#aurelius marcus

[v-67]

I was watching a YouTube video about Marcus Aurelius

And I really liked this one part

Where he says

"We are all born for each other", the trees grow fruits for animals to feed upon, the animals die and bring nourishment to the worms

The food chain happens because we are all born for each other

I really liked this because most of the times we define or think of the food chain in a way of a particular way which is kinda sad? (Maybe it's just me who thinks that way idk? Could be)

But this makes me think of it in a better way?

If it makes sense?

We are all born for each other

It makes me feel slightly better when I think of it this way.

Few more things I loved from the video :

1. You can't control what the world throws at you, but you can control the way you react to it.

2. Maybe you have different thoughts than these so called bad people but you have your own faults nevertheless. In a different conversation on a different day, perhaps you might be the ignorant one and it's possible that you just don't understand. You can't even be sure that they're doing the wrong thing. The thief who steals to feed his family isn't wrong, you just don't understand and often in life you won't understand and you won't know you don't understand. So again. Don't judge.

Link to the video, credits to the youtuber :

[thoodleoo]

reading a quote from marcus aurelius's meditations to my middle school students at the start of every class has been one of the best decisions i ever made as a teacher, partly because it exposes them to ancient literature but mostly because now i have a bunch of twelve year olds who talk like this

[vivwritesfics]

Smooth Is The Descent

All your father did was talk of rest, but the emperors didn't take that well. Punishing your father didn't do much, so you were punished instead. It's a shame the champion gladiator they gave you too has no interest in being anything but sweet to you

Lucius Verus x reader (general Acacius's daughter)

Warnings: sa (not explicitly written but heavily implied), Canon typical violence, use of the name whore (let me know if I've forgotten anything)

Chapter Two

You were never supposed to bear the weight of his words. You hadn't been the one to say them, to let such blasphemies leave your lips. Yet here you were, facing the punishment for them. 

"No!" Your father cried when Geta turned his attention to you. "Emperor Geta, please! The words were mine! Do not punish my daughter for them!" 

But the general was ignored and you were taken away. 

For such punishment, you would have thought it treason your father had spoken. But no, he only spoke of rest, of spending some time at home with his wife and his daughter. His wife, Lucilla. She was not your mother, but you respected her still. The woman your father had chosen to marry after your mother's tragic end. 

No more details of your punishment were given to General Acacius. The twin emperors, with sickening smiles on their painted faces, sent your father away before you could utter a word to him, before you could assure him that you would be okay, that you were strong. 

Of course, if he knew the true nature of your punishment, he would have stormed the Palace to get you back. He would have taken on every man that stood between him and the twin emperors, slain them then and there. 

Whatever your fate was, you knew no harm would befall you. Well, no lasting damage, nothing that would send you to the afterlife. For the moment your hand was placed in Death and you allowed her to lead you to a forever slumber, their control over your father would have been lost. 

But it was still a punishment. 

With your wrists shackled together, you were led away. Emperor Geta had controlled his men with nothing but the flick of his wrist and you realised that your punishment had been preplanned, prepared for the moment your father stepped out of line. 

You had no idea what awaited you. Lashings, beatings. Maybe Caracalla would have you dance for them, for their entire court, the senate, and your father, wearing nothing. That had happened before. Your face had burned with humiliation and your father had been unable to look at you. 

Instead, you were taken from the Palace. The control the twin emperors had over your father was no secret, the reason why their hold over him was so strong was no secret.  

You. It was all because of you. 

"Feed her to the barbarians," the man pushing you out of the Palace had said once you'd made it to the Colosseum. 

Feed her to the barbarians.

Suddenly, you struggled. "No!" You cried as you tried to twist out of their hold. "No, you can't!" Barbarians. Once slaves from conquered nations, now gladiators, fighting for their freedom. 

Your father had been the one to conquer their lands, the one to take them prisoner. There was no telling what would happen once they found out who you were. 

"Please," you cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. "Please, they'll kill me! Once they find out who I am, they'll kill me." Clutching the soldiers armours, you dropped to your knees, still sobbing. "Please," you cried. "Please." 

He kicked you away, his sandal hitting your chest. It knocked the very wind from your lungs, left you struggling for breath as you tried to get up. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut," he spat. 

The men outside of the Colosseum, the ones that had watched you pathetically sob, grabbed you and hauled you to your feet. You couldn't help they way you cried, your feet dragging and the gravel digging into your skin. 

They carried you into the darkness, the only light source being the flicking lanterns along the walls. When you were far enough into the labyrinth beneath the Colosseum, they let you go and pushed you to your knees. The dirt and the gravel bit into your palms as you were pushed forward. 

"Come and get your fill," one of the men that had dragged you called, but they weren't talking to you. 

One hulking gladiator stepped forward. The very ground shook with every step he took towards you. He crouched in front of you, fingers beneath your chin forcing you to look at him, to look into your eyes. He took in the finery of your clothing, the gold atop your head and the bracelets around your wrists. A girl of status, that was clear. 

When he smiled, you saw mostly gums. The smile was ghastly, twisted and evil. The sort of smile you had only seen the twin emperors wear. "She'll do," he said and dragged you to your feet. 

"No!" You cried again, screaming in his face as your struggled against your grip. But he pulled you against his chest, arms wrapping around you as he dragged you away. 

A night of torture. That was what it was, nothing more. Torture that never seemed to end. Gladiators that never grew weary, gladiators that kept your torture going through the night. Torture that kept you from the reprieve of sleep. 

The sun might has risen, but you weren't to know. It was only when soldiers came to fetch you, threw you a cloak to hide your tattered clothing and your broken state, that you allowed yourself to breathe. 

Breathe without the foul scent of gladiator surrounding you. Breathe without tasting death. 

Your body ached as you were again shackled and taken back to the twin emperors. Geta and Caracalla revelled in pain and torture, this you knew. Even as General Acacius's daughter, you were not exempt. 

You were dragged before the twin emperors, cloak pulled from your body. Geta grinned at the sight of you, at the bruises marring your skin, at the way your legs trembled in exhaustion. At the way your clothing hung in tatters, showing too much of you. It was nothing they hadn't seen before, again down to your punishment. 

"A fitting reminder to your father of what will happen should he dare to question me again,"  Geta said and held out his hand. You couldn't help but tremble as you took it and kissed his ring. 

He pushed you away with a demand to clean up before the games. They were in your father's honour, after all. Sick and barbaric games, all for the pleasure of the emperors. Games meant to be in your father's honour, yes, but you knew how much he hated this. 

Your horse walked slowly, as if he was aware of just how much pain your body was in. Your patted his neck in appreciation as you rode towards your home. The gates opened as you approached and you rode through. You were slow as you jumped from his back and handed his reins off to your groom. 

Holding your cloak closer to your body, you headed inside. As much as you didn't want your father seeing you like this, as much as you wanted to run to the baths before your father or Lucilla could catch sight of you, you couldn't avoid it. 

There your father was, dressed all in white. Ready for the games, you realised. He wore concern on his face when he took in your appearance. "Oh, my daughter." General Acacius couldn't hide the sadness from his voice as he strode towards you. "I swear they'll pay for this." When his hands touched you, touched the bruises you were trying to keep hidden, you hissed and pulled away from him. 

"Do not speak such things, father," you said as you stepped away from him. "I will be ready for the games shortly."

You bathed as quickly as you could, desperate not to make your father late. God, you could only imagine the anger on Geta and Caracalla if you made him late, could only imagine the punishment that would be placed onto you. Lucillas staff helped you to dress, helped replace the jewellery the gladiators had stolen from you and helped you to fix your hair. 

Gathering your skirts, you joined your father and Lucilla. Things were quiet, you refusing to speak on your way to the games. Games, what a silly word for it. What a silly word for men fighting each other for the pleasure and amusement of other men. 

You sat silently, head bowed as you rode towards the games. Your father said nothing, you said nothing to him. It was better that way, better if you didn't talk about it. The less he knew, the better. The better for the both of you. 

At the Colosseum, you were led to your seats. Led to the Emperors box. Geta and Caracalla stood, observing the crowd as the games announcer announced your father. The crowd roared as your father stepped towards them at the request of Emperor Geta. A request he answered when Geta looked to you in silent threat. They cheered his name and clapped their hands. 

"Speak to them," said Emperor Geta as your father turned to return to you and Lucilla. Another request your father couldn't deny, another silent threat made towards you. 

It was hard to listen to your father as the Colosseum surrounded you. Mere hours before, you had been here, you had been tortured beneath her walls. The men that would come and fight in the name of your father had been your tormentors through the night. Your eyes stung with fresh, hot tears, but you didn't let them fall.

You were all too aware of the man sitting behind you. Macrinus, the gladiator king. The title did not come from his ability to fight, you knew, but his ability to choose. Choose the best fighters, the one that would win him the most coin. These were his fighters, you realised as your father finished speaking. He came and took his seat between yourself and Lucilla. The crowd was still cheering his name, showing him more love and loyalty than they showed their emperors. 

The barbarians from Numidia. That was what the games announcer had called them. You watched, none of their faces those of your tormentors, they they strode into the middle of the Colosseum. Their armour was minimal, some carrying swords, some carrying a sword and shield. Some pointed at the crowd tried to get their attention, tried to elicit cheers, and the rest were more concerned with what was to come. 

And one looked towards the Emperors. At least, you thought he was looking towards the Emperors. But Lucilla stilled, and polite smile dropping from her face. "What is it, my love?" Your father asked her, but she could not bring herself to answer. 

The rhino and its rider. You knew the face of it's rider, the face of the man that had taken you first the night before. Your blood ran cold as you watched. For the first time, your support when to the barbarians, to Macrinus. 

