up on me! Thank you for coming to apologise Lan”

“Yeah and all is forgiven” Oscar nods “Good to hear, are you guys staying in tonight?” Lando asks pointing at the TV

“Yep, a good night full of room service and sex!”

“Ew! That’s disgusting! Why am I related to you!” Lando rushes out the room

Laying in bed a few minutes later, you hear a second knock at the door. You pull away from Oscar’s kiss, storming to the door

“Lando I didn’t realise you wanted to send Oscar naked so bad-“ you stop once you realise it was not in fact your brother standing on the other side of the door, it was room service and a poor innocent old man now knew that your boyfriend was naked on the other side of the door

“Sorry” you apologise, pulling in the tray and closing the door.

You hear a loud laugh from the bed and you rush over jumping on him “It’s funny”

“Oh it is! You’re never living that down baby” he smirks, flipping himself on top of you.

[nathaslosthershit]

Oh Brother(s)! (LS2) (Leclerc!Reader)

Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!Reader (Part 2 to Red, White, and Williams' Blue but can be read as a standalone) Summary: All Logan Sargeant wanted was a nice and productive conversation with the love of his life’s three annoyingly protective older brothers, was that too much to ask for? Request: Hi Natalia! Finished reading: Red, White, and Williams' Blue (LS2) (Note to self: my official comfort fic🥹), is it okay if I could request a part 2 to it? (If you do part 2’s)? Nothing specific just maybe seeing how they’re relationship is going? (You can add whatever you want to it, but that’s my idea as of now) Thank you!!! A/N: Its my fic and I get to do whatever I want with it so I say Logan Sargeant is happy and employed. I miss him so bad. This was also such a sweet request because I too really like that fic. 

“What are we going to do with him?” Charles asked his brothers, keeping his eyes on their victim sister’s boyfriend. The three Leclerc brothers were standing menacingly with their arms crossed in the living room.

Logan sat in a chair placed right in front of them. They said he wasn’t allowed to stand, and they weren’t going to sit. They didn’t want Logan thinking there was equal power between him and the brothers.

What family was he trying to marry into?

Right, that's why he was here, he came to ask Enzo, Arthur, and Charles for their sister’s hand in marriage. It felt so medieval but they were fiercely protective of her and he didn’t want to give them reason to object at the wedding. 

“Can we at least turn the lights on?” Logan begged.

“If the lights are on you won’t be scared.” Arthur replied.

“No, I think as long as it's the three of you I am talking to, I'll be frightened.” Logan didn’t actually think this, he had plenty of normal, stress free, calm conversations with them but he knew they would get an ego boost at hearing ‘how scared he was’. 

“So, you want to marry our baby sister?” Enzo asked. 

They keep asking that question as if they don’t know thats exactly why he is there.

“Considering I started this conversation off with ‘I want to ask your sister to marry me’ I think that is a safe assumption to make.”

“And you haven’t asked our maman? Why would we say yes when you don’t have the decency to go to the matriarch?” Questioned Arthur.

Logan had to come up with a good excuse for that.

“I had… I wanted to ask you all first, you are her brothers and she respects and cares what you all think. Plus I knew I’d have an easier time asking Pascale than you three.”

“Drop the attitude and maybe we will say yes.” Charles commented.

This was ridiculous, he had been there 45 minutes and still had not gotten an answer. 

“How can we trust someone who doesn’t understand why we are protective of our sister?” Enzo spoke up.

“Of course I understand but this is-”

“A perfectly reasonable response to the question you asked us.” Arthur stuck up his nose as he said this, pissing off Logan even more. All he wanted to do was marry this girl.

“But if you guys keep speaking over me than-”

“Now you are trying to silence us? We are only looking out for our baby sister and you are getting mad?” He could tell that the brothers were mostly teasing him, but he had officially run out of patience. 

“Okay! Thats enough. All three of you sit down on the couch so I can say my speech.” Logan commanded, getting up from his chair as he pointed to where he wanted the brothers to go.

Surprised, and a little intrigued at the outburst, the three sat down with nothing more than a few angry huffs.

“You all have known me as the man who is dating your sister for three years. In all of that time, was I ever rude or disrespectful to any of you?” 

The three monegasques shook their heads.

“Was I ever rude to your sister? Did I ever treat her with anything but the utmost love and care?” 

The brothers shook their heads again.

“So, I have always been nothing but kind and respectful. I have never given any of you a reason to not like nor trust me. I have been faithful and nothing but loving towards your sister. I have a career and a well paying job so you all have no reason to think she wouldn’t be taken care of. What can I do to just have you give me a simple answer?” Logan finally took a breath. He had a better speech prepared, one that had less yelling, but he didn’t have the patience anymore.

The three Leclercs stayed silent. Logan began to sweat. Maybe the yelling wasn’t the most helpful method of asking them for their permission.

He then let out a breath as the three in front of him began to smile.

It was a ‘we are totally fucking with you and are amused by your outburst’ smile.

Fucking hell, he knew it and still let them get in his head.

“Sorry Logan, we couldn’t resist. Had to see where your patience ran out for future reference now that you are a part of the family” Charles laughed while standing up to pat Logan on the back. 

It took a second to register what he said.

“So- so you all agree?” Logan asked, not sure if they were still fucking with him.

“Yes, mate, we knew you were here to ask our permission to marry her the moment you asked to meet up with us.” Enzo replied.

Behind the American, he heard feet approaching and based on the fact he saw all the color drain from the brothers’ face, he knew who it was.

All of the brothers felt their stomach drop as their sister walked into the room. She had heard everything! They had ruined their baby sister’s proposal.

The three boys began to freak out, their made up excuses overlapping with each other making it hard to hear a single word. 

Logan ran up to go hug her, spinning her around in excitement. This made everyone else go still. Why was he not upset? They had just ruined his big moment by being overprotective idiots.

At the confusion clearly displayed on their faces, their sister spoke up, “Logan may have already asked me a month ago, we just couldn’t see you in person until now so we waited to say anything.”

“I also just needed a little confirmation that you three wouldn’t kill me for proposing before I got permission from you guys. Although, to be fair, I did ask Pascale before I did anything.” Logan said

“So it was all a lie? You didn’t want to ask us first because we are the most important people?” Arthur asked.

“Are you guys serious? He has no reason to ask you three idiots first. Or at all! You are overprotective babies.” Their sister answered. 

As the Leclerc boys all spoke over each other for the second time, arguing with their sister's comment, Logan kissed his fiancé, the two blissfully unaware of what the brothers were screaming about.

And far too in love to care.

Part 3 (the wedding episode) coming soon!

[madamechrissy]

♡ Time after Time ♡

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ CEO! Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Just sexual tension in this chap hehe, more explicit as we go. Gojo is really a dick at first FYI

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 4.2k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo is your boss And you've been his head assistant for over two years now. You do everything for him, including and not limited to cleaning his messes, picking out his clothes, and writing his speeches. Sixteen hour days... night calls... You are tired of being overworked and at his beck and call. You decide you are going to put in your two weeks notice. He is shocked, and wants to try to keep you, because you're the best. But you know better. Right? .You really wanna fucking quit. You also wanna fuck him. Also, fuck him.

A/N (Kinda has 'two weeks notice' vibes a bit! No use of y/n.) Fully finished. This was my first gojo fic so maybe a Lil less put together than my current ones

Masterlist- Playlist

Chapter 1

You looked up at him from your desk. You were tired, so damn tired. You needed a fucking break, a long one. Your mind wanders to that vacation away from Tokyo that will never happen, not because you don’t have vacation days or money. Nope, it was  because you work far too fucking much, twelve to sixteen hour days sometimes. For him, your damn boss, Satoru Gojo.

Always asking you to stay late, always running his errands, saving his ass, covering for him. Writing speeches, making presentations, finding him dates even. When Gojo wanted something, he got it, and it didn't matter if it ruined every plan you ever had, you had to get it done for him.

He ran casinos, owned a hotel, a nightclub, you name it, Satoru Gojo owned it. He’d inherited some from his family but mostly he was self made. Even the tower you worked in, Kamo Tower, was one of the best in the city. Everything Gojo touched seemed to turn to gold, or better yet platinum.

You had been so excited two years ago to be his intern, then ecstatic when you quickly moved up the ranks to be his head assistant. You made good money, enough to send home to your family and take care of them too. But you literally were constantly at that man's beck and call.

Your tired eyes lower as you rest your chin on your hand for a moment, for even last night at two am you'd had to run to his fucking rescue.

You were asleep, but the phone never stops fucking buzzing.

Dick boss: I need you.

You: no.

Dick boss: triple OT pay?

You: fuck. What is it?

Dick Boss: I'm in a bit of a bind…

The bind? Three passed out naked women in his bed, and a room destroyed, that he needed to get fixed so he could sleep. Yeah.

The night before? Well he had urgently needed you to pick out his outfit for his soiree, he was too coked out to pick apparently. And Gojo Satoru had so many three piece suits, ties and shoes, it was actually disgusting.

Nanami Kento walks up to you, overworked from his own boss in the building, a trait you two share as head assistants. He hands you a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup, with your name written on it in sharpie, clearly from one of the coffee shops nearby. If you had time to have a fucking life you would have flirted with him, for sure. Maybe he would have, too?

Dirty blonde and handsome, his suit stretched across his muscles just so… and fuck if he didn’t look like he needed a damn vacation too.

“Long night?” Kento asked, grabbing you out of your thoughts, an amused and tired expression on his face. You sigh, nodding.

“Thank you for the coffee. I owe ya one.” You let the sweet liquid hit your lips, eyes peering to Gojo's office. There was some lady in there, pretty as fuck in some crazy attempt at business stripper, but he for some reason was scowling at you. What, you dared to sip coffee and not work for two minutes?

“Not at all. Happy birthday.” 

“Shit that’s today?” You teased, but you did know.

“We don’t really get birthdays.”

“Haha no we don’t. But thank you!”

“Of course. Take care of yourself okay? Gojo is… ugh.” Nanami looked disgusted as he shook his head, pushing up his fancy glasses. You couldn’t help but giggle at that as Nanami walked off.

Your phone rings, because of course Gojo can't just come to you, you must go to him. Your eyes roll.

“Yes, Sir?” You answer the phone, tapping your glittery manicured nails on your desk, the one treat you gave yourself.

“My office.” That silken command may have excited most women, shit, most human beings, but it was a source of annoyance for you.

“Coming.”

You sighed, hanging up the phone and sipping your coffee. The office coffee usually went cold daily with the amount of shit you had to do. You smooth down your dress, adjusting the buckle of your belt just a tad before walking towards the giant glass office.

Gojo’s office had floor to ceiling windows surrounding it that had a ridiculous view of the cityscape below. You all were on the top floor of Kamo Tower, after all. The air was filled with a faint scent, woodsy and fresh, a signature fragrance that lingered in the space, distinctive to Gojo.

As you enter, you see Gojo himself reclining casually in a lavish chair, his signature Gucci sunglasses on, covering those ridiculous blue eyes. Which you honestly appreciated because he made shit hard to focus, even after two years of working as his assistant.

“Sir?” You stand there cautiously, thinking of just putting in your notice then and fucking there, like that dream you had in your two hours of sleep.

“Status update on my meetings?”

“I sent you them all.” He smirked, arrogant. You grit your teeth. “You have two meetings today, Sir, one for the new hotel partnership, then you have a meeting with Mr. Suguru about your casino. And of course, you have your event tonight.”

“Speaking of that, I need you to come with me tonight for the charity ball.” You sigh, shutting the door behind you, resting your aching head against it.

“I asked for tonight off.” You murmur, and Gojo scoffs, grinning, damn fangs like some vampire glinting from the sun that beamed in. He stands, stretching his long elegant limbs, before he walks closer to you, making the scent of him waft through your senses.

“I'll pay you well. Plus you’ll be going as my date for the event, not going to make you actually work. You'll get to relax and shit. Drinks and food.”

“As your date?” You blink, pursing your lips.

“I know, it’s kinda a dream scenario.” He laughed at his own joke, a habit he certainly had.

“Since when does CEO Satoru need a date? Especially me . I can just arrange you a date like I always do.”

“It's a delicate partnership and I need someone who is smart. Not eye candy. I need you, law school girl. Plus you’re American, and a lot of the people there are too. So it’s a no brainer.” You sighed, the comment about eye candy biting.

Men hit on you pretty frequently, any time you weren’t working, which you could not say was very often. But of course Gojo banged models on the regular, and you had no time to look like a model, you barely had time to slap on some mascara and concealer every day to hide how tired you were.

“So you don't need anyone pretty… is what you're saying.”

He pauses then, frowning at you. “You're very pretty.” He'd never said that. He'd barely complimented your work. You catch your breath; looking up at him, curious how he had gotten just an inch away.

“‘Not eye candy.’”

“We'll no, you dress kinda boring… like business and shit. Not sexy at all. I mean I’ve never seen you not in a business dress unless it’s at night and I call you, then you wear pajama shorts and shit?”

You snort. “I would dress up if I had a life. All I do is work.”

“Exactly, that’s what I mean by not ‘eye candy’. How you dress, not your looks. But I'll make sure your outfit looks killer, no need to thank me.” Gojo winks at you, lowering his shades, those insane cerulean eyes making you overheat against your will. Big and glittering with silver, the irises the prettiest blue that the earth could scarcely recreate. Eyes that made anyone do anything he wanted.

You were almost immune to that by now.

“It's my fucking birthday and you want me to do overtime?” You demand, and frowns with those full lips.

“Birthday?” Gojo looks confused, as if you should not have one of them, for it’s inconvenient.

“Yeah. Twenty-sixth.”

He evaluates you. “Why did I think you were like twenty two?”

“I’m not sure. If I was I wouldn’t even have my law degree yet, baby face maybe. But it’s my third birthday here, and you never give me the day off. I will absolutely not put in OT.”

“What, you have plans, hot shot?” Gojo chuckles, his tone mocking.

No. Sure don't. “Yep.” You lie. He knows.

“Cancel em.” He shakes a hand dismissively and you scowl.

“No.” You cross your arms under your breasts, and his gaze darts down for the briefest of moments.

“No?” No one turned Gojo down. No one ever told the gorgeous CEO no. His six foot four frame hunched as he placed an arm on one side of you, peering down, frown still on his handsome features. You bravely glare back up at him.

“No. Gojo, I'm really exhausted, and I just want to have fun and actually relax for my birthday.”

“Have fun with me. And make killer money. Win win.”

“That's work. Not fun.”

“Hmm.” He tilts your chin up with his long fingers, making you peer up at him, surprised at the contact. “I'll make it fun. Promise. Then I'll give you the day off tomorrow. Deal?”

“I could find you a smart American girl? Eye candy too.”

“You're my best, though, I need you.”

Bastard.

“Ugh. Fine.”

He grins, and you catch a breath as he backs away. “Good. I'll have the outfit brought to your apartment later? I’m assuming you don’t have anything fancy enough for this one.”

“Probably not. Fine. Need my size?”

His eyes are drinking you in as he smirks. “You think I haven’t gathered your size by now?” Your cheeks overheat. Though you’re used to him, at the end of the day you still had a damn vagina, and it reacted to him. He chuckled deeply, turning away and waving a hand. “You're dismissed.”

Just like that, your birthday night was just work. Work for Gojo.

***

“Can’t wait to put in my two weeks ugh.” You grumble to yourself as you finish up your makeup, for once having fun with it. If you had to work your birthday you would absolutely look gorgeous for it. Lashes, winged liner, red lips.

The dress he had ordered laid in a satin box on your white day bed. You sigh, opening it finally, and you blink rapidly as you look at the gown encased in baby blue and white tissue paper, the colors of Gojo himself. You gently pulled out the gown and most of your irritation died off.

Black and decked with sequins, it glittered in the light, it was a velvety fabric, as soft as a caress. As you slid it on it glided over your curves, accentuating the nip at your waist, the arch of your hips. The neckline plunged ridiculously low, revealing a generous amount of cleavage that you typically kept under wraps at work. You wonder how Gojo knew you had just so much up top…

Pervert is what he was.

Pervert with killer taste.

The dress had a slit that went dangerously up one of your well toned thighs, exposing nearly all of one leg, while the rest of the dress hit the floor. It was if he truly knew every measurement you had, for the dress could not have hit any better. Those damn analyzing eyes of his…

You spun to look at the back of the dress, which dipped daringly as well, exposing an expanse of skin, from shoulder blades down to the dimples on your lower back. You rummage through your little cherry wood jewelry box, eyeing to see what would work with the dress. Luckily, everything went well with black, so you snatched up a pretty silver cross necklace and earrings.

A text pops up, and you read it.

Dick Boss: Waiting out front in the car.

You: Just a few.

You slip on your shoes and spritz some body spray on, your favorite from Victoria’s Secret you save for special things, then slide on a pair of black heeled boots, contemplating putting on underwear. Did it matter what kind? It wasn’t like you’d had any dick since like college at this point. And you definitely weren’t fucking Gojo, since neither of you were interested.

You because you saw the girls he fucked. Him because… you weren’t ‘arm candy’. Or a dumb ass bimbo. Sometimes you wished you were, since they seemed sweet and happy in life, while you drowned.

Dick Boss: I’m waiting…”

Fucking Gojo. Ugh. You decide to slide on some lacy boy shorts, just in case that slit did go too high you’d have some coverage. Peeking one last time at the mirror, you had to admit you looked beautiful. You text Gojo.

You: Coming now.

You locked up and headed down the stairs of the apartment building, and there was Kiyotaka, Gojo’s driver, opening the door of the black limo for you. Kiyotaka, who somehow was your age now. That boggled your mind more than Nanami. Gojo wore people out, very clearly, but even you had it easier than Kiyotaka.

“My lady.” He said sweetly, and you smiled at him, sliding in, and there Gojo was across from you, long arms spread across the backs of the seat, his head rested back so that his throat was exposed. His head snapped down, and he looked right at you, no sunglasses, only those eyes. His lips parted, and you tensed, prepared for some lewd comment or rude one.

He blinked those white spiky lashes, arms sliding down as Kiyotaka shut the door, gaze taking you in ever so slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. You felt yourself holding your breath as it lazily traveled down and back up your body, clutching your little black evening bag tightly.

“You look…” He trailed off, shaking his head a bit.

“Thank you for the dress.” You cut him off. He exhaled, nodding.

“Of course. Consider it my birthday gift. You look… really fucking hot.”

You giggled at that. Not beautiful or breathtaking. But you’d take it. “Thank you, the dress is so beautiful.”

“Your body is that banging and you hide it like that?” He was somehow right next to you now, and you shiver a bit at the nearness. “I should reprimand you.”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t dress like this at work.”

“You sure the fuck can. I’m the boss, I say so.” His fingertips trailed down your shoulder, and it sent tingles through your body. Why was he so close? “I’m buying you a new wardrobe.”

“The fuck you are. I like to be professional, unlike you.” You smack his hand off errantly, and your bare shoulder grew cold without the touch.

“You do really look good.” You took in his outfit, a black tux, which fit his slim muscles perfectly. It was some shit Bruce Wayne would wear. Maybe Gojo was some super hero or villain. It would fit.

“You do too. You always do.”

“I know.” He winked at you, leaning forward to snatch up champagne and pop it, pouring you both glasses. You took one, letting the bubbles tickle your nose, taking a sip of the sweet drink, moaning softly and shutting your eyes.

“Delicious.” You lick your lower lip and find him a breath away. You don’t move, but you’re frozen, confused as he looks at you like he never has. “Satoru?”

“Are you really thinking of quitting?” He asked softly. You have never seen Gojo like this.

“How did you know?”

“I know everything, baby girl.” He gently runs his long fingers through your hair, a rare frown on his lips.

“Baby girl? The fuck, Satoru. Yes I was thinking of it, an seducing me is not going to change my mind. Is that the point of this?” You demand, irritated, and against your better judgement, fucking horny. His eyes study your own seriously.

“If that was my intention, you’d damn sure know.” Each word was bit out, distinctive, and his hand tightened in your hair, far too strong, yanking your head back. You scowl up at him, your hands clenched into fists.

“Oh, would I?” You challenged him, notching your chin up a bit. He laughed but it was without humor.

“How many women have you heard me fuck in my office? How many have you had to send home? You think I don’t know how to fuck the shit out of you if I wanted to. You wouldn’t even be able to walk.”

Gojo’s whisper was against your lips, and you could taste whiskey on his breath, mixed with his mints he constantly sucked on. He wasn’t touching you, but he was so close you could feel him…

“I won’t fuck you though, so what’s the point of even joking about it. You don’t want me anyway. Not your type.” He snorted, and one of his big hands came to your waist, touching the bare skin of your back and wreaking havoc on every sense you’ve ever had.

“You know my type?” You nod. His thumb brushed under your breast, an action that made the peaks of your breasts tighten, aching against the sequined gown. Damn if his gaze didn’t drop down. You cursed yourself. “The women who entertain me aren’t necessarily my type.”

“Hmm.” It grew difficult to focus. You sip your champagne, leaning back a bit, but Gojo’s grip stays. “It doesn’t matter. You’re talking out of your ass. Too much cocaine tonight?”

His grip tightened, and it made you gasp, looking up at his darkened eyes in the dim light of the limo. “I haven’t had any. I’m just pretty fucking irritated my best assistant wants to leave. You’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful!” You snort at that, tossing back the champagne and grabbing at his hand, his wrist, trying to get him off of you. “How the fuck, Satoru? I literally do everything for you!”

“And I pay you damn good!”

“I know. I’d rather be broke somewhere than do sixteen hour days. It’s my damn birthday and here I am!”

“As if you really had plans. You have no friends and no life.”

“Bullshit.” You grit your teeth, shoving at his hard chest. “That’s because I have no damn time! You think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend or something by now?”

“Maybe that’s your problem, why you’re so bitchy and stuck up all the damn time. You need to get fucked good.”

You slapped him then. Slapped your Boss. Slapped Satoru Gojo.

His hand caught your wrist, brutally squeezing, pale cheek just hinted with pink from your mark.

“Ring a little true?”

“I can get fucked if I want.” You yank your hand back.

“I didn’t say that. Clearly you can get fucked. It’s just you don’t even want to and you blame it on my hours, as if you were the type.”

“I’d fuck Nanami Kento if I had any damn time.” Gojo’s eyes widened at that, and his grip on your waist became brutal. “Yep. Sure would. He’s built as fuck, oh and he remembered my birthday. If either of us had time I sure would. So does that answer it for you?”

Gojo bared his teeth at her, a little blue vein in his temple popping out. Your heart beats in your chest, brutally, the thudding loud in your ears. “You… would fuck… Nanami… Kento?”

Each of his words were forced through his teeth.

Ah, you made him mad.

Good.

“Who wouldn’t? He’s hot.” You try to shrug casually.

“Out of anyone in the office?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Including me.”

You open your mouth to say yes, but you know it’s not fucking true. Of course you’d have fucked Gojo, if he wasn’t a dick boss, if he was just a dude…

Look at him.

“Cat got your tongue?” His free hand caught your chin, forcing your gaze to his piercing one. You gulp, licking your lips.

“No.”

“No, what?” His voice was a wicked caress.

“No… not including you. Goddammit. Is that what you want to hear? That I’m not blind? Of course you’re attractive, and you know it, stupid!”

He scoffed. “You’re childish.”

“You!” You shoved at him again, and he let you go, grabbing your glass and refilling it, watching you like a hawk. “It changes nothing. I am planning to leave. I will find a replacement, someone even better than me.”

“There is no one better.” He sounded sincere, a rare thing for Gojo, emotion cracking in his voice as he downed his own glass.

“You think fucking me will keep me as your damn assistant?”

“It’s worth a shot. I’m the best fuck there is.” He shrugged, some of that casual demeanor coming back, and you wanted to yell at your body for its reaction.

“It won’t happen.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re my boss!”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I…”

“Hmm? You seem at a loss for words.” You scowl, looking out the window as the lights flickered by.

“Are we there yet?”

“Childish.”

“Says you!”

“You need a good orgasm. Or ten. Get you to be less of a stuck up nag.”

“I do not! And I am not!”

“You do, and you are.”

“I orgasm plenty, thanks!” You felt your body on fire at that, and Gojo couldn’t look more satisfied, like the Cheshire fucking cat, the grin as wide as it could go, running his hand through his silken white locks.

“Oh, do tell.” He practically purred.

“Cut the shit, Satoru. You’ve never talked like this in the years I’ve worked with you, where the fuck do you get off?”

“I get off in women. Or on them.” He shrugged, enjoying your open mouth, once again lost for words.

“You know I did not mean that!”

“Where do you get off? On a dildo maybe.” You blinked, eyebrows low in a scowl, wanting to hit him again. “No, don’t look the type. Maybe a rose toy. Hmm… or just these little things.” Gojo lifted your hand, already small but ridiculously small in his own, swallowed by him. “They don’t hit deep enough, do they?” His whisper shook you to your core.

You burned, breathless, as he held out his own hand to yours, fingers so fucking long they rivaled the length of a dude’s dick. Likely larger than the couple of dude’s in college, which was about all of your experience. He grinned as you stared on, palm hot and hard against your own.

“I… you…” You wanted to cuss him out. Quit right then.

You also wanted his fingers in you.

“I could get you off, put you in a good mood. We don’t have to have sex for that.” His hand took your own, putting your hand by your heat, between your thighs.

“Why… are you…act- acting like this?” You managed to breathe out, but you had no energy to move away from him, or shove his hand off. Because if you were being honest with yourself, you’d love to ride your frustration out on him.

“Maybe I realize how much I need you to stay as my assistant.” Gojo’s supple lips kiss down your jaw, firm but delicate, as his hand brutally grabs yours and shoves it against yourself, moaning in your ear. “Is my assistant already hot for me? Are you that easy to get wet?”

“Fuck off.”

It’s a whisper. You want it. And you hate him. You hate that your pussy is pulsing against your joined fingers through the barrier of your panties, that the moan in your ear made you wonder what he sounded like when he came. Gojo slid his own finger against your panties, pausing, moaning again, pulling back to look at you.

He was gorgeous.

Your chest rose and fell with your breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered, and something was just different. You saw Gojo with women, always so self assured. But something seemed surprised, vulnerable, when his long finger pressed against the damp sticky fabric, just grazing your clit. You arched your hips up, and his fingertip ran up slightly, pressing more, and Gojo’s lips were just a breath away…

“We’re here, Sir, my Lady.”

Fuck.

You two shot apart, and you struggled to catch your breath, adjusting your dress, gulping down one more glass for good measure. Gojo adjusted his pants, not even looking at you, clearing his throat. You cursed as you saw his tie.

“You can’t tie a tie for shit, Satoru.” You leaned over to him, pulling it apart gently and re-tying it. You noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down. He was quiet. Satoru Gojo, quiet. “There.”

“Thanks.” He said gruffly, and your eyes met.

What the fuck just happened?

Kiyotaka opened the door, exposing them to some cool night air, and you got out, curious just how the fuck this birthday night was going to go.

Chapter 2

Completed fic on ao3, will post chaps on here as well

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55424137/chapters/140629990

[inkskinned]

they keep the silverware in the same place. you forget about it a little bit when you move out, but during the holidays, it comes back. the way you smooth over your life for them, a gentle reckoning.

for a while, you tried to find yourself by being wild. throwing your body at the emergency exit. finding comfort in the sharpness of a held breath. you used to write wake up on the inside of your wrist. you couldn't calculate the weight of your own sorrow, only that nobody was looking at the anchor of it. you tried maladaptive coping mechanisms like catnip. got caught half-in half-out of them. felt, weirdly, like you should be embarrassed of all of it.

but it does get better. mostly it's just that you become a priority to yourself. it turns out that lending yourself the ragged edge is just cutting open more marrow. for a while, it felt good to see a physical representation of inward agony. but who was that punishing? you learned, slowly (so slowly it was almost invisible sometimes) that you could put love into the wound instead. that the floor was comfortable because it was certain - but it was cold, and unwanting. instead there is a warm bed. you learn to treat yourself like a kid again. gentle-parent yourself into the shower and over breakfast and into laughing without effort. you do wake up.

but then you come home again, and it is like everything is a strange kaleidoscope of childhood moments. here is how you inherited your mother's anxiety. there is the same music playing, and you can't sit down without worrying you forgot to do something. your mother's clipped words and hovering hands - are you sure? are you sure? birdlike, you find yourself seeing unwell and still end up repeating.

here is your father's anger. you are 16 again. there was a moment where you remember thinking - holy shit. i am so much more emotionally mature than you. how you have to talk him down from minor inconveniences, how you parent him like an errant and spoiled toddler who can't be told no, and i mean it. you feel the warp of you. why you can't be in the same room as people having a completely normal conflict. why your skin crawls if there's ever a hint of a fight. why you live with your hands up, placating. and god forbid you get angry. you feel that little spoiled kid rage against the iron will of you. not you, not your hands. you would rather cut your own tongue out of your head, no matter how valid her argument is.

and you're so fucking far from where you were as a kid. you've done so much healing. and there's this little sad part of you that can see the shadow of your past, and your hands wrapped into each other so tightly you made your knuckles white. and how much your parents are just people, and haven't changed much, and still keep the spoons in the drawer to the right.

there is a long dark tunnel here, and it has a name, but you haven't learned how to process that kind of speech yet. close the cabinet. make a note to go get more oat milk. close your eyes.

this place was never home, was it.