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theetherealbloom · 4 months ago

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TAKE ME DOWN TO LIFT ME HIGH

Summary: In the grand city of Rome, you, a senator's daughter, are entangled in a world far removed from your aristocratic upbringing. Your chance encounter with General Marcus Acacius, a renowned gladiator and war hero, changes your life forever.

Paring: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, AU, PWP, Some Plot and more smut, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Fingering, PIV, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, Canon Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism (it’s ancient rome, babe), Sneaking Around, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, Boobs,

Word Count: 6k

A/N: The amount of research I had to do for this was insane. I was more obsessed with Greek Mythology than Roman so I needed a refresher. Hehe, there’s not a lotttt of drama, but it leans more into the smut side and just cheesy over all plot lol and a little fun ceremony in the end. Everyone say thank you to @wheresarizona for listening to me go feral over Marcus. Go send her some love cause she deserves it :>

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Song: Selene by NIKI

| Main Masterlist |

The return of General Marcus Acacius was an event of grand opulence. The streets of Rome were alive with screams and celebrations as he rode his golden chariot, smiling and waving at the throngs of admirers. It was as if the bloodshed and death that marked his victory were distant echoes, easily forgotten by the jubilant crowd.

"Long live General Marcus!" someone shouted.

"A true hero of Rome!" another voice rang out.

You weren't supposed to be in the crowd. Your place was at home, learning household chores such as cooking, cleaning, and weaving—the essential skills expected of a Roman matron. Yet, here you were, hidden beneath a hood, blending with the common folk as you watched the celebrated general parade down the street.

As the parade came to an end, you discreetly followed behind the procession, your eyes fixed on General Marcus Acacius. He was dressed in white and glittering gold, a stark contrast to his usual attire of blood-stained armor and weapons. Even though he was smiling and waving at the crowds, you could see the disdain in his eyes for such a grandiose display.

You had heard stories about him, rumors whispered amongst the noble families of Rome. They spoke of his ruthless acts on the battlefield, of his unwavering loyalty to Rome, and of his preferences. Yet here he was, parading through the streets in all his glory, hailed as a hero by everyone.

You couldn't help but feel drawn to him despite everything you had heard. There was something about him that intrigued you, something that made your heart race and your cheeks flush.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of General Marcus Acacius, wondering what kind of man he truly was beyond his reputation as a war hero.

As you stood there, trying to remain inconspicuous, your eyes met his. The connection was electric, almost as if the gods themselves had intervened. Marcus’s gaze was so intense that it seemed to pierce through the crowd and find you alone. He noted every feature of your face, his expression betraying a hint of fascination.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat and quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact. Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned and began to scurry home, the thrill of the encounter leaving you breathless.

Your pulse raced as you made your way through the bustling streets of Rome, trying to push aside the image of General Marcus Acacius's piercing gaze. You couldn't understand why you were so affected by a man you barely knew, but there was something about him that drew you in.

You managed to sneak back into your room, just barely slipping past the household guards. Being the daughter of a senator afforded you certain privileges, including an education that many girls your age could only dream of. Your studies typically included reading, writing, and arithmetic, equipping you with the skills necessary to manage a household and participate in society. You were also taught music, dancing, and literature, for understanding and appreciating poetry was considered a virtue for a Roman woman.

As you settled in your room, the memory of Marcus’s gaze lingered in your mind. The image of his rugged face, scarred from countless battles, and his piercing eyes was etched into your thoughts. There was something about him that was both terrifying and captivating.

A soft knock on your door interrupted your reverie. It was your handmaid, Lydia, her expression curious.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I went to see the procession."

Lydia’s eyes widened. "The general’s return? You could have been caught!"

"I know," you admitted, "but I had to see him."

"Why? What could be so important?"

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain the inexplicable pull you felt towards the gladiator general. "I don't know, Lydia. It's just... when our eyes met, it felt like something changed."

Lydia shook her head, her expression a mix of worry and understanding. "You must be careful. The world outside is not as forgiving as the walls of this villa."

The days following the procession were filled with a whirlwind of emotions. You couldn't shake the image of Marcus from your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his intense gaze, felt the inexplicable connection that had sparked between you.

The grand villa of your father was abuzz with preparations for the evening’s banquet. Slaves hurried to and fro, setting tables with fine silverware and arranging elaborate floral displays. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the delicate fragrance of flowers.

Tonight, your father, a respected senator, was hosting a dinner in honor of General Marcus Acacius. The entire house was a flurry of activity, with guests arriving in their finest attire, their laughter and chatter filling the atrium. You stood near the entrance, feeling the weight of your responsibilities as the senator’s daughter.

Your mother approached, adjusting the drape of your stola with a critical eye. “Remember, you must be on your best behavior tonight. This banquet is crucial for your father’s alliances.”

You nodded, though your mind was elsewhere. Ever since you had seen Marcus in the parade, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his piercing gaze had haunted you, and now he was here, in your home.

"Come," your father said, his hand on your back guiding you through the crowd. "I want you to meet someone."

You followed, your heart pounding in anticipation. As you approached, you saw him standing there, taller and more imposing than anyone else in the room. Marcus Acacius, the hero of Rome, the man who had invaded your thoughts and dreams.

"General Acacius," your father began, his voice carrying the weight of his status, "allow me to introduce my daughter."

Marcus turned, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect, but his gaze remained unwavering. "My lady," he said, his voice like velvet, "it is an honor."

General Marcus was the most strikingly handsome man you had ever seen. His chiseled features were framed by dark brown eyes beneath thick, black eyebrows. His long, aquiline nose and firm mouth, accentuated by a sensuously full lower lip, completed the picture of rugged masculinity. He stood tall, towering over most men, with a lean, muscular body and broad, powerful shoulders.

His hair, a captivating mix of salt and pepper, was cut short and fell in loose curls around his head, with distinguished grey patches in his beard that added to his allure.

"The honor is mine, General," you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay composed.

"Please, call me Marcus," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We are, after all, in more intimate surroundings."

Your father chuckled, clearly pleased with Marcus's easy charm. "I will leave you two to get acquainted," he said, patting Marcus on the shoulder before moving away to mingle with other guests.

The moment your father left, the air between you and Marcus seemed to crackle with electricity. He took a step closer, the heat of his body radiating towards you. "I must confess," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "I have been looking forward to this moment."

You swallowed hard, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. "As have I," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Marcus's eyes darkened with desire, and he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your knees weaken. "You are even more captivating up close," he said, his voice husky. "I find myself drawn to you, like a moth to a flame."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, his scent, his warmth, the sheer power of his focus on you.

As Marcus's hand continued to caress your arm, you felt your heart race with a mixture of excitement and nerves. You had never been this close to him before, and the realization that he was interested in you sent a wave of exhilaration through your body.

His lips brushed against your earlobe, making you shiver. "I want to know everything about you," he murmured, his voice sending sparks down your spine. "Your hopes, your dreams, what makes you laugh and what makes you cry out for mercy."

You turned towards him, meeting his intense gaze. "I want to know about you too," you said, feeling bold in his presence.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer. "There is not much to tell," he said modestly, though the way his eyes roamed over your face suggested otherwise. "Just a soldier who has dedicated his life to serving Rome."

But there was something more behind those words, something hidden beneath the mask of duty and honor. You could sense it in the way he held himself, in the intensity of his gaze.

"I don't believe that," you said firmly. "There is so much more to a person than their profession."

Marcus's smile widened into a grin as he took another step closer to you. "You are wise beyond your years," he said appreciatively.

The room around you seemed to fade away as you became lost in each other's gaze. It was as if there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke through the moment – someone had knocked over a vase nearby. The sound jolted both of you back to reality and Marcus stepped back slightly.

"I should go check on that," he said regretfully.

Marcus's lips lingered on your skin for a moment longer before pulling away to look into your eyes. "I promise, we will continue this conversation another time," he said softly.

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. You couldn't wait to spend more time with him and get to know him better.

As Marcus turned to leave, you couldn't help but watch him walk away, his confident stride and broad shoulders filling you with a sense of admiration. You sighed dreamily and turned back to the feast, only to be greeted by your handmaids with teasing grins.

"What was that all about?" one of them asked, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively.

You feel your cheeks heat up, trying to hide your excitement. "Nothing," you said coyly. "Just a conversation."

As the guests were seated in the triclinium, the air was filled with the sounds of conversation and the clinking of goblets. You found yourself seated across from Marcus, who looked imposing in his formal attire. His presence commanded the room, yet his eyes frequently strayed to you, a subtle intensity in his gaze.

The evening progressed with toasts to Marcus’s victories and speeches praising his valor. You tried to focus on the conversations around you, but your mind kept drifting to the man across the table. Finally, you could bear it no longer. Under the pretense of needing fresh air, you excused yourself and slipped out into the garden.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you wandered through the manicured paths, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating your way. The garden was a haven of tranquility compared to the lively banquet inside. You found a secluded bench and sat down, letting out a sigh of relief. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of voices from the villa created a serene backdrop as you tried to gather your thoughts.

As you sat there, the faint sound of a conversation caught your attention. You turned your head slightly, realizing that a group of senators had gathered nearby, their voices low but urgent. You recognized the voices of some of the most influential men in Rome, including your father.

"I hear that Emperor Caracalla is eager to stage a grand spectacle," one senator said, his tone conspiratorial. "He wants to solidify his power and win the favor of the masses."

"Indeed," another replied. "I heard he plans to pit some of the finest gladiators against each other. And there are whispers that General Marcus Acacius himself might be forced to take part in the games."

You felt a pang of concern at the mention of Marcus's name. The thought of him in the Colosseum, fighting for his life, was almost too much to bear.

"Emperor Geta is not pleased with this idea," a third senator interjected. "He sees it as a waste of a valuable military asset. But Caracalla is determined. He believes a victory in the arena will elevate Marcus to legendary status, securing loyalty from the soldiers and the people alike."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed their words. The political machinations of Rome were ruthless, and it seemed that Marcus was caught in the middle of it all.

As the senators continued their discussion elsewhere, their voices drifting away back into the villa, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Marcus emerging from the shadows, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He moved silently, his powerful form cutting through the darkness like a predator stalking its prey.

"My lady," he said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "It seems we both seek refuge in the quiet of the garden."

"Marcus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. "I overheard the senators. They plan to have you fight in the Colosseum."

His expression darkened, and he closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. "I know," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The emperors play their games, and I am but a pawn. But tonight, I do not wish to think of such things."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "Tonight, I only want to think of you."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a tantalizing softness. The kiss deepened, his hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His touch was both possessive and gentle, his need for you evident in every caress.

"Marcus," you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair. "This is madness. If we are caught..."

"Let them find us," he murmured against your lips. "I would rather face the lions in the arena than be without you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you responded with a fervor that matched his own. Your bodies pressed together, the heat of your passion driving away the cool night air. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

"Promise me," you whispered, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Promise me you will come back to me, no matter what happens."

"I swear it," he said, his voice filled with determination. "No matter what the emperors or the gods throw at me, I will return to you."

With those words, he captured your lips again, sealing his promise with a kiss that left you breathless.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

His voice, a velvety whisper, sent a wave of desire flooding through you as he murmured, "I want you. Here. Now."

The moon was high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the garden, as Marcus pressed you against the wall. His hands roamed over your body, igniting fires with each touch. You could feel his desire for you, and it only fueled your own.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you up and pressed you against the garden walls. His body hovering over yours as he trailed kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and you couldn't contain the moan that escaped from your lips.

With a growl of need, Marcus captured your lips once again while his hands began to explore under your dress. The feeling of his warm skin against yours sent shivers down your spine as he traced patterns along your thighs.

"Marcus," you gasped between kisses. "We shouldn't-"

"Shhh," he whispered, gently sliding your white cotton robe off your shoulders. "I can't resist you any longer.”

Marcus unexpectedly reached out his large, rough hands and cupped each one of your breasts, weighing them in his palms. Your body jolted at the sudden touch, your skin tingling under his warm heat. You could feel the calluses on his fingers, hardened from years of wielding swords and other battle weapons, leaving tiny marks on your delicate skin like a trail of fire.

As he squeezed and rotated your breasts gently, desire surged through you, igniting a deep longing within. You wanted to surrender yourself completely to him, to offer up not just your body but your very being to his every whim. The sensation was so overwhelming that you yearned to throw your head back in abandonment and give in to the all-consuming pleasure he evoked.

The protests that had escaped your lips now transformed into guttural moans of pleasure as his skilled fingers worked their magic on your most sensitive spot. Every touch sent electric shocks through your body, making you shiver and writhe against the wall. As Marcus trailed his fingertips over every inch of your slick flesh, you felt yourself becoming more and more lost in the overwhelming waves of pleasure coursing through you. With each stroke, your body arched further off the wall, desperate for more of his touch. It was like a symphony of sensations, building and crescendoing until you were completely consumed by the intensity of it all.

He slid a finger between your legs and pushed it deep inside you. Pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch and writhe as he expertly stroked your tight passage.

"My lady, you have an incredibly tight cunt," he grunted out, his voice strained and revealing his own growing arousal. His features twisted in pleasure and his eyes glinted with a primal lust.

He firmly grasped your aroused nub and slid another finger into your tight, welcoming entrance. "We have to be quiet or we'll risk getting caught," he whispered in your ear.

You nodded eagerly, pleading, "Yes, anything. Please."

As his skilled fingers gently rotated over your sensitive clit and his other digit pumped inside your wet, pulsing core, you couldn't help but surrender to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. From the moment his eyes locked on yours, you knew you were his to be used however he pleased, your body a vessel for his insatiable desires. With each expert movement of his fingers, you felt yourself spiraling into a dizzying state of pure ecstasy, completely at his mercy. Your flesh responded eagerly to his touch, begging for more as he claimed you as his own.

The General's gentle touch on your skin was electrifying, bringing a growing pleasure to your body that felt almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself getting too hot, too tense, and you were afraid of releasing the intense climax that was building inside you with just a single touch.

"Oh Goddess," you gasped, tilting your head back against his shoulder and shutting your eyes as your desire became sharper and more urgent.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as his long finger penetrated you, rotating and rubbing inside your core while his other fingers worked relentlessly on your sensitive clitoris. Your body squirmed against the intense pleasure, your hands grasping at his muscular arms to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations. He chuckled softly as you began to move your hips in a circular motion, still continuing to bring you pleasure with his skilled touch for several minutes. Just as you were about to reach the edge of climax, he eased off slightly, keeping his movements quick and light.

But eventually, your body tensed up and convulsed, your movements erratic and desperate, your breaths coming in short gasps. As the tension in your loins grew tighter and tighter, you let out a high-pitched wail and reached the peak of ecstasy. Your walls pulsated around his probing finger, which was now coated in even more of your warm juices.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Marcus gently turned you to face him again. His white robe and short toga were cast aside, leaving him naked in front of you. He stood tall and proud, his lean and muscular frame on full display. But it was his erect penis that took your breath away. It was massive, thick and much longer than average, standing rigid and red above a nest of dark pubic hair.

His impressive and exposed physique took your breath away as you gazed upon it. "Oh, my Goddess!" you exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by his sheer size.

Without hesitation, Marcus reached out and grasped your thighs, pulling you closer to him. He leaned over your body, closed his fist around his member, and guided the tip towards your still-dripping entrance.

He managed to get the thick bulbous tip of his penis through your opening. You immediately felt stretched and full. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling in an effort to accommodate him. “You big brute, you’re tearing me apart.”

He clenched his teeth, sweat starting to matt his silver and grey hair at his forehead. The pleasure of being inside such a tight flesh was almost dizzying, and he had to pull in all of his control to prevent himself from plunging completely inside of you.

That would come later, he promised, once you had been well oiled by him. He pushed again and managed another inch, and slowly continued to advance his penis inside your channel.

“You’re so tight,” his voice was harsh and strained, as if in pain. It wasn't too far from the truth; she felt tight around him, almost like a vice grip. But despite the discomfort, she was so warm and smooth inside.

With a groan, he slid the thick bulbous tip of his penis into your opening. A sharp pang of fullness shot through you as your body stretched to accommodate him. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling and contorting in an effort to ease the pressure. "You big oaf," you playfully scolded, though there was a hint of pleasure in your voice.

He clenched his teeth, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he fought for control. The sensation of being inside such tight, warm flesh was almost overwhelming, and he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. He promised himself that he would give in completely once you were well-oiled by him.

He pushed with all his strength, feeling the resistance of your body as he slid deeper and deeper inside. The walls of your channel were smooth and slick, clenching around him like a vice. He couldn't hold back the grunt that escaped his clenched teeth, a mix of intense sensation coursing through his body. It was a pleasurable pain, like being held in a fierce embrace by someone who loved you too much - an exquisite torture that he never wanted to end. But with each slow and deliberate thrust, he knew that the pleasure would only intensify, building to a climax that would leave them both breathless.

Slowly but surely, Marcus eased his penis deeper into your body. With each inch of progress, you both felt the intensity of your connection grow stronger. Your entire body trembled with each thrust he made. When he was halfway inside you, Marcus used his fingers to stimulate your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your core throbbed with ecstasy as Marcus took advantage of your relaxed muscles and thrust deeply inside you until he was fully engulfed.

You and Marcus both groan at the same time. He quickly covers your mouth with his hand, gently hushing you. "Shh, my Carissima... I know it feels good, but we must be quiet. We can't risk your father catching us in this compromising position." The General continues to stimulate your sensitive spot, using his fingers to tease and moisten it further.

Your hips continued to rock and push against his manhood, your desire growing with each movement. You leaned back and moaned as General Marcus Acacius took full control of your body. He held onto your hips tightly as he thrust deep inside you, the pleasure intensifying for both of you. It was clear that neither of you was far from reaching the peak of ecstasy.

You let out moans and contorted your body as the large, broad, man moved back and forth between your legs. As your face twisted in pleasure and your head thrashed about, you experienced this unfamiliar sensation called sexual pleasure. Your climax came quickly and intensely, feeling like it lasted for several minutes. You threw your head back and let out a scream as the intense pleasure broke through between your thighs. A hot wave of pleasure spread throughout your body, causing your hips to writhe against Marcus'.

As your body trembled and released into an intense orgasm, you felt Marcus' muscles tighten beneath you. A deep, primal roar escaped his lips as he too reached the peak of his climax. The sound echoed through the gardens blending with the rhythmic pounding of your heart and breath. It was a moment of pure, raw passion that left you both gasping for air and tangled in each other's embrace.

As the intense pleasure slowly subsided, you became aware of the small droplets of blood trickling down your thighs and onto the grass. It was a sign that your virginity had been taken, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.

General Marcus Acacius carefully pulled out of you and helped you to sit up. You could see his concern in his eyes as he looked at the blood staining his robe on the ground and your thighs.

"Are you hurt, Carissima? I didn't mean to be so rough..." he asked, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. "No… I'm fine," you managed to say.

He let out a sigh of relief and gently wiped away the blood with a nearby cloth. You winced slightly at the slight soreness between your legs but it was nothing compared to the intense pleasure you had just experienced.

Marcus held you close, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. "You were amazing, my love," he whispered in your ear.

A flood of emotions washed over you as you realized what had just happened between the two of you. You had shared an intimate moment with General Marcus Acacius, someone who was forbidden to you because of your status as a daughter of such nobility. And yet, in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of love and desire that consumed both of you.

Your mind was spinning, knowing all too well what would happen if anyone found out about your relationship with the General. Your father would surely punish both of you severely and possibly even sell one or both of you off.

Even with the knowledge of what had just happened, and what could, it was difficult for you to feel remorse or embarrassment. Instead, you felt a sense of contentment and fulfillment that you had never experienced before.

Marcus chuckled warmly and gave you a soft kiss on your lips. "You are truly something special, Carissima," he said with adoration in his eyes.

You blushed at his words, feeling a surge of happiness wash over you. Despite the risks and consequences, being with Marcus felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But as the reality of your situation sank in, a sense of worry crept into your mind. How would you continue this relationship without anyone finding out? How could you possibly be with Marcus when your father would never allow it? Or worse, your father having you marry someone else?

Marcus brushed his fingers against your cheek, and it felt like he could read your mind. "We will find a solution, my love. I promise I will marry you and make you my wife," he whispered to soothe your fears.

The weight of Marcus' words settled heavily in your heart. The thought of being married to the man you loved filled you with joy and hope, yet the reality of it all seemed impossible.

"How could we possibly make that happen?" you asked, your voice laced with worry.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt. How could someone as powerful and respected as General Marcus Acacius be able to marry someone like you? You were just a daughter of a nobleman, while he was one of the most influential men in the kingdom.

Marcus spoke with unwavering assurance, his gaze locked onto yours. As you looked back into his eyes, all your doubts and fears dissipated. You were certain that he would do anything to keep you safe and by his side. "We will find a way, my love. I will do whatever it takes to make you my wife."

"I believe in you," you said softly, placing a hand on his chest.

Marcus smiled and leaned in to kiss you again, his lips gentle and loving against yours. In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away except for the two of you.

"But we must be careful," Marcus reminded you, his tone serious once again. "We cannot let anyone find out about us until the time is right."

You nodded in agreement, understanding the risks that came with your relationship.

"We must also gain your father's approval," Marcus continued. "It won't be easy, but I am determined to prove myself worthy of you and your family."

You couldn't help but admire Marcus' determination and love for you. Despite the challenges ahead, he was willing to do anything to be with you.

As the sun began to rise, you woke up in your room with a smile on your face. Today was the day that Marcus would finally meet with your father and ask for your hand in marriage. You could hardly believe the moment had arrived, the day you had dreamt of for so long.

Ever since he had first confessed his love for you, the two of you had been meeting in secret, stealing moments together whenever possible. The clandestine nature of your meetings had made your bond even stronger. The thought of being with Marcus made every challenge worth it.

You dressed carefully, choosing your finest gown, and adorned yourself with simple yet elegant jewelry. Your heart raced with anticipation as you made your way to the garden where the betrothal ceremony would take place. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a serene atmosphere.

In the garden, your father stood with Marcus, deep in conversation. The sight of them together filled you with a sense of pride and hope. Marcus, in his formal attire, looked every bit the honorable and powerful man that he was—a general respected by all of Rome.

Your father turned to you, his expression warm. "My dear daughter," he began, "today is a momentous day as the gods have blessed us. General Marcus Acacius has proven himself to be a man of honor and valor. It would be a great honor for our family to be united with his."

Marcus stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "It is my greatest wish to make you my wife," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise to honor and protect you for all the days of my life."

The betrothal ceremony commenced, a formal ritual between your two families. Your father and Marcus exchanged respectful bows, symbolizing the joining of your households. Gifts were presented, and the dowry was discussed and agreed upon. A scribe stood by, ready to document the agreement in a written contract.

Marcus then produced a small, ornate box and opened it to reveal a beautiful finger ring. "This ring," he said, "is a symbol of my commitment to you, a tradition that stretches back through the ages."

He took your hand gently and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a thrill through you. The ring was exquisite, a delicate band adorned with intricate engravings that spoke of ancient craftsmanship.

"You honor me with this gift, Marcus," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion.

Marcus smiled, his eyes full of warmth. "The honor is mine, my love."

With the ring in place, you turned to the scribe, who handed you both the written agreement. You signed your name carefully, your hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within you. Marcus signed next, his signature bold and confident.

Finally, the moment came to seal the betrothal with a kiss. Marcus stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. He cupped your face in his hands and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, sweet kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment.

As you pulled away, you saw the approval in your father's eyes and felt a rush of joy and relief. You were now betrothed to Marcus, the man you loved, and your future together was set.

"Let this day be the beginning of a lifetime of happiness," your father declared, his voice filled with emotion.

Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Together, we will face whatever the future holds," he promised.

And with that, your hearts intertwined, you knew that your love would endure, growing stronger with each passing day. The journey ahead was full of promise, and with Marcus by your side, you felt ready to embrace it all.

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orphicrose · 8 months ago

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The Co-Host (Alastor x FemReader) VIII

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Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

Warnings ! ! Mentions of Death and Bl00D

@cannibalcoyote @kahlan170 @sugxryratz @multifandom-superlover

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Heart full of feelings that felt as if didn't belong to her. She felt like the shell of a person, not truly existing anymore. Having a constant out of body experience.

While he, he grieved. Grieved a relationship that never had the chance to fully blossom. Grieved what could have been, grieved who he used to be or had the chance to be. Oh, what his mother must think of him now. He never even had a chance to think about what everyone still alive thought of him, his little secret having an audience to witness. Lose ends ruining his reputation as a beloved media presence, turning him into a notorious serial killer. He knew he belonged down here, he knew he deserved everything that came his way. But the question still begged, why was she down here. Was it because she sold her soul to th devil? Or was it for a reason far to unruly to share to the light.

His hands sweat as the journal stay to close grip between his fingers. Never leaving his side. There was far more to read in a safer environment. His path was obstructed by a tall figure, appearing out of the thin air around him.

"So we finally meet, Alastor" Satans demeanor cold, as usual, and his stance meaning one of business. Hands tucked neatly into his trouser pockets.

"Satan, I assume?" Alastors smile gleamed in the light of the pentagram. Baring his sharp teeth like a predator. "How do i deserve this honor?"

Satan began to move towards the wendigo, towering over him. "As I'm sure you're aware, y/n works for me" He hummed, circling Alastor like he was going to attack at any second. "And you..." He paused to give out a deep laugh "Well, you are disrupting my line of production. You see, millions of sinners on Earth call my name daily. Wanting to make a deal. And the more souls I have, the more power I have. But y/n is the only one i trust far enough to have the duty of collecting said souls. and you" He leapt forward, holding Alastor's chin upwards with the tip of his cane. "You meddeling with her is distracting . You're costing me money, radio demon"

Eye contact was held strongly between the two, not wanting to fault to show weakness. "You want the closure of knowing your little pet isn't the saint you want to believe?" Alastor wanted to say no so badly, wanted to stay ignorant. Wanted to hold onto the belief that there was still hope for y/n to not be the same at him. He didn't want to be the Clyde to her Bonnie, he wanted to be the story she'd tell to friends in heaven. To her mother, or her father.

"She's just like you" His voice taunted, leaning closer into his ear. The words he oh so desperately never wanted to hear.

Y/n strolled through the lit up streets of hell, admiring the buildings towering over her. Something she had never really done before. Casual sinners in the streets cowering at the sight of her, leaving her a free path to walk in as they fled. Slamming doors behind them. What a skill to have, but how lonely it made her feel.

She arrived at the doors of her place of work. At first, hesitating to open the doors. Afraid of what might wait on the other side this time. But when she did open them, she found nothing. Silence and isolation filled the chambers of the rooms. It was eerie. Usually tensions built with high stress levels as soon as she walked in, demons bouncing off each other as they run from room to room. But the haunting recent history of this workplace made it seemingly abandoned. Of course, they wouldn't get away with holiday for long, for as long as Satan breathed. But for now, she would revel in the periodic silence of the structure.

Her office, the only untouched room in the building, brought her some comfort. Nothing having changed. Just as soon as she started to loosen up, her door flung open. The tall red demon appearing in front of her eyes. The same fear she felt the first time they encountered returning, sinking into her chair as he moved through the doorway and shut it behind him. "What do you want?" Her eyes showing a slowly boiling rage building up inside her. Seemingly, he was experiencing the same feeling.

He took a seat opposite her, hands sat on the desk. "I want answers, miss l/n" She stood from her seat abruptly, moving backwards. His eyes turned from frustration to a saddened look. Confused as to her shift in temperament towards him. Had he missed something?

"When were you going to tell me we knew each other?" Her question caught him of guard, looking up to her and waiting for more. She relived the memory, him covered in blood. "What is this?" She slammed down the leaflet on the desk. Alastor let out a loud sigh, he must have forgotten to put it away yesterday. She spoke loudly, halfway to shouting at him. Tears welling and dropping slowly to the floor in a rhythmic pattern.

"Are you the reason I'm down here? Did you murder me?"

"No!" His tone enraged by the accusation, rising to his feet to share her eyeline. "I think you'll find you're the reason I'm here, y/n"

She stood in silence, tears picking up there pace as they dampen her cheeks and collar.

"When you left, I struggled. I lost myself along with you. I turned into someone I regret heavily" Alastor's voice cracked, dropping any radio sound effect he may have had. Struggling to maintain an effortless smile. "But it seems you weren't so much of a saint either"

"What? What do you mean?"

"You still don't remember?"

The two stared at each other. Not truly understanding the wants or intentions of the other.

"I- Only a small fragment. I remember coming back to Earth to see you. That's how i got this" She calmed herself down, seeing that miscommunication between the two would make the situation worse. "We were close?"

"Very"

"And I did something to hurt you?"

"You died, y/n" Alastor rubbed his temple, suppressing any tears that dared to gloss his eyes. "I don't care, as to why you're here. We both did terrible things. Things that you may or may not ever remember. But..." A deep breath was taken to help steady his shaky words. "But for you to go to the lengths to forget everything, it must mean I was never held as dear to you as you were to me"

Alastor knelt to pick up the microphone left astray on the floor, brushing off his tie when he came back to his feet. Then turning to leave.

"I made myself forget because it hurt" She shouted, desperately wanting him to stay. "The pain of losing everything was to hard to deal with. I'm down here because of my own actions, that's on me. But I never excepted anyone I care about to follow me here"

She moved closer to him, needing more answers. Or some sort of closure. "What if i remembered everything? Then what? We continue where we left off?"

"No!" He turned "If you remembered me, and then realized what I am, you wouldn't even want to look at me" His face solemn. "I'd rather you only remembered one version of me, not both"

"So what do you want from me?"

He looked down to his feet. "Closure"

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