The rider pulled a weapon, something sharp and deadly. The crowd around you cheered for him. Your focus was for the Numidian front and centre, instructing the other gladiators. Unable to hear what he was saying, you sat forward in your seat. 

The rhino charged and the gladiators broke, running for the wall. The Beast kicked up sand, preventing you a clear picture of what was happening. "Do not watch the brutality, my daughter," your father whispered, but you couldn't help yourself. 

Violence and death didn't fascinate you like it did men. But to see the rider of the rhino brought to his knees? You weren't looking away for one second. 

But there was a reason he was undefeated. 

You watched the Numidian pick up the gravel and sand in his hands. The rider was focused on him, you realised. He charged but the gladiator stood there, unyielding. He was going to get himself killed. 

At the last moment, he threw the sand and it spread out around him, blocking him from view. The rhino still blindly charged, but the Numidian man leapt out of the way. Suddenly, hope soared within you. If anybody could bring down the rider...

With its horn smashed and its rider no longer on its back, the rhino sat in pain. But the two gladiators were on their feet, racing towards the sword. You held your breath as the Numidian grabbed it first, repeatedly used its hilt to hit your tormentor in the head. 

But then your tormentor twisted in his hold and grabbed the sword. He kicked the Numidian until he was on the floor and then roared to the crowd. 

No.

"The gates of hell are open night and day," Geta said with a grin as he looked down at the Numidian man. "Smooth is the..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to remember the rest of it. 

"Sooth of the descent, easy is the way." 

You tore your eyes away from the Numidian man as Lucilla stood. 

But the fight was still happening and you were entranced by it. The Numidian was given a shield to aid in his fight. You couldn't help but watch him, eyes roaming over every inch of muscle as he fought back. He was strong, but so was the rider. An even match, the end result came down to skill. 

But the Numidian was on the floor and the crowd was chanting. "Mercy! Mercy!" You heard them chant again and again. 

"Blood," Caracalla said to his brother wearing a twisted grin. Caracalla always wanted blood. 

Geta turned his attention to you. "What shall we do? Shall we show the barbarian Mercy?" No matter your answer, Geta was going to do what he liked. 

"Mercy," Lucilla said suddenly, before you could give your own answer. 

Geta brought his hand down, channelling the Gods. It was a farce, your God's wouldn't allow this. He clenched his fist, his thumb sticking out. As he did so, the crowd fell silent, waiting with trepidation. 

His thumb raised. Mercy. The Numidian man was to stay living, and so was your tormentor. Your breath caught in your throat from the unfairness, the injustice. If the Gods were out there, how could they le this happen?

"No mercy!" The Numidian man shouted as he got to his feet.

"Your life has been spared by the Gods-" 

"I would sooner face your blade than accept Roman mercy!" The Numidian shouted, interrupting Emperor Geta. Foolish, foolish man. 

But the fight resumed. The Numidian man dodged out of the way. He picked up his own sword, and the fight truly began. 

It wasn't long until his blade went through the stomach of the rider. Undefeated, yet all it took was a man from another land to end his life. As he sat there, on his knees, the Numidian man took his head from his body with a mighty shout. 

He was dead. The man that had taken you so forcefully last night was dead. Many of your tormentors were still alive down there, but not for much longer, not with this barbarian around. 

You released a choked sob as the barbarian gladiator walked away. 

Emperor Caracalla turned to you, still wearing a sick smile. "Perhaps we should give our new champion a prize," he said, lounging back in his seat. "An insensitive to keep winning." 

"You know, brother? I think you are right," Geta agreed and looked back to you. "A fitting prize for our new champion, wouldn't you say?" 

Hands gripped your arms and pulled you from your seat. "No!" Your father cried. "Emperors, please! You have no reason to punish her! We have done nothing wrong!" 

Emperor Geta levelled your father with a vicious, horrible look in his eye. "If you care about her life, Acacius, you will stay quiet." Geta snapped his fingers and you were dragged away, unable to look your father in the eye. If there were Gods, why weren't they helping you?

They dragged you to the baths and pushed you inside. You fell to your knees in front of the baths and the guards backed away from you, locking you inside. 

There he was, already in the water. His eyes tracked you as you stood up and brushed the dirt from your clothes. If you could stand to look at him, you would have seen just how beautiful those eyes were. 

"You don't belong down here," he said, 

You held your hands in fists by your sides as you watched him, waiting for him to move in some way. But he was completely still, watching you. Waiting for you to move, just as you were waiting for him. 

"You're right," you said, holding your chin up high. "I don't belong down here." 

He stood, water dripping from his skin as he stepped out of the baths. You looked at your sandals, unable to properly gaze upon, to see how much of a man he really was.

The gladiator laughed when you averted your gaze. But he got dressed, bothering with everything but his shirt. That you could look upon. The defined muscles of his chest, his thick arms. He was beautiful, you realised.

"You don't belong down here, yet you are here. Why?" He asked as he stood before you. You couldn't help but shrink under his gaze as he took another step.

You couldn't press yourself any closer to the wall. But you raised your chin, as if in defiance. "I am here as punishment."

His fingers touched your chin, face close to yours. Even after his bath, he still smelt like the Colosseum. "What did a little thing like you do to deserve punishment?"

Finally, you tore your eyes away from his intense, blue stare. "My father spoke of rest," you spat as you stepped away from him, arms crossed over your chest. "Rome is hungry, she must be fed."

The gladiator released a laugh, bitter and sad all at the same time. "Tell your emperors I don't want the general's whore." He walked away, leaving you in the baths.

Again, you were alone in the Colosseum. If last night was any indicator, it wouldn't be for long. You released a sob as you sat there and desperately wiped at your eyes. 'The general's whore.' The gladiator had no idea who he was talking to. Good.

Footsteps, sandals against the stone floor of the baths. You looked up, your eyed looking into the stormy blue of the handsome gladiator. "Come on," he offered you his hand.

Swallowing, trying to act like you hadn't just been crying, you placed your hand in his. His arm settled around your shoulders, holding you against him as he walked you through the Colosseum. The other gladiators stared at you, their eyes hungry. But you looked away, kept your focus on the gladiator holding you. "Why are you doing this?" You whispered.

"You wouldn't survive a night wandering around down here," he murmured as the door to his cell was pulled open.

You swallowed as you walked in. The door was shut behind you as the gladiator walked in. "Sit," he said and gestured to the bed.

You did what you were best at and obeyed. Sitting on the bed, you looked as he sat before you, his hands clasped together. He wouldn't touch you, not in the way the emperors intended for him to. That much was clear.

"What is your name, gladiator?"

He stared at you, unspeaking for a good long moment. It was unnerving, the way he just stared. His stormy eyes focused on you. "Hanno," he answered and turned away from you. "I was taken from my home by the general whose bed you warm."

"I do not warm his bed!" You shouted, suddenly on your feet. The notion had bile ready to rise in your throat.

Hanno laughed. "Yet you enjoy his company. You sit with him while you watch us, get sick pleasure from watching us maim each other.”

"I was there by order of Emperor Geta!" You challenged, standing up. "You act as if I have a choice, as if I want to sit there and watch men get slaughtered. No, I hate it! I don't see why you have to fight!"

He stood, too, towering over you once again. "I fight for my freedom." His voice was so low, dangerous, even. "I fight because my home was taken from me by your general. My home, my wife, taken from me because, what? Because Rome was hungry. Do not lecture me on choice."

You sat back down, tears in your eyes. You knew what your father did, but being told such details was something else. "I'm sorry," you sobbed as you pulled your knees up to your chest. "On behalf of Rome, of the general, I truly am sorry."

A sigh left his lips as he sat beside you. "It's not your place to apologise for what the general has done," he said and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Rome has been a corrupt place, long before you came along."

You blinked up at him, tears resting on your lashes. "What was your home like?" You asked and turned your head towards him.

He told you everything, told you about his wife, his home. The chickens he chased away from the crops and the harvest. The conversation always steered back to his wife.

You didn't ask what happened, didn't force him to relive the trauma so soon. But you couldn't hide your yawns, or the way your eyes were drooping. "Rest now," he said as he stood from his cot. "I will not disturb you."

You laid down, but you didn't sleep, not immediately. Your eyes were shut, but you weren't asleep. Every time Hanno moved, you opened your eyes to watch him, to make sure he wasn't going to use you. Not that you could stop him. But he didn't. He never laid a hand on you.

Eventually, you drifted off, eyes shut and breathing steady. Hanno watched you for a moment. It wasn’t your fault, what Rome had done to his land, to his home. It wasn’t your fault, what the general had done, and he wouldn't take it out on you.

a/n: definitely more parts to come! I won't lie I didn't mean to find Paul hot but his charms have bewitched me

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy! preview two

ONE

A starry night, as though the gods themselves had blessed the heavens. You stand in the place where you often meet General Acacius to maintain appearances. He will spend the day attending to Emperors Geta and Caracalla alongside his wife, Lucilla. Meanwhile, your day will revolve around the gladiators—or, more precisely, their wounds. You have been summoned to tend to the gladiators who will participate in that day's opening of the games—battles they will wage against one another or against beasts. Your thoughts are divided between Marcus Acacius and Hanno, the gladiator you strongly suspect harbors intentions of avenging his wife’s death at Acacius's hands.

"Mea domina, you are here," General Acacius murmurs as he approaches, though his complexion appears unusually pale. He is dressed in a tunic that conceals most of his body, with a laurel crown adorning his head. The lateness of the hour and the absence of natural light obscure your view, but as he draws nearer, you notice a wound bleeding on his arm. You rush toward him, your concern overcoming any formality. Without hesitation, you expose the area of his injury, removing the fabric to inspect it. His skin is feverishly warm beneath your touch.

"Who did this to you, Acacius?" you ask, a wave of anger surging through your body, mingling with an overwhelming sense of concern. "By the Gods, you should have come to me sooner," you say, your voice laced with frustration as your fingers graze his fevered skin, causing him to shiver under your touch. You guide him to a nearby bench, urging him to rest. Knowing him well, you suspect he has concealed his injury from everyone, unwilling to reveal any vulnerability. Fortunately, all are accustomed to you tending to him—it is, after all, one of your roles as his lover.

"I did not wish to trouble anyone, least of all you, Y/N," Acacius replies, his tone steady as he attempts to mask his discomfort. "A gladiator loosed an arrow at me—it must have struck me somehow. Macrinus certainly knows how to select skilled men for his arena." His voice retains its commanding timbre, though his actions betray his weariness. He pulls you closer by the waist, resting his head against your abdomen, as though seeking solace in your presence.

"General, we must go to the place where Ravi keeps his instruments. I must tend to your wounds and return you, whole and well, to your wife," you say, holding Acacius' face in your hands, as if willing him to remain conscious. His deep brown eyes meet yours, their gaze uncharacteristically tender.

"But this is my time with you," he whispers, taking your hands in his and pressing a kiss to each. "And I have told you, you need not address me as General. Our relationship has long surpassed formalities," he says, his voice softer now as he finishes kissing your hands. A fleeting thought tempts you to lean down and kiss him, but before you can act, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. Guards arrive, accompanied by Lucilla and Ravi. You instinctively want to withdraw from Acacius, but his unconscious state forces you to hold him upright.

"Take my husband to his quarters. Ravi is here to see to his treatment," Lucilla commands, her tone dismissive, her gaze avoiding yours entirely. The guards comply, carrying the now-limp Acacius away.

"Y/N," Lucilla addresses you, her voice sharp and deliberate, "from this moment forward, Ravi will be responsible for Acacius' care. I trust the gladiators will suffice to occupy your attention." Her words, though polite in form, carry an unmistakable message: your role as Acacius' lover is nearing its end. Vulnerability washes over you, but you lower your head in acknowledgment, as if understanding her decree. Without another glance, she follows the guards to accompany her husband.

Ravi approaches, carrying his instruments and tools. "I need you to go to Macrinus' gladiator and tend to his wounds. Macrinus has already informed the guards of his gladiator's need for treatment, so you need not fear," Ravi instructs, already preparing to attend to Acacius himself. Fear is far from your mind. The only sentiment stirring within you is anger, directed at the one who dared harm Acacius. You nod in silent agreement and gather the necessary supplies to treat the gladiator, your resolve firm as you set out to fulfill your task.

The guards grant you entry without hesitation, their expressions indifferent. Inside the dimly lit cell, you find Hanno—his body marred by fresh wounds, his face pale but defiant. He appears battered, as though every ounce of strength has been drained from him. Anticipating the state you might find him in, you came prepared with tools to clean his wounds, at least superficially.

"The lovely healer graces me with her presence once more," Hanno mutters, his tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and faint amusement. A strained smile flickers across his lips as he clutches his abdomen, evidently in pain. "I suppose you're here to finish what the guards so generously began." His voice is hoarse and weakened, yet it retains a biting edge.

A chill runs through you as you step closer to him, fully entering his cell. The air feels heavier here, and his piercing gaze follows your every move. "They must have hurt you for what you did to General Acacius," you state, your voice measured as you kneel, setting down your tools. The mention of Acacius draws no sign of remorse from Hanno; instead, he seems emboldened, inching himself nearer to you with deliberate subtlety. As you settle beside him, his proximity becomes undeniable, his rugged presence filling the confined space. Though weakened, there’s an unsettling calm in his demeanor, as though he is testing you, seeking something unspoken within your resolve.

As you begin to cleanse his wounds, the facade of the formidable gladiator crumbles beneath the weight of his pain. Low, anguished groans escape his lips despite his efforts to suppress them. It becomes clear that he is suffering deeply, though he clings to the last vestiges of his pride.

"Ah, here we are again," Hanno murmurs between strained breaths, his voice laced with an uneven mixture of sarcasm and torment. "You, seizing the opportunity to inflict more pain under the guise of tending my wounds, and I, striving to focus on your beauty to mask just how much it hurts."

A flicker of anger rises within you, mingled with a reluctant pity for the state of his battered body. "Flattery will not grant you any special treatment," you reply sharply, leaning in closer to examine his injuries more thoroughly. "I warned you not to harm Acacius dishonorably. I thought you might exercise restraint, but I was mistaken."

With deft movements, you remove the upper portion of his tattered garment to gain better access to the worst of his injuries. He offers no resistance, watching you with an unsettling mix of amusement and interest, as if savoring the attention. "I do recall saying I would take your request under consideration," Hanno says nonchalantly, as though the matter were trivial.

Frustrated by his flippant attitude, you press a tender wound more firmly than necessary. He lets out a guttural cry of pain, his composure faltering for a moment. "Forgive me," you say with a mocking smile, your tone cold. "I must have forgotten to take your suffering under consideration."

He meets your gaze, a faint, knowing grin curling his lips as if he derives some twisted pleasure from your defiance. "If you wish to exact vengeance, then take the dagger you’ve hidden and drive it into my heart," he says, his voice low and steady, despite the evident strain. "It is the only way to shield your precious General Acacius from my wrath." Hanno leans closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours, the proximity of his battered form unsettling. His observation of the concealed blade leaves you momentarily stunned, your grip tightening as the tension between you hangs heavy in the air.

"Is that what you believe I should do—kill you?" you ask, a faint trace of amusement in your tone as you marvel at Hanno's audacity. He leans closer to your face, his gaze sharp and provocative.

"If protecting him is your goal, then yes," Hanno replies, his voice steady, his eyes fixed upon yours with an intensity that borders on insolence.

You smile, intrigued by how easily he speaks of his own demise. "General Acacius is a wise and seasoned warrior. He will know how to deal with you," you say, leaning in as if accepting the challenge his very presence seems to demand.

"If you think I seek an honorable battle with Acacius solely to shield him," you continue, your voice steady and measured, "then you are gravely mistaken. Look at yourself, gladiator. To achieve vengeance, it is not merely strength or skill you require. A true fighter knows which battles are worth fighting." Your hand moves deftly to clean a wound near his neck, blood still seeping from it. He winces slightly but does not pull away, his sharp blue eyes never leaving your face.

"The way you speak, it seems as though you've developed an affection for me, healer," Hanno remarks, his tone soft but probing. "If that is the case, why carry a dagger?" He gently grasps your arm, his grip firm yet careful, as if urging you to give him your full attention.

"Because the wife of General Acacius made it clear before the guards that I will no longer tend to his care. For many of the men here, that declaration is as good as an invitation to see me as their sport," you reply, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes.

For a moment, something shifts in his expression—a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "I see," he murmurs, his voice lower now. "Then show me. Show me how you would wield it to defend yourself." Though puzzled by his request, you reach for the dagger and position it as you would in a moment of self-defense, your stance steady and deliberate. His eyes follow your movements with a keen focus, his lips curving into a faint, almost approving smile as he observes your resolve.

"You’re holding it incorrectly," he says, taking your hands, still clutching the dagger, and guiding them to a precise spot on the left side of his chest. "Here. Strike here on any opponent—more than once, if need be—and you’ll increase your chances of survival," he instructs, his voice steady, his grip firm but not overbearing.

You had never considered the necessity of knowing how to fight; before Acacius, your late husband had always been there to shield you. But now, an unsettling vulnerability lingers, heavy and unshakable.

"You place too much trust in me," you murmur, your gaze locked with his. "I could hurt you with this dagger right now."

His lips curl into a faint, genuine smile, weak but without hesitation. "Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if you did," Hanno replies, the tension between you thickening.

You drop the dagger back to its place, snapping yourself out of the moment. "Turn around. I need to apply an herbal salve to the wound on your back so I can retire to my quarters. It has been a long day," you instruct, watching as he complies without protest. His physique, sculpted as one would expect of a gladiator, does not escape your notice. But before your thoughts can wander too far, you refocus, applying the salve with care. He grunts softly at the touch, his pain audible but restrained.

"I could teach you how to defend yourself," Hanno murmurs as you finish tending to his wounds. Once done, he turns to face you, his expression expectant.

"Are you certain you wish to help me, knowing my loyalty lies with General Acacius?" you ask, genuine curiosity laced in your tone.

He lifts a hand to your face, his touch gentle as he caresses your cheek. "Something tells me you need help, and I want to offer it. General Acacius or not, this is about you," he emphasizes, pointing at you, "and me," he finishes, gesturing to himself.

You hesitate, uncertainty flickering in your eyes, but the sincerity in his gaze stirs something within you. Perhaps it would be wise to accept his offer. "Very well, gladiator," you reply, taking the hand that had touched your face and grazing it softly with your fingertips. "Teach me what you know, and I promise to mend you each time you require it."

[ratective]

garnet is the only one who will try to argue with a philosopher that literally shares her philosophy if shes bored (she really loves winning arguments)

[runawaymarbles]

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius (🏴‍☠️)

Did a leather bookbinding and tooling class last month (along with @mourningmountainsbindery and @zhalfirin!) - definitely have things to improve on as soon as I figure out how to run a propane burner in my workspace without accidentally asphyxiating myself.

[thoughtkick]

Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.

Marcus Aurelius

[quotemadness]

The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.

Marcus Aurelius

[cinematic-literature]

The Holdovers (2023) by Alexander Payne

Book title: Meditations (Τὰ εἰς ἑαυτόν in Ancient Greek; 180 A.D.) by Marcus Aurelius

[fawninthesnow]

𐙚 Gilded Charm: Gladiator II One Shot 𐙚

Lucius Verus x fem reader!

Summary: You, part of a family of visiting royalty, decide to sneak into the jails beneath the colosseum. There, you meet a charming young man, Lucius.

Warnings/Contains: f4m•semi public s3x•dirty talk •mild choking•edging•love bites•pinning •size kink• cock warming• male dominant, not proof read.

Word count: 1.5k

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Lucius sat on the edge of his makeshift bed inside his cell. He pondered as the screams and cheers from the colosseum echoes into the jails beneath. All of it made his heart ache.

He would never admit this to anyone but he was scared of--- “Wake up, you bastards!” The wardens of the jail went around to each cell, banging upon the bars, all but his. “Come eat!” Lucius stood by the door of his cell, sneering at the guards who refused to unlock his. He could only watch as the other men went to the food hall to eat.

“Hey!” He yelled after the wardens, “Hey! I’m still in here!” After being ignored, his sore ego made him sit down. Nothing here was civil, nor equal—not even the portions of slop fed to dying men. He frowned and the hall of cells fell silent.

The man stared at the sword that rested against the wall outside of his cell. He swallowed his saliva before kneeling. His arm slid through one of the bars as he reached for the steel. “C’mon…ehg!” He strained as the seconds passed, his tight muscles sandwiched between the two bars. “Dammit!” He spat.

You wandered down the hall, letting your gown drag behind you. You knew you should not be beneath the colosseum, especially as visiting royalty, but what can keep a girl from feeding her curiosity? Especially when its right in her fingertips. Besides, you were only here for two more nights—now was the time. “Ahg.” You groaned aloud. “Where are all the sweaty men…?” You asked aloud, looking in each cell.

“Eating. You just missed them.” Lucius sat against the wall of his cell, twirling wheat on his index finger.

You curiously wandered down the corridor to the sound of the man. *Oh, my.* “I don’t think so.” The two of you share a smile and you kneel outside his cell. “You are him? Hano. The talk of Rome.”

“My Lady, why are you here alone?” He looked over your royal garb. The handmade designs, and Latin woven into the indigo purple gown. “Hm?”

“I am merely looking around. Is that a crime?”

“Well, no. But if you are looking for fun, I unfortunately cannot help you.” He said softly, shaking the bars of his cell. The man smiled charismatically, attempting to focus on your eyes instead of your breasts held by loose wraps.

You pout. You were not used to getting denied what you wanted,; especially when it came to men. “But...you could die any day.” You express dramatically, his eyes on your hips as your stood.

“Yes, that is true. Have you no husband to mourn me with?”

“No.” You said sadly, bending down towards him. “I will be left to think of you all alone, Hano.”

He stood on the opposite side of his cell. “Forgive me, my Lady. My name is Lucius, yours?”

“[Y/n].” Your hand reached out to him, your fingertips pressed on his biceps, damp with sweat and humidity. They were firm, as were his triceps. “I am not convinced you can carry me.” You teased, caressing his body. He glared at the wall behind you for some reason and you turned around. A bundle of keys on a hook.

You swayed your hips for a moment, thinking. You could get in serious trouble just by talking to this barbarian. On the other hand, you’re already here, step inside at least. When you grabbed the keys and turned back to him, a look of hunger, and desire rid the man’s face. Part of you wanted to leave, go back to your place behind the emperors but it seems they haven’t noticed. “Try the silver one.” He muttered. You turned the key inside the lock and the large door groaned as it opened.

He took your palm, guiding you inside. You were a stark contrast to the environment around, however that did not discourage you from standing against him.

For a moment, he looked away from you, “I could get lashes for this…”

You whisper, trailing your shaking hands down his arms and to his hands. “I will make sure that does not happen.”

He turned back to you, his hand slid into your hair, holding onto the curly texture. “Let us hope so.” You nodded as he pulled your hair back.

“I swear.”

The man turned you around, his erection pressing above your round ass. “Hm,” He rests against your skin, holding your body against his with his strong forearm. “You can take it, it’s alright.” He moved sweaty and curly strands of your hair from your face. “Keep a lookout for anyone, love.”

You took a few deep breaths as he pushed up the fabric of your dress. His fingers rubbed circles on your ass repeatedly. He let out a soft, relaxed sigh as you stayed still. The audacity of this young woman was quite refreshing, to linger outside his cell like a common whore in heat, then come into his cell with her legs spread. This was going to be one of the best nights he’s had in a bit. His breath was hot against your neck and his grip on your body tightened. “Please…please.”

“Won’t I hurt you?” He asked in a rather teasing manner, moving one hand away from your thigh to slowly slide his fingers up to your heat. “Aren’t you excited?” He asks while resting his head against yours. He tucked his head over your shoulder, watching your breasts as the loose dress gave out, undressing you. “Oh my…”

“Lucius, we should not waste time, please.” You begged, pressing your ass onto his hard cock.

Lucius felt the power he had over you, the submission he possessed when he took and held you. He groaned, the scent of you and your perfume…it was enough to make him want your tight cunt around his cock. He could not resist anymore, kissing the back your neck roughly as his hand cuffed the front. You tried to quiet your moans but with every kiss, his right fingers gently grazed your warm and sopping clit. “Keep quiet.” You knew what he was saying was right, you were being too loud! But it was impossible. Your moans turned to whimpers, pathetic whimpers.

“L- Lucius, please, your fingers.”

“You beg a lot, [].” You shut your eyes to the sound of his voice calling out your name. “You like that?” He squeezed the front of your throat, pulling the rest of your clothing off until you stood in only your sandals. You shut your eyes. It was embarrassing being so exposed in the middle of this jail. Anyone could walk in those doors at any point! But he did not care.

Your nipples gently grazed the cold bars of his cell and your knees trembled from the stimulation.

“Aww,” He murmered in your ear, kissing the sensitive skin. Slowly, his thick digits tucked inside of your cunt, making you reel as your sensitive walls took him inside. “You’re a mess.” He said with a chuckle, pressing you tightly between the cell bars and him. There was nowhere for you to wiggle out of his grip. He gently stroked his fingers inside your pussy, pushing on your clitoris as he did so. With each pass, you shut your eyes tighter. “No, no, open your eyes. You need to keep a look out, remember? Do not close your eyes again, am I understood?”

You moaned helplessly, trying to keep yourself focused on the doors. The skin of his warm, and heavy cock pressed on your ass. Precum leaked between your ass. “I, listen, I-“

“Do you want to get fucked or not?”

You swallowed your saliva. If you leave now, you might get caught anyway. “I do.” He circled his tip against the opening to your small cunt. Slowly, he pushed his cock into your pussy. Before you could yelp, he covered your mouth with his large palm. You whimpered behind his palm, looking behind at him.

“You’re ok…” He lets go of your waist and caressed your cheek. “Shhh,” He pulsed inside your cunt as his hips bucked, pushing you into the bars. His gentle hands kept you still as your eyes fluttered closed; cries from your mouth only meeting his palm. “You want to say something?” He grunted out as you soaked his cock, your wetness dripping down to his balls.

Lost in the pleasure of your cunt, he uncovered your mouth and held onto your breast, your soft flesh and hard nipples only made him needy to come. However, he needed to last if he were going to prove a point. He held back his orgasm, turning you over on the cot. You caught your breath for a moment before he slipped back inside your cunt, stretching you as you lay beneath him.

“Mhhh!”

“Shut up,” He pushed a hand over your throat as he continued to stuff you full of his length.

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More on master list! <3

[joytri]

Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

[wild3stdrms]

aaannndddd where's the lucius verus x reader????

[thoodleoo]

love reading older translations of ancient greek and roman works because theyre often free and easily accessible and sometimes the older language gives you something insane. like ok thank you marcus aurelius stoic emperor of rome from 161 to 180 AD i will make sure to either be erect or be made erect

[vivwritesfics]

Easy Is The Way

He made it very clear that you would entertain his company, but little else. He would no fall for you, but he would not be cruel to you. He would be kind to you, he would care for you, but he would not let himself fall for you

Lucius Verus x reader (general Acacius's daughter)

Chapter One

"What did he do to you?" Your father whispered once you had gotten home.

"Nothing," you said quickly, shaking your head. "Father, he was not cruel to me. He did not lay a hand on me. He allowed me to rest." Your arms were crossed over your stomach, holding your sides as you looked at the floor.

Your father wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. "I will put a stop to this," he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek. "Even if it ends me."

You swallowed, your mouth dry as you stepped back, as you walked away from him. The baths. You just wanted to wash. Wash away the Colosseum, wash away all of it.

Hanno. His home had been taken from him by your father. His life had been ruined by your father. His wife, murdered at your father's command. He had no reason to be kind to you, had every reason to wrap his hands around your neck and watch you die.

It was the revenge he so deserved. Take the life of Marcus Acacius' daughter, avenge his wife.

Something was going on with Lucilla.

As you bathed, you heard whispers. Things that the staff had overheard, that they were sharing amongst themselves. But they weren't sharing it with you. You tried to listen in as you soaked in the warm waters of the private baths in your home, but they were keenly aware of you.

The information was not for your ears, that was clear.

Your father was being secretive, quiet. Whatever was going on with Lucilla was shared between them, not for your ears. You gritted your teeth and tried to not let the frustration show on your face.

No matter what room you entered, it fell silent as soon you did. Even if you tried to creep, you were unable to keep yourself hidden. Your fathers trained ears were able to pick you up the moment your sandals hit the stone floor.

You couldn't hide that it frustrated you. Not knowing, being left in the dark.

The next day of the games. You didn't expect your gladiator to survive. But he wasn't your gladiator, was he? He was just a gladiator who happened to be kind to you.

Maybe the Emperors would make another example out of you. Maybe they would send you down to the Colosseum again if he won, send you to be his prize. You could spend time with him, get to know more about him and his home.

The colosseum was full of water. It looked beautiful, but you knew that it was deadly. Water full of sharks and, soon, the remains of gladiators.

Seated beside your father, you watched as the ships emerged. There was little you could hear over the cheer of the crowd, but Hanno's voice rang out. You couldn't make out what he was saying, but it was clear as day that he was leading his men.

Whilst everyone cheered, while the twin Emperors grinned down at the scene in front of them, the scene that had been carefully curated for their amusement and pleasure, you shut your eyes. The violence and blood and gore of men fighting men had already been too much for you.

This was another level of barbaric.

The same air of unease settled over Lucilla and your father. She held his hand, unable to breathe as the flaming arrows were shot towards the gladiators.

The sail was on fire as the two ships headed towards each other. Muttered prayers left your lips, not loud enough for anybody to hear over the noises of the crowd. This wasn't real to them. Some game to fill their afternoon.

The first gladiator fell into the water. You could only hope that the arrow piercing his armour got to him before the shark did. The beast grabbed him, tore him apart as the water around his body turned red.

Your heart beat erratically as you searched for Hanno. There he was, still commanding the gladiators. You released a breath, sitting back in your seat.

They used the ship like a battering ram, splintering the hull of the other one. Immediately, Hanno began running. He leapt onto the other ship, taking two men down with him.

Another man fell into the water. The sharp immediately grabbed him and dragged him to his death.

In a way you were grateful for the smoke that obscured your view. You couldn't see the danger, couldn't see the brutality happening before you.

You couldn't see if Hanno was stabbed. You couldn't see if he was tossed into the water and torn apart by the sharks. In a way it was a blessing.

But you didn't know what was happening. It had unease settling in your chest as you desperately tried to see what was going on. The glimpses, not long enough to see which gladiator was which, did nothing to settle you.

The ships moved closer, oars splintering against the Colosseum walls. They were in front of you now, close enough that you could hear every time their swords clashed, every grunt that left their lips. You couldn't look away.

Suddenly, you caught a glimpse of Hanno. He grabbed the crossbow and raised it as the other gladiators fought. For a moment, one moment where your anxiety had spiked so high, you thought he was pointing it at you. But his eyes were trained on you, he hadn't even looked your way.

Your father. He wanted to kill your father. If it wasn't for the gladiator that knocked into him, he would have. He loosed the arrow as the other gladiator touched him and the arrow embedded itself in Emperor Geta's seat.

You couldn't stop the way you gasped. For a brief second, while he picked himself up, he looked at you. Geta shouted. You didn't know what he shouted as you sat forward in your seat. Your father stood, pulling Lucilla up with him. It wasn't safe, that was clear.

Your father pulled you to your feet, but you shrugged off his grip, desperate to see more. Hanno would not hurt you, you knew that much.

Geta and Caracalla ran, their tails tucked between their legs. But your father was still, unable to look away from the gladiator that had threatened his life. Did he know that he was the real target? That the arrow was never meant for Emperor Geta?

"In the name of the Emperors!" The games master shouted, drawing out every word "The victor is Hanno!"

Macrinus stood, and you did the same. You raced out ahead of him, heading the way they took you the day before, when you being given as a prize, as a punishment.

They didn't stop you as you moved through the colosseum. Everybody beneath the colosseum cheered, beat their chests as Hanno as his army (because really, what else were they? They were willing to follow him to the ends of the earth) walked through.

You watched, hidden behind the men as they stopped. "Who did this?" Somebody shouted, but you couldn't see who. You didn't move around too much, desperate to keep yourself hidden until you could get to Hanno.

Nobody answered. The cheering stopped, all eyes on the gladiators that had just finished competing. The ones that had made it out of there alive, anyway.

"WHO DID THIS!"

"It was me!"

"I did it!"

"I did it!"

"I did it!"

There were shouts from every direction, making it impossible to pinpoint the true culprit. But you knew, you had seen it first had. It struct you then how close you were to losing your life at Hanno's hands.

"Geta will want retribution for all of you." He approached Hanno as each word left his lips, seemingly punctuated by his steps. "Did you learn to shoot the same place you learnt to recite poetry?"

"Be glad it wasn't me or that arrow would have found you." Hanno's deep voice echoed throughout the Colosseum. Low and deadly, reverberating through you. But the laughs of the gladiators drowned it out.

He turned away, moved through his fellow gladiators until his eyes landed on you. His eyebrows went up, but he said nothing as he grabbed you and tucked you into his side.

It wasn't a move of affection, a move to keep you safe from the other gladiators. "I was not aiming for you," he said quietly, the words meant only for you.

"I know," you replied as he sat down. "You were aiming for the general, weren't you?"

He nodded and your fingers worked to strip him of his armour. He sat still, staring up at you as you tugged the leather. His injuries weren't as bad as they were the game before. The wounds that Ravi had closed up previously had remained closed through the game.

"I don't blame you for wanting to kill the general," you whispered, rocking on your feet. You didn't realise that you were doing it until he grabbed the backs of your thighs to still you.

The both of you were still, unmoving as you stared at each other. Hanno blinked at you, searched your face. You didn't know what he was reading in your face.

You wanted to touch him, wanted to reach up and wipe the blood from his cheeks. You wanted to touch his shoulders, feel the muscles there. He could easily cage you in with nothing but his arms, and it would leave you feeling nothing but safe.

"You watch the games with him although you hate it," he said, eyes still searching your face. You didn't move didn't react. "You are there as punishment. Just as you are here as punishment."

You shook your head and let go of his armour, letting it drop to the floor. "Yesterday, the emperors sent me here to set an example for my father. To show him what they can do should he threaten to disobey. Today, I am here of my own volition."

You stepped back as Ravi approached, letting him check over your gladiator. But still, Hanno was looking at you. "Why?" He asked.

Swallowing, you looked at your sandals. Ravi glanced at you for a moment, only a moment, and turned his attention back to Hanno. Did he know who you were? He must have. You could only pray that he didn't reveal you.

"I had to know," you whispered, breath catching in your throat. "I had to make sure they hadn't killed you for what you have done."

It took you by surprise when Hanno laughed. He let his gaze drop to his lap as he continued to laugh. "I will not be slain by a Roman sword," he said and Ravi stepped away from him.

Standing once again, Hanno grabbed it. It wasn't harsh, pulling you close once again to lead you through the Colosseum. No other gladiator dared to look at you when Hanno, the champion, had a hold of you.

It was a night much like the first. This time, Hanno sat closer to you as you. Your words were hushed, whispered between the two of you. To anybody looking into his cell, it would have looked like a sweet moment, two lovers, sharing their affection between each other.

But it wasn't that. You spoke of Rome, of a dream that had died when Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla took power. The dream of Lucilla's father, of Lucilla. You didn't mention her name in front of Hanno, didn't mention the wife of the general.

Hanno echoed back your thoughts. He, a man from Numidia, had the same dream of Rome. A free Rome, a Rome for the people.

"You speak such fantasies," you whispered as you laid down on his bed, forced to lay against each other by the size of it. "You speak of it like you how great Rome can be."

He let his arms wrap around you, pull you close so that you weren't hanging from the edge of the bed. A more comfortable way to lay, that was how the both of you justified it to yourselves. He moved closer and you realised why when he started speaking. So quietly, you wouldn't have been able to hear it if his lips weren't pressed against your ear.

"I am from Numidia, yes, but I was not born there," he said to you, lips kissing your ear with every word.

Hanno gave you no more information. But you took in his words, a secret you would keep close to your chest. He brushed your hair back, laying your head down on his bicep. "Sleep now," he said to you, and you shut your eyes.

But you didn't sleep right away. "Hanno?" You whispered, shuffling closer to him. You opened your eyes as he grunted, meeting the one eye he had open to look at you. "What will you do once you are a free man?"

Hanno let his eye fall shut and furrowed his brow. "The Colosseum does not lead to freedom. I will die in there, killed by another man or worn down by exhaustion, struck down by an infected wound or a disease."

You felt yourself deflate, your hand on his bare chest. "I do not wish that for you." His lack of response, steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingertips left you to believe that he had fallen asleep.

***

You were not there, not in his house. Not in the palace, either. Wherever you were, your father just had to hope that you were safe.

General Acacius was doing this for his wife. He didn't want you mixed up in it. There was no telling what the Emperors would do to you if they found out what Acacius was doing.

He prayed to the Gods before he set off to the Colosseum, his most loyal men following him. Cloaked and under the cover of darkness, they rode to the Colosseum. Acacius was privy to the Emperor's plans for their praetorians, where they were stationed.

It should have been safe.

His men surrounded him as they marched into the Colosseum, holding their torches high. They walked through the stone corridor, heading towards the gladiators sleeping quarters. He didn't know that you were there, sleeping soundly against the gladiator that had tried to kill him.

Suddenly, his men dropped, arrows embedded into their necks. Their arrows hit their marks, leaving only the General Acacius standing.

No.

The Emperor's guards were not supposed to be here. This wasn't right. How could they have known about a plan hushed between husband and wife?

A guard used his sword to push the hot from Acacius's head, revealing his face. He kept a look of defiance on his face has he stared at the guard. But inside, he was screaming.

Somebody had betrayed them. Because of that, he was going to lose everything. His wife, his co-conspirator, would be punished in much the same way he would be. Death.

You were innocent in all of this. You didn't know what Lucilla and your father had been planning, yet the Emperor's would punish you. Punish you to hurt him one last time before he was put to death.

Your life at risk because of him. He would never forgive himself.

a/n: i'm hoping to do just one more part for this mini series, but I am loving it, i must admit - also, do i change my blog theme to lucius?

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[pascaloverx]

STARVE

FANFIC: LUCIUS VERUS X READER X GENERAL ACACIUS

Author's Note: As a test to see if this fanfic might appeal to anyone other than myself, I decided to share a preview with you all. If you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment—I haven’t yet decided if I’ll continue writing it. The characters do not belong to me but rather to the Gladiator II universe created by Ridley Scott.

one

PREVIEW

Gladiators fighting for their lives in the most savage of manners. The savagery does not startle you; you are accustomed to it. Your late husband often had to fight, quite literally, with tooth and nail to survive. He perished as he fought, dreaming that one day you both might escape. Left alone, hollow within, you were spared by General Acacius.

General Marcus Acacius delivered you from the fate of becoming a courtesan to Emperors Geta and Caracalla. In an act of calculated benevolence, he claimed you as his concubine (concubinatus), securing your liberty through this arrangement. For this, you harbor a profound sense of gratitude each day of your life. From that moment forth, you and the General Acacius have maintained the appearance of a romantic entanglement. He graciously granted you leave to serve as an attendant to Ravi, the steward responsible for tending to the wounded gladiators.

"I have heard that you are Macrinus' new gladiator. It seems the battlefield has taken its toll on you," you remark, approaching the gladiator. Hanno—that is what you heard him called. His blue eyes fix upon you, studying you as though he seeks to unravel your very essence.

"I belong to no one," the gladiator replies, his voice strained as he winces in pain. "But I do appreciate your company. Ravi may be a skilled healer, yet nothing compares to the presence of a beautiful woman." His words are accompanied by a grimace, his arm bearing a wound, likely inflicted by the blade of a sword. Positioning yourself before him, you reach for one of the tools Ravi uses to stitch the torn flesh of gladiators. With steady hands, you then lift a cup of wine laced with opium, offering it to the gladiator to ease his suffering.

The gladiator drinks the wine greedily, allowing the liquid to trickle down his lips. "If my appearance pleases you, I suggest you focus on that," you remark coolly. "For what I am about to do will bring you little satisfaction." Without hesitation, you begin stitching his wound, prompting him to release several groans of pain.

"You seem to take pleasure in causing me pain," he mutters between groans, a chuckle escaping him despite the agony etched across his face.

"Do not misinterpret me so gravely. I take pride in being of service to the recovery of gladiators," you reply while continuing to stitch his wound. "I lost my husband to one of the games orchestrated by Emperors Geta and Caracalla. So rest assured, my dedication lies entirely in aiding you." As you work, his expressions shift, the pain visibly dulling—likely the effects of the wine and opium taking hold. Yet, his hand from the uninjured arm suddenly grips your leg firmly, near your thigh. The gesture appears unintentional. You glance at him, startled.

"Forgive me," he murmurs, withdrawing his hand swiftly, your silent gaze alone conveying your disapproval. "I believe I lost control of my actions for a moment." You offer no verbal response, but the unspoken understanding in your exchange pleases you.

"There are rumors circulating that you have come in search of something," you say, your gaze lingering on the ring adorning the gladiator's finger. "I wonder if what you seek is vengeance—or perhaps a love lost." He lifts his eyes to meet yours, as though carefully crafting the right response.

"Vengeance for a lost love," he finally admits, his voice laden with the fury of grief. "My wife perished under the command of the General." The intensity of his words is mirrored in his eyes, now burning with a hunger that seems insatiable.

A fleeting discomfort stirs within you as his words settle. You owe much to General Acacius; your life, your freedom, and perhaps even a part of your heart are tied to him. He has been nothing but an honorable man in your eyes, despite his marriage to Lucilla. A genuine affection for him lingers within you, though you respect the boundaries of his union.

"Since you do not know me, I feel compelled to warn you—should your vengeance be aimed at General Acacius, you will find no ally in me. I am among the many who will not stand idly by should harm come to him," you declare, finishing your care for his wound.

"Ah, and we have only just met, yet I seem to have displeased you already," the gladiator replies, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "But allow me to ask—if you had the chance to kill the one responsible for your husband's death, would you not take it?"

His gaze is unwavering, piercing into yours. You avert your eyes, exhaling slowly before stepping closer to him. "When my husband died, vengeance had no place in my heart," you say firmly. "I was consumed with fear—wondering which emperor I would be forced to lay with to survive, or whose entertainment I would become. Fortunately, General Acacius spared me from all those fates and ensured I was kept far from the gladiator who killed my husband." Your eyes meet his with an intensity that demands understanding, your voice steady and resolute. He listens in silence, his focus unbroken.

"Then you are indebted to General Acacius," the gladiator remarks, his tone probing as he holds your gaze. You step away, irritation rising within you, though you refuse to admit it aloud.

"You could say so—I am indebted to General Acacius. Does that make you angry with me?" you ask earnestly, taking a cloth soaked in wine and carefully pressing it against the gladiator's wounds.

"No, I do not feel anger toward you," he replies, his voice steady despite the sting of the alcohol against his skin.

"Gladiator, you are ready to fight once more. Should you suffer any wounds in the future and prefer Ravi's care, I will not take offense," you say, finishing your work.

He smiles softly, gradually regaining his composure. "My name is Hanno. You may call me that, and I would like to keep you as the one responsible for my care." Hanno says, taking your hands as if in gratitude.

"I am Y/N, since we are introducing ourselves," you reply. "And since we are being friendly, I will ask a favor of you. If you plan to seek revenge, do it properly. Confront General Acacius in a fair manner, that one of you may die an honorable death."

You hold Hanno's rough hands, hoping to appeal to his sense of reason. "I will take your words into consideration, but I cannot guarantee anything," Hanno responds, his gaze never leaving you.

"I recommend you rest before being taken to your cell. Surely, we will meet again soon," you say as you step away, gathering the healing supplies Ravi entrusted to you.

Hanno bids you farewell, settling down in a corner of the place where you had been tending to him. You leave him there, knowing he will soon be escorted to his cell. Meanwhile, you make your way to General Acacius, as he often summons you when he returns from his campaigns, and you follow him without hesitation.

"Mea domina, I have waited so long for you to come to me..." Marcus Acacius' voice fills the space around you. The setting is a private garden within his residence, shared with Lucilla.

You approach him, adjusting the stole around your body. He moves toward you slowly, holding a goblet of wine in his hands.

"I had to attend to the treatment of one of the gladiators," you speak softly, drawing nearer to him. He extends the goblet to you, and you drink from it. Then, he rises slightly and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I have a wound as well; I would like you to tend to it," General Acacius says, his fingers brushing lightly against his lower lip. Gently, you rise toward him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss so soft it could scarcely be called one. It is delicate, restrained—you have no desire to overstep any boundaries.

"Our charade may now conclude, General Acacius. I believe any servant or guard lingering nearby has been sufficiently convinced by our display of affection," you say, fully aware that this romantic gesture is but a performance to solidify the illusion that you truly belong to him.

"Just a little longer, mea domina," he murmurs, placing his hands gently on your face and pulling you into another kiss. This time, it is more fervent, as though he is intent on committing the feel of your lips to memory.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Foxglove Downs Chapter 2: The Rescue

Pairing:Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Both men pull you in closer. While working with Marcus to rehab one of his horses, you both try to ignore the unspoken feelings between the two of you. Then there’s Lucius, surprising you with his newfound tenderness—rescuing you from a drunken mistake, offering his bed, and showing a side of himself you never expected. Warnings: Love triangle, horse talk, jealousy, pining, alcohol, flirting, smut (unprotected p in v), age gap (Marcus is in his 40’s, Lucius is in his 20’s). Reader is in her 30's, has hair, and has a nickname: Sunny. Words: 4,600

Foxglove Downs Masterlist Masterlist

Previous Chapter

—-

You’ve taken the same early morning walk down to Foxglove Downs every day for the past three years. You enter the stables greeting each one of your horses, stroking their soft muzzles and whispering affection into their ears. This is your favorite part of the day, feeding and caring for your horses as the world wakes up. The routine is always therapeutic; you love the quiet companionship of your horses. 

It’s midmorning by the time you finish and step outside, stretching your arms above your head and breathing in the fresh air.

A sleek yet unassuming black car pulls up the long driveway before parking next to where you stand. The driver’s side door opens, Marcus steps out, his body silhouetted against the morning light. You swallow as your heart skips a beat.

He looks every inch the seasoned horseman, his broad body clad in a dark green sweater and tan pants making his skin more golden.

“Good morning,” he calls out.

You smile, walking towards him. “Morning. Pretty early for Daisy’s appointment, aren’t you?”

“Wanted to get a session in with Barley this morning. Rome’s only a couple weeks away.” He stops in front of you, his brown eyes looking into yours. The air between you is warm, his broad body shields you from the cool breeze and the bright sun.

“How are you feeling about it?” you ask a little breathless from his proximity. 

The dimple you dream to touch, deepens as Marcus grins and nods. “We’re ready. Barley has been in great shape and jumping beautifully,” he responds proudly, his confidence and proficiency on full display.

“Good to hear,” you reply. "Can’t believe Barley was my first project and now he’s a world champion. It must feel amazing for you, I’m just the breeder and I’m proud.”

“It does, but you helped too, you’re the one who shaped him,” he says, his voice steady and warm. Like he’s carefully choosing each word he says to you. “You should feel very proud.”

“We’ll just call it a team effort,” you reply, waving your hand dismissively as you feel heat creep into your cheeks at his compliment. “Much like Daisy’s rehab.”

“Yes,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “Much like her rehab.”

He’s gorgeous, lit by the morning light shining around him, his skin glows an almost ethereal gold. His deep brown eyes are flecked with bronze, holding a world of emotions and intensity. The silver streaked waves of his hair are gently tousled by the breeze.

The silence settles between you, birds chirp in the distance, horse hooves echo across the pasture as stablehands exercise a few mares. 

You clear your throat feeling the heat of his eyes on you. “I should probably get some calls done,” you say, glancing down at your watch. “Meet you at the first practice ground at 2?”

“It’s a date,” he winks.

You can feel your heart beating against your chest as you turn and walk towards the clubhouse, feeling Marcus watch you the whole time.

—-

Every task seems impossible to accomplish as you wait for the minutes to tick by.

All you can think about are the countless moments you and Marcus have shared over the years. You had first met him when you were nineteen and he was thirty. He showed up after months of speculation he was moving to your town to train under the guidance of your father.

You remember the first time you saw him ride, his tall, thick frame moving in perfect harmony with his horse. He seemed to communicate with it at a level that went beyond mere training. You were in awe of him and his skills, mainly from afar, always far too intimidated by his presence.

As you got older, and were given more responsibilities, your paths crossed more and more frequently. Horse shows, auctions, events, charity galas, you found yourselves drawn to each other. You challenged each other, striving for excellence in all that the two of you did.

There were moments, long glances and lingering touches. Attraction sparking, hinting at a possibility of the two of you becoming something more… but always, one of you would pull back. Unwilling to risk the friendship and partnership that had become so integral to your lives and careers. 

Now, as you look out the window of the clubhouse and watch Marcus round the track on Barley, you think of the almost-kiss yesterday. The way your heart raced at how close he was, the wonder of what would happen if you didn’t step away… would you finally learn just how soft his lips are? You remind yourself that being cautious is better, crossing that line could ruin everything you had worked so hard to build upon the legacy of your parent’s.

—-

After what feels like an eternity, 2 PM finally arrives and you excitedly head towards the stables. You do your best to hide your anticipation for spending time with Marcus as you open Daisy's stall door and let her out.

“Hi girl,” you sweetly whisper as she happily whinnies and tosses her head.

Sensing eyes on you, you turn and see Marcus grinning as he leans against the entryway.

"What?" you ask, self-conscious under his gaze.

He shakes his head, his smile widening. "Nothing. Just admiring your way with her."

You duck your head, trying to hide your bashful smile from the compliment. "She’s a sweet girl.”

“Sweet, but sometimes stubborn.”

“Well, let’s hope she doesn’t mind everything we’re doing today,” you respond, applying Daisy’s halter and grabbing her lead. “Should we get started?”

Marcus nods. “Lead the way.”

You softly click your tongue, guiding Daisy along the path towards the practice ground, feeling Marcus’s eyes on you the whole walk.

—-

An hour of training and care passes by, Daisy responds enthusiastically to you, Marcus, and most of all, your handfuls of hay pellets. Marcus intently listens to your plans for her, nodding thoughtfully as you suggest adjustments to her training regimen.

He seems to be keeping a bit more distance than usual, as if he can't trust himself to be near you and he's also thinking about what might have happened if you hadn't stepped back yesterday.

Daisy gently lays her head on your shoulder as you coo into her hair letting her know she did a good job.

Marcus watches, his expression unreadable as you lead her back into the stable.

“Can’t thank you enough for lending your time to us,” Marcus says, his low voice soft.

“Of course, anything I can do to help,” you reply, warmth spreading through you at his sincerity. “Daisy deserves the best.”

“She does. So—uh,” he clears his throat. “Do you have plans tonight?”

Your heart stutters. “I.. I do. It’s my friend’s birthday party in the city later…”

He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of disappointment crosses his features. “Oh? I didn’t know you had plans.”

“Yeah, they keep trying to get me to go out,” you say quickly, trying to deflect the weight of his gaze.

“Sounds fun.” He shifts his weight and looks away for a moment, as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts. “I should��� probably head out, I’ve been here almost all day.”

“Right,” you nod. “Have a good night.”

“Thanks. Though it seems like your night will be more eventful,” he responds with a soft smile before turning to leave.

As you watch him walk away, your heart sinks a bit more with each step he takes. It's becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the boundaries you've put in place.

—-

Your friends had been relentless in their efforts to finally pry you from the gated sanctuary of Foxglove Downs, and tonight's the night you finally acquiesced. If only they had known how long it’s been since you let loose and danced under flashing lights, feeling the rhythm thumping against your chest.

The club lights dance across your body, the liquor loosens your limbs and inhibitions. The cute guy who has been buying you drinks all night—Charlie? Chance? Chaplin?—runs his hand up your stomach, right below your breasts.

Chaplin's touch sends a shiver down your spine, but it's more unease than excitement. His fingers press into your skin as he pulls you closer, grinding against you to the beat. The room spins around you as blinking neon lights and undulating bodies flash around you.

Through the haze of alcohol and lights, you spot someone familiar across the dance floor—Lucius. His blue eyes lock with yours, widening with concern as he takes in the scene. He weaves through the crowd towards you, never breaking his eye contact.

"Mind if I cut in?" Lucius's voice carves through the music as he places a hand on Chaplin's shoulder.

"Actually, we were just—" Chaplin starts to protest, but Lucius cuts him off.

"I wasn't asking." Lucius's tone is direct, his stare unwavering. After a moment, Chaplin reluctantly releases you, disappearing back into the pulsing mass of dancers with a resentful glare.

Lucius's strong hands find your waist, steadying you as the room continues to tilt. He pulls you close, his body solid against yours.

"Are you okay?” his voice laces with concern as he looks you up and down before pulling you closer.

You let out a laugh, too drunk and overwhelmed to respond.

“I already talked to your friends. Let's get you out of here," he breathes against your ear. He wraps a protective arm around your waist, guiding you off the dance floor towards the exit. You trip over your feet, trying to keep up with him.

“Oh my god! Lucius!” a girl clad in the tightest and shortest pink dress you’ve ever seen fawns as she crowds the two of you. “So nice to see you babe, leaving so soo—”

“Sorry love,” he interrupts. “I’m busy.”

Lucius leads you towards the door, before pivoting to face you, his bright eyes under dark brows furrowed in a serious expression look you over.

"You okay?" he asks softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You offer a smile, loose and hazy under your inebriation, your body swaying as you try to stay upright.

“Come here.” He bends down and scoops you up into his arms and holds you close to his chest. Your head spins, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

He carries you through the crowded club. You try to drown out the loud music, focusing instead on the beat of his heart against your ear.

The cool night air hits your hot skin as Lucius steps outside, holding you tighter against his chest as you shiver in his arms.

The driver pulls up and opens the car door, allowing Lucius to duck inside, easily maneuvering the both of you into the backseat, holding onto you tightly against his chest. You tuck your head under his chin as he settles into the plush seat.

You feel breathless as he grins towards you. "Come on, let's get you home."

The city lights blur across his handsome face as the two of you sit in silence. The comfort of Lucius and the car’s motion lulls you into a drowsy state. Your eyes flutter open and closed, catching glimpses of tall skyscrapers turning into tree-lined roads, farm fields, and large estates.

"We're here," Lucius whispers softly, waking you from your half-sleep. You blink your eyes open, his blue eyes warm in the dim light of the car. He scoops you closer against him, carrying you up the steps of his large manor.

He carries you as he makes his way through the luxury of his home, up the grand staircase and into his bedroom.

"Let's get you more comfortable," Lucius says, setting you down gently on his large four-poster bed with soft green sheets.

“Thank you,” you whisper, overwhelmed by the way his blue eyes look at you with care.

He nods and smiles before walking to his closet and pulling out a soft cotton shirt. "Here," he offers, "This should work."

You nod, standing on wobbly feet, fumbling with the ties of your dress. Lucius swallows, his eyes watching as you slip open the top before he turns his back, giving you privacy as you change. The smell of him engulfs you when you put his shirt on.

“Done,” you whisper, sobering lightly from your shyness.

He turns, his eyes flickering with an unfamiliar emotion as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt. He helps you get into his bed, pulling back the covers for you. His mattress is soft, your exhaustion quickly catches up to you.

"Good?” he asks, tucking the blankets around you.

“Yes,” you breathe out, your eyes staring into his eyes. His fingers brush your forehead, pushing back a strand of hair.

"Get some rest. I'll be in the room next door if you need anything."

“Thank you,” you whisper.

"Always, Sunny.” He leans in, gently pressing his lips against your forehead.

The last thing you hear before falling asleep is the soft click of the door as he leaves.

—-

The lakeside is lit by bright moonlight. A raucous party echoes in the distance. You’re standing all alone far from the crowd of the party you don’t remember attending, watching the surreal swirls of the water lap at the shore.

“My Lady. Why’d you do that?” a low, growling voice rumbles behind you.

You turn to find a formidable presence under a black hood, a handsome face hidden behind shadows.

“Marcus? What did I do?”

He removes his hood, his features set in disappointment.

“Going to a club, getting too drunk, needing someone to rescue you? Why did you put yourself in that danger?”

He’s so angry.

“Because I wanted to get drunk and have meaningless sex,” you admit, surprising yourself at your bold words.

He takes a step forward. “Meaningless? With whom?”

“With anyone…” you clarify. “With you… I wanted to pretend they were… you”

He steps closer, his heat sending a shiver down your spine. “You think I’d just stand by while someone else gets to… pretend with you?” he asks, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

You swallow hard. He’s close—so close that his warmth envelops you. You glance up at him, his gaze is intense and scrutinizing. His jaw sits tight with barely restrained desire.

“Marcus,” your voice shakes.

“Sunny,” he breathes against your ear. “Is that what you want? To pretend? Or do you want it to be real?”

“Real,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The space between you dissolves.

“Then make it real,” he whispers against your lips, his hands finding your waist, fingers splaying wide as he pulls you possessively against his large body.

His lips crash against yours in a searing kiss, it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Finally, you taste him, warmth and intensity flooding your senses as you wrap your fingers around the waves of his hair. He responds, his lips pressing harder against yours, his hands roaming down your back, a trail of heat left wherever he touches.

The world around you blurs into a soft haze, distant music and merriment is replaced by a soft hum.

“Sunny,” he says between kisses, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you into his hold, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You bury your face in his neck, your hands grip his cloak as his cock pokes against your entrance, your body shivering in his hold though you have all of his heat radiating against you.

“Tell me you want this,” he groans against your skin.

“I want this, Marcus,” you moan, your whole body aching to feel him. “I want you.”

He growls an approving noise as he shifts you in his grip, moving your both toward the edge of the lake, lowering you gently onto the grass.

His large hands find the delicate laces of your dress, tugging each one open, his fingers brushing against your skin as he works meticulously to undress you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs softly, the moonlight lighting his eyes golden as they rake over your body.

He sheds his cloak, your breath catches in your throat as his naked body is revealed to you. You’ve waited so long to see him like this and he’s just as perfect as you imagined. He’s big, so damn big and formidable. Broad, yet toned. Soft, yet powerful. Strong arms, defined chest, and thick thighs.

You gasp as his hands travel up your thighs, his calloused fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Spread for me beautiful.”

You obey, exposing your wet cunt to him.

“Oh Sunny,” he groans. “You’re so wet for me.”

His thumb slides through your folds, circling your clit as his other hand grips his cock, stroking himself as he moves closer to where you need him the most.

“Marcus,” you moan, his name catching in your throat as he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“I want to make this real with you,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to claim you as mine.”

“Please,” you plead, your voice trembling.

He captures your lips again, his hands positioning themselves on either side of you, shielding you from the outside world.

He pushes into you with a singular thrust, sheathing himself in your heat. You gasp as he fills you.

“Sunny,” he groans against your mouth, his brows furrowing with effort as he stares into your eyes.

Your hips move to meet his as the world disappears, only leaving Marcus Acacius and the way he feels inside you.

“Look at me,” he commands softly. Your eyes meet his, all the warmth and longing you’ve wished for now revealed to you in his dark brown eyes.

He groans over a long, drawn-out hum as he draws out each thrust into you. He shifts, his cock pressing into the place you need to feel him the most.

You cry out, your moans echoing across the lake. You don’t care who hears you. He kisses your lips between grunts, the hum getting louder, now an insistent vibration as warmth floods through your skin.

You’re hot, Marcus’s body presses against you like a warm blanket. The hum grows even louder, you shift slightly, trying to focus on the heat and weight of Marcus’s body against yours, his cock pulling out an orgasm, you open your mouth to shout his name—until—you awaken.

Your heart races as you blink against the sunlight filtering through the curtains of the unfamiliar room. Then, you remember the events of last night. You’re in Lucius’s bed. The bed he left you alone in last night—the bed you just had a wet dream about his biggest rival in. You push the weight of his comforter off of your body, drenched in sweat, your thighs pushed together soaked in sweat and your orgasm.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself. Gratitude for the comfortable bed and safe space whirls with embarrassment in your head, already aching from a hangover. You pick up your phone, turning off your alarm.

A glass of water and two aspirin are laid on the bedside table along with a pair of shorts. You guzzle down the water and take the pills before getting out of bed.

Last night you were far too drunk to admire the surprising comfort of Lucius’s room. It doesn’t look like the flashy womanizer bedroom you’d expect him to have. No, this room is more refined and well-put together… understated and luxurious. Deep mahogany paneled walls adorned with paintings of equestrian scenes. A large dresser holds a couple trophies, a framed photo of him and his parents along with a small frame of him as a child and a smiling border collie. A large window frames the picturesque view of the sprawling garden outside. Next to it, a single chair and a table holding a stack of books. The book on top catches your eye: The Tao of Equus. You smile to yourself, surprised by his choice of reading material.

You pad across the plush rug and put on the shorts Lucius left you. Ah, a pair of Lucius Verus’s famous running shorts. Short as heck and much looser around your thighs than his.

Opening the bedroom door, you peek out, hearing Lucius’s voice float up from downstairs.

You shyly head down the sweeping staircase, squinting your eyes as you walk into his large, sun-drenched kitchen.

Lucius is there, leaning against a marble countertop, chatting with a man. They both turn as you enter, Lucius's face breaking into a wide smile.

"Good morning," he says. "How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” you softly respond. “Thank you.” “I hope you're hungry.” Lucius says as he pours you a cup of tea. “I don’t know what you like for breakfast, but I had Eugene make quite a spread.”

You settle onto a stool at the kitchen island, watching as Eugene sets a large plate filled with delicious looking food in front of you.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble,” you say, feeling a bit guilty seeing as only a few minutes ago you were grinding and sweating against his sheets dreaming of Marcus.

Lucius waves away your protests, sliding onto the stool next to you. "Nonsense, it's nice to have company for a change. Usually, it's just me and Eugene here in the mornings."

“What about your hookups?” you tease, taking a sip of your tea.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning back, his blue eyes twinkling. “I don’t make a habit of letting them spend the night, especially in my bed.”

Your cheeks heat as you gently clear your throat. “Thanks… again for everything last night. I don’t tend to get like… that… I just wanted to have a night out.”

Lucius's expression softens as he watches you shyly pick at your food. "No need to explain. We all need to let loose sometimes… next time just call me. I’ll show you a good time,” he winks.

“You never stop,” you say, gently bumping your shoulder into his.

“Not when it comes to you,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Gone is the polished playboy from the club scene. Here, in his home, he's casual—and comfortable.

—

“I should get out of your hair,” you say, pushing your empty plate away. “I can order myself a cab," you offer.

“No you absolutely will not, I have to head to the grounds to train after breakfast, I’ll drop you off at the house.”

“If you insist.” “I do,” he says. “You can even pick the music, I never let anybody choose the music.”

You giggle as you finish your tea. “I’ll just head upstairs and change back into my dress.”

"Ah, well, I did enjoy you in those shorts, but I won’t say no to seeing you in that dress again,” he says with a wink.

You rise from the stool and make your way through Lucius’s beautiful home, sun spills in through tall windows, plants of all different types sit in beautiful ceramic pots, modern furniture is placed amongst priceless antiques, shelves filled with books line a wall. This is a whole new side to Lucius, domestic and quiet, not brash and womanizing.

Back in his room, you slip back into your dress, gently folding and placing the clothes he lended you back onto his bed… the same bed that you dreamed of Marcus in.

With a deep breath, you open the door and make your way back downstairs. Lucius stops in his tracks when he sees you, his blue eyes widening as they roam your body.

“I forgot how good you look in that,” he says.

“Oh stop,” you roll your eyes, putting your heels back on.

“Are you ready to go? It's pretty chilly outside. Here, take my jacket. You'll look much better in it than I do, anyway.” He reaches for his light blue denim jacket and holds it out for you to put on. The faint scent of his cologne is back, cedar and citrus, it makes you smile, the smell of youth and strength.

He makes you feel at ease, even when your mind continues to race with thoughts of Marcus.

He looks you up and down, a slight smirk lifting his lips, his eyes lit with adoration. “Much better. Let’s get you home.”

Lucius opens the door for you, leading you to a large terrace, bundles of jasmine and peonies overflow out of large pots border the stairs down to a large fountain where birds chirp and happily bathe themselves.

“Oh my god, Lucius, it’s gorgeous here.”

“My mom was a gardener, I guess I got her green thumb,” he shrugs as he places his hand against your back leading you down the steps to a sleek green Porsche and opens the passenger door for you. The leather is soft against your skin as you slide in.

He gets in, sending you a wink as the engine roars to life.

“Nice car,” you say, rubbing your hand across the smooth interior.

“She’s my pride and joy,” he says, pulling out onto the winding road towards Foxglove Downs. “Always wanted one.”

“I’m sure you get all the girls in this thing, right?” you joke.

“Wouldn’t know, I just don’t let anyone in here.”

You swallow at the implication of his words again.

The short drive to the stables is quiet, save for Lucius softly humming along to the songs on the car stereo. Your mind is anything but quiet though… the way Lucius looks at you—like you’re the only one that matters in the moment—the way he saved you last night, acting with nothing but respect for you. The way he cared for you this morning, the gentle ways he took care of you… and yet, you still think of Marcus—and the dream you had.

“Do you have any plans today?” Lucius asks, interrupting your reverie.

“Not really, that’s why I was out last night,” you respond with a nervous chuckle.

“I’m glad I was there for you Sunny.”

“I am too.”

—-

As the car comes to a stop in your driveway, Lucius jumps out and rushes to open your door before you have a chance to do it yourself.

You step out, feeling how impossibly close he is to you, his lips parted as his eyes lit by the late morning sun gaze into yours. You sigh as he leans in to kiss you. But, instead of meeting your lips, you turn your head, he leaves a gentle kiss against your cheek.

As he pulls away, his eyes search yours.

"I should get going," Lucius says softly, his breath warm against your cheek. “Already running late.”

“Thank you again… for everything,” you say before he turns and gets back into his car.

“Of course Sunny,” Lucius smiles, giving you one last lingering look before he pulls away, heading down the path towards the stables.

You find yourself looking over the edge of the hill down towards the stables. Your eyes scan the grounds suddenly stopping onto Marcus standing in the gravel parking lot below. He’s paused, his bag gripped in his hand as he stares right back up at you. Even from here, you can see the intensity in his eyes, the confusion over why you’re in such a short dress in the middle of the morning wearing Lucius’s jacket. You wonder what exactly he saw.

—-

Thank you for reading! Tagging those who asked and some friends! Let me know if you'd like to be removed.

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