#aurelius?? is that still his name?

[valeriefauxnom]

Things that the "It-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named" Manga hinted at that might have been interesting, were it an actually good work:

So, as we all know (or maybe we don't?), there was a terrible two-part Dragalia manga that they made at the beginning, likely just as a sort of advertising. One problem: it was bad.

For starters, whomever was in charge of it seemed to have a very, very poorly understanding of Euden as a character. The best I can describe it is if you put Euden, Emile, and dash of Leonidas' inability to remember his siblings' names into a blender and let 'er rip. And I dunno about you, but Emile and Euden are not exactly alike. But no, somehow the writer got the understanding that the reason Euden hasn't set out to form a pact was out of laziness than just a peacekeeping measure that the actual Euden was doing (well, a bit more to it than that, but I'll come around to it later).

When combined with the author unable to not have Euden be, let's say, weird in regards to Zethia (a thing that Dragalia itself commendably relentlessly fought against even to the end despite a depressingly large party of the community thinking otherwise. Before I get on that whole tangent, I'd just like to remind everyone that in the very last event they both stressed that no matter what they still see themselves as siblings) because, you know, everything's gotta be stereotypical (read, bad) anime and manga, right?

So yeah. Needless to say, we are pretty much wholly in AU territory from the start. WillofWinnie aptly described it (a headcanon I have incorporated) is that it is Euden through Emile's perspective, ie, assuming Euden is more like him and otherwise putting him in an unflattering light.

However, AU itself is not necessarily bad. And when I look at the few little hints of what might have been an interesting alternative telling to Dragalia, I just mourn all the harder that it might have had something compelling.

Here's a collection of things that might have been fun/interesting, were they not in so poorly a manga. That's right, I'm addressing the dragon in the room, the biggest forbidden topic in the Dragalia Fandom, and made myself Suffer(tm) to not only snip out parts that I think might have had potential, but also incidentally make this thing look much better than it was! Strap in, folks, cause this is gonna be long!

-First of all, this isn't even a manga-exclusive thing, but I just like seeing Sol Alberia properly. Turns out it's this massive city enclosed in walls!

-Perhaps the biggest change implied of all is that manga!Alberia seems to have a much more fluid understanding of who the next-in-line is. In canon, it's pretty much lock and key that provided nothing happens, Leonidas will inherit. Nobody really challenges his authority as heir-apparent. And with him regularly reaffirmed to be the eldest, it's clear that he isn't actually a younger sibling that just happens to be the favored for the throne right now.

Euden (well, dream Euden, but this imagining of him is of a much more in-character version of him than Gala!Mym's imaginings) even had this to say in a story:

But the siblings in the manga are stated to be in an outright inheritance war, which, since they're not just murdering each other, means that there would be other ways to gain the throne without eliminating the competition through death:

(Gotta say, the overly-ominous framing of the siblings is something pretty funny to me even if they are indeed bad news early Dragalia)

This could be its own point of interest, because notably, it's the exact thing canon Euden feared pre-game. Canon Euden establishes that his primary reason for not even attempting to make a pact is because he doesn't want to be viewed as usurper with dreams of power, now making a move. He'd rather be viewed as the weak, ineffectual sibling that is no threat to preserve harmony. However, given the more locked-in inheritance order in canon, Euden's fears are perhaps slightly excessive.

For the siblings to be worried about him as a true threat, they'd have to be worried about him killing Leonidas, Phares, Chelle, Valyx, and Emile before he'd be the crown prince. Of course, there's other ways to gain power, but the fear he's trying to take the crown would likely be a more remote fear.

In Not!Euden's world, though, Canon Euden's fears would be fully justified. Here, the throne is not near-guaranteed to rest in Leonidas' hands, and here Euden is immediately a threat if Aurelius starts to view him more favorably than his 'competitors'.

On a tiny note, this might also help align one of the relations diagram they put out as an ad before Dragalia launched, wherein Leonidas and Phares mutually consider each other 'worthy rivals':

In canon, we mostly only see shades of this relationship in Phares' lines wherein he comments that his alchemy work started after Leonidas' and how he's happy to have surpassed him in that, as well as Leonidas' general respect (well, for Leo) of Phares, but that's all. In the manga, though, they could be rivals in a more true sense for the throne.

The implications of this big change are also interesting in regards to Emile. Emile is his same-old abrasive self in the manga, but in the manga world, some of his initial anger would also be more justified surrounding Euden being sent out to pact.

As was ever-so-gently brushed upon in canon rarely, the Dragon Choosing and pacting is not an easy process by any means, physically or mentally. Here, Emile is upset that Euden has essentially been given a fast pass and cut the line, the agony, all that, and is in his view being favored by Aurelius, which I think is fair.

Aurelius might only be doing this just for the emergency of the situation instead of letting the Dragon Choosing/pacting being a voluntary endeavor like it was for the rest, but Emile (and likely the rest of the siblings) would naturally view this as huge favoritism and a sign the throne might go to Euden if they don't do something to regain favor/make him look bad.

And you know what? That might have been an interesting AU direction to take things, had they committed to it. The understandable misconception that Euden is now somehow the golden child (even more inconceivable compared to canon Euden as it is) leading to sibling arguments for the throne could be cool.

-On a lighter note, not!Euden is correct in one thing: Emile certainly will bring harm to him!

-Euden vs Combat, fight!

The relationship between Euden and not!Euden regarding fighting is a very interesting contrast. Both don't exactly love it; Euden might go to lengths to try and resolve things before coming to blows, but is ultimately willing.

Not!Euden, though, while he similarly dislikes fighting, goes a bit further than Euden does.

He skips sword lessons (a thing only attributed to Emile in canon), completely lacks any sort of will to fight. As I mentioned at the start of this, the bulk of it is attributed to laziness, but there's a small caveat.

This is where it gets frustrating, because at times the manga edges close to the canon personality of Euden but shies away from every fully meeting up to where it could take it in a new direction whilst remaining true to the core. Case in point, not!Euden here also dislikes fighting/power because he dislikes spilling blood, and because, as Zethia puts it, dragons=power=conflict to this Euden, tying back in to the whole inheritance war.

This could have been an intersting fork off of Euden, because they additionally share another divergence: talent, or lack thereof.

Canon Euden is actually addressed several times to not really have any talent in swordplay. He's fledgling, mediocre, as remarked by people like Raemond and Leif, and lacks for the natural skill Leonidas or any of his other relatives might have had with a weapon.

It's only through his incredible hard work and perseverance he's shown to have (plus all the do-or-die moments he's forced into over the years) that he gains the skill that he does, which again immediately contrasts with not!Euden skipping outright.

And yet, manga!Euden is noted to have talent. He's just not using a lick of it to actually gain skill.

This might just be Leif trying to puff him up, encourage him, but it doesn't seem to be when he's privately talking to Aurelius later:

(Leif get some sleep to get rid of the bags under your eyes, even if I'm sure dealing with this iteration of the family is even more taxing than normal). Ahem. The point is, is that this Euden has talent but no will or drive to get better but canon Euden has the inverse. While it might be tempting to frame this as an immediate way that the manga is worse ('oh of course, he's secretly got all this talent that he can just bust out at the convenient plot moment, get stronger for doing nothing at all'), I could see it as an interesting fork to Euden as a character if they handled it right, which they admittedly wouldn't in the manga.

What I mean would be mixing some of what we know about canon!Euden into the mix. Namely, Euden has a notably deficient sense of self-worth I've gone over several times. With siblings like Emile and Leonidas, it would be easy to further that into a thing partially caused by their attitudes that tend to push down others. In essence, I think one could have reconstructed his low self-esteem as a result of sibling bullying to the point where he even views trying as a futile endeavor, but as the story goes on and as he is no longer 'under their thumb' quite as much and then can actually use that room to allow any talent and skill to bloom. A sort of healing process and the change from derision to encouragement from those around, you know?

I'll stop there before I go start writing an AU of a bad AU of Dragalia, but hopefully you get where I'm going with that idea. The point is, him having all this apparently ~secret talent~ doesn't necessarily have to be bad!

-On another more lighthearted/less plot-heavy note, I will commend the artist for taking the bold step in finally giving Zethia some darn shoes, even as sandals.

-Honestly, regarding Zethia, she just kinda girlbosses her way through the manga, and good for her! Plenty of legitimate criticism can be levied with the way Zethia is initially handled as just another damsel in distress, but in its brief, generally poorly life, at least this manga's Zethia was kicking butt.

She's unequivocally the stronger between her and Euden, and as a result her overprotective side is on better display from the get-go (as both the twins had it in canon, and a later plot thread was actually getting them more independent of each other. Euden's was just naturally the one with more exposure)

Also ouch on the roasting there Zethia, but not!Euden probably deserves it.

Hard as it is to give credit where credit is due for this, again, good for her! (Even if it is just set up as a means to point out that terrible old 'protagonist is a useless baby' trope in anime/manga, but I digress.)

-Back to plot heavy stuff, Aurelius vs. Morsayati, fight!

As we know from canon, Aurelius was perfectly fine until he entered the Binding Ruins, wherein he was possessed by Morsayati and then started chapters 2-26. Manga!Aurelius, though, apparently seemed to have potentially had a bit of creeping Morsayati in the blood from the get-go.

I think this also would have been an interesting fork, since it also can connect with actual canon knowledge. Alberius explicitly sealed Morsayati in his blood, with the aim of his dragonblood being so diluted over the generations that Morsayati could no longer reform/possess one of his descendants. With this in mind, it's more than feasible to instead change the Other's possession method as more of a slow creep than an instant take-over as with Aurelius and Zethia.

It could have been interesting to see Euden slowly have to weigh if this is his father anymore, if Aurelius initially displayed more of his own personality. Canonically, his change is so abrupt and so jarring that Euden instead is devout in his correct belief that this just can't be his Father, and instead some shapeshifter thing masquerading as his father, whom he seems to view as in need of rescue:

With that in mind, I think it could have been compelling. Maybe the possession is still fully completed at the Binding Ruins, except maybe the Other just slowly pushed Aurelius into going there. Maybe Euden then and the townsfolk get worried over all the siblings the moment they feel as if any in the royal family might be starting the path to possession. Maybe Euden himself has to personally grapple with fears that he's somehow being possessed as he grows more used to having to make hard decisions as a leader in war and all that, that he views as 'evil'.

Also, we later find out in canon that Aurelius went to the Binding Ruins in an attempt to help Nedrick and was consciously gambling with controlling the Other's power for that end, which almost assuredly wasn't in the minds as of the manga's inception, but maybe it could be tied into that.

Aurelius, increasingly fearing, perhaps paranoid for how he's going to protect all his family, -including Nedrick still suffering on the north side of the continent, -starts heeding that little voice that in the Binding Ruins, surely there must be something from the ancient civilizations there he could use to gain power enough to protect his children? Again, not to create an AU of a bad AU, but I could see potential!

-And last but not least, on another lighter note, but given not!Euden's...everything, I do appreciate that his personal guards(?) are always prepared for when they need to use their magic lassos to bodily drag him down from a tree:

Given that we do know that Euden had at least a minor proclivity to go outside the castle/escape when he wasn't supposed to growing up, it might have been funny to see some of Euden's escapades, instead of not!Euden's. That being said, the guards also channel one's feelings quite well in regards to having to deal with this not!Euden:

So yeah, there's a little bit about NotMy!Euden's thankfully brief if disastrous stint in the world of manga! My apologies for either informing you or reminding you about it, but I do hope you gained something of vague interest from this, or rather, what it could have been!

[storyteller-aprendiz]

Chapters: 3/4 Fandom: Adamandi - Valentine Lee/Valentine Lee & Hornyak Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Beatrix Campbell/Portia Harper, Portia Harper & Quincy Martin, Beatrix Campbell & Vincent Lin, Vincent Lin/Quincy Martin Characters: Beatrix Campbell, Portia Harper, Vincent Lin, Quincy Martin, Ambrose Bassford Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Racism, Names, Name changing, dead names, that come back alive? (sometimes), Implied/Referenced Xenophobia, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, yk like in the actual show, the inherent transness of it but also not in the way you expect, Canon Compliant Summary:

A story about 3 to 4 name changes and the pains & joys they brought.

[forgottnseccnd]

I am unsure about something, are you aware of Horus’ actions after you “died”?

Aurelius went quiet at that. Auramite hands pressed together. He shifted uneasily.

" ... despite my excommunication, I still tried to fight for the Imperium even if erased from records and considered a traitor. I... had seen things, through my divination as the days of what would occur grew closer. "

" I just wished I could have done something. And kept the family together, somehow. Why... why do you ask, stranger? "

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Imperator

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 6.7k words

Summary: Once, you only had the memory of the curious barbarian poet, entertaining guests at a party with both violence and verse. But it's not until you see him again, now as emperor, that you get to know the man underneath the titles.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, power imbalance (emperor/servant to freedwoman), mutual pining, slow-ish burn, sort of forbidden love?, lots and lots of fluff good lord, some jealousy, some angst, lovey dovey smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), maybe some historical inaccuracies lol (I care a lot okay), and iii think that's it but lmk if anything else!

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

"Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name."

– Ovid.

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

“The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth the descent, and easy is the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.”

That was the first time you had ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice riddled with contempt. Moments before, he had killed another gladiator, his blood spattered on him like a gruesome adornment. But there was no savagery in his fierce eyes, no mere bloodthirst in the sneer directed at Emperor Geta, your Dominus. His glare was even, like a cold, blue flame that promised not just violence, but retribution as well.

You’d recognized the poem immediately, just as taken aback as everyone else. Nobody moved, the room’s collective breath held in anticipation of the inevitable repercussions of such an offense. Emperor Geta made the slightest move to raise his sword and you gripped the decanter of wine tighter, but your face remained impassive.

“Virgil,” supplied Macrinus, trying to placate him with a broad smile. “He was taught poetry just to amuse you, Imperators.”

There was another momentary pause in which neither twin was sure if they should believe him. But then, Caracalla snorted, standing up to clap the taller man’s shoulder.

“A poet,” He said, laughing. “That’s genius, Macrinus.”

“Yes, certainly very amusing,” Geta said begrudgingly, his jaw clenched. 

He and the gladiator had not stopped staring at each other for one moment, like two vipers poised to strike. 

“Good, I thought you’d like that,” Macrinus said, approaching his fighter to grasp his shoulder, perhaps in warning. “We live to serve you both.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing your poet at the upcoming games in the Colosseum,” he spits out, throwing the sword aside with a loud clatter. “Let’s see how his verses work for him then.”

Macrinus nodded at his steward to take the gladiator away. He was smiling, seemingly amused, as the steward approached him. As he was being shoved back to the atrium, his eyes took one last baleful look around the room. For the briefest second, you thought his eyes met yours, striking you like a piercing arrow, but then he was gone. 

You had no time to dwell on it though, as Emperor Geta returned to his seat and raised his glass to be refilled. But that didn’t mean you would forget so easily, even if your paths might never cross again. All you could do was offer a prayer to the Gods for him. 

—--------------------------

The next time you saw him, he was no longer a barbarian gladiator hailed from a distant land, but the new – and rightful – Emperor of Rome. His name was not Hanno, but Lucius Verus Aurelius, and he was the son of the recently passed Queen Lucilla, whom Rome still mourned. 

He was not cruel like the twins had been, rarely raising his voice, much less his hand. His demeanor was usually calm, but sometimes he stalked the halls restlessly, as if unsure what he should be doing. He still rose with the sun and trained for a couple of hours in the morning, already used to the routine he’d had as a gladiator, but after that, it was all politics. Endless scrolls of parchment to pore over, meetings to hold with the senate, and lending a patient ear to the populace’s needs. The weight of an empire was on his shoulders, and yet he didn’t bow under it. 

During the day, you served his wine and silently hovered around for anything else he might need. At night, you drew his baths, kept his torches lit, and prepared his bed. You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally. 

There were times when you caught him looking at you as if you seemed vaguely familiar, a furrow in his brow when he couldn’t place you. You couldn’t fault him for not remembering you from Senator Thraex’s party, but there was a certain thrill at having piqued his curiosity regardless. Still, you kept your head down and offered no hints, as was your place. 

Until one night, while he watched you add aromatic oils and test the bath’s temperature, he finally asked the question that had been on his mind for days.

“What is your name?”

You were startled at first, not having expected him to address you at all. You told him your given Roman name, Domicia, and bowed your head respectfully. He pushed himself off the doorway and stepped into the bathroom, humming thoughtfully.

“Of the home,” he said, referring to the name’s meaning. “Are you Roman? Is that your real name?”

You shook your head in answer to both questions. “I have been in Rome for many years now, though.”

“I have not,” he said, a note of melancholy in his voice. “Yet I grew up here, in these very halls…”

He trailed off, looking around absently, lost in his memories. You could not begin to imagine what he had been through, what he had seen. You had heard of his being sent away as a child, with absolutely no choice in the matter, and could empathize with him. 

All you had ever known was a humble life in your native country, until you were stripped of your freedom and brought to the capital of Rome. Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again. 

“We are honored and grateful to have you back, Dominus,” you said. “I hope things have been to your satisfaction.”

“I have no complaints,” he said, yet he sighed. “Though becoming accustomed to being here, in my current position, is going to take some more time.”

“If there is anything I can do to make it easier for you, please let me know.”

He inclined his head gratefully, your eyes meeting for a moment. “Thank you, Domicia.”

He had the barest of smiles on his handsome face, but you could tell it was genuine. You felt one corner of your lips tugging upwards, but you looked away out of propriety. Even if you were in the same room, you were leagues apart, and it would do you no good to try to imagine otherwise.

You stood up, grabbing the decanter from a nearby table to have it refilled. “Your bath is ready now. Would you like refreshments other than wine?”

He nodded and you bowed, making your way out. By the time you returned with more wine and a platter of olives, bread, and cheese, he was already in the bathtub, leaning back with his eyes closed. Your feet padded softly on the mosaic floor to avoid  disturbing him, and you left his refreshments on the table near the tub.

You settled at one side of the room just in case he might need anything, staring off into the middle distance and letting your mind drift. He glanced at you sidelong, his curiosity having only grown after your brief conversation. He still had that nagging feeling that he had seen you somewhere before, but he didn’t want to ask outright.

You felt his gaze on you but pretended not to, keeping your eyes averted. You thought again of the poem he’d recited, how different his demeanor had been then. You wondered what other verses he’d been taught, and if you might ever hear him recite anything again. He had a voice for poetry, somehow turning the words into a sort of enchantment, keeping one entranced.

“Doesn’t it feel… strange sometimes?” he said suddenly, staring up at the ceiling. “When things settle and you realize how far you have come? How much you’ve had to sacrifice for it?”

You hummed in agreement, waiting for him to say more. 

“Sometimes, I even wonder if it was all worth it.”

Still lost in a haze of verses, you spoke before you could even think it through.

“Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.”

He sat up, surprised. “You know Virgil.” Recognition finally dawned on him. “You were at that party, weren’t you?”

You nodded. “Your words then were just as sharp as your blade.”

He huffed, leaning against the edge of the tub as he remembered his barely contained hatred. “Were you taught poetry to amuse, as well?”

“No, I used to read it with my mother when I was younger.”

“Who else have you read?”

“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.”

“And you?”

It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”

The truth was that in a place such as Rome, love was quite hard to come by. You didn’t actively search for it, its ephemeral nature making you less inclined to, but you were no complete stranger to it. You’d never let it take root, though, for it was not something you could afford to have. 

“What about you, Dominus?”

“Me?” he said. “I suppose… I’m not entirely sure anymore. I used to be, at one point.”

His haunted expression told you not to press him for details, so you just nodded sympathetically. The two of you lapsed into silence, the weight of tragedy hanging between you. You’d had a lot more time to become numb to your circumstances, but it was clear the pain he was experiencing was still fresh. 

“I will be forced to remarry eventually.” He sighed heavily. “Produce heirs to carry out the lineage, show Rome a unified front.”

“Well, whoever you marry shall be the most fortunate woman in the empire.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking over at you. “You really believe so? You’re not just flattering me?”

“Of course,” you said, giving him a cryptic smile that made him laugh again. “I’m perfectly serious.”

“Oh, I am sure you are.”

After some time, he rose with a small splash, prompting you to immediately approach with an outstretched towel. His nudity barely registered in your mind, having already glimpsed him a few times. You wouldn’t dare to look at him directly, even if you were more than a little curious. You tensed as his fingers barely brushed yours in the exchange, but you quickly stepped back to give him more room.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, water dripping down his sculpted arms and chest. You went to start tidying up, studiously keeping your eyes on your task. He watched as you picked up the refreshments to take to the main chamber, a part of him wishing you would look at him instead. 

“One more thing,” he said and you immediately turned around. “Please, I want you to call me Lucius.”

Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…”

“I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.”

“I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

—-----------------

Weeks passed, and while Lucius still hadn’t managed to get you to call him by name, he had certainly gotten you to open up more. In the evenings, the two of you swapped more poetry, often sharing your own interpretations of the verses. At some point, he even had scrolls fetched from the library for you to read to him. He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating,  but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.

During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape. You still held yourself at a certain distance, though, always aware of the chasm between you. Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you were getting attached, for that would be too unrealistic of a fantasy, but you could not deny the butterflies in your stomach that often appeared while around him. His easy, handsome smile, the kindness in his eyes, his patient indulgence when listening to you, and the effort he put into making you laugh…

But the spell was abruptly broken the day he received a visit from his friend Ravi, who had brought someone for him to meet – a respectable Roman lady. A widow, as it happened, just like Lucius. Her hair was perfectly styled, falling in ringlets that framed her lovely face. She wore a lavender-colored dress with a matching veil, much fancier than anything you’d ever owned, and was adorned with golden jewelry. More importantly, she was freeborn, and thus a perfectly good candidate for marriage.

You swallowed hard, otherwise keeping your expression neutral. You hadn’t thought he would start meeting potential brides so soon, and you certainly hadn’t expected how it would make you feel. At least, Lucius also seemed surprised, not expecting his friend to try to set him up without consulting him first. Still, he assumed the role of gracious host and welcomed them warmly, leading them out to the gardens. He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

The three of them reclined on the couches of the outdoor dining area, shaded by a wooden pergola. It was a beautiful sunny day, the birds singing accompanied by the gurgle of the large fountain at the center of the garden. A gentle breeze stirred the foliage, carrying the faint, sweet smell of a dozen different flowers. 

You served them wine and hovered close by as another servant brought them food to snack on. Lucius had deliberately sat across from where you stood just so he could keep an eye on you. You’d withdrawn into yourself, trying your hardest to remain indifferent instead of worrying about whether the meeting went well or not. If it did, then you had to be happy for him, but if it didn’t… Well, at least that would buy you a little more time, if nothing else.

“Such a lovely garden,” the lady, Ilaria, said as she looked around. “One could never tire of such a view.”

Lucius nodded absently but said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I could see you fitting in perfectly with all the other flowers here,” Ravi cut in, smiling with as much charm as he could muster to make up for it.

Ilaria inclined her head, modestly waving off the compliment. “Oh, you flatter me, Ravi.”

He gave Lucius a subtle, pointed look to encourage him to follow his lead. Lucius sat up and cleared his throat, only just focusing on the conversation. He had been trying to get your attention as subtly as possible, but he hadn’t been successful. 

“Er, yes, it’s always a treat to spend time out here. Certainly helps to clear the mind.”

Ravi shook his head a little and tried not to snort with amusement, thinking he was a lost case. Ilaria smiled, unbothered, taking a handful of grapes from a platter and popping one into her mouth. 

“I’d wager there is much on your plate, Imperator,” she said. “And having to manage the household staff on top of everything else… Must be a little overwhelming for you, no?”

“Well, I am a very busy man, yes, but it hasn’t been all that bad,” Lucius said. “I’ve certainly had a great deal of support to see me through.”

His words managed to reach you, softening you up infinitesimally. This time, when he glanced at you, you finally looked back. The ghost of a smile was on your face, but you quickly looked away before it could actually manifest.

“I see. Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ilaria said, sharing a curious glance with Ravi, who looked slightly apologetic. “Though perhaps you have considered that having someone run the house for you would take a big burden off your shoulders. I would be more than happy to lend a hand if you’d consider it.”

His eyebrows raised slightly at her boldness, not missing the eagerness in her gaze, poorly concealed behind her innocently helpful demeanor. He certainly did not want to get her hopes up, but he smiled graciously to soften the blow.

“Ah, perhaps in the future, when I have more time to worry about such things,” he said, politely noncommittal. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Her smile wavered and then froze, not wanting to seem too disappointed. “Of course, Imperator.”

For the remainder of their visit, Lucius let them do most of the talking, any remarks he made were studiously polite and yet still a little aloof. Finally, after a few hours, he excused himself, needing to return to his duties. Ravi seemed hesitant, like he wanted to stay behind and speak to him privately, but he would have to wait for another day. He escorted them both out, thanking them for visiting, but he did not exactly invite Ilaria to return to the palace. Her disappointment was more palpable then, but she hid it with as much grace as she could muster.

When they were gone, he turned to you with a shake of his head and a sigh, grinning with bewilderment.

“I do not enjoy being ambushed,” he said as if he felt the need to explain himself. “Decent enough as she seemed.”

You bowed your head in agreement, more relieved than you would like to admit. You had no real reason to have been upset earlier, given that there was nothing between you except for a certain kinship. Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

He inclined his head towards the eastern hallway leading to his study. “Come, I would like you to read some documents to me. I can get work done faster that way.”

The tablinum was spacious but cozy, with a door to one side that led to a smaller patio. Before, the twin emperors had never used the room, but now it seemed well lived in. There was a mess of scrolls and wax tablets all over his desk that he still hadn’t let you organize. On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.

You lit the oil lamps in their alcoves, bathing the room in warm light. Lucius sat at his desk with a heavy exhale and scanned his notes to remember where he had left off the previous day. You sat on a stool beside him, unfurling the scroll he handed you and resting it on your knees. The texts you read didn’t always make sense to you, but you understood their importance. The fact that he was entrusting you with such work was an honor you did not take for granted.

“Start in that middle section. There is some stuff I would like to revisit,” he said, taking up his stylus. 

You nodded, finding what he was referring to and starting right away. You read to him for the next couple of hours, only stopping if he needed you to repeat something or in case he needed more time to make his notes. A few times during the latter, you glanced up to take in the focused furrow of his brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pondered. You wondered what he might be thinking about, wishing he would impart some more knowledge on you. 

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, shadows deepening in the corners of the room. Another servant brought him dinner, but he didn’t seem too hungry yet. He handed you his cup of water when he heard you clear your throat a few times, insisting when you were reluctant to take it. 

When he was done for the day, he stretched his arms over his head with a groan and slumped in his seat. You neatly rolled the parchment back up and stood so you could stretch your legs. 

“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.”

“Well, I still need to draw your bath and…”

“Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied.

You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?”

“Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that said it was not up for discussion. You pursed your lips, uncomfortable at the idea of being idle, especially while taking up his seat. Still, you obeyed and sat down, hands folded on your lap. Feeling a little bold, you looked at him as if to say ‘satisfied?’ and he huffed in amusement.

“Wait, stay still,” he murmured suddenly, leaning down.

You froze as his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. Delicately, he removed a stray eyelash that had been resting on your cheekbone, and he pulled back a little so you could see it on the pad of his finger.

“Make a wish,” he said.

All you could do was stare at him for another breathless moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. You licked your lips nervously, drawing his eyes there before they returned to hold your gaze. Your heart was like a nervous bird fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Your mind was mostly blank, but the one thought that popped up was ‘I wish he would close the distance right now.’

You gently blew the eyelash away, your wish scattering into the air alongside it. The Gods must have decided to grant it immediately, for he did not pull away, instead slowly leaning in. His lips brushed yours tentatively and you closed your eyes, rejoicing for the barest second before you forced your face to turn away.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmured, the words hard to utter when a desperate want clung to your throat like honey.

“Why not?” He whispered.

“It’s not– I’m not…” You vaguely gestured towards yourself, unsure of what the right words were. 

He pulled back to look at you better. “Was I too presumptuous?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed.

“Dominus, please.”

“Lucius,” he pleaded, loathing the title. “Say it, please.”

“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.”

“I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

“Surely you understand where I am coming from, though.” You sniffed, keeping tears at bay. “I am not wife material, like the lady Ilaria. I have nothing to offer, no dowry, no family name, or even an inkling of Patrician blood. ”

“I do not care for such things. I would never demand them of you. Even if we cannot marry, I will not marry anyone else that isn’t you,” he said with a firm, determined shake of his head. “But I can still give you my name, along with your freedom. That’s all that matters to me.”

You gasped, the shock of his words akin to a bucket of ice water being dumped over you. Now you let the tears spill over, like a dam had finally burst. He kissed them away, his hands cupping your face gently.

“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”

“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.”

You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.

“Pairs rather well with Lucia Veria, if I do say so myself,” he said with a proud chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you’ll have it, that is.”

You knew by the disarming earnestness in his eyes he wasn’t just offering the name, but himself, as well. His whole heart in the palm of your hand, should you choose to care for it. You felt as if you had already made that choice a while ago, when you first recited Virgil back to him.

“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.”

He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”

More tears flowed as a result of an overwhelming rush of both gratitude and love. You had tried to ignore your feelings, not uprooting them but instead silently letting them grow unacknowledged. For once, it had seemed worth the risk of heartbreak. After all, the love hadn’t stemmed from something as fleeting as lust, but a mutual understanding and respect. It was more than you could ever ask for, and yet everything you desired.

You leaned your forehead against his, your noses brushing as he tilted his head back. This time, it was you who brought your lips to his with a tentative sort of tenderness, propriety still at the back of your mind. He responded in kind, letting you set the pace so as not to scare you off. If you weren’t shaking so much, you might have noticed he was shaking, too. 

In that kiss, there was the promise of mutual devotion, sweet and sincere. You were still holding each other’s hands, as if afraid you might drift apart if you let go. You understood then why odes were written about this feeling, as all-consuming as the churning waves of the sea. All those verses had never resonated with you more. 

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all. 

—------------------

The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, the fresh sweetness of it bringing you a sense of tranquility. You leaned against the windowsill, looking up at the stars and trying to piece together constellations. The world seemed drastically different now that you had your freedom, so vivid, so open, so alive. You even noticed it in your posture and the lightness with which you walked, as if you were floating. Lucius had said you were radiant with it.

He’d insisted on taking care of you the same way you’d cared for him, eager to show you his gratitude. You had been hesitant at first, but at his unwavering conviction, you relented, curious how it might feel to be spoiled. All that day, he had served you reverently, taking time off from his duties to focus solely on you.

You couldn’t help getting flustered at all the attention, his ardent gaze like a caress every time it met yours. His touch had so far been entirely chaste, but even the smallest, most innocuous contact was heightened with anticipation. The brush of his fingers over yours when he handed you something, a guiding hand on your lower back, even a touch on your shoulder to make you aware of his presence.

There were a few sneaked kisses in both the garden and the tablinum, each one of them leaving an undercurrent of warmth under your skin that promised more. It was like a slow, drawn-out game of chase, neither of you in a rush to reach its conclusion. If anything, it only made you want each other more. 

After the sun had set, when the two of you drifted along as if in a drunken stupor, Lucius went to prepare a bath for you in his chambers. You were nervous and exhilarated, every moment spent waiting for him to be done an exquisite agony. Until finally, he poked his head around the bathroom door.

“It’s ready now,” he said, beckoning you with a smile.

You followed him into the bathroom, hands wringing anxiously. Flower petals were scattered on the mosaic floor, leading towards the steaming tub. Flickering candles bathed the room in a warm glow, making your shadows dance on the wall. You looked at each other, both knowing what the next step was but hesitant to initiate it. He averted his gaze first, gesturing towards the door.

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?”

You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.”

His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”

He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“The evening star is the most beautiful of all stars,”  he said in a low voice, quoting Sappho.

Warmth spread from your chest to your face, and you smiled coyly as another verse came to mind. “Come to me once more, and abate my torment…”

You offered him your hand, which he took, and he led you to the tub. You daintily stepped in, sighing contentedly as you sank into the water’s enveloping warmth. He knelt next to the tub, leaning against it with one arm propped on the edge. 

“Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”

You huffed with amusement, looking down as you fought a geeky grin. “Well, about a hundred times with just your eyes. A few times out loud, though.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to show you in other ways, too… If I may.”

You nodded, silently granting him permission. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up. He took it upon himself to bathe you, starting out by scrubbing your scalp. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. He smiled at your soft, pleasured hum, and vowed to elicit as many more as he could. 

Things took on an almost ritualistic quality, with him focused entirely on his task. You were loose limbed, letting him move you about as he used a cloth to scrub your skin. He didn’t try anything that might be deemed unsavory, though you let his tender, reverential touch reach places no one had touched in a very, very long time. But he didn’t linger, to your slight frustration, not wanting to jump into things too quickly. The flames of your desire were stoked slowly, warmth running through you like sweet wine. 

When he was done, he helped you step out of the tub and immediately got to drying you off with a towel. You caught his eye for a moment, his pupils blown wide with equally fervent desire. You stopped yourself from clutching his arm, wanting to anchor yourself to him, but he could still tell you were growing restless. He kissed your shoulder, tapping the tip of your nose playfully with his finger.

“Not done quite yet,” he murmured, not missing the way you involuntarily pressed your thighs together. “You’ve always been very patient.”

“For the first time, I fear it might be running thin…” you said, to which he smiled. 

He grabbed a small glass bottle of rose oil and lathered some in his hands. He anointed your body with it, the heady scent of one of Venus’s favorite flowers permeating the air. As he reached your chest, you took hold of his wrist and brought his palm to rest over your heart. He felt it beating rapidly, your chest rising and falling with each panting breath.

His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”

You clutched his wrist tighter, his thoughtfulness only making you want him more. All those hours he must have spent yearning, unaware that you were stuck thinking of him too. As emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted, but having previously been a gladiator, he understood the monumental importance of bodily autonomy. Very few people in Rome had such a privilege and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to rob you of it. 

You kissed him in response, much fiercer, hungrier, than all the other kisses you had shared so far. A desperate sound escaped his throat and he clasped you against him tightly. Swiftly, he scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you out to the bedchamber as he would a bride.

Gently, he set you down on the bed and pulled away to remove his tunic. This time, you were not meek about his nakedness. You brazenly stared at him, eyes mapping out the lines of his muscles, the pink, raised skin of his scars, and the soft trail of hair on his abdomen that seemed to suggestively point downwards. 

His shoulders were squared with pride at your ogling, a sly smile on his face. He’d had an inkling before of your attraction, but to see it on full display was narcotic, and he felt himself pulse with an aching need.

“Come closer,” you said softly.

He did, climbing over you, his warmth immediately enveloping you. You hid your face on the junction between his neck and shoulder, embarrassed at all the thoughts rushing through your mind.

“What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement.

“Nothing,” you said, voice muffled against his skin. “I just… I do not think you realize how badly I wanted this, too. I-I don’t want to ever stop.”

He chuckled indulgently, nudging your head so you’d look at him. “Neither do I.”

He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Your knees hiked up to his hips in a silent plea, but he did not give in quite yet, wanting to prolong things for as long as he could.

Still, unable to resist a little bit of mutual torment, he slid upwards until his hips were aligned with yours. You gasped as you felt the velvety underside of his erection against your slick folds, each small movement making you tremble. Your brows furrowed and your lips parted in a wanton expression, your eyes shiny and half lidded as you looked at him.

“Lucius,” you whimpered. 

“I know,” he murmured soothingly, kissing your neck. “I know.”

Neither of you were willing to break apart from your embrace, so there wasn’t actually much of a preamble. Feverish, he sank into you slowly, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you open. That first round was frantic, almost animalistic, all the pent up longing finally being released. His body rolled over yours with the power of the sea’s waves, leaving you awash in ecstasy.

Neither of you lasted very long, but it didn’t matter, as you were nowhere near spent. Lucius, still in the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily began to kiss you all over, wanting to discover every mole and freckle, every tender spot that made you squirm, and every other little detail that made you you. 

He settled between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, but he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer. 

“What are you– Oh,” you gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the entirely new sensation disarming you. 

He tasted his essence mixed with yours, a groan rumbling in his chest. You tightly grasped the sheets under you, arching against his face. You bit your lip to stop yourself from making the most undignified sounds, but it was hard to focus, especially as his fingers were added into the mix. Your body burned brighter than any brazier, his arms pinning you down as he conquered you with his mouth. You shattered once more, crying out as he helped you ride it all the way through. 

After, you lied side by side, facing each other. You’d still not had your fill of him, but you needed to gather your strength for the long night ahead. You shared a breathy chuckle, as if still in disbelief it had finally happened, and he kissed your sweat-slick forehead.

“Now that was poetry,” you said jokingly, making him laugh again. 

“You put every verse to shame, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You kissed his palm, adoring, and tangled your legs with his. A swell of emotion unlike anything you had ever felt rose within you. It was as if he had awakened a new part of you that you hadn’t known was dormant, bringing you back from an existence that consisted solely of drifting through days that blended into one another.

He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours. You drew closer to him, like a moth to flame, and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your hips and your eyes were full of mirth as you held his gaze.

“As it happens, I find myself compelled to compose some more with you.” You grinned playfully, hands sliding up his chest. 

He mirrored your grin, not minding the idea one bit. “Relentless, just like the great muse Calliope.”

“Well, when inspiration strikes… It can’t be helped, can it?”

“No,” he said. “Not when it comes to you.”

------

[gracieheartspedro]

Propositio

pairing: marcus acacius x afab! reader (daughter of marcus aurelius)

word count: 6k words

description: after assembling an army to win back rome, you finally get to confront the traitor to your cause. general marcus acacius.

warnings: DUBCON. this is for 18+ readers ONLY. lots of blood mentioned, marcus is mean, talks of execution, physical violence, choking, name-calling, manipulation (reader is manipulative, he is too), betrayal, misogyny, proposing a horny ultimatum, nicknames (little dove), unprotected p in v, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), he finishes inside you, he leaves blood prints on you, talking you through it, you and marcus are unhinged. (please let me know if I missed anything or mistagged)

dedication: my sweet sweet @amanitacowboy !! thank you for helping me with this, lindsey! you saved my ass by helping me edit this and your encouragement really got me through writing all of this. *MWAH* forehead kiss

author’s note: you whores asked, and I delivered. now please be kind and share and leave a comment!! you guys rock!!

You never thought you would see the day when Marcus Acacius would be behind iron bars. But here you are, standing before the slated door, watching him with his face in his hands. He looked despicable, completely unknowing of the situation in the city's streets. 

“You care to stand for your Empress?”

His big brown eyes lift from his fingers, glaring at you. He easily recognized your voice, it was something that was imprinted in his mind. “Empress?”

You smirked at his absentminded statement, trying your best not to show your pleasure in hearing him call you that. 

“Rome has fallen, General. And you are here. Shameful that I had to do this all on my own when I inquired to you about a months time.”

He stands up slowly, his tunic and face stained with blood and dirt. He had wounds littering his arms and legs, all dripping blood onto the sandy ground. You could only imagine the horrors he experienced at the hands of the twin emperors. You had no time to grieve for him though, because he is now trying to size you up through the cell. It makes your lips curve up. 

“I would have been inclined to help you, but I was too occupied fighting for my life,” He bites, gritting his teeth. 

Your eyes rake him up and down, noting his beaten-down expression. You have spent so long resenting the man who lied to you, that finally getting to stare him in the face was gratifying. He was already paying for his consequences, and not even at your hand.

“I was, too, General. I put together an army of eight thousand strong. For a woman, I did well.”

He puts his arms through the rails, leaning forward. His hands are close to you, but not close enough to touch you. He looks so different from what you remember. Maybe it’s the new scars that litter his face, one particularly on his right cheekbone. The struggle for power and the war he waged seemed to have caused some fine lines as well. 

He is not the same soldier you knew years before. 

“Now that you rule Rome, what is your first move? Kill all the loyalists?” His voice is gruff, almost like he had something caught in his throat. 

You had pondered this day for so long. You were hopeful he was still alive so he could watch you do everything you had planned to do. You remember him telling you that you would make a great ruler someday, but that would probably never happen since you were a woman. He liked to remind you of that often. 

You felt the urge to get in his space and pester him, as you had done time and time again. 

You turn away from him, looking around the tables that surround you, searching for a way to get closer to him. You spot a ring of iron keys and snatch them up. You go through each one, finding one that matches the keyhole. You hear a click as soon as you turn it, the door sliding open. Instead of letting him come out, you stand in his space. All that occupies the room is a wooden bench, a small window, and a table with an empty bowl.

“These quarters meeting your standards?” 

The iron door shuts on its own, rattling as it locks itself. Marcus grimaces, annoyed with your words about him and his situation. “Are you planning on keeping me in here?”

You cross your arms, completely disregarding his question. You did not feel like appeasing him that quickly. “The bench should be a bit softer for your aging back. I am positive you are not getting good sleep.”

The Marcus you knew before was polite and calculated. This Marcus was tired and unhinged. As soon as he notes your condescending tone, he realizes how easy it would be to kill you in the privacy of his cell. You would never expect that from him, he thought.

He reaches out, grabs your shoulders, and slams you against the dirt walls. Luckily, your head does not slam against the mud, only your back. 

The air leaves your lungs as Marcus pins you. You were not expecting such a response, but you stayed unwavering in your expression. You already had your reasonings for being bitter towards the man. You were now ensuring he would never do another malicious thing towards you and that meant putting him in his place. 

“You evil conniving whore,” He seethes, as you try to push out a breath. When you finally bring air back into your chest, you laugh out, your breath hitting his face. 

“Talking dirty to me, General? I thought you were a gentleman.”

He grunts, wrapping his large hand around your neck. You know this is compromising, dangerous even, but you knew deep down that if he killed you, he would only be hurting himself. Rome needed you. He knew that better than anyone else. 

“What are you going to do? Tell me,” He seethes, his fingers squeezing harder the more the seconds pass. 

You try to speak, but he’s cutting off a lot of your air. You wedge your hands in between your bodies, pushing his chest back a bit. He was so warm. “Kill the loyalists. And for this, I may kill you.”

He grits his teeth, “You are not going to kill me.”

“You do not know me very well then, General.”

He removes his hand, knowing very well he bruised your neck in the process of getting information out of you. He is still very close to you as you catch your breath, fanning his sweaty hair off his forehead. He is trying to read you, but for some reason, your coldness informs him of nothing. Your intentions were usually blatant. Not today. 

“What good does killing me do?” He inquires, his arms still caging you in. You cannot lie that you check out his muscular arms as you think about your next statement, considering that he’s more built than he was when you saw him years ago.

Marcus was always enjoyable to look at, but in this very moment, you could not stand the sight of his conflicted expressions. You did not understand why he was rattled and confused. He had no right to be. 

Suddenly you are back in the juncture where you found out the Senate knew about your impending invasion. You had only told one person inside Rome of your grand plans and he was supposed to be helping you. 

But instead, he was the one who informed the council. Your blood boiled at the horrid information. You had to get revenge. The General needed to pay.

“I do not bode well with traitors, General. You betrayed me.”

He scoffs, his eyes trained on your lips, “You know well I did not intentionally try to eradicate your plan. It worked anyway, why does it matter now?”

“You told the Senate that I was raising an army, am I correct in that assumption?”

“No, I told one Senator, one I thought I could trust, that I was aiding you to raise an army. It got me locked in this hell.” He gestures to his surroundings, finally backing away from your space. “I did not want to intentionally ruin this. You know that I would have done anything to see another Aurelius guide the Empire into what it should be. You are the hope Rome still has left.”

Your family history was the only way you had a pathway to be the Empress. You were technically the last of your family and you knew that would be your path to the position of the Roman Ceasar. Plus, Rome adored your Father. He was the greatest ruler Rome ever had. You had his heart and his compassion, unlike your older brother who ended up dead in the middle of the Coliseum due to his hunger for power. Your sister was practically useless when she lost her son, so it was up to you and you alone. 

When the Twins took over Rome, you knew you had run away to farther lands to raise an army, appealing to every land that if you were not to aid them, they would get eliminated by Rome’s tyranny. Within 3 years, you had many countries and armies by your side, ready to take over the empire in your name. 

Once the Twins knew of your plan, they sprang into action. They wanted your head. You had to fight to get into the walls of Rome and every soldier was directed to kill you at first sight. You had some close calls but you were decent with a sword and your guards were even better with theirs. Once you got to the steps of the palace, by some stroke of luck, the Twins were already dead. The rumor had spread that you were taking back Rome and the citizens took care of the last task you had without even asking. 

You raise your chin, not giving in to Marcus’ game, “You almost got me killed. For that, I cannot forgive you.”

He winces a bit, putting his hands on his hips. “You never were very forgiving.”

“Hm, you perceive me well,” You sneer, trying your best not to take note of the ache around your neck. You bring your hand up to feel out the irritation. Marcus zeros in on your motions, smiling a bit. 

“I was stuck looking after you for many years, remember? I know you better than you know yourself, little one.” 

You think back to the days of being an obsessive young woman who was looked after by many guards during your father’s reign. Your favorite was always Marcus. He would let you get away with the most chaos. He was about ten years your senior. He knew it would be easier to let your childish nature roll off his shoulders than try to reprimand you. The few times you remember, you begged him to let you hold his sword and he refused telling you, ‘Women do not carry such weapons’. So instead of giving up on the conquest, you snuck into his sleeping quarters and stole it. When you showed off to a bunch of drunk soldiers, you thought Marcus’ face could not get any redder. He was so mad at you that he almost cursed you in front of your father. 

You sickly enjoyed aggravating the man. Always have, always will. 

You were starting to realize that you had a very broad history with the soldier. How were you to kill him?

“Tell me, Marcus. How would you like me to do it?”

He is quick with his response, “Do what, exactly?”

“How do you want me to kill you?”

He shakes his head, recognizing the look on your face, which suggests that you are only toying with the idea and are in conflict with yourself. 

“You are not going to.”

You begin to realize you are showing too much honest emotion. He is too quick to notice such things about you, which annoyed you quite a bit.

You smile, trying to flip him off your trail. “But I am, General.”

“You are not going to kill me, girl. I will not die under your hand.”

He is not backing down, which only frustrates you further. You step past him, getting a big whiff of blood flooding your nostrils as you do. The unfortunate man has not bathed in weeks. The blood staining his body is probably of dozens of different men. 

You peek out the iron bars to see that you two are still alone. You had three guards standing by not too far from the exit of the cells, but you instructed them not to follow you in.

“Then how would you like it? Another man’s hand?” You are silent for a moment, turning back to him, “I have a whole army.”

“Are they here now?”

He glances around his quarters, pondering how he is going to get out of this situation. You watch him carefully calculate his next move. His hand palms his face and his growing facial hair. He finally eyes you and you can tell he is getting tired. He knows he has only one choice. 

“What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?”

You snicker, knowing he is going to have to do more than ask for forgiveness. You sickly want to watch him appeal for your mercy.  “Get on your knees and beg.”

“I am not begging.”

“Then you die.”

He saunters over to you, his dirty fingers reaching up and tracing the hair on your arms. You take note that he’s touching you more cautiously than he was moments before. “I told you that I did not intentionally betray you.”

You stare down at his movements on your bare skin. “And I told you I do not care of what your intentions were.”

He smirks, cocking his eyebrow up. He knows that you will show some mercy to him because deep down, you could not stand the idea of losing him. He was a part of you, whether you liked it or not.

“You will let me live. You are going to let me lead the army like I once did,” He remarks, very certain of himself.

You scoff, tilting your head back, “You sound sure of yourself, Marcus. I do not think you understand-“

“Do you not remember telling me that I was the only man you trusted with your mind, body, and soul? What happened to that woman?”

It was something you had told him years before after he finally gave in and fucked you. It was probably the best night of your life, having him ravish you and please you. In a lustful conversation, you informed him that you only trusted him with your entire being. Looking back, you were a bit too vulnerable. You visibly cringe remembering it. 

As you scan his face, your annoyance for him only grows as he uses that moment as a pawn in his appeal to get out of this.

“That was before, this is now.”

“So you lied, too,” His fingers drag up and down your arm, his nails leaving marks as he does, “Why would you lie to me?”

You know that he is trying to flip the circumstances back on you. While the manipulation was easily sensed, you could not help but continue to entertain it. Privately, you thrived on the disorder of it all. Marcus was the only man who could talk this way to you. He did know you very well. 

“You know this is not the same. The entire army of Rome had orders to behead me. That happened because of your gossip.”

He shakes his head, his dirty curls taking up space on his forehead again, “It is to me. You said I was the only man worthy of protecting you. If I were not held up in a cell, I would have ended this war before it even began.”

“I do not wish for your protection, not anymore.”

He did not anticipate you resisting his every advancement. You usually cowered your head and accepted whatever retort he gave back, but this time, you were ready with a riposte immediately. 

He coughs out a laugh, “You will when the entire Roman army turns against you. All I do is say the words.”

You knew that Rome would bow to you without resistance. His army had heard too many awful things about him by now. He was down in the pits for treason. You knew that he was only saying this to get back in your good graces. Deep down, you had already decided that this argument was useless. Marcus may have deceived you, but you know he would have never deliberately given you up. It would make no sense for his safety, also. By the looks of it, he fought for a long while to stay alive in the Coliseum. 

But you wanted to get him to believe that you still could not trust him, just to put him on edge. You desired some revenge after such emotional turmoil.

“They would never betray me,” You reply, bringing your hands together in front of your stomach. You wait for him to take the bait. 

Marcus notices your lip twitch. You are bluffing and he is unsure why you would be trying to stir up his emotions. You were good at bringing him no peace and since he was so exhausted and hungry, he was getting angrier than he was accustomed to. 

He sighs, trying to blow off some of the steam rising to his face. “They have gotten more loyal to me during this previous reign. They would be rather disappointed to find me dead by your hand. You will not kill me.”

You stare at him, your lips pursed in faux contemplation. 

“You are right. I will not.”

The response throws him off balance. He stumbles a bit. “What?” “Instead, I will have someone else do it. I will watch them as they give you a soldier’s death. A beautiful shining blade at the very top of your spine,” You walk closer to him, your hands still adjoined at the bottom of your abdomen. “Slicing you all the way down your midsection. I will enjoy watching the blood spill out, staining the marble floors of the palace.”

He steps towards you, his jaw clenched. He is sick of the back and forth when he knows you will not make good on your plans. He is peering at you suspiciously before his hand reaches up to your soft cheek. For some odd reason, you believe he will be gentle. But he is not. He grabs your face roughly, squishing your cheeks against your back teeth. “I am beginning to lose my patience. Are you sure you want to do this, little dove?”

The nickname. It was something he used to call you when you two were intimate all those years ago. He saw you as a delicate thing back then. The woman you had morphed into was foreign to him. You were more maddening than ever. 

“I will do whatever is good for the Republic, General.”

He uses all his strength to shove you backward into the bench. Your ass falls against the wooden plank that Marcus had been sleeping on for a fortnight. The wood is rough against your thin vein of fabric. 

The shock of his violence sends wetness pooling between your legs. You had only seen Marcus rough with you once and it was never to this degree. He may have given in to you with aggressive and unforgiving hips, but this was another level of hostility. Your heart begins to race as he stands over you, his tanned body heaving in frustration. 

He squints at you, “Good for the Republic, huh? What good is a dirty little whore to the Republic?”

You try your best not to give in at this moment. And Marcus knows it. Your face twists, your nose pointing upward like you used to when you were a young woman. He suddenly recalls a moment where you were being reprimanded by someone of higher rank and you had crossed your arms over your chest and crinkled your nose like you inhaled something awful. It was a facial expression he would never forget. A simple indication that you were wrong and someone else was correct. 

You are noticing the way his eyes are tracing your face and you try to keep yourself as still as possible. “You are speaking to your Empress, Marcus.”

His eyes rake your body, almost like he is looking for something. He smiles, “My Empress who I am aware has a dagger stored somewhere on her body and yet she has not used it on me yet. Why is that?”

You are not ready for what is next on Marcus’ mind. He pushes your thighs apart with his knee, forcing you to look at him again by aggressively holding onto your face again. You wince when his filthy fingernails dig into your cheeks. 

“Marcus-”

“Why have you not already plunged your dagger into my heart if you want me gone? Why do you need someone else to do your work?” 

He is mocking you, his tone not giving you a break in the slightest. Somewhere deep down, Marcus knows something is up. With the way your body is giving into his every move, he can tell your intentions were simple: to make him the fool. 

And you were doing a very good job. Because he is getting very antsy. You pull your head back, trying to add some distance between him and yourself. But his face is so close to yours, that you can smell the metallic scent of blood from his skin. Your eyes avert away, not wanting him to finally look inside and read your mind. 

You manage to muster up something. “Because I still very much enjoy watching you writhe under my thumb.”

He is seething, his face is beet red. The way you are positioned, so impurely before him, brings his hateful aggression to full-blown rageful desire. 

He is eager with his movements and you are fallen at his mercy. Within only a few moments, he is hiking up your stola moving the fabric away from your lower half. You groan out as soon as his fingers grope you. You believe every breath has left your body. 

He chuckles darkly to himself, “Me? Writhe under your thumb? Is that so? You only came here to watch me suffer?”

“Yes-” “You believe some impish whore, like yourself, can here and make me completely fall apart? Hm? How about I load myself in that pussy of yours and we see who truly falls apart first?”

He was not wrong with his words, but they were so unhinged. You had never heard Marcus talk like this to you. While he was quick with his language, he was still always very respectable. 

His proposition was not completely unwelcome. 

“You do not know what I want. Why are you doing this?” 

You try to manage as he spreads around your dampness with his fingers. You had not been touched like this in so long so you were easily swayed why the action. You lull your head back, making it pretty obvious that you did want this.

He hums to himself, watching your body squirm under him. “Do I not? Here you are, so easily taken down by me, a traitor. What kind of emperor falls to her knees for a man who allegedly betrayed her? What good chance will Rome have with a leader like that?”

You watch as he tears up the fabric, completely revealing your naked core up to your lower breastplate. He stares down at the state of you, grinning to himself wickedly. You can not think of a single word to say to him, so you just lament with your hands at your side. 

He strips off his tunic, leaving him in just his subligaculum. The cloth was tented by the strain of his hard-pressed cock. 

His body was covered in blood and dirt, the tunic not absorbing all of the fluids from his battles. His skin is splattered with it. He watches you stare at it intently, huffing out. 

“So what will we do, Empress? How about… If you fall apart first, I am free. If I release first, you kill me. How about that?”

You watch as he palms his cock over the cloth. Your mouth starts to overproduce saliva as you observe his action. You knew you were not going to win such a thing, and that is completely okay with you. Marcus knew this, too. The last time you two were intimate, he inserted himself into you for a whole minute before you were squeezing around him and begging for more. 

“That is a deal I can agree with, General.”

He nods arrogantly before he grabs your hips, kneading the flesh. You watch him spread his bloodstained hands all around your legs, hinging your knees with his forearms. 

“Do not even need to warm you up,” He uses his left hand to guide his cock through your seeping folds. 

You do not prefer the sound of no foreplay, but you do not think it is your time to say anything. As soon as your lips open, Marcus dribbles spit down between your bodies, landing perfectly right at your slit. It’s obscene, his actions. But instead of gasping at the immortality of it, you are breathing out in pleasure. His member splits you open, every ridge pressing against your insides. 

“Marcus, my Gods,” You whine, trying to gain some sense. “I need your fingers first.”

He scrunches his nose, guiding himself into the hilt. “No, you do not. You will take me like this first.”

“Marcus-” “And after I watch you fall apart on me, I am going to,” He pulls his cock out of you begrudgingly slow, “Make you fall apart on my mouth. And then when I get two out of you, I will fuck you again with my cock. When my seed spills inside you and leaks down your legs, I will send you out to the streets and have you clear my name.”

And then he slams into you again. He is very girthy, which is a lot for your untouched cunt. You had no formal stretching before he entered you, so it hurts a bit as he speeds up his incursion inside you. 

He plants his hands right on your hips, his hands expanding down your side. With the way your head is propped up on the wall, you are practically forced into watching him fuck you with such vigorous speed. He’s animalistic. His hands leave blood prints on your body, sticky and off-putting. 

You are so enamored with him, that you do not even begin teetering on the edge of your release. He notices this as your cunt squeezes his member, which encourages him to speed up his pistoning hips. 

“Oh, dove, I feel you,” He extends his thumb down to the very top of your slit, “Your flower is just seizing around me. You are about to cum.”

You try to tense up a bit, but your body feels weightless. “No. No, I can not.”

You can not stop what is impending. He rubs circles on your sensitive bud, sending your back lurching away from the wall. 

“Ah, yes, that’s right, dove. Release on my cock. You know you want to,” He is gritting his teeth, eyes gazing directly into yours. 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, trying to hold back, but him grinding into you sends you over. A scream rips through your body as you careen forward towards his shoulders. You hold on to him like he is going to dissipate away, grabbing at his back. Your climax is white hot almost as if your entire body was lit on fire and quickly extinguished. 

“There it is…” He fucks you through it all, his thrusts slowing as you relax yourself against the wall again. “I win.”

His words set you off. The high of your release is now ruined by his statement. Your arms are still lazily around his shoulders. You glare up at him, seeing his smug smirk painting his lips. It’s truly sinful. 

You use all your strength and pull him down towards your lips. You capture him in a kiss that you almost believe he is going to pull away from but does not. You just want him to stop speaking for a moment so you settle with the reality of the situation. You would have to face Rome and tell them that the traitor is being let off for his crimes against you. 

You were still better than the alternate reality of Rome. Under the Twins, they would see no peace. With you, the only chaos you would pursue is General Marcus Acacius. You could live with that.

He tilts his head back, trying to pull away from your mouth. You lock your arm around him, holding him there a moment longer. His lips manage to trail away.

“You won this. But I won Rome.”

He chuckles at your statement before reminding you of his promise, “I am not done yet, Dove.”

His tacky fingers grab you roughly, lifting you off the bench and towards the table across the dirt floor room. He places your feet on the ground, your back to his much taller figure. His cock is still solid, pressing right into your buttcheek. 

“Bend over.”

You practically snap your neck trying to look back at the man. 

He does not take kindly to that, using his hand to push your face to look towards the wall again. “Do what I say. I already told you what I was to do.”

You lean your body over the furniture, holding onto the edge as you feel Marcus’ hands slide across your back, all the way down to your ass. You hear a commotion but you are too afraid of what he may do if you look back. You then realize he’s on his knees behind you. When he settles in the dust, he uses both hands to spread you open. He wastes no time, diving face-first into your dripping core. Your cunt is already so sensitive that when you feel his tongue flattening between your slit, you cannot help but squeal. 

Your sounds provoke Marcus to think back to the nights when he was alone on the front lines of war, lying in his tent, thinking about the first time he tasted you. You had never experienced pleasure like that, and he vividly remembers pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you with his tongue. It was his favorite thing about your intimate times together. The memory was enough to have him erupting all over his stomach night after night.

And now here you are again, right under his thumb. Or rather, his tongue.

“My Gods, Marcus, please.”

His ministrations change from eager licks to suckling on your most sensitive bud. Obscene wet noises begin reverberating off the walls, filling the room with such crudeness. His nose is pressed into you, sucking in your sweet scent. 

You silently prayed that no others heard you two. 

The warmth in your stomach fills again. Your legs feel like they may give out from under you. Luckily, Marcus has his hands right where your thighs begin, spreading you open, but also holding you up. When the wave of pleasure hits, your legs shake and your throat lets out a guttural moan. 

He licks up whatever your body offers him before he is back on his feet. His chest presses into your back as he traces the outline of your body with his digits. You feel so winded from your comedown, that you can hardly say anything. Marcus’ face creeps to the side of yours, nudging your cheek with his nose. 

“You taste like heaven, little dove.”

His words are such a drastic shift from what he was saying to you before. But while his words were charming, his actions were still brute. He reaches down to his swollen cock head and begins to drag it along your slick. You cry out, your body still recovering from the last moments of his stimulation. 

“Marcus-” “I am going to fill you with my seed now. You will take every last drop because of what you just put me through,” He slides himself back into your cunt, painfully slow, “You are so convincing when you want to be.”

You grunt, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows. When Marcus notices your movement, he takes the chance and grabs your arms in a very rough manner. His hands are gripping you so tightly, you anticipate another mark. He yanks your body closer to his, wrapping your arms between your bodies, locking you up. It was not the most comfortable position, but the feeling of his cock slipping in you further distracts you from the affliction. 

“You played me for a fool. You were always going to let me go. You just wanted me to fill this greedy pussy.”

He fucks into you, letting out his own passionate grunts. His words rattle in your mind as your whole body jiggles over the edge of the table. 

He had you all figured out. It was unnerving how well he could read you, but it was not surprising. He had been around for most of your life, looking after you and being your most trusted confidant. Even if he let something slip to the wrong person, he was still going to be the one person you looked to in every crowd. 

Now that you have experienced this side of him, you only love him more. He has always been intimidating, but never this all-consuming. 

“Need you always, Marcus,” You whimper, trying your best to not ruin his pace. His cock stretches you so deliciously, you wish to have it with you at all times. 

His release comes hurriedly, his body becoming heavy on top of yours. He slams your body down on the table, his arms breaking most of the fall. You can feel his seed emptying into your spent hole, warming you inside. The string of words leaving his lips, that’s right dove, take all of me, your greedy hole just missed me. 

You can not help yourself. You smile. 

You really wish you had watched him fall apart, knowing it was probably a sight to behold. There was always next time. 

He unwraps himself from you and stumbles back a couple of steps. You lift your tired body, turning around to face him. You know if you step forward, you may crash to the floor. Leaning on the table was your best course of action. 

He is smirking himself, his cock still half hard on his leg. “Need me, huh?”

You knew he would find time to hang onto those words. You breathe out your nose, a bit caught off guard. “Yes. I always seem to need you when I feel vulnerable.”

“Well, coming from the Empress of Rome, that surely means a lot. That you look to me in such times, I mean.”

You bite your cheek, contemplating your next big plans for Marcus. You did not want him to leave your side now that you ruled over him. You felt a gravitational pull from him. Now with him here in front of you, that was even more apparent.

“Well… General..” You try to find a way to word your next course of action. He looks at you earnestly as you speak. “You will be pardoned under my rule. But you will not be returning to your men. I will see you through as my personal protection.”

He furrows his brow at you as he picks up his abandoned tunic. “Pardon me?”

“You are directed to be my personal guard, Marcus. Your troops will now be under the rule of another. If you see issue with my ruling, I will happily leave you in this cell.”

He wants to be angry, but he simply cannot be. Truth be told, he was ready to retire from being the leader of the world’s largest array of soldiers. He was just not expecting you to allow him to do such a thing.

He cracks a smile at the thought of you leaving him in this cell.

“What you order, goes. I will happily take on that role, Empress.”

All he knew was to be strong and even-tempered when he directed his armies. Now in a time of peace, under your rule, he needed to find calamity somewhere else. And he knew that would be right at your side.

tagging all who wanted this: @layaispunk @tammythr @amanitacowboy @noladyme @kluvspedro @fangirlcentral1

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 || 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬

part one: the fallen fruit || part two: here

summary_after freeing Rome, you’ve lost Marcus Acacius, his baby and you are forced to marry Lucius Verus in order to freely rule as empress and visit Acacius’ grave

warnings_ CRINGE, age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. ANGST ANGST I CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS

note_ that’s it, it’s official, Paul Mescal my new bf, don’t you ever make me write a fic where I knowledge any Pedro character’s death (even if it’s canon) listen to 13 beaches pls

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

Once your eyes opened, reality struck you in the harshest possible way. This time, no one was there to tend your wounds. Although they weren’t severe, they had dozed you off for days. You heard Lucilla’s scream and you closed your eyes, knowing your love was dead.

Numbness assaulted you, nausea struck you and you heard everyone gasping in horror as their beloved general’s body collapsed in the arena.

Hours after Marcus Acacius’ died, you lost his baby as well.

A day later, Rome was freed. Lucius Verus became the new emperor and you caught a fatal fever when the sun came down.

That night, death seemed like the most convenient alternative. You had lost everything you had fought for over the years. The man you loved and the prospective children were taken from you before you could’ve claimed them.

Something changed when you woke up. Like time has passed so rapidly that the pain from the loss of Acacius and your baby has healed. But as soon as you think about the would’ve, could’ve, should’ve… you start sobbing.

It’s a bright morning and the city sounds peaceful. Everyone has moved on. And you know you’ll have to. Only that, you don’t know how.

With your brother’s death, your lover and baby’s, everyone was gone.

Lucius is alive…

There’s a knock on the door and soon it opened.

A man should never intrude into a woman’s chamber he had no relationship with.

“Ah. Princess y/n you’re awake….” He says uncomfortably. You didn’t knew his name, but had been running as a politician for several years.

“I suppose I’m no longer a princess”

“Trials are happening right now, the senate is a disaster but we’re handling it okay. Lucius Verus Aurelius refuses to be crown emperor but he has argued in your favor and you have been found not guilty, but you face conspiracy charges. Consequently, you’re still a princess. And the only person we can rely on according to the law…”

You sigh, looking away from the old man to focus on the tapestry that hangs from a wall. It has a naked woman’s statue in the middle of a garden. A woman being the center of attention.

You were the maximum authority at the moment. But you still had barriers to break.

“What did you do with the corpses of my brothers?” perhaps your siblings weren’t the most lovable people, but you grew up with them. They were your last remaining family.

“Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla rest in the secluded area of the cemetery of Rome. Where the punished are buried…” you nod.

They deserved punishment, but still, an odd sensation in your stomach rested, feeling shame and pity for your brothers.

Where did the good one go? An imaginary little light sparkles upon your eyes.

“And General Acacius?”

“In his Death Will, General Acacius stated that he wanted to be buried alone in one of the islands belonging to Rome” Your eyes water and you have to bite your tongue and gulp to calm your tears.

Where he had wanted to build a home with you.

“His wife Lucilla was buried in the neighbor island upon petition” You nod, trying to sit down. You finally spot the cuts and sewed arm. Fighting Pretorials had been more difficult than participating in the war.

Alongside Marcus…

“I would like to visit his grave. Marcus Acacius’s grave” Your voice sounded broken and you could barely see the man, failing to hide your growing tears.

“There is one problem, princess y/n. Until you’re officially crown empress, you can’t leave Rome and command without being considered charged, despite being not guilty. You must marry first and I’m afraid the only suitor is Lucius Verus Aurelius”

The man that made you feel so much in no time. Who made you feel like you could be for once unconditionally loved. And that maybe Acacius was not your downfall. Maybe you had one more chance to nourish your wounded heart.

You suppress a smile. You want to see him and talk. See if he felt the same way about you and if he did, it would be a new beginning.

“Where is he?” You ask trying to hide your excitement.

“The prince is back in Numidia. He wanted to give a proper burial to his friends and his late wife especially”

The little smile on your face disappears and you look down. Unbeknownst to the man standing in front of you, you felt shame. For believing Lucius would be waiting for you.

“How so?”

“He was given permission to go back with an audience from the council” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“And why he was allowed to go to territory that is not declared Roman by the law yet…. But I can’t go to an island that is less than four hours away, claimed by the empire hundreds of years ago?”

The man gulps, seemingly uncomfortable by your sudden snapping. Your heart beats in anxiety and the anger increases. The first minutes after you awake you already feel the burden of your new present.

“Because he’s an heir…” to that, you can only sigh. Knowing the real answer.

“And I’m a heiress. I’m… a woman”

Rome was free. But as a woman, you probably never would.

“I suggest you rest and prepare for his arrival, princess. You’ll want to be ravishing to negotiate and assume the wedding”

“I haven’t decided if I’ll marry Lucius Verus Aurelius”

“It’s not like you have much of a choice, princess. I’ll send a doctor to check on you” The bitter tone of the man made you frown. You quietly curse him as he leaves the room.

Finally alone again. Like it seemed it would be for the rest of your life.

You should’ve run faster the first time you tried to escape Rome. You should’ve climbed that wall higher, maybe, just maybe none of your disgraces would’ve happened.

You had to go to Marcus’ grave. You had to say goodbye to him. Tell him all the things you couldn’t say the last time. Because he deserved it. To let him know that no matter where your baby and he were, you would always love them.

Lucius meant nothing, you try to lie to yourself.

I won’t be part of a deal, you remember as you look at the renewed Rome.

Suddenly you realize no matter whom you decide to love, you’re always the lover, not the wife.

Always the second option, never the one.

…

Four days later, you realized you had no other choice but to attend the hearing that would determine your future. Where you would face Lucius. If you had seen him once again before he left, many things could’ve been different, you liked to think.

But given the circumstances, you had no desire to see him again. You barely knew the man, of course, he would choose his wife first even when she was dead.

Your mind betrayed you with the idea of Lucius using you just all those nights to find a way to get out of the Colosseum. No matter what, he didn’t visit you, he didn’t bother to see if you were okay. Likely, he never knew you had fallen ill.

Everyone left you behind.

Happened once as a little girl who fell for her best friend, once as a teenager who fell for an older officer who turned General and once as a young woman who fell for a gladiator and turned out to be a missing prince.

With golden brackets that cover your arms and the heaviest earrings, you nervously walked through the long marble halls of the justice building. Near the temple of the god of war, there rested the place where justice was brought.

A guard opened the door for you and once you stepped in, the room was already full.

Every man inside stood up to greet you with a little reverence and you could feel a migraine already coming.

But when your eyes found a blue pair of aquamarine diamonds looking piercingly at you, the anger mixed with nervousness.

Immediately you look away from the prince. As you took a seat at the end of the long table, you could feel him everywhere. As if Lucius was silently begging for you to look at him.

“We reunite here to revoke any charges and penalties addressed to Prince and Princess; Lucius Verus Aurelius and y/n y/l/n”

You barely hear the man speaking, you were only waiting to hear the next part.

“From the power the senate gave us and by the guidance of the gods, said charges and penalties will be revoked by uniting the prince and princess in sacred marriage. Everyone who agrees says accipio…” everyone says the word, and you close your eyes trying to avoid huffing or ending up screaming in disagreement. Your father ascended to the throne rightfully. Every politician voted for him. When he died your brothers were young and naive and remained as so throughout their rule. Your only crime was to conspire against the empire along with Acacius when he was alive.

All a big nonsense.

“Hear hear, now… Do you Lucius Verus Aurelius agree to the terms of conditions of this agreement?” you look up to see the man. He looked different.

His wounds were healing, his hair looked trimmed, his beard styled. Without sweat, blood, and dirt covering his face, he looked gorgeous. Like an actual prince.

Lucius also looks at you. You can’t tell how he feels, but his eyes look hopeful. And his lips are slightly tilted. Was he trying to smile at you?.

“Accipio…” he says, looking away from you.

Your lips sealed shape a full face of anger.

“Do you y/n y/l/n agree to the terms of conditions of these agreements?”

“I would like to resign to my titles”

Gasps could be heard, and a mixture of shock and disapproval was all over the men at the table.

Lucius looks with curiosity at you. But you can see he’s also shocked.

“Princess y/n… you can’t resign” a man says and you roll your eyes.

“Exile me if needed. I can also recommend a handful of women who would be perfect suitors for Lucius Verus Aurelius” As much as you tried to sound calm, you sounded enraged.

“Then I won’t sign the agreement…” Lucius says looking at the same man who spoke first, then at you.

You eye him with confusion, he crosses his strong arms and he intimidates you with his strong gaze.

“I want you or nothing” he admits with tranquility. Which makes you even angrier. But also make your cheeks turn hot after feeling every man in the room exchange awkward looks.

How could he act so cooky and shameless?

Before you can say another thing, you are interrupted.

“If none of you agree, your charges and penalties will prevail. That would lead to several trials, where both of you could end up with death penalties despite being two rightful heirs”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh.

You’re so tired, drained from everything.

But you won’t give any man the satisfaction to see you crumbling.

Never again…

“You may constrain me all you want, Lucius Verus Aurelius. But you won’t hear what you want from me today”

The poison filling your voice intoxicated everyone, leaving the room flooding with awkwardness and uncertainty. Lucius and you share looks. There’s an odd warmth that makes you remember how good he was when you first met him. He is not a bad man. But you fell in love with him and overrated him so early.

With the silence reigning, the sound of your chair sliding as you stood up drew all the attention to you again. But you didn’t face anyone, you simply left.

The air hit you and you could already feel the tears threatening to spill.

It’s a shame because it seemed like it was a good day for Rome. You can hear kids playing nearby, and people selling goods while the clear sky warmed the afternoon.

“You really don’t know why I want you, y/n?” You hear behind your back, Lucius approaching with heavy steps, making you wipe your eyes before you turn around to see him.

“I would say to gain power. But I know you don’t want that so no… I’m clueless. All I know is I won’t be part of a deal when all my life I’ve lounged for love”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember…” he responds and you frown, disappointed that he has ignored your words. So rudely, you move away, farther from him.

“Who was there when you fell ill after breaking your bones?” your eyes almost pop out, you stop walking only to slowly turn around again and eye him in shock.

“Who was there when you used to escape the palace and needed someone to accompany you back?” Lucius pleads with every word he lets out, he walks towards you and tries to grab your hands but you slip away from his touch, defying him.

In your shock, you can only sigh as memories start reminiscing in your head. A childhood love that couldn’t be. Which involved some feelings you thought had no meaning. But sure they had. More than you wanted to admit as an adult.

Lucius Aurelius Verus was that little boy that you fell in love with as a child. That little boy disappeared without saying goodbye. A boy you thought you’d never see again.

“I left you and resented it all my life, y/n. Now I can be here for you again. Allow me to retrieve the memories we had…” This time you weren’t fast enough to prevent his touch.

He feels warm and at home. His fingers are calloused and his raspy fingertips slowly caress your knuckles. You want to hold him in your arms and cry from happiness. You want to curse him for making you believe he was dead.

But you are selfish after so much pain.

“Why you didn’t say anything when we met again?” You coldly ask, freezing the warmth he has built.

“I needed to know I could trust you first,” he says apologetically.

There’s so much to talk about. Never in your dreams, you thought you’d have the boy you loved once now turned into a man you must marry.

“Please, y/n. We’ll meet each other again, fill the empty promises we made years ago”

“You knew I was alive all this time. Why did you never come for me? We could have escaped. If I had known you were alive, a lot of my suffering could’ve been prevented” he looks away, he feels guilty.

“You married, Lucius. You were happy before Rome conquered Numidia. And I won’t diminish the death of her. But you moved on… like I never existed”

He grabs both of your hands but you move away.

“I thought you were safe. I had no chance of getting you back, that’s why I married. But when I saw you again at the celebration where I had my first fight…” even when he sounds convincingly remorseful, you still keep the distance.

“I don’t care, Lucius. The only thing I want now is to say goodbye to the only love that mattered while you were gone. I can’t visit his grave now for the charges, and when I marry you, I won’t be able to visit his grave because of it. Don’t act like you are not wanting me as your second choice”

If only you knew, Lucius thought as he watched you leave.

…

As a kid, your father would be delighted whenever you danced in the celebrations he hosted. Your brother Geta and Caracalla would sneak in and try to ruin your performance, they weren’t allowed to attend the parties because of their mother; a whore. Your father’s ginger hair had not spread across the twins’ heads and they certainly not looked anything like your mother. There was a snake hidden in the basket of flowers you carried while dancing. But a gentleman realized earlier and as soon as you dropped it because of the bite, he took you to the doctor. And that night you developed a little crush for the officer Marcus Acacius.

Soon you forgot about the older man when you took food and made your way out of the palace. Near the stables, you had found a safe place. Where you always met with who refused to tell you his name.

So you always called him amicus. You could only refer to him as a friend.

“Amicus…” you called him.

Soon he appeared, with burnt blonde hair, blue eyes, and his kind smile.

“What happened to your hand?” he asked pointing at your bandaged extremity.

“Geta and Caracalla placed a snake on my flower basket”

Your friend huffed, clearly annoyed that they tried to hurt you again.

“I wish I could be there, I would always protect you”

You smiled, caressing his face. You were no stranger to his proximity. At the rough age of nine years old, you two had grown a big friendship.

“But you’re always here for me, amicus”

“I won’t be always…” you frowned confused.

That was the last night you saw your friend; Lucius.

You shake your head, pushing aside the memories. Realizing you are once again in a party, but your father is gone. Nobody sits on the throne, your twin brothers are not around to try to banish you. There is no Acacius to help you and you are no longer a kid.

You wonder why Lucilla never told you his son was alive. That he was your best friend. You understand that probably she didn’t trust you enough, given that you looked like you were on your brother’s side most of the time. Although the reality was very different.

Lucius arrived at the celebration with many people trying to talk to him. His tone was kind, but he felt overwhelmed responding to the variety of questions thrown at his face.

Having all the attention resulted in frustration. He was no god and Rome started seeing him as such thing.

He was a humble man, despite growing up knowing he was a prince, he was accustomed to the peaceful farming life in Numidia. He married and thought he would die as a farmer. But even when he finished a rough day of tending his sprouts and counting seeds, mostly he would go to sleep thinking about you.

Lucius never forgot the little girl he found pacing through the secret passages under Rome. Surely he always knew you were a princess, you were alive and well within the walls of the city he grew to hate.

He thought he was correct in never telling you who he really was. He had no chance to say goodbye, he was forced to leave. For a lot of years, he thought he would never be able to fall in love again, but he found a new love.

As soon as he married, he tried to forget about you. And as much as he loved his wife, he always went back to you. Wondering if you were also married, if you remained as beautiful as you were as a kid, or if you missed him like he missed you.

His answers were given to him when he saw you eating figs and softly arguing with one of your red-haired brothers.

Lucius swore his heart stopped a few seconds before he had to fight under the demand of Macrinus. When he recited poetry, he understood you didn’t know who he was. He locked eyes with you for too long, which made you frown and exchange confused looks with Geta.

But he did a good job because you went to visit him later, realizing you knew only half of the truth.

Lucius never stopped loving you.

He watched you twirl around in a purple dress and he couldn’t help but smile. His need to know who you had transformed into was eating him. The curiosity over your love affair with Acacius and how you ended up on the battlefront of war killing him. And he wished nothing buy you to understand that destiny wanted you to be separated but now there was a chance to heal together and be together.

Although it seemed like you were beyond hurt. Only makes Lucius feel guilty for some reason.

A man from the senate reveals to the party you and Lucius are officially engaged and he knows you must be boiling in anger. Lucius tries to go and talk to you. Assure you that he wasn’t involved in the early announcement. He wanted your consent and forcing you would never fix your anger and resentment.

But when he tried to reach you, you were gone. And he knew to where.

To visit Acacius’ grave.

…

With white roses and a dirty cloak, you arrive at the island. Is smaller than you thought. It’s just a hill.

No gold, no ostentatious mausoleum, just a little mark in the middle of the hill that over the centuries would be swallowed by the Earth. There rests Marcus Acacius.

You swallow hard, hoping to get there before your legs betray you and you end up on the grass crying. After hearing the announcement of the engagement, you sprinted out of there making a mess of fury. Your desire to say goodbye to your love would never become a reality. So you took matters into your own hands and risked three hours of absence in Rome.

Each step adds a little more pain to your chest and you want to leave as fast as possible.

But you remain silent, looking at the little plaque.

Not even beloved General of Rome. Just his name.

“I don’t regret saying that I hated you the last time we talked…” you start, biting your cheek from the inside and frowning, competing against the tears that were already coming.

“I closed my eyes so hard to pretend I wasn’t witnessing your death” The chilly air makes you shriek, it also makes some scary sounds as you talk.

“We had a baby, Acacius. I suppose conceived in Athens. He left me hours after you did. I guess he sensed my bad luck…” you coldly say, attempting to joke with the silence.

“Not of importance anymore. I just came to say goodbye. To thank you for training me, and for making me a strong woman. Thank you for loving me the wrong way…”

“You can rest now, Marcus. Your death was worth it, Rome is free. But I’m not…” Finally, your voice breaks and you start sobbing, weeping, and crying so loudly that your lungs hurt.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough to come back again, Acacius. Your death will always be the loss of my life but our baby is my little hope. To always remind me that I was very close to having you…” with your legs trembling, you stand up and grab the basket. The flowers are gently placed and your tears fall over his name, washing the accumulated dirt.

“I’ll move on. Because I know that’s what you would’ve wanted. I’ll keep your memory alive. And I’ll never love the same way I did with you. You earned it, Marcus. In life and death…”

Dried from all the tears, suddenly you felt less weight on your shoulders. You feel light and in peace.

In that hill would rest the memories of your past, of the love you gave to that General and what could’ve been.

You leave in silence. And when you step foot in the boat again, you have the strength to smile and realize that you don’t care about anything anymore.

The sense of everything comes into question.

Nothing can hurt you anymore.

…

He’s there when you step a foot into the salty shores of Rome. Lucius looks worried. He gives confident steps until he’s facing you.

“You went to that island. Didn’t you?” He asks judging you, which makes you frown.

“I did…”

“Why are you risking yourself? I had to tell everyone you felt ill” You roll your eyes, not handling his words with patience.

“I have nothing to lose, Lucius. I don’t care anymore if I die right now…” he huffs and slides his fingers through his blonde hair, exasperated.

“Why can you understand you’re the one I want? I want you to be safe. But you can’t stop acting like there is no hope left. Why?”

You finally explode.

“BECAUSE I’M HURT!. You know my brothers never loved me, I thought I had you and you disappeared. I spent years in love with Acacius and when he finally looked down at me, he never chose me above your mother. But he wanted to give me a house, a family. I lost him and that night I lost our baby too, I didn’t even know I was with child. And now everyone’s gone, you’re back but I feel like you are just choosing me because you have no choice” Your lungs so tired of your crying make you ache as you end up sobbing once again.

Lucius immediately places his arms around you. And it’s the first hug someone gives you in a long time. So you sob harder and slide your arms to hold him closer.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry” he whispers in your ear, one of his hands caressing the back of your head, fingers sliding through your hair.

“You’re not my second option. You were always the first. I choose you all or nothing because I couldn’t before. And now that I have you in my arms, I’m never letting you go”

Lucius feels like the home you never experienced but always dreamed of. His words start soothing you. His words feel bigger, like an oath this time. A healed promise of the one he made as a kid.

“When I looked at you again, I remembered that little girl I used to play with. With her dazzling hair and loving eyes” you look away, to the shore. You never liked receiving compliments.

“Look at me…” his fingers grab your chin and gently, he makes you look at him but you close your eyes after briefly meeting his eyes.

Just like the first time, you get lost in his blue irises. Blue like the sea you traveled, like the sea you once thought would be your way to freedom.

“Please look at me, y/n,” he says pleading, with his warm touch you know you won’t be able to oppose any longer.

Slowly you open your eyes and finally accept his gaze.

“You loved another man and I loved another woman. But we had already marked each other’s hearts before we met them”

Slowly, you nod. He smiles and wipes the tears from your eyes. He looks so gorgeous. You know he means every word. Only a man who did everything to save his mother and free a city would make such a big promise to a woman and beg.

You caress his strong jawline, ignoring the way his beard tickles at your fingers. You smile back at him.

“I love you”

Before he could finish, you kissed him.

…

You hadn’t thought back on your love Acacius in months, but that morning you dedicated the bright sky to him. You hope he’s happy for you.

You look at yourself in a mirror and smile at your reflection.

“Are you ready?” Lucius asked entering the room. Your smile grows at the sight of him dressed in gold and a crown in his head. He also eyes your dress and you blush at the way he is mentally undressing you.

Your husband is possessive, kind, brave, and an emperor.

“Stop staring like that…” he looks back at your eyes and it makes you chuckle.

“Come here…” he pleads and when you try to kiss him you both hear a tiny yelp.

“Oh Lucilla, I’m just trying to kiss your father…”

You had birthed a daughter two months ago in Egypt. And was named after Lucius’ mother. She had matted hair the same color as you and she had the blue eyes of his father.

“I’ll get her…” Lucius carried her and leaned to let you look at yourself tiny baby yawning, as she had woken up from a little nap. Her tiny hands flirt fists and her face scrunched in slumber.

She was a winter baby and every citizen of Rome was waiting to meet the daughter of the emperor and empress.

“So fussy like her father…” you claimed, making Lucius roll his eyes at you.

He had grown patient. A perfect partner and father. You felt lucky and blessed to have him. Thinking all the pain was worth it. Your head would now and then think back on what could’ve been if Acacius had survived, and his baby as well.

But you accepted that in this life, he wasn’t meant to be yours. So you prayed to meet him again in the next one. But for now, you were in the arms of your first love.

“I love you, Lucius…” he seemed lightly surprised, as he was the one that says it more often. But he knows he looks so clumsy and in love.

“Not more than me…” you kiss your daughter’s cheek and then your husband, making him softly gasp as you deepen the kiss.

“Don’t do this to me now, y/n…” you giggle, taking the baby from his arms and leading the way towards the door.

“Wait, satis… I know it’s nonsensical to ask at this point but…Do you think I’m being good at this?” Lucius asks pointing at little Lucilla, you sigh, walking back towards him.

“My love, there is no way of being good at this. But if she knows that we love her and that we’ll be here for her forever, is enough…”

He had his doubts a couple of months after the wedding when you got pregnant.

“You don’t know how proud and thankful I am of you. You decided to agree and give me a family after so much pain, satis” You form a smile grin, opting to avoid the memories of your old love. Because that was the past, sacred to you but still the past.

“We deserved it, Lucius.” He nods, taking your free hand.

“I have the feeling that this one will be a boy…” you say pointing at your still-flat stomach.

“Whatever it is… as long as you’re the mother, it’ll be okay”

You both exit the room hand in hand, hearing the excited crowd outside waiting.

_________________

PAUL X PEDRO X READER FIC IS COMING, COMMENT TO BE TAGGED :)

I won’t ever ever ever write a fanfic where a Pedro character dies again. NEVER AGAIN! I don’t care if you think this was cringe, I cried a lot while writing on different days. I love Lucius but in my head Acacius never died, so from now on if I write for him, he WON’T DIE.

follow me on twitter or I’ll kill myself 🔫

[thedancingcostumeyoungadult]

From the Grave - Lucius Verus Aurelius x fem!Reader

A man returned from the dead, a childhood ghost made flesh again

Contents: Lucius Verus x fem!Reader, childhood friends reunited, angst, comfort

Word count: 1.5k

~~

Rome is fickle, it is her way, but even then the fall of the mad twin emperors Geta and Caracalla was a sobering moment. Tyrants they were, and you were far from mourning them, but still the future lay uncertain in the hands of a mystery. The truest shock, however, came with the whisperings of a name, one from a far distant misty past. 

“What did you say?” You don’t mean to, but your astonished question startles the girl in the doorway, who draws away, apologies already pouring forth as she ducks her head.

“I’m sorry my lady I-“ 

“No, no, it’s alright,” you raise your hand in an attempt to calm her, “I just-“ your voice catches in your throat and you blink, trying to reel in your unruly thoughts. “Did you say Aurelius?” 

~

The light chill of the evening rushes over your arms as you practically run through the atrium of your house, blood pounding in your ears in time with your footfalls on the tile floor. Your hair whips around your shoulders as you look into rooms, an edge bordering on frantic coloring your voice as you call out.

“Drusus!” A door just ahead of you flies open and your brother steps out, on edge as he reaches to the sword by his door.

“What’s wrong?” You reach him in just a few more steps, grabbing his arm to pull him with you.

“We must go to Rome.” He plants his feet like an obstinate mule, causing you to whirl on him, your other hand joining the first as you give him another pull. His face is full of confusion as he studies you and you’re sure you must seem like you’ve gone mad.

“What are you talking about? Why?” Words you’d never even dreamed you’d say again crack in the air as you say them, turning his expression to one of stunned disbelief.

“It’s Lucius.”

~

So many long years had passed since you’d walked these halls, it feels like the strange echo of a dream that lingers after you’ve awoken. The attendant at your side seems to fade away, lost among the whispers of memory that tug at you from every corner and hidden nook of the house of Lucilla Aurelius. The two days�� journey from your home had given you plenty of time to turn over every memory of the boy you’d known in childhood. How many mornings and afternoons had you spent chasing back and forth over these tiles? How many mornings had dawned since? Nervous pressure rises in your chest as you get closer, to what you’re still not sure you know the nature of. How do you know he’ll remember you? Will he care? Is it even him? 

The abrupt halt of the attendant shakes you, drawing you back from the depths of your jumbling mind. Ahead of you is an open door, voices filtering through from the room beyond. The woman who had guided you here disappears as quietly as she’d walked beside you, leaving you and your thrumming heartbeat to stare at the man seated inside. TIme is like honey around you as you take him in. You don’t know this man, broad-shouldered and statuesque, cut in sharp relief by the firelight. And then you see his eyes as he smiles and yes, you do know him, somewhere deep and untouched for the lifetime that sat between you two, you know him. Something in your chest reacts, a choking sob jerking painfully from you as you step backwards, deeper into the shadows. You can’t go in there and pretend like what you’re feeling is anything less than burying you so you turn and retreat, tears flowing hot down your cheeks as you go. 

Lucius doesn’t know if what he’d seen was a ghost, a woman draped in fluttering ruby silk, a shade that slips into the dark just as soon as she’d appeared but his body is moving before he can truly consider it, excusing himself to follow what might as well be an apparition. But he knows that face, he knows it and it’s shaken him to his core. In the hallway he catches the flash of fabric as a figure turns a corner ahead. He rushes towards it, the name he calls out all too familiar and all too strange in his voice. 

The sound of it makes you freeze, stopping dead as footsteps sound behind you. You manage to turn just as he comes into view and stops as well. Between you the hallway stretches into miles yet you burn under his gaze, your heart crashing against your ribs. His chest rises and falls under his tunic and his hands flex slightly at his sides. He stands like a warrior, you notice, but there too is a trace of hopefulness, of a vulnerability that tugs your heart.  

In turn Lucius’ heart nearly stops in his chest when he sees you, solid and living, not a shade at all but standing in his home once again like it was just days before that you’d last been there. Your cheeks shine with tears as you look back at him. He’d had a vision like this a million times after that day in the arena that had torn his world apart, a vision of you in his home, welcoming him. As the years had worn on he’d folded those ideas up and hid them away, new ones rising to take their place. His chest is full of a relieved kind of disbelief that sounds in the only words he can find.

“It’s been a long time.” 

 A smile breaks across your face for a split second and it’s as though the words turn a tide and he’s being dragged along, feet carrying him towards you as yours do the same, his eyes stinging as though from a salt breeze. You collide with him just a little too hard, driving a surprised huff from him as you throw your arms around his shoulders while his wrap around your waist, a large hand pressing between your shoulder blades as he tucks his face against your shoulder. Until then you’d been considering that you still may be dreaming, that you might wake and he would still be a distant memory. But now you feel him, strong and very, very alive, and the full weight of sixteen years floods through you. Fresh tears rush to your eyes, your throat aching as you swallow against them, reeling with emotions all jumbled together as your hand cradles the back of his head. 

“It is you.” Lucius starts at the way your voice trembles and the fitful rhythm of your breath against his palm, quickly taking you by the shoulders and holding you gently away from him so as to see your face. You cannot bring your gaze to his, suddenly overwhelmed with the loss of him all over again as though a long healed bone had been broken again to be set right. 

You want to scream, the way you had when they’d said he was dead, your legs threatening to give out just as they had then too. But his hands, warm on your shoulders even through the fabric draped around you, splint the break and you keep your footing somehow.

“I thought you were-” You suck in a ragged breath, fingers curling around his wrist like he might fade away if you don’t hold him there, “I mourned you, I-” At last you raise your eyes to his and find a sheen of tears to match your own.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t wish to cause you pain.” Sincerity fills his expression and your heart breaks for him again, and then again even further when he continues, low and quiet in the torchlit hall. “I didn’t have a choice.” 

Through your tears you take the opportunity to study him up close, your hand reaching tentatively towards his face. He blinks rapidly at the barest brush of your fingertips on his cheek that knocks his breath uneven. You can see only flickers of the boy he was, but he's there in the furrow of his brow, the tilt of his head as he regards you with similar interest. Up close his eyes are older, sadder, but still his. 

“What happened?” 

“Too much.” He shakes his head at the same time he gives your shoulder a squeeze, “At least for right now.” His hands fall away from you and you miss them in the same second, feeling your stomach drop a little when he clasps your hand that was still raised by his face with both of his for a brief second. You return the squeeze, offering him a small smile. A silent agreement passes between you to leave the grief for another time. As your hand leaves his you bring it to your face, wiping your tears dry before tucking it away in the folds of your clothes. Looking back at him, a glint crosses your eye as you tilt your head to regard him with a lightly critical eye.

“When did you grow curls?”

~~

Thank you so much for reading it means so much to me I hope you enjoyed!! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Tell me what you thought I'd love to hear it ❤️

[thesharktanksdriver]

Specs of Stardust (platonic)

I really can’t wait to get to determination! Y/n and the straw hats so instead I thought I’d post little interactions/headcanons of some of the stuff they’d do

I swear I’m working on the Roger pov it’s just this popped into my head and sometimes switching between things in writing helps with my burnout

Masterlist for the series here

Tagged: @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck @spqce-bun @coca-cola-fiend @Koifishpoond

Luffy

The best way to describe these two in a room is that Luffy does something stupid and y/n just goes with the flow following him

The rabid golden retriever and the chill black cat

The dumbass duo, rabid dumbass and chill dumbass

Once did the impossible and shared food with y/n because they gave him a dessert Sanji made (the rest of the crew thought they were mass hallucinating)

Y/n gives him cool rocks that they find, they’ve both now made it a goal to collect a rock from every place they go

Gives y/n piggyback rides 24/7

And no one else can give y/n piggyback rides cause that’s captains privilege apparently

Occasionally when going into battle he gives y/n his straw hat to keep safe

Has semi-adopted one of y/n’s crows named Aurelius which he aptly calls Steve. Aurelius does not like him nor being called Steve

Aurelius keeps pecking at him but Luffy thinks it’s showing affection

Both throw caution to the wind about their own personal safety but if the other is hurt they will pummel someone

When he accidentally ends up in the ocean y/n jumps in after to save him forgetting they’ll sink too

Y/n acts a distraction for Sanji so Luffy can raid the fridge at 3 am

When y/n sleeps in the male quarter (they do regular switches between the female and male sleeping quarters) he has y/n tell him stories to make him go to bed easier

Likes to make y/n laugh

Likes to pinch Luffy cause they think it’s funny how he’s rubber

When Luffy says something really stupid sometimes y/n likes to write it down in a journal exclusively called “Luffy quotes”

So far some of y/n favourites are “the colour orange is named after oranges”, “if I get reincarnated I wanna be a clam”, “I am rubber and you are fat, don't you dare touch my hat” and “if you hungry, eat”

Sometimes the two of them make weird animal calls to scare Ussop

Speaking of the two, unfortunately for the rest of the crew they now have to deal with Luffy’s pranks now getting worse because y/n actually helps him plan them now

Ussop still has nightmares of when he woke up covered in bird seed and was almost taken away by the flock

As does Sanji when he realizes he’s been betrayed by y/n who’s let Luffy raid the fridge once more

Sometimes y/n likes to ask him about his childhood, they find it so oddly funny that he’s the son of Dragon, grankid of Garp, became brother of Ace and was semi-adopted by shanks

They also like to hear about it cause they always worried Ace wouldn’t find good people

Luffy whines it’s unfair y/n doesn’t fully die in water like he would before being smacked on the head by either Nami or Sanji

When having to give history exposition y/n is the only one who can dumb it down so Luffy can understand and pay attention for over 2 seconds

Sometimes will proceed to forget y/n asleep on his back and jump into battle

Even when finding out y/n is immortal has still not figured out their connection with Ace or Roger

Both like to sit on the figure head of the ship and occasionally nap there

By doing this not have fell off several times only for Zoro to save them

Luffy just kinda somehow know how y/n is feeling and y/n similarly knows how Luffy is feeling

Instead of buying Luffy stuff y/n just shares whatever they get with him since they have relatively the same taste in nick knacks

Similarly Luffy kinda just shares his stuff with them in return

The Luffy and y/n stuff pile is ever growing

Luckily Nami has not yet found out about it

Ussop on the other hand has and is joining in on the stuff pile

As does chopper

No one can really distinguish who’s stuff was who’s anymore but they don’t care

They now have an entire storyline happening with different characters

Y/n has a new journal for this exclusively for lore

Both are always hungry, while Luffy is open about it y/n isn’t

Somehow though Luffy caught onto this and now demands for for the both of them

“Shishishishi tell me another one!” Your captain says excitedly rocking back and forth as you both sit on the merrys figurehead, smiling you nod thinking of what to tell him “have I told you about the time I met a samurai?”

You jolt awake with a small groan as you lift your head off of resting in the crook of Luffy’s neck, the sounds of battle now invading your ears. “Luffy did you have to get the marines attention when I was sleeping on your back?” At hearing this the boy pauses, his extended out rubber arm hitting a marine in the face sending the guy flying back “shishi sorry”. At that you can’t help but sigh, he most definitely wasn’t.

Sitting at the table you watch as Luffy lists off the entire menu to the poor waiter, the retail worker shaking in their boots as he seemingly finishes and their gaze turns to you. “Oh, I’m fine-“ before you can finish Luffy cuts you off with a blinding grin “they’ll have the same as me!” And then you see the waiter’s hope drain even more impossibly so from their eyes.

Zoro

Mihawks reluctant kids that ended up on his island and he accidentally adopted duo

Before knowing their immortal he thought that they were mihawks secret love child or something after baratie

Bribes y/n with sword lessons if they side with him against Sanji

Sometimes the two of them switch bandana’s

When he naps sometimes y/n joins him, when this happens he makes sure to take a protective hold of them just in case of turbulent waves

Other times when he naps he’ll wake up with an umbrella set up for him

Doesn’t know it’s y/n and Chopper who put flowers in his hair when he’s knocked out and assumes it’s Sanji which leads to a yelling match

Speaking of chopper, both he and y/n like to hang off of Zoro’s arms like monkey bars and zoro uses them as weights when he’s doing push ups

When he ends up lost y/n somehow has the miraculous uncanny ability to find him

But sometimes when he gets lost y/n ends up joining him for fun

Has kept y/n from unknowingly being mauled by wild animals because for some reason they either love or hate y/n

Likes to ask them about any swordsmen they’ve met on their journeys

The one who typically has to save Luffy and y/n when they end up in water

Y/n likes to joke that he and Sanji are an old divorced couple to others on the crew much to his chagrin

Zoro’s actually pretty observant of y/n due to their instinct to shrug off injuries

Y/n calls out this hypocrisy but it doesn’t change anything

He actually really ends up liking y/n’s flock when the murder of crows occasionally stop by

The one he really connects with though is one named Acantha

She likes to perch on his scabbards and seems to almost guard them when he’s not around

Y/n once fell down the stairs and he almost had a heart attack

After this he instinctively watches to make sure they don’t fall again

When y/n has nightmares and cries in their sleep he almost always ends up waking up

It keeps him up at night

The mornings after he subtly tries to keep an eye on them to see if their ok

Y/n about to fight a one off villain and being confused they ran off without them doing anything, Zoro behind them glaring with his swords out at said villain

Whenever y/n is on look out duty he typically volunteers to do it with them or take over for them

Sometimes game stares off into space he gets their attention by flicking their forehead

Has and continues to use y/n as an arm rest since chopper is too short in comparison

Has fell asleep while doing this but is always woken up by Sanji yelling at him

Will either carry y/n slung over his shoulder or tucked between his arm and side

Y/n constantly wonders how he talks with a sword in his mouth

Or how he came up with that idea in the first place

Sometimes when they end up islands y/n buys him sword themed things, like sword polish or even a small rack to display them

In return Zoro buys y/n journaling gear since he sees them sometimes writing in a small diary and also gets them things that he notices catches their eye

….100% bought y/n the journal of Uta that needs a password and when opened loudly plays a low quality version of Genesis

He regrets this decision when he’s woken up to it at 3 am

“Y/n where are we? Luffy said he’d meet us around this time in the centre of this town” the green haired swordsman says looking around at the people who were also in the same abandoned building as the two of you. They all looked weird, one was a big muscle dude, another looked like a ninja with pink hair, a samurai, a blond dude in a tracksuit and some weirdo with a forehead tattoo. “Zoro how do we always end in situations like this?” You ask.

“I’ll teach you more sword tricks if you agree with me next time Swirly brows gets in a fight with me” he says suddenly waking up from his nap as you rested tucked between his arm, for a moment there’s silence and then you nod making him give an almost vicious grin towards the kitchen of the merry.

“So wait, you thought I was mihawks kid?” You question with an eyebrows quirked up, zoro with a bit of embarrassment nods. “Well, I assumed so since he gave you that little blade of yours” he says pointing a finger to Mihawks gift currently in its scabbard “but he just gave me a sword? How does that make you think I’m his kid?”. He gives you an impressed stare, “Mihawk does not just gift anyone anything let alone a sword plus whatever else he gave you. Doesn’t help that he acted like your damn dad afterwards” and after hearing that you let out a small “oh”.

Sanji

The seafood duo, aka the 5 michelin star chef and the kid who once boiled and ate their own boots (it was not tasty but they did it)

Since Sanji was the first strawhat encountered who knew y/n previously (the others being Chopper, Brook and Jimbe) he Was the first one to know about y/n’s immortality due to his prior experience with them

So it’s safe to say that he takes that secret to heart especially when y/n says they aren’t quiet ready to reveal themself just yet

It still felt too soon and they wanted to be treated normal for a bit longer (their words not his)

So he respects that decision even if he knows Luffy and the others wouldn’t make it a big deal

If anything Luffy would probably think it’s cool and move on

But even if that’s his opinion he swears to keep that secret until their comfortable

And he does so with the upmost respect he can and even covers for y/n sometimes

Due to knowing y/n he’s also the one who worries for them the most, especially when realizing the stories they once told on that island have become more fractured in time

Even their memory of that place is much more hazy

Like a film put over a picture, changing its focus and making it blurry

So he does his best to remind y/n, adding in the details he remembers them now forgetting as they write down the stories

Bribes y/n like Zoro to help win arguments via making them any sweet or desert of their fancy

When y/n is aimlessly pacing around deck he has them help out in the kitchen quite a bit!

Typically he has them help with preparing small things but lets them help with bigger tasks once learning they have some prior kitchen experience

At a port he got y/n an apron that matched his and he had Nami embodier it with their name

Is going insane trying to figure out y/n’s preferences because they say their literally fine with anything

Has made them go through entire taste tests and still cannot figure anything out

He’s chainsmokes more than usual after yet another failed test when y/n says they don’t mind salted black liquorice

Cries and chain smokes when y/n tells him they once boiled and ate their own boots

Almost cried when they pick up on some of his French words

Calls y/n stuff like “petite étoile” and “petite lueur”

After Alabasta y/n joking calls him “Mr. Prince” from time to time

Whenever he makes stuff for Nami and Robin he also makes some for y/n

When Luffy complains about this he always says “women and children come first”

Y/n sometimes clings to his legs, he always chuckles and lets them do so unless it’s dangerous

The only one allowed to raid the kitchen for snacks other than Chopper is y/n

Both of them abuse this privilege but he can’t resist their combined puppy eyes

Once finding out through Luffy that y/n is more hungry than they say they are he now makes them bigger portions

He swears they have a similar stomach to Luffy but he can’t be mad at them

Not when they seem to starve themself rather than tell others their hungry

Due to this he now carries small snacks just in case

Wants to meet whoever “Thatch” is so they can trade recipes and have a cook off

Also to find out through him how he feeds over 1000 people cause he has 2000 stomachs due to the combined forces of Luffy and y/n

Was at first iffy about the crows until a bunch of the birds started eating the leftover scraps he couldn’t incorporate into dishes or was going bad

So he grows to like the feathered flock since they help in not wasting anything

His favourite is one named Blanche who’s an albino crow the murder adopted as their own after finding her abandoned

She reminds him of a dove and of how he too was abandoned by a previous family but found a new one

She also delivers letters back fourth from Zeff for him

He adds a little blue ribbon tied to her leg

When staying in the boys quarters y/n often times has Sanji help them in taking care of themself properly

Mostly cause y/n would just pass out on the floor or stay up till 6 pm if not

Brushes y/n’s hair if Nami or Robin doesn’t do it

Also loves to style it via y/n’s suggestion

let’s y/n borrow his clothes when seeing that Nami had to drag them to a clothing store to actually buy them something other than the clothes they wear everyday

Sanji will never admit it but sometimes he has nightmares of when they had died and on those nights silently checks to make sure their still there

Y/n will never admit to him how many times they’ve starved to death alone on their raft

Mostly for his own peace of mind and their own

Y/n likes to buy Sanji food themed stuff like magnets, dishes and keychains

Sanji meanwhile buys them candies and other odd things he’d think y/n would like, for example Hawaiian shirts and plushies

“Petite étoile! I made you something!” Sanji yelled across the deck, looking towards him you see a Soda float on a small platter. Luffy eyes it hungrily though Sanji notices and he swiftly knocks the young captain with his leg. You giggle out a “thanks Sanj” which makes the swirly browed preen in a mixture of pride and genuine happiness.

“And that’s when…..” pausing in your story you try to think back, the details of which now seemed to escape you. Sanji clears his throat, giving you a sad smile as he then adds in for you “that’s when the musician taught you piano” at that your memory jogs slightly and you smile “and ukulele”

Sitting at the table you eye the small labeled plates with different tastes and textures, all tasted good and even if it didn’t you’d still eat it. But despite that Sanji sits across from you with a defeated look on his face, cigarette sitting numbly in his mouth. “Sanji it’s on really, I’m fine with anything” at saying this his temper seems to flare ever so slightly, something that reminds you of Zeff “you have to have some preference!”. “Well I mean…I ate my boots before. Nothing can be worse than that” once more that seemed to be the wrong thing to say as the cigarette falls from his mouth as he mutters “you what?!?”

Nami

The orange blossom pair

Is one of the first to pick up on the fact y/n might be immortal due to Arlong one day talking about a human child on the sun pirates boat before one that had betrayed them

At the time Nami wrote it off though, more horrified at the fact y/n was a pirate

It brought up a lot of memories of her childhood she does not like to reminisce on

But before joining the crew and after she tends to stick nearby y/n as a big sister presence

Not hovering over their shoulder but just far enough away to watch and make sure their ok

Especially when she wasn’t initially sure if Luffy and Zoro

To be honest Nami always wanted to be a big sister, especially since she in a way wants to make up for everything Nojiko went through due to her

So she takes to caring for y/n the best she can

Especially when seeing that y/n does not to care of themself at all

She’s plain horrified at how they walk off a broken leg, haven’t had a bath in months that wasn’t in salt water, doesn’t care for their hair and leaves stuff stuck in it, along with essentially starving themself sometimes

Nami quickly makes it a goal to change that with the efforts of Sanji

She gives y/n “discounts” when she charges the crew for stuff

The discount is actually free because she’d feel too guilty in charging a child

Along with the fact that y/n spends the pocket money she gives them on gifts for everyone but themself

Speaking of which she charges said person who got a gift with an import fee because that money the gift was purchased with was technically Nami’s

The only one who does not object to this fee is Sanji

Another fee she makes is a y/n hug fee, since as y/n’s appointed big sister she thinks y/n should be compensated for being hugged by a bunch of stinky boys

Teaches y/n about Tangerines and oranges, specifically how to grow them!

Likes to peel oranges for y/n and share them together as a snack as they ramble on about a place they’ve been

In the small garden for her fruits she lets y/n plant some hibiscus plants that y/n cryptically says reminds them of a friend they miss

Is confused as fuck how y/n seems to know almost all the islands they end up on

After finding out y/n is immortal she often asks about past navigators they’ve met and some of the most interesting places they’ve been to

Has to drag y/n to take them shopping because they insist their fine with one pair of clothes

She argues otherwise and can’t help but bristle once finding out their immortal that for years they’ve worn the same thing

It reminds her too much of her childhood, of Bellemere scraping together what she could even when the villagers gave her discounts for clothes

Buys them an entire wardrobe and complains when they borrow the other crews clothes

In reality she doesn’t mind and finds it cute

Has to fashion police y/n because they have no sense of shame and will wear the most god awful combinations of clothes

When y/n sleeps in the girls quarters Nami has their bed set up to be in the middle between her and Robin

That way if a night attack happens y/n is the most safe

And that way Nami can wake them up when their having a nightmare

Carries y/n like throwing a moneybag over her shoulder, it’s partially due to reflex and cause when she has to do this it’s typically in a shit situation

Y/n sometimes sees a small pink spark over Nami’s shoulder when she gets really excited

They haven’t told her yet though

Y/n likes to show Nami the stuff they’ve collected over the years

Especially their jewelry gifted to them

Nami from the moment of meeting the flock saw money signs (lol)

The crows have now been ordered to steal stuff and they bring it to her to examine and evaluate

They also heckle the poor news birds into giving discounts or plain for free

Besides their monetary gain she genuinely likes their presence quite a bit

They not only valiantly guard her tangerines from other less behaved animals but also help her in charting islands

Her favourite is one named Axel, he’s on the older side with a scar across his eye

He not only has an eye for valuable things but also acts as a guard for both the young fledglings and Nami

Y/n likes buying Nami jewelry and navigation gear along with sharing their writing supplies with her

Nami meanwhile buys y/n clothes and some jewelry for them

Sitting beneath the tangerine tree you watch as the hibiscus you planted for Rouge sway lightly In the breeze, your gaze lingers there before Nami lightly touches your shoulder making you jolt. “Here” she offers you a peeled tangerine with a smile, you take it popping the sweat fruit into your mouth. “How much will I owe you?” You ask enjoying the sweet taste, at that she laughs “I need a tester to make sure my product is good. Just consider it free since you’re doing me a favour”. Smiling you nod, not commenting how Sanji would be the better pick for this “job”.

“I still don’t get how you’d gone so long with no other pairs of clothes” Nami mutters whilst holding up two pairs of shirts your size “which do you like? Or do you want both?”. Looking at the clothes you point to the one held up by her left hand, the Hawaiian shirt with a funky pattern. “I knew you’d pick this one” her eyes are layered in fondness even if she gives a small sigh “I’m a creature of habit….besides Mihawk gave me those pyjamas so technically I now have more than one pair”

Waking up to from nightmare your typically used to the sight of the night sky but you awake with Nami’s worried face. Shakily you sit up, “h-hey I’m ok” it’s more said for her sake rather than your own. Despite your words Nami pulls you close, silently letting you clutch onto her like a lifeline as the scent of oranges and tangerines linger as does that small spark of pink just above her shoulder.

Ussop

The story teller duo! Aka the liar and the immortal

Honestly Ussop and y/n are a little dynamic duo of scaredy cat and unfazed who’s dragging the other into a haunted house

Except the haunted house in this case is literally every dangerous situation known to man

Poor Ussop has got it cut out for him more than usual when y/n is around

Something he notices fairly quickly

But he’s too committed in looking cool in front of them and cause he sure as hell isn’t leaving them alone for more than 15 minutes cause they’ll for sure somehow traumatize someone

Another thing he picked up on lol

There’s a Recurring joke with him and y/n when y/n remembers something important at the last minute and he yells that they have the memory of a goldfish

Though y/n’s title is the straw hats storyteller, they really like listening to Ussop’s stories

Though they knows his is fake they enjoy it better that way

Because that means there’s always a happy ending

Something that not all of their stories have

Similarly, though he sometimes gets afraid when they tell their stories, Ussop really likes listening to theirs as well

Mostly for the fact that though some of them are sad their genuinely heart touching most of the time

Y/n tells their tales in a way that captivates just about everyone around them

Something Ussop really admires

Both know and acknowledge each others skills

And sometimes the two of them will collaborate together in figuring out how to make their adventures more engaging when written down

Y/n and Ussop sometimes do commentary when watching Sanji and Zoro fight

Ussop during these commentary of the fighting matches writes down his favourite insults that he and y/n then giggle about later on

Their favourite so far is when Sanji called Zoro Durian in both appearance and smell

Ussop is the one to help y/n in their “disguises”

Aka supplying the fake moustaches

In similar fashion y/n helped make him the SogeKing mask before Water 7

Ussop has y/n test out his inventions and has them teach him new hobbies

To keep from the ever looming fear away Ussop tries to keep himself busy

Something y/n is a pro at and helps him pick up some of the hobbies they’ve learned over the years

On Sundays y/n teaches him and Robin how to do Pottery

Which helps out Sanji because of the amount of broken plates due to Luffy is uncountable

Calls y/n the first mate of the Ussop pirates

He will never admit it but when he misses Ninjin, Tamanegi and Piiman he ends up lingering near y/n cause they sometimes remind him of his old “crew”

Speaking of which y/n is the only one who he talks to about how much he sometimes misses syrup village

Specifically Kaya

Along with this he also confides to them about how he wonders if his dad would be proud of him or disappointed

It doesn’t happen often but occasionally it does really weight on him

But he trusts y/n’s judgment because they’ve met Yassop, and in the fact that they understand what it’s like to miss people

When this happens y/n also confides in Ussop about the people they miss too

Even people they don’t remember

It’s actually pretty sweet especially since on those nights the two of them just talk about how they genuinely feel

Something that is kinda rare for the two

To enhance each other’s stories the two now have started doing puppet shows!

Something they have Nami and Chopper help with in making the puppets

Ussop even made a mini stage out of popsicle sticks

Y/n uses Roger’s coat as the curtain

Ussop Is terrified of the crows especially after that time y/n and Luffy covered him in birdseed and was almost flown away by the murder

Along with superstitions he’s heard about them being bad luck

But the crows love him

Like they really love him, almost as much as chopper

It’s god damn comical watching him run away in terror meanwhile these little feathered fiends are chasing after him with puppy eyes asking for love

The only crows he likes are the baby ones

The little fledglings who (unfortunately for him) find perching on his nose to be the most optimal of places

But their cute as hell so he lets it slide

For now

This then perpetuates the cycle of them growing older and him being terrified of them but them loving him

Y/n finds it funny as hell

But he eventually comes around to them when y/n has them exchange letters between him and Kaya

As well as sending gifts and flowers back to syrup without the items getting lost or rotting

sometimes y/n and Ussop swap headscarves

Y/n likes to buy Ussop random stuff for him to use in inventions

Ussop likes to buy y/n crafts that they can do together (as well as with Chopper)

“And that’s how I, captain Ussop! Defeated the unstoppable man after 3 days of fighting with my 3000 men!” At hearing that you nod enthusiastically as Chopper chimes in about how cool that was. You smile, thinking back to those 3 whole days Roger and fought Whitebeard before recruiting Oden temporarily to the crew. “What did you do afterwards?” You ask making the long nosed sniper perk up, he thinks for a moment before he continues his “tale”.

“Uhhhh Ussop” you say watching as the sniper who currently tinkered away at some new contraption break from his concentration. “Oh hey! Whats up?” It comes out casually as he turns to look at you as you give him an almost apologetic look which makes his brows furrow. Wordlessly you point to the nearby open port window. One of your crows sits there, tilting its head at him “oh no-“ before he can get another word out it lets out a squawk and other feathered little devils start flying in through the window.

“Your dad is more proud of you than I think you know” you say this with utter confidence and it makes Ussop stumble for a moment. “Really?” He asks this in a quiet tone, almost unsure before you nod and smile “it’s all he talked about when I was on the red force. So you best believe it”

Chopper

Cherry blossom duo!

Was the second member of the crew to know about y/n’s immortality due to recognizing the picture of them with Hiriluk

Something that the little reindeer kept tucked away in a small slit in his hat Kureha added to it

So it’s safe to say that he’s ecstatic, confused and freaking out

Though luckily Sanji and y/n were able to talk with him

And to be honest Chopper gets why their scared to tell the others

He’d be scared in their situation! So he keeps the secret as best he can!

Though there were definitely a few occasions he nearly slipped up lol

As the two youngest members on board both Chopper and y/n band together quite a bit

Partially because of the fact that in mental age their close and because their both just natural sweethearts

Chopper finds it funny that despite being the oldest y/n is also one of the youngest

Both are the cutest mf’s out there that Nami 100% uses to guilt others into getting discounts

Y/n and him unfortunately for her also use the puppy eyes on her to get her to peel their tangerines

Chopper thinks of y/n as a big sibling and very much heavily admires them

Y/n similarly thinks of Chopper as a little brother and admires his medical knowledge despite his age

Both have made each other bff bracelets with little sakura charms

Sometimes when chopper gets sad about Hiriluk y/n tells chopper about their experiences with him

And that he would be proud of chopper

That Kureha is proud

And that their proud of the person Hiriluk took as his own because y/n knows chopper will become the best doctor ever

Every time this happens Chopper sobs

Similarly in the moments when y/n is lost (mostly since they don’t like being overly emotional about their feelings or trauma) Chopper likes to become kinda a therapy animal and let y/n pet his fur to calm them down

Along with that chopper also tries to have them open up about how their feeling

Y/n thinks choppers blue nose looks like a blueberry so they sometimes call him that

Chopper gets super “angry” about it (not really, the only times he’s angry at y/n is when they shrug off an injury)

Speaking of which, he gets really worried for y/n and their careless tendencies

He knows their immortal but he wishes they’d care for themself to at least show him their injuries even if their small

It reminds him of Hiriluk since he had also written off his disease and pain as nothing

The parallels between the two of them really make Chopper worried about losing someone again

Like he knows y/n would come back but having to watch someone you love die is still really traumatic

And the amount of times he’s almost had a heart attack from y/n narrowly dodging death isn’t healthy

Now is it healthy for the others either lol

When in his more deer-like form he lets y/n sit on his back! He bashfully preens in pride when they call him their loyal steed

Let’s y/n decorate his horns with little do-dads and charms

His favourite is the little sakura themed ones they bought at a spring island for him

They have done the two kids on a trench coat routine before and it’s somehow worked

The funny thing is that y/n was the legs and chopper was the upper half

Both make inside jokes about the rest of the crew

Both also occasionally goad Sanji and Zoro into fights

They watch with Luffy while eating popcorn

Talks with the flock all the time! He gossips with them and they all adore him so much

He doesn’t have a favourite and loves all of them

Especially since they all try and bring him herbs or steal him medical supplies from islands the crew dock on

The crows love to dote on him, even calling him one of their flock just like the others on the crew

It makes him happy since he gets a bit of animal companionship that he never got and the fact that the flock accepts anyone no matter their looks

He’s scared to tell the birds about how his birth family kicked him out since he knows they’ll try to get revenge

Y/n likes that through chopper that they can now understand their crows

Something in which makes the crows absolutely ecstatic about and Chopper has to regal their constant pleas for attention and to let y/n know that their adored

He tends to their little injuries and puts little bandaids on their wounds

They like to perch on his antlers and he gets supper bashful when they call him their favourite crew member beside y/n

Chopper finds it funny they call y/n their god?

It’s weird but he just assumes that cause the crows explained to him how several generations back y/n had nursed to health their injured ancestors

While y/n stays in the men’s quarter Chopper and y/n set up a little sleepover tent

Both typically fall asleep in the tent and Sanji or Zoro have to put them in their proper beds rather than sleeping on the floor

While sleepy y/n sometimes thinks chopper is a stuffed animal

Both cling to one another when tired (it’s adorable)

Y/n likes to buy Chopper Sakura themed things or medicinal herbs and books that they’d think he’d like

Chopper on the other hands buys y/n things they can do together or with the crew like puzzles or little crafts

“Ahhh!!! What happened to your arm?!?!” The young reindeer doctor practically screams as his widened eyes look at your bloody and bruised arm that’s also bent the wrong way. The rest of the crew whom you’d been trying to hide it from look to you, whoops. “Uhhhh….it was an accident?” You say this and before you can blink your being dragged to choppers medical bay, darn, you’d sneak past them next time

Sitting down on the flooring of the merry you thread your fingers through choppers soft fur. Your breathing still heavy and shaky as your mind comes down from focusing on bad memories. It takes a few minutes sitting there focusing on the sensation of his fur but eventually you find yourself of sound mind again. Tears staining your cheeks as you mumble a thanks to the doctor who nods. “A doctor has to look out for his patients in health and mind” is what he says making you smile ever so slightly.

“Hey chopper what did Rosemary tell you?” You asked looking quizzically at the Crow perched on his antlers, he looks up to bird listening as she squawks again. “She said that big crow, big lizards and Yama missed you? Who’s that?” He translates then giving you a curious look, you think for a moment then coming up with an answer “oh…she means king and the others”. He nods at the answer before then asking “who’s king? Wait! Do you know royalty?!?”

Robin

History duo, ones is a literal archeologist and the other is the ancient ass artifact

After chopper she’s the third person to know of y/n’s immortality due to watching them die with crocodile

While working with crocodile she didn’t talk to y/n directly too much but did try and look out for them in the shadows

She’s also been praying that y/n wouldn’t end up in Alabasta nor that crocodile would find them again lol

But that didn’t exactly go as planned

Once joining the crew y/n is one of the few to trust Robin partially due to their prior knowledge of her and experience with her

Both feel extreme sympathy for one another, especially once realizing they were both children hunted down by the government

Robin like with Chopper uses her abilities to tickle y/n

Robin cannot count the amount of times her ability has saved y/n without them knowing

Before Brook joined y/n would ask Robin to use her power to make arms and lift y/n up to see stuff lol

Sometimes with the sprouted arms y/n likes to play rock paper scissors with them which makes Robin laugh

Y/n eventually has Robin help in writing in their journal to remember things since they trust her perspective more than their own

Because these two both know Poneglyph’s the two gossip via notes to one another in the language

Robin when reading history books and finds something about y/n shows it to them

It’s now an inside joke between the two of them

They also make it an activity to skim through accounts of things and try to find y/n

What sad though is that in some accounts where it’s clearly y/n mentioned y/n can’t actually remember it

And for awhile y/n just gets kinda quiet and excuses themself

She does not mentioned their reddened eyes when she sees them again

But just offers them a hug

In a certain way, Robin kinda projects what she wish she had as a kid into y/n as a form of self healing

Especially after Enies lobby

She wants to be there for them

Care for them in a way she wished others had cared for her

And it’s with this that Robin becomes a mother figure to y/n

She’d tender and caring to y/n in a way that just kinda makes them instinctively cling to her presence

Her warm hugs and floral scent remind y/n distantly of their mom (or they think it does)

They know Robin isn’t her (no one can be) but Robin’s care and general warmth towards them just makes y/n really happy

Hugs galore

As well as Robin helping Nami take care of y/n since they have no self care at all

Y/n constantly steals Robin’s cowboy hat (when she had it )

Like in pre-timeskip one piece Robin calls y/n by their title of “storyteller” but also refers to them by nicknames as well

Robin loves the crows so much, she has each of them memorized by name

As well as their preferences

Her favourite though is one named Hesta, she’s a quiet one of the flock and likes watch Robin read

May or may not use her devil fruit to pet all the crows

Ussop may have freaked out when seeing the entire murder on the ship with Robin’s hands sprouted from the deck everywhere

When she has mini dates with Franky y/n dressed up as a server with a fake moustache

They also have a fake French accent because they took inspiration from Sanji

Both her and Franky have to hold back laughing cause y/n gets really into it

Y/n likes buying Robin history stuff and letting her borrow their journals to read

Robin meanwhile likes to buy y/n things she sees interested them while on an adventure

(She may or may not have stolen a few things whoops)

“Hey Robin can you help me-“ before you can finish what you’re saying the historian finds herself at your side, already helping in tying your shoelaces. She smiles, “for all the skills you’d picked up over the years I’m surprised you hadn’t learned to tie them yet” it comes out as a giggle with makes you smile bashfully “I know how tie sailor knots and stuff but I don’t think they work for boots”

“Y/n, do you want to help me write some the poneglyph’s? I want to look them over later and put what we have in order” Robin asks making you pause from tracing the forgotten language with your hands. You nod, then pulling out your journal and opening up a new page. “Sounds good to me. Should I include me and Roger’s messages?” At hearing that she nods, a curious smile on her face. “Of course.”

“What happened to you was never right, you deserved better than what the world gave you” hearing this makes her go still as the still sleeping Nami tosses and turns in her sleep. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you either. Neither of us did” when she says this you see tears glisten in moonlight as does she with your starry eyes.

Franky

Suuuuuperrrrrr Star duo!

Like a few others of the straw hats he actually met y/n in his childhood

Specifically because of the Roger pirates when they had stopped in water 7 with Oden

So it’s safe to say after everything in water 7 and Enies lobby he definitely knows y/n is immortal

Though after Franky beat up Ussop y/n kinda takes a little while to warm up to him again at

But Y/n comes around quick on Franky when seeing him help try and save Robin

And after he joins the crew y/n becomes his obligatory little helper!

Since y/n likes to be constantly doing stuff Franky has them help him do repairs on the ship and check for anything that needs to be fixed

He says he can’t fit in a lot of the smaller crevices (which he technically can’t) but normally he’d just use some invention of his

But y/n doesn’t need to know that, not when they get excited in helping

Franky 100% teaches y/n to do poses with him

Nami is half tempted to strangle him for this when y/n did the “suupppeerr” pose after a battle

Unfortunately for her dumbass number 2 (aka Luffy) joins in and then Ussop as well

Y/n in the morning likes to help style Franky’s hair, he wonder’s who Vivi is and why his hair colour reminds them of her

Y/n is also the reason why Franky’s hair is now styled occasionally like sea creatures

His favourite is when they style it as a shark or whale

He shivers each time he looks at y/n’s “ship”

Especially when they say that she’s a fine sea-craft (she not)

He just nods along

Back when he was a kid he was also equally appalled back then about it and had offered to make it better

But just like back then y/n refuse

And somehow that dinky thing always seems to end back up at the ship even when in a storm it ends up lost at sea

Y/n sits on his arm all the time, especially when he is in a muscle man pose

They think it’s funny

He thinks it’s funny when steal his sunglasses

The two of them have single-handedly increased the amount of Hawaiian shirts owned by the straw hats by about 70%

Sometimes when he misses the Franky family he talks to y/n about how they deal with leaving people they love

And y/n always talk about how they kinda deal with it

But it’s always hard

They miss a lot of people

Some of which they don’t remember but know they instinctively miss

It definitely helps him

But it also highlights to Franky just how lonely they are

Because he joined later on he hasn’t seen or heard y/n talk about some of their experiences

He’s maybe heard some from iceberg or the other straw hats but they were always vague

It’s sad to him, especially since their short friendship with him had honestly made him feel less alone in the harder segments of his life

But knowing just how many people they had said goodbye to and would say goodbye to, the years afloat on that thing they call a ship by themself

Yeah, it really weighs on him

Because he gets it

Y/n is the only one for sure who knows that Robin and Franky eventually get together (frobin for real y’all)

They don’t tell anyone cause they just kinda assumed everyone already knew and forgot it was a secret lol

Despite this though, they accidentally cover for Robin and Franky when they go out on small dates

Y/n is somehow Franky’s ultimate wingman (wingperson?)

They suggest to him things they know Robin like or would like

The two of them like to paint a pair of stars on each of Franky’s inventions

A blue 5 pointed on for Franky and a smaller 4 pointed gold one for y/n

Y/n Is the only one on the crew besides Luffy to use the Franky fridge to store stuff

Specifically the snacks the other crew members give them through the day

Franky ends up building some birdhouses on the ship for crows who stay the night along with prosthetic limbs for birds who lost legs or even their wings

He doesn’t have a particular bird he prefers over the rest

He thinks all of them are SUUPPEERRRR

They seem to like his golden chain and shiny metal nose

Much to his amusement

Sometimes a chosen bird will be allowed to wear his sunglasses and it becomes the super bird of the day

This bird for that day gets to hang around on his head and gets a invention made for them

Y/n likes to buy Franky cool gadgets they find along with anything that has blue stars

Franky doesn’t buy y/n stuff but instead makes them things, typically little do-dads or even some puzzles to keep them preoccupied

“Hey Franky, do you need some help there?” You asked watching the blue haired shipwright peel himself away from repairing the mast of the ship. He grins, “Surre thing little helper!” He then tosses you a hammer that you luckily catch.

“What do you suggest I get Robin? I’m still debating between these two” the cyborg man questions as he holds up two different bouquets of fresh flowers. You peer between the two, examining them. “Robin would probably like the second one. Those flowers have meanings of “love” “companionship” and “appreciation” which would be the best choice. She’d like the effort behind them” you say before correcting your fake moustache and dusting off any dirt of your fake waiter uniform you stole from Sanji’s days at the baratie. “Should I have Hesta fly in and deliver them?” He adds making you respond “of course!”

Two cans of Cola clink together as you and Franky sit watching the horizon. “I can only imagine Oden’s face seeing that you’re now a pirate after saying you’d never be one, oh and Tom’s” you giggle as Franky nods “do you think they’d be happy?”. For a moment you ponder “I can’t say for sure….but I think so long as your happy they’d be”

Brook

Dead duo (lol) cause they’ve both died and come back to life (though one has done this significantly more than the other)

By the time he joins y/n being a immortal ain’t a secret anymore

Even if it was his emotional breakdown when seeing them again asking if he’s finally gone fully insane before hugging them would probably proof enough that their immortal

But anyway!!

For very obvious reasons Brook for a long while after reuniting is kinda stuck at y/n’s side

Partially because he’s still unsure if this is real and afraid he’ll wake up alone again

On that ship where only the damned souls of the sea like himself stay

Y/n seems to know this though and happily allows him to stay at their side as they hold onto his coat since he’s too tall for them to comfortably hold his hand

The annual amount of death and skeleton jokes have gone up exponentially because of the two of them alone

Both Brook and y/n cope via jokes and each other (as sad as that is)

The crew can’t help but deadpan at the amount of time the two have watched something horrific or head about it and said “same” or pointed to a skeleton and said “look it’s us!”

Brook doesn’t ask his pervert questions or jokes in front of y/n he’s too mortified to do so when he basically considered them his family

He once accidentally did and y/n asked what that meant and he wanted to curl up and die (again)

Y/n brings him milk and stuff with calcium saying he needs to build up bone density

He has yet to tell them he can’t drink it but he appreciates the gesture and gives it to Sanji instead so he can use it for recipes

Brook is the only person y/n talks to about the ways in which they’ve died

Mostly because he’s the only other person who can understand what its like

And because hearing vindication that what had happened to them was wrong kinda helps them process stuff

Because they should not have died as many as they’ve had let alone in such gruesome ways

Hearing it from Brook, someone who’d also faced the horrors of death and immortality really opens their eyes

Whenever Brook plays music y/n instinctively joins him in song

It’s just second nature to y/n at this point

Both are different versions of insane from immortality. While’s brooks is more noticeable for y/n’s it’s more subtle

Y/n likes to show Brook all the instruments and songs they learned after his death

Especially their ukulele skills much to his amusement

Neither can play Binks booze together without sobbing midway

Nor can Brook handle their stories of Laboon still waiting at reverse mountain

Nor can y/n handle hearing how Brook would see visions of them and the crew in his years of isolation

The rest of the straw hats can’t handle just how depressing that all is lol

He accidentally found y/n, Chopper and Luffy in their game and now has made a soundtrack for it

When y/n stays in the men’s quarter Brook sometimes has to check their still alive because of his fear they’ll die again

Y/n has played the xylophone on Brook’s ribcage much to Nami’s horror

Both of them pull the “as the oldest people on board” card

The two of them also call each other senior citizens and try and get discounts at places via Nami’s orders

Both always get kicked out

Y/n somehow learned the word “boner” from someone and asked Brook what that meant because he was made of bones

He wanted to die a second time 💀

He was mortified after that especially when y/n then taught that word to Luffy and chopper who joined in on asking him what it meant

Robin had to help him escape the questioning

When y/n can’t see anything they like to climb Brook to get a better view

Y/n also sometimes hides in his ribcage

The two of them share an atrocious fashion sense

The only difference is that Robin and Nami help in making sure y/n doesn’t end up in a floral shirt with polka dot shorts and sandals with socks

Brook is extremely proud of y/n’s skills that they picked up from him and his crew

The crows keep bringing Brook bones because they assume all skeletons they find somehow are parts of Brook

Y/n taught them to play the xylophone on Brook

The dead musician’s favourite crow is one named “crazy Pete” because he just picks shit up and starts whacking against the nearest surface

This making him the best xylophone player of the crows as well as the best drummer

The flock also uses his ribcage as a perch as well as his Afro in which they have built a nest in that he didn’t know about until baby birds hatched

He got to name the newborns and named some of them after his old crew

Y/n likes to buy Brook skeleton things (like those plastic Halloween skeletons lol) and music sheets for him to write new music

Brook gets y/n a bunch of weird mystical shit that y/n always ends up loving

“Yohohohoho! Are you up for a duet?” The old skeleton asks as he holds up his violin, you look up from the book you were reading a smile already stretching across your face. “Do you have to ask?” You reply back as you get up and get into position, if a skeleton could smile he would.

“Yo brook!” You yell already snickering under your voice “do you think we ought to buy some trombone’s? Or maybe some Xylobone’s?”. At that he lets out his signature laugh, “maybe, but they’d cost a Skelaton! Get it? Cause we’ve both died!” For a moment there’s a pause of silence between you both before the two of you burst out into laughter. Nami grumbles under her breath about you both being “numbskulls” before realizing her mistake, the two of you laugh even harder.

In the middle of the night you and Brook sit in the crows nest, the humming the Bink’s booze filling the silence beneath the stars. Because for now that’s enough.

Jinbe

Fisher duo! Would’ve gone with sun duo because of the sun pirates but that duo name probably fits y/n and ace more

By the time Jinbe joins everyone on the crew knows so he doesn’t need to keep the secret

Something that makes him hella realized about since he knows he’d have to jump through hoops somehow trying to explain why y/n knew him prior

Is always worried for y/n especially when realizing they already have a very small impulse control that melts away when Luffy is near

Like he is getting grey hairs as Robin and Nami emphatically pat his shoulder

Y/n loves to laze about on Jinbe, they’ll just randomly go up to him raise their arms up to be picked up and then just fall asleep or stay there

Y/n likes how warm he is along with how he’ll carry them around. Plus his more squishy and smooth textured skin on account of being a fishman is a texture that they like

Jinbe has accepted his role as a resting place for y/n

Something that now also extends to Luffy, chopper and sometimes Zoro as well

When not doing his duties on the ship he likes to listen to y/n’s recounts of things

He finds it pretty soothing as well as informative

If no one else is up to listen to y/n word vomit then Jinbe always has an ear open

His favourites are ones are those including Roger

He’d never known him, just knew about bits and pieces from Whitebeard so he’s especially interested in learning about him from someone else

Y/n sometimes like to ask him about fishman culture along with facts about mermaids as well!

Especially stuff about Joyboy

Something which makes Jinbe light up in pride

Head pats galore from this fishman once he finds out that y/n melts at that type of affection

Is the first to not question how y/n has befriended so many war criminals

Though his is curious how the hell Doflamingo ended up on that list

Speaking of which when y/n gets really scared or anxious he is quick to pick up on it

Just immediately picks up y/n leaves the situation while Luffy goes to beat up what caused the problem lol

Y/n when seeing him get odd looks gives people odd looks back

Especially when people ask where their parents were and they point to Jinbe as if it were the most obvious answer in the world

Y/n once has bitten someone who was being racist

While Jinbe was proud he was not happy with the fact they resorted to Luffy type behaviour

Definitely considers Jinbe a father figure

Something he holds in high regard especially when hearing how they think so highly about Roger

Due to Jinbe being a whale shark fishman y/n bought themself and him matching whale shark plushies

He got the smaller one while y/n got the mama

Jinbe may or may not have secretly cried about this

Because Jinbe is serious most of the time y/n has made it a sport in trying to surprise him

Like suddenly jumping from the crows nest into his arms or randomly appearing out of nowhere for hugs

Even if he’s upset with their recklessness he always ends up smiling

Much like the others he ends up as a resting spot for the crows, specifically the young ones just learning to fly

They always end up tucked into his kimono somehow but he doesn’t end up minding it much

Not when the combined forces of the baby birds and y/n give him puppy eyes

His all time favourite crow though is one named Pearl, she’s just a little sweetheart that loves to sit on his hands to be pet

To be honest he finds them all rather intriguing especially since crows typically aren’t this intelligent

Like sure typically their intelligent birds but these ones seem even moreso

it seems somehow they have increased perception?

He’s not sure as to why but leaves it as a “y/n thing”

Something that has become a trend in his will for questioning things

Don’t understand it? Probably a y/n thing so move on and accept it

Nami has been following in this mindset for awhile now

Y/n steals his robes despite them being too big

He purposely leaves them out when realizing they like to do this

Jinbe is the only one to know about y/n’s time as a slave and is the only one to know why they sometimes flinch when people touch their back

He’s also the only way who’s able to understand and comfort them when they silently stream out at the sea

At ports y/n likes to go shopping with Jinbe and though he says they don’t need to buy him anything they buy him sea themed stuff to remind him of fishman island

In similar fashion despite y/n saying that he doesn’t need to buy them anything he buys them charms for their bracelets and necklaces that represent a place they’ve been so they can keep track

“So Roger really could stand toe to toe with Whitebeard?” Jinbe asks as you nod with a smile “yeah, Roger despite having no devil fruit was extraordinarily strong and had extraordinary Haki. Plus Roger was Roger”. At hearing this explanation Jinbe nods but then inquires “what do you mean by that last part?” Which makes you lightly giggle before explaining “Roger is the only person besides maybe Luffy who would sneak onto a marine base, fist fight Garp the fist, raid the kitchen and then proceed to escape back to the Oro with the stolen food, treasure and highly classified government field he thought looked cool”

“Jinbe can I go up” you ask with your hands already reaching up to him and in position to be lifted. The fishman smiles, for an immortal you really were a kid still. He smiles. “Alright, do you also want to hear about fishman island again?” It’s not even really a question when he knows your answer but he asks either way and sees you nod. Pearl who’s perched on his shoulder makes room and finds a place between you and him.

It’s late in the night when he finds you sitting on the railing of the ship, silently looking out to sea just as you did all those years ago. He leans against the railing beside you, remembering not to touch your back at this time. “You got reminded of it again?” He asks on which he receives a full nod from you, “it was in the market, there were some propaganda posters about escaped slaves. I checked to see if I was on there, I wasn’t luckily, but it still left me feeling all flighty”. He frowns at that but nods. “Do you need me to stay with you for now?” You respond quickly without thought “yes….it burns Jinbe, my back burns again but I know the brands not there”

[avastrasposts]

Bona Dea - part 5 The End

Plot: Stumbling through a dark town, general Marcus Acacius encounters the festival of Bona Dea. But what at first seems like just a pleasurable way to spend the night leaves a greater impression on him than he counted on.

Series master list

General Marcus Acacius x female reader

Warnings: Explicit smut. No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate if you're a Roman noble lady in 2nd century Tuscany?

Word count: 8.4k

A/N: Fifth and final part of Bona Dea (at least until I watch the film next Sunday and start making up new stories....). All happy endings here! Please come tell me your thoughts, yell in my inbox, ask me about all the strange Roman customs I squeezed in here, I'd love to hear from you all!

A few notes on the Latin. I think most of it is pretty self-explanatory but just in case: Caligae - typical Roman sandals Carrisme - dearest or sweetest Sepmer - always Amica mea/Amica meus - "my love" in female and male form Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia - Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius - Wherever you are, I will be

The next morning, just after you’d finished breakfast with the family and Alba, one of the servants came in to announce a guest. Your heart caught in your throat when you heard the name. Alba gasped loudly and it made Titus look up at first her and then you, when he saw your shocked faces, he quickly understood something was not right. 

“Who is he?” he asked, rising to his feet as you did the same. 

“My father,” you replied, your hands shaking as you smoothed down your stola, “I didn’t think he’d risk the journey, but it seems I was wrong.” 

“Siro,” Titus called to the servant who had brought the news, “Send word to general Acacius at once, tell him Domina Lunaris’ father is here and he should come at once to meet the father of his bride,” his words were light but the grim tone spoke volumes 

Titus gave you a reassuring look as Siro left the room, “Don’t worry, Marcus will come as quickly as he can and make sure your father does not interfere.” 

“We’ll come with you to meet your father,” Antonia told you, coming to your side with Alba and taking your hand, “You won’t have to face him alone, and Marcus will be here soon.” 

“Thank you both,” you replied, still nervously smoothing down your stola. Alba squeezed your hand and gave you a scared look. 

“He can’t say anything, can he? You’re a widow now, and under the protection of general Acacius.” 

“She’s not just under his protection,” Titus said, “She’s his betrothed, he’s given her a ring and shown Rome that she belongs to him now,” he beckoned you all to follow him, “Come, let’s see what your father has to say and show him that you are not some lost young girl.” 

Your father was seated in the reception room and stood up as Titius walked in through the door, and then you, arm in arm with Antonia. 

“Nerius Vernio,” Titus greeted him, “Welcome to my home.” 

The two men bowed and Titus introduced himself and his wife as your father eyed you. You dropped your eyes to the floor and curtsied low. 

“Father, I didn’t know you were coming to Rome, I hope your journey was uneventful,” you greeted him and he gave you a cursory nod. 

“Daughter, I’ve written and requested for you to return home several times, but my letters have gone unanswered,” he said and then turned to Titus, “Aurelius, I’m grateful you’ve taken in my daughter and her cousin after the bandits attack that took her husband’s life. I’ve arranged for accommodation for us and I’ll take her into my care now.” 

You immediately shook your head but your father ignored you, “Alba, pack up both of your belongings, I have a letica waiting for  us outside.” 

“No, father, I’m not-” you began to protest, but Titus interrupted. 

“Vernio, there is no need for them to leave, we are happy to have them stay and they’ve both become very good friends of my wife. And your daughter has made a very happy connection while in Rome. And-” 

“I’ve heard of this connection, and the upcoming wedding,” your father snapped, his eyes on you and not Titus, “But you are still my daughter and you belong to my family and I will not allow you to marry anyone without my consent.” 

“Father, I’m a widow and can choose my own husband now,” you replied, but he shook his head, interrupting you again. 

“No. You will come back home, we will set Lunaris affairs on order and then I will choose a new husband for you,” Vernio was grabbing at your arm now, ushering Alba at the same time, trying to make you leave, “I will not have you dishonour our family name by running off and remarrying mere days after your husband dies.”

You tried to dig your heels in, and Antonia was reluctant to let go of your arm, “Please, father, I am not going back. I don’t care what tradition says, I’ve found a good man to marry, many times better than Lunaris and I love him.” 

He scoffed in reply, looking at you with contempt, “Love? When did love ever play a part in marriage? You’ll marry who I choose and if the gods will it, you’ll grow to love your new husband as much as you did Lunaris.” 

“I never loved Lunaris,” you cried, pulling to get your arm back now as your father looked close to slapping you in his anger, Titus looked appalled and stepped in to calm the situation. 

“Please, Verio, your daughter is allowed to have a mind of her own, she is no young maid going to her first marriage,” he said, placing a hand on your arm, “Both law and tradition says a widow can choose to marry whom she wants.” 

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity by the door of the reception room and the next thing you knew, Marcus was striding over to you, his face dark with rage. He was dressed in his full armour, the dark leather decorated with the intimidating Medusa, his gladius hanging on his hip. The sight made your father abruptly drop your arm and take several steps back as Marcus reached your side and immediately cupped your cheeks. 

“Amica mea, I came as fast as I could,” he said, looking only at you and not acknowledging your father with as much as a glance. 

“Thank you, amor,” you replied, smiling up at Marcus and taking immense satisfaction in the way your father seemed to be almost cowering from Marcus’ imposing form. It felt like having a fearsome lion as protection, storming in with a roar and making sure everyone knew that you were his to protect. 

“My father has arrived,” you said finally, after Marcus had dropped his hand to your waist and turned to the room with you securely in his arms, “Father, I’m pleased to introduce you to my betrothed, general Marcus Acacius. General, this is my father Fabius Nerius Vernio.” 

“Vernio,” Marcus said, giving your father a short nod. Vernio on his hand seemed to have lost his ability to speak, he only stared at Marcus. 

Marcus continued to look at Vernio with thinly veiled rage, and your father seemed no closer to finding his tongue and the room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. You were delighted seeing your father squirm under Marcus’ sharp eyes and had no intention of easing his uncomfort. Eventually it was Titus, ever the diplomat, who broke the silence. 

“General Acacius is one of Rome’s most celebrated military commanders, and enjoys great favour from the emperors. I’m sure you can understand that your daughter is making a very wise choice in accepting his proposal,” he said, almost imperceptibly and gently ushering your father towards the door of the room. 

“I’m still her father and I can’t allow her to marry some stranger,” he protested weakly, “Lunaris estate must be taken care of.” 

“Oh, so that’s where your concern is!” you exclaimed, only Marcus’ arm around your waist stopped you from stepping closer to your father, Marcus tightened his grip and held you back. “You only want Lunaris’ assets so that you can marry me off to someone with lands next to the olive groves!” 

Next to you, you felt more than heard Marcus’ growl. Your father tried to bring himself under control and took hold of the edge of his toga, nervously adjusting it on his shoulder. Under Marcus’ glare he seemed pitiful. 

“Your daughter will want for nothing when she is my wife,” Marcus said, his tone betraying that he had no patience for this conversation, “If it’s money you want to let her go, then you can have whatever you want. Unlike you, my only aim is to make her happy and I don’t need money for that.” 

He turned to Titus as he took your hand in his, “I’m taking my future wife to the temple to prepare for the ceremony, I trust you to have evacuated your guest when we return, Titus.” 

Titus gave him a smirk, a look exchanged between the two old friends that spoke volumes, “Of course, general Acacius.” 

And with that Marcus led you from the room, stepping between you and your father as you passed by him, you kept your eyes from him, not wishing to see his reaction.

Later, when you reclined next to Marcus in his private reception room, you went over the events in your mind. After Marcus and you had left Titus’ villa he’d taken you to visit the temple of Juno to honour the goddess of love and marriage. On the day of your wedding you’d have a ceremony at the temple of Jupiter, but it felt right to honour Juno and ask her to protect your love for each other after your father’s anger today. 

Afterwards Marcus had asked if you wanted to see his villa, the place you would effectively be taking control of once you were married. So now you sat next to him in his private rooms, picking at the food the servants had brought from the kitchen.

“I think, in reality, he loves the idea of a great Roman general as husband to his daughter,” you told Marcus, thinking of your father, “both he and Lunaris were obsessed with power and you’re certainly more powerful than Lunaris ever was.” 

“He didn’t seem too keen today though,” Marcus replied as he pulled you closer on the seat you were on, “You’d think his daughter was marrying a homeless sewage collector.” 

“I think he was mostly angry that he had no say in it, he hates not being in control,” you said, “but I won’t let him ruin this. I’m marrying you and I’d marry you even if you were a sewage collector.” 

Marcus chuckled at that and playfully pinched your nose between his thumb and forefinger, “But you’d make me bathe every day before I came home? Or would you let me into your bed smelling like the excrements of Rome?” 

He laughed as you giggled and squirmed under his grip, finally letting go and capturing your smiling mouth in a tender kiss. 

“Would you love me even if I smelled like shit, carissime?” he asked with a mischievous grin. 

“Maybe a smidgen less,” you laughed, accepting his insistent kisses along your neck. 

He kept you occupied in that way for some time until it was time for you to return to Titus’ villa. Your lips were swollen and your hair less than smooth as he escorted you through the gates. 

“How are the preparations for the wedding going?” he asked, walking next to you with his hands clasped behind his back, keeping his roaming paws to himself to stop too many rumours to spread amongst the slaves at the villa. 

“We are almost done, the clothes are prepared, Antonia has made the wreaths for our heads, and the jewellery will be delivered tomorrow,” you replied. The big door was opened by an unseen slave and light spilled out onto the courtyard, “Will you come in?” you asked. 

“Yes, I need to discuss something with Titus,” Marcus said, “But I’ll say good night to you now, my love, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

“I wish it was our wedding day tomorrow,” you smiled, “I don’t want to wait any longer to be your wife.” 

Marcus smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Sleep well, amica mea.” 

Alba woke you up the next morning, insisting on an early visit to the villa’s thermae, dragging your sleepy form along. 

“Antonia and I want to make sure your wedding day is perfect so we’re rehearsing it all today,” she said, “do all the steps so that we have time to make changes.” 

“Sounds sensible,” you yawned, “but why so early and why do we start in the baths?” 

“Because there will be a lot of standing around getting adjusted today so we’re starting with a relaxing bath and massage.” 

You were too tired to question her and both the massage and bath were enough to put you back to sleep, snoring lightly on the marble slab until Alba woke you up again. Antonia then greeted you in the largest reception room, where the servants had just finished setting up a light meal. So while you tried to nibble on sweet dates, you were shrouded in all your wedding finery. A brand new, pure white tunic was pulled over your head and your hair then fiddled with while you yawned again. Alba and Antonia were debating how to best braid your hair while making the customary flammeum, the bridal veil, stay attached. It would be seen as a very bad omen if it fell off. You had to squint to see through the fabric as they finally agreed on how to fasten it. 

You admired the white tunic and the bright yellow veil in the polished brass mirror that was being held up in front of you. You remembered how much you’d hated it on your first wedding day, now you smiled at your reflection as Antonia tied the belt securely around your waist until you realised what she was doing. 

“No, wait, don’t tie that yet. Only Marcus is supposed to untie it and the wedding isn’t for another three days,” you protested, but it was too late, the Hercules knot was securely in place.  

“You’ll just have to stay in your wedding clothes until your wedding night then,” Antonia laughed and you frowned at her, untying the knot was a major part of the ceremony once the newlyweds were alone in their new home. Only when the husband untied the knot and slept with his wife for the first time were they truly married in the eyes of Rome and the gods. 

You were about to protest again as the doors to the room slammed open and Titus rushed in. 

“Protect the bride!” he called in a dramatic voice, throwing his arms up in the air as Marcus stepped in behind him and pushed him aside with a grin. 

“No man will stop me from robbing this woman away from her family and making her mine,” he called, striding over to you with long steps, mischief glinting in his eyes as Alba and Antonia tried to hide the bright smiles. 

“What are you doing?” you laughed, “The wedding isn’t for another three days.” Tradition held that the groom would pretend to steal his bride away from her family, and the bride should act as if she was both sad to be taken from her home, but also excited to begin her new life. But now he was three days early and you were confused when he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him towards the door as Titus pretended to try to stop him from leaving. 

“I’m claiming you as mine, we will go to the temple of Jupiter this very day and let the gods know that you will be my wife from this day on,” Marcus said, keeping the tradition with a stern voice, but you could see the glint in his eyes. He pushed Titus to the side, who made a big show of falling to the floor and Antonia ran over to him, pleading with the gods to stop Marcus. The smile she gave you made you realise she’d been in on it all along and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing out loud. Marcus had taken your hand in his and now he was ushering you along the hall, across the courtyard and into his carriage. He helped you step inside and you managed to wave to Titus and  his family who had followed. Now they were throwing walnuts over your heads as the family’s slaves joined in, shouting well wishings. You suddenly realised, you were getting married today, somehow Marcus and Titus had moved things forward, and now you were on your way to the ceremony. 

Marcus climbed into the carriage and you couldn’t help beaming up at him. He was dressed in white armour adorned with gold details and he was grinning widely at you as he pulled you into his side, laughing as more walnuts rained down over the carriage. 

The procession to the temple of Jupiter was filled with blessings called to you both from the people on the streets, many joining in behind you together with Titus and his family. By the time you arrived in the square before the temple of Jupiter, the crowd was pretty large. The flamen Dialis, the head priest of Jupiter, stood at the top of the stairs, awaiting your arrival together with his wife. 

“You changed all the plans,” you said to Marcus as the carriage made a lap around the square. 

“I talked to Titus and he sent out messengers last night,” he replied, his smile disappearing as he looked at you with serious eyes, “We didn’t want to risk your father trying to disrupt the events. Neither Titus nor I trust him to not try to influence someone to get control over both you and Lunaris’ assets,” he cupped your cheek and let his thumb caress your skin, “And honestly, I was tired of waiting for you to be my wife, we have spent enough days apart, now I want you to be mine.” 

“Then let's pay our respects to Jupiter so that you can take me to our home,” you smiled at him and he smiled back. 

The carriage came to a stop at the foot of the stairs and Marcus tenderly kissed your forehead before he took your hand and helped you step down. The large crowd cheered as you began to climb the stairs, Titus’ family and Alba behind you. At the top of the stairs you stopped in front of the Dialis and he called up Jupiter to make your marriage a long and happy one. Two slaves brought forward a sow and the auspex performed the sacrifice to the god Ceres, reading the entrails of the dead animal as its blood dripped down the stairs. After much humming and mumbling, he finally stood up straight and loudly declared the omens to be good, loud enough for the crowd to hear. A big cheer erupted and you saw Marcus smile from the corner of your eye. He took your hand and turned you so that you were facing him, and the Dialis told you it was time for the groom to look upon his bride. 

Up until now you’d enjoyed the spectacle, it felt like your first real wedding day, not the unhappy day you’d married Lunaris. But now suddenly you felt the weight of the moment, emotions racing to the surface as you looked up at Marcus. He could only see the shadows of your features through the veil, but his smile was warm and tender, his eyes soft, as if he could see through the veil and into your nervously beating heart as you lifted your shaking hands and removed the flammeum.  

“Semper amare,” he whispered, so low that only you could hear it, and his words filled you with calm as you slowly lifted the bright yellow veil from your face. Stillness filled your mind as you met his eyes and you smiled back at him and took a deep breath. 

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” you said, your voice loud and clear, carrying across the square. 

Marcus reached out and took your hands in his and replied as was the tradition; 

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius.”

His voice also carried across the square and the crowd cheered as the Dialis cleared his throat and looked pointedly at where Marcus was holding your hands. 

“General, you need to let go of her so that I can initiate the dextratum iunctio,” he said and Marcus chuckled, dropping your hands. 

“I got carried away, apologies.” 

The Dialis took your hand and then Marcus’ and joined them together again. 

“Your hands are joined in the concordia, the mutual bond of affection and marriage. Now offer this bread to Jupiter.” 

He held out a small piece of round bread to Marcus, who let go of your hand. With a grin, he broke the bread over your head, showering you with crumbs before offering you a piece to eat. The bread was dry but you smiled back at him as you chewed and swallowed it down as Marcus did the same. 

The Dialis brought forward a tablet and you both signed the papyrus, marking your names to the contract that would now bind you together in Roman law. The last time it had felt like a death sentence, reluctantly scraping your pen over the surface. Now it felt like you were signing your release papers, setting you free from your father’s influence and becoming a part of Marcus’ family, his name now attached to yours. Marcus moved closer as you placed the pen on the table, his arm over your shoulder, as a sign to the crowd behind you that you were now under his protection.

Together you walked back down the stairs towards the carriage, the crowd had swelled and they cheered as they saw the patrician newlyweds. Again Marcus helped you up into the carriage and then waved at the crowd as his driver turned back up to the Palatine, this time returning to his villa. 

The crowd followed you all the way back, continuing to shout blessings. When you performed the rituals of entering the house the first time as mistress of it, blessings of good omens showered over you. Marcus picked you up, lifting you into his arms with a big smile and carried you not just into the courtyard and house, but all the way into the reception hall, followed by Titus’ and his family and a few of Marcus’ closest officers who had been told at the last minute that the wedding was changing days. 

The feast was a small affair, just as Marcus had promised you. Alba sat across from you at the best table together with Titus and Antonia while their children chatted away at another table. And although the food was excellent, and the wild stories about Marcus from his closest friends made you laugh until your sides ached, you wanted nothing more than for it to end so that you could have Marcus to yourself and perform the final part of the wedding ceremony. 

But there was one detail that made you want to stay a little bit longer. A young man, only a few years older than Alba, caught your eye. He was looking at Alba with admiration as she told him about a weaving technique she’d been taught. For a young man to be so immersed in weaving could only mean one thing, and you carefully nudged Marcus to look in the man’s direction. He gave a low chuckle when he saw the way the boy seemed to hang on to Alba’s every word. 

“Octavian Livius Catius,” he whispered close to your ear, “A junior in my army and Titus’ mentee. He comes from a fairly low birth but he has a good career in front of him, Alba could do much worse if she wishes to marry.” 

“Is he a good man?” you asked, keeping your voice low as you tried to glance at the two of them without being seen. 

“He is, Titus says he has good morals and a stable head, he’s fostering him to become a strategist too. And of course, since we’ve been away for two years, he’s well past the age most boys marry, I’m sure he’s looking for a future wife.” 

“Only if Alba wants him,” you replied immediately, “She’s in my care and I won’t let her be married off without her consent.”

“I would expect nothing less, domina,” Marcus mumbled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Now, I think we have been polite enough to our guests, let’s leave.” 

Taking your hand, he stood and pulled you to your feet as the small group of guests grew quiet. 

“I’m now fortunate enough to call this incredible woman ‘my wife’, he said, addressing the room, “And it is time for our final ceremony and to honour the gods, to thank them for bringing us together and letting us have this happy day.” 

He smiled down at you as he continued to speak, “Never could I have imagined that a chance meeting on a dark street would lead me to such a happy end. I’m still not convinced you’re not Venus stepped down among us mortals.” 

You squeezed his hand and brought it to your lips for a kiss as you felt heat rise in your cheeks at his praise. 

“Please, enjoy each other’s company, the wine, the food, have a glorious evening,” Marcus told the guests and then turned to you again, “Come, wife,” he smiled at the word, “let me untie the knot.” 

Titus raised his glass and cheered, and the others joined in as Alba got to her feet and gave you a big hug, wrapping her arms tight around you. 

“I’m so happy for you both,” she said and kissed your cheek. 

“Thank you, my darling Alba,” you replied, “and his name is Octavian and Marcus says he’s a good man,” you added with a whisper in her ear, smiling as you pulled away and looked at her. Her cheeks went red as she giggled. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grinned and gave you a little push, “Now go with your husband and tell me everything tomorrow.” 

Behind you, you heard Marcus chuckle at Alba’s comment, and his hand took a firmer hold of yours. “I agree with your cousin, come now, carissime, I have waited long enough.”  

He wrapped his arms around you as he guided you through the villa, towards one of the few rooms you had yet to see in what was now your new home; his private bedroom. It sat on the second floor and as the short December day was nearing the end, the sun glowed golden outside the windows. One of the servants had lit the oil lamps in the room and they filled it with a warm light, illuminating the warm colours of mosaics that decorated the walls. Thick rugs covered the floor and the bed was draped in soft looking blankets and pillows to warm against the cold night outside. 

Marcus closed the door behind the two of you and let out a deep breath that made you turn towards him. 

“Why such a deep sigh?” you asked and he gave you a small smile as he took your hand again and led you to the bed and sat down. 

“It’s a relief to close the door, to finally have you to myself, as my wife,” he said, “I didn’t realise until yesterday how much I’d feared that something would hinder our wedding. But when your father turned up…” Marcus sighed again and rubbed a hand over his face, “I knew I had to act fast, I hope you didn’t mind the surprise this morning.” 

You smiled at him and cupped his cheeks with both your hands, smoothing out his worried frown, “Not at all, if anything I’m delighted I didn’t have to wait another three days. Now, untie this knot and prove your virility,” you teased, “Antonia made it very tight so I hope you’re up for the task.” 

Marcus laughed and took your hand, making you lie down in the middle of the bed as he sat next to you. 

“I’d say you already know my virility is just fine enough,” he said, his smile turning more mischievous as he let his eyes roam over your body. The look in his eyes made your skin tingle and you sighed when he finally put his hands on you properly and caressed your curves. He toyed with the belt, tugging at it to pull you closer as he leaned forward. 

“Marcus….” you said, your voice a low whine when he pressed his lips to your cheek instead of your lips, his hands still not touching the knot.

“Patience, domina,” he hummed, pulling away and getting to his feet, his eyes darker now. 

With slow, practised movements he unwound the long toga from around his body, laying it on the seat next to the bed, loosening his belt and caligae next. When he pulled the tunic over his head, you held your breath, it had been so long since you last saw him fully naked and standing tall in front of you. He was just as glorious as the first time, his strong body littered with scars, his posture proud and powerful like the statues of Mars in the temple. 

He smirked at the way your hungry eyes drifted across his body, from his wide shoulders, over his chest and down to where his heavy cock was rapidly growing. When he put his knee on the bed and crawled over your body, your insides squirmed and his grin widened. He knew the effect he was having on you and he planned on taking it slow on this first time as a married couple. 

“Domina…” he all but purred, lowering himself onto his forearms and caging you underneath him. You were still fully clothed and writhing with impatience as he dipped his mouth to your neck, his tongue slipping out to taste the sensitive skin under your ear, a wet kiss following. 

“Marcus…” you pleaded again as he moved further down your body, his hands caressing and kneading as his teeth nipped through the thin fabric of your stola. 

“Patience is a virtue, mi amor,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice against your breasts. 

Your breath was coming in short huffs, and you struggled to stay still, as he reached the knot in your belt. He was kissing your body around the knot, through the fabric, his hands stroking your thighs, reaching up under the stola and grabbing at your hips. His body was nestled between your legs but still he wasn’t touching you where you needed him the most, and with an impatient whine, you arched yourself up against him, seeking any friction. 

Marcus growled, and grabbed both your hips, pinning you down with his weight, “Patience…” he smirked.

He began to mouth at the ornate knot in your belt, keeping you where he wanted you with a strong grip. The edge of the stola was pressed into your core by his firm chest and you could feel how you’d soaked through your undergarments already. With a moan you reached down and grabbed at Marcus’ bare shoulders, urging him to move faster even though you knew he was intent on taking it at his own slow pace tonight. 

When you glanced down to see him stretched out between your legs, you were met by the sight of the strong planes of his back working as he held you down, his teeth grabbing the knot and pulling it loose. With a wicked grin he flashed you a look, before he began to work the stola up over your hips, the belt falling loose to the sides.

He pushed up to his knees and pulled the stola with him, finally freeing you of it as it slipped over your head. With an impatient wave you tossed it over the side of the bed and reached up for Marcus again, willing him to kiss you and sink his hard cock into you, you could feel the heated drag of it over your thigh. But he ignored your hands, instead he grabbed your thighs and spread them, sinking down with his eyes fixed on your centre.

“Carissime, I’ve missed this sight,” he hummed, slowly dragging a finger through your slick folds, reaching the aching pearl at the top and circling it as he looked up at you. Your eyebrows were drawn together, your mouth open and panting. It made his cock twitch to see you so laid out for him, and with all the time in the world to pull you apart and make you cry his name in pleasure. 

Your warm thigh rested on his shoulder as he leaned in closer, brushing his nose over your soft curls and tasting the salty liquid. A shuddering breath left your lungs as you seemed to melt into the bed at the sensation, and Marcus licked a wide stripe up your centre, making you gasp again. 

His fingers spread you open, making more room for his tongue, and methodically he began to explore your cunt in earnest, taking the time he hadn’t had on the night of Bona Dea. Every sound you made, your whimpered pleas and moaned cries of his name, it made him try even harder, his own arousal aching and pressed against the bed. Your hands found his hair and he groaned when you pulled him closer, burying his face in your cunt, driving his tongue in as deep as he could while you made his nose rub against the swollen nub at the apex of your sex. 

“Marcus…please….” you panted, your skin flushed and hot as you felt yourself begin to crest the wave he was building up. 

“Carissime, you taste so good,” he mumbled into your flesh, moving his tongue up to lap at your most sensitive part, “so sweet and delicate, my wife’s perfect cunt.” 

With a deep breath he began to suck at the puffy button, his fingers digging into your thighs and pushing them wide, burying his face between your legs with a growl. 

His mouth seemed to be making red hot flames shoot out through your body, your hands tightening their grip on his curls as shockwaves rocked through your limbs. Crying out, you threw your head back, his name the only word you could muster and each lick and suck from Marcus brought fresh moans of pleasure from you until your throat felt raw and dry. He was working you into hysteria where all that existed was his mouth and the way he made your body sing. 

You pulled tight like a bow string and with a strangled cry of his name, you snapped, sobbing as Marcus continued to lick and suck at your cunt, clenching around nothing. Your body was begging for him to fill you up as the orgasm coursed through you, but your mind couldn’t find the words, there were only stars streaming across your field of vision as your body shook and trembled under his tongue. 

Panting hard you finally fell back against the bed, your taught body relaxing in Marcus grip and he gave your folds a few soft kisses before he pulled back. With a low chuckle, he nuzzled your thigh, trailing sticky kisses across the hot skin as he made his way up to lie next to you. 

“My sweet wife…are you still with me? Do you think you’re wet enough to take my cock now?” he smiled as he pressed kisses to your cheek and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your body felt like liquid and Marcus chuckled again as you smiled back up at him with half closed eyes, unable to form a coherent response yet.  

“It seems I did a proper job as husband,” he said, letting you pull him closer, “Are you satisfied, wife?” 

“No, husband,” you replied, seeking his mouth out for a slow kiss, “You did good, but I know how good it feels to have you fill me up, and now nothing else will do.” 

Marcus smiled and caressed your cheek as he moved to cage you under his wide shoulders again, your arms around his neck. 

“I want to take you slowly, feel every part of it,” he said in a low voice as you spread your legs to make room for him, the weight of his cock pressed against your core, “feel your kisses when I fuck you deep into our bed, feel every tremble in your body as I fill you up again and again, keep you here underneath me until we forget everything except this.” 

He rolled his hips, the fat tip of his cock catching against your opening, making you both hiss. 

“Nothing exists except you, Marcus,” you whispered, cupping his face between your palms as he moved again. The head of his cock breached your tight hole and you could feel his jaws clench under your hands, a tight breath escaping him. 

“You feel so good, Marcus, amica meus,” you mumbled, caressing his soft beard, tracing your thumb over his plush lips. The feel of him slowly pushing inside made your core clench, your hips trying to rise up to meet him, but his heavy weight kept you pinned underneath him, your legs locked around his waist. With a groan he squeezed his eyes shut and drove himself in to the hilt, the liquid heat of your tight cunt closing around him. 

“Gods, domina…” he panted, “keep me in your bed and let me fuck you, let me always feel this tight cunt around my cock, it’s all I ask, and I’ll be the happiest man in the world…” he rambled. “So tight and wet and hot, my sweet wife’s cunt has me on my knees until it milks me dry…” 

He slid out and drove himself in again with a loud groan, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he buried his face against your neck, “Goddess…” he moaned and you felt his mouth suck at your skin as he rocked himself into you, his cock filling you up and making you gasp every time he sheathed himself fully.  

Your hands grabbed at his back, his golden skin warm and damp to the touch as you dug your fingers into his tightly wound muscles. Over you he was unravelling, mumbling into your neck between kisses and bites, his control slipping as he continued to fuck you, lost in his own haze of lust. He came up for a deep breath of air and leaned his forehead against yours, his dark brown eyes locked on yours as his hips continued to thrust his hard cock into you, your breaths mingling as you both gasped at each impact. 

“Amica mea, I love you, my wife, I can’t believe you're finally my wife,” he mumbled, his hands gripping your shoulders and pulling you down on to him again and again. 

“I love you too. My husband,” you whispered between gasps, “amica meus, semper.” 

Marcus pressed his mouth to yours, his tongue slipping between your lips as he picked up his pace, and you squeezed your legs tight around his waist. The coarse hairs around his cock were rubbing against your swollen pearl, each slide making sparks ignite and shoot out all the way to your fingertips, even your toes were curling at the impact of his cock deep inside your weeping cunt. 

The pace grew frantic, Marcus groaned loudly, pressing his mouth against yours as his body began to tremble, he was gasping, slamming his cock into you, chasing his release as you cried out underneath him. He was hitting a new spot deep inside, new stars appeared in your field of vision but you tried to keep your eyes open and watch your husband as he began to come undone. His eyebrows pulled tight, his hips stuttering into yours, he dug his fingers almost painfully hard into your shoulders as he grimaced and cried out. With a loud shout he slammed into your cunt a final time, grinding deep inside as your own climax hit again. He rolled his hips over yours, milking himself and pushing you through each wave of pleasure as it washed over your bodies. 

He was heavy on top as he finally relaxed, his body hot and sticky with your arms and legs wrapped around him. He could feel your hands begin caress him, slowly bringing him back from the haze that had taken over his mind as he finally let go and fucked you as hard as he needed too. The heavy thumping of his heart echoed in his ears and he knew he should move, but you didn’t seem to mind his body pushing you into the mattress. So instead he turned his head and leaned his cheek against your chest, his softening cock slipping out, making him hiss. He felt you press a kiss to the top of his head, his hair damp, and your fingers raked carefully across his scalp. 

“You make me happy, Marcus,” you mumbled against his soft curls, “so happy.” 

He sighed against your warm skin, a long, content exhale, “Then I’m happy too, carissime.” 

With another sigh he pushed himself up on his forearms, smiling down at you underneath him. His hair was a halo of dark curls, his eyes soft and warm, and you cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for another kiss. Your lips felt swollen and tender but you still moaned with satisfaction when he licked into your mouth and deepened the kiss. It took several long moments before you both were satiated again and he carefully rolled off you and got out of the bed.  

“Let me clean us both off, I’m too tired to go to the thermae now,” he said, going over to the wash basin and picking up one of the washcloths. 

Your body felt loose and almost as if in a liquid state as he began to gently wipe the cool cloth over your skin. You hummed and smiled at him as he paid extra attention to the white liquid slowly dripping from between your legs. 

“Proud of your work, husband?” you teased him and he chuckled, running the cloth between your legs again and making sure to apply just a little bit too much pressure to your most sensitive area. You hissed and arched against his hand. 

“If I was a younger man, the sight would make me hard enough to do it again,” he replied, grabbing at your hips to make you spread your legs for him, “such a perfect cunt…”

He smiled at you and began to wipe himself down, running the cloth over his soft cock as you admired the sight. 

“Next time, I want to do that,” you said, watching as he pulled back the skin to clean himself. 

“Next time, I want your mouth around it,” he replied, and the look that he gave you, made heat shot through you again. 

Marcus grinned and tossed the washcloth to the side and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over you both this time. His body was warm and firm as he made space for you, his arms pulling you into his chest. 

“We have all the time in the world now, carissime,” he said, his lips close to yours as you looked up at him, “And I intended to make good on my promise to keep you in my bed night and day.” 

“I only have one more thing that’s going to make me leave this bed,” you said, smiling at his confused look and pressing your lips to his when he opened them to ask. 

“Later,” you mumbled, “now I want more kisses from my husband.” 

Marcus chuckled and you could feel the rumble in his chest, “Anything for you, wife.” 

The people going about their daily business outside the great structure of Circus Maximus may have stopped and looked an extra time as the patrician carriage drew to a halt outside the wall of the nearby temple. The general who stepped out was dressed in his formal armour, the white and gold shimmering under the bright sky. The woman he helped down with a gentle hold on her hand, was dressed in a similarly rich stola, the veil loosely wrapped around her head but leaving her face bare. 

“Here we are, carissime,” Marcus said, putting his arm around your waist and leading you to the entrance of the temple, “I’ll be waiting outside, let Bona Dea know I’m forever her servant too and that I apologise for delaying our visit to her temple for a full two weeks.” 

“I will, my love,” you smiled at him, “And I’m sure she understands that newlyweds have trouble leaving the house. I only wish you could be allowed inside the temple too.” 

“The rules of Bona Dea must be obeyed,” he laughed, “I learnt that in the best way possible.” 

You laughed with him and gave him a quick peck on his smiling lips, before leaving him behind and entering the temple grounds. 

Alba followed close behind as the vestal virgin returned your bows, and then led you up the stairs and into the sacred rooms. In the package you carried were cakes and breads you’d made yourself that very morning, using the best ingredients that could be found in the market. Alba carried an amphora of olive oil, and one of wine, the finest Marcus had in his storage, and as you reached the great altar, you both placed your offerings on the ground. 

The priestesses began the rituals and you gazed up at the marble statue standing tall behind the altar. The cornucopia in her left arm was overflowing, a symbol of her generosity, and in her right was a bowl, a snake feeding from it, a sign of her healing powers. The goddess had certainly been both generous and healing when dealing with you and Marcus, and it was time to repay her and honour her influence. 

“I thought I was trapped in a loveless marriage for the rest of my life,” you said, looking up at Bona Dea, “No children to distract me, just a vile man who blamed me for my barren womb, and made me question why I should even wake up each morning. But you brought Marcus into my life and steered his actions, making it possible for us to be together as husband and wife. And for this, both him and I will forever be your most humble servants.” 

The priestess tossed the bread and the cakes into the sacrificial flames, making it hiss and spit as Bona Dea accepted your gifts. 

“And I have one final prayer for you, Bona Dea,” you said, kneeling down as Alba looked on in surprise. 

The cool marble of the floor was smooth under your forehead as you prostrated yourself fully at the feet of the goddess. You closed your eyes and sent up a silent prayer, the smoke of the sacrifice in your nose, the silence of the temple heavy in your ears. The gods had never spoken to you, but as you sent up your plea to the one who seemed to have seen you at your most miserable, and sent a saviour, a calm came over you, a sense of completion. 

You took a few deep breaths, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill, and then sat up onto your heels. 

“Thank you.” 

The sunlight was still sharp as you left the temple, and you pulled up your veil to shield your eyes. Marcus was standing next to the carriage with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture straight. You had come to recognise this as his ‘public persona’, the powerful general who expected everyone to obey him. In private, he softened whenever you were near, and became the Marcus you loved more with every minute that passed.

“Carissime,” he smiled as you and Alba came out from the temple gates, “all done?” 

“Yes, husband, the goddess accepted our sacrifice and the priestesses seemed most pleased with the generous contribution.” 

You took his hand and held him back as Alba stepped into the carriage. 

“Bona Dea has given us another gift,” you whispered, and he raised his eyebrows in question as he leaned closer to you. 

“Another gift?” he asked and you brought his hand to the front of your stola, his eyes widening. 

“I always thought I was barren, but now someone grows inside me thanks to her healing powers.”

Marcus stepped closer, his arms going around your waist as he pressed his palm across your belly as if he could already feel the heartbeat of the child within. 

“Truly?” he whispered, his wide eyes filled with hope. 

“I’ve missed my courses twice since our first night, it’s still early days, but yes, truly,” you smiled up at him. 

“Carissime…” he whispered again, bringing his hands up to cup your face, pressing his lips to yours, “I thought I couldn’t be happier but now I feel like my heart will explode.” 

He pulled back a little, you could feel tears spilling over and rolling onto your cheeks, and he wiped at them with his thumbs. 

“Are you happy, amica mea?” 

“Yes, Marcus, you make me very happy,” you smiled through your tears, “And it makes me even happier to have a new family with you.”

“A new family,” he hummed, pressing kisses to your face and lips, “a new family with my beautiful wife and our beautiful child.” 

He smiled and kissed you again before taking your hand, “Now let me take you home and spoil you rotten while you care for our child, she already holds my heart in her tiny hands.” 

“‘She’?” you asked curiously, and Marcus laughed, a bright smile lighting his eyes. 

“I’m certain Bona Dea will give me a daughter as beautiful and strong as her mother, so that I can live the rest of my life worshipping two incredible women,” he replied, still smiling, “That will be my lot in life, my heart held captive by the two of you.” 

“You are the most wonderful husband and you will make the most wonderful father, Marcus,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes again as Marcus smiled and wiped your cheeks. 

“My sweet wife, carissime,” he said, placing his palm on your belly again, his touch gentle and warm as if he was already cradling his daughter, “I would give up every title the emperors have bestowed on me only to keep two.” 

He kissed your left cheek and then the right, his soft lips brushing gently over your tears. 

“Your husband, and her father.” 

Tagging some lovely people who showered the first four parts with love: @gothcsz @missladym1981 @txlady37 @timelordfreya @bluesweaters15

@indiegirlunited @jessthebaker @likeficinthewnd @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @inept-the-magnificent

@angiewatson @wintersquirrel @sheepdogchick3 @asobeeee @harriedandharassed @cozylittlepigeon

@i-own-loki @pedrit0-pascalit0 @lady-bess

[caroljoky]

𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑜𝒹𝓈

Caracalla x female!OC x Geta(next chapters)

Summary: Lucia Galeria Aurelia is the forgotten daughter of Lucilla and Maximus. One day her life changes forever when her path crosses with the young Caracalla. She starts to take an active part in the life of Rome, captivating not only the Roman people but also someone fate condemned her to - certain red-haired rulers.

Warnings: english is not my first language(!), none in the prologue

AN: I am so VERY excited about thiss!!!!! I wrote it so quickly cause I had the whole story planned. My story includes an alternative ending to the movie (because let's be honest Caracalla didn't deserve that brutal sudden death) so bear with me and let me welcome you to my story!

Trope: enemies to lovers (duh)

(PS: in History Caracalla was the older brother - in the movie it’s adapted that they’re twins, but Caracalla still came out first and is considered older)

Word count: 1.3k (Prologue)

‘Lucia Galeria Aurelia’ was the name of the not-really-known young girl, conceived by Lucilla Aurelia and Maximus Meridius, who was born exactly 9 months after the death of the infamous Commodus, and came into this world in her mother’s chamber, which was to be her home until she reached adolescence – or perhaps a hideout, a ‘refuge’ as Lucilla liked to put it. Her mother was a problematic woman in terms of care �� she sent her son to the far north, and cut her daughter off from the world. However, the daughter got it worse, the daughter who became a ‘legend’ of Rome, a vague, shameful ‘memory’ of her mother’s and father’s secret relationship. When Lucius was forgotten, she was spoken of in whispers and with uncertainty, like an anecdote or a fairy tale. However, her relatives visited her regularly, helped raise her, shape her. Acacius brought her Marcus Aurelius's books, her mother taught her culture and virtues, as well as her servants whom she had had since childhood, but whom she treated as her closest family. A mysterious man from outside the family also came once in a while to speak with her, a man whom she met through Acacius - it was Macrinus Opellius, The Master of Gladiators. Yes, he introduced the little girl to the ideas of games, war, and brutality, taught her about the Empire, showed her the true face of Rome, showed her power. Her mother reprehensibly forbade Macrinus from approaching her chambers, forbade him from acquainting her with the deviations of the world of men. So for the first time, the girl began to sneak away, to go all over the Golden House, to the brothels, to look for Macrinus, so he could tell her more about rulers, about wars, about strength and honor. This is how she lived until she reached the age of 17 - the age of adolescence, the age when Rome changed drastically.

The reign was held by Septimius Severus, who took charge after Commodus and turned the people against the authority. This tyrant procreated, unfortunately for everyone, fathered two tiny twins, whom he decided to raise in his image, that is, raise madmen. It didn't work out for him entirely - Geta and Caracalla, as youngsters, behaved better than expected, trained in combat, learned about Rome in the great palace of the Domus Aurea (Golden House), the home of the emperor, and the irony of fate never brought them into contact with the rightful empress. There may have been times when Lucia sneaked secretly through the golden corridors meters away from the boys playing, maybe they would have noticed each other and exchanged a word. 

However, this never took place and Lucia was introduced to the twins in terrible conditions. On her 17th birthday, Lucilla opened the door to her chamber, just after she ordered to dress her daughter in the most beautiful clothes. The young woman's heart beat anxiously against her burgundy Stola, when for the first time she walked with Lucilla down the hallway towards the main hall of the palace, in full view of everyone. Her hair was tied in the most magnificent bun and single curls fell onto her dark, sharp, cat-like eyes. She suspected with fear what could happen. However, she didn’t know that she was right until she saw a man on the dais, in reality, a boy with red waves as hair, an outfit like hers, hands in rings, and a golden wreath resting on his vexed head. His eyes, terrifying for her, pierced straight into her like an arrow penetrating her insides, no one had ever looked at her in such a way, so directly, so impudently. Next to him stood a taller, equally red-haired, older man whose gaze was more greedy, less boyish, more terrifying. And those figures that stood as if made of marble on the dais turned to her and spoke. Or perhaps it was Septimus Severus who spoke, on behalf of his son. 

- My eldest son accepts your gift in the form of the beautiful Lucia. The couple will now accept the marriage, and they will be named the future emperor and empress. 

Hope stuck to Lucia, hope that maybe the red-haired boy was a marble sculpture after all, that the gods were joking with her, and that in a moment everything would return to the form of what it was. That she would be able to hide in the shadow of her mother, and everyone would forget about her again. As she walked between the rows of benches, on which it seemed like everyone was sitting, of course, Acacius, Macrinus, the entire senate, and the Roman aristocracy, her thoughts went back to the times when she had desired such an opportunity, an opportunity for power, to be remembered in history. However, now she understood how childish these cravings were. She understood now when she looked into the blue eyes of her tormentor - Lucius Septimius Bassianus, otherwise known as Caracalla. She stood on the dais. Severus began by making a sacrifice to the Gods - setting a white, dead lamb on fire. Lucia then compared herself to that lamb, lost in the name of something that had no right to exist. She and her future husband were facing each other, he lifted her orange veil - the traditional obligatory attire of a Roman bride, a symbol of the hearth. He put an iron ring on her delicate fingers and stared at her. She did not like Caracalla at first, it must be admitted. However, she was condemned to him her entire adult life. When the boy's father uttered the last words of the formal marriage, the mother sat in the first row of this grotesque spectacle, with tears in her eyes and a fake smile. The wedding of Lucia and Caracalla was a political arrangement, a union of two families. It was to save Rome, her daughter was to save Rome. And Severus was not to live long, he was sickly, people gave him a year to live at most, and it was his sons who were to maintain his infamy. This union gave hope for control over the twins, by maintaining any position in the decisions of the rulers. Lucilla placed all her hope and faith in her revealed secret - in her daughter.

- Lucia’s beautiful. - she heard right next to her, which snapped her from her thinking. She turned around abruptly. There sat a boy of considerable height, with a mocking smile and a cunning gaze fixed on her. His red hair was also decorated with a wreath, silver, matching his ceremonial silver robes. He was leaning towards her.

- Geta - whispered the mother of the bride.

- Caracalla doesn't want this marriage. If you gave her to me, I would accept her. I’m far more responsible. I would give you an heir right away - he said with a soft chuckle. For Lucilla his gaze was wild, she looked with horror at this barely 18-year-old twin. 

  However, his intentions were not barbaric, he was even somehow right, since childhood Geta was a better candidate for emperor, but his brutal father always stood in his way, convincing him of his weakness, inferiority, and immaturity of mind. For Severus his firstborn was a saint, he believed in the power that was dormant in him, ignoring the fact that he always played Gladiator, while Geta played emperor. However, the younger twin's (u know what I meann) jealousy wasn’t really overwhelming, because he did not believe that Caracalla would really take on the task of ruling Rome and would only occupy himself with games in the Colosseum instead of the role of emperor. To everyone’s surprise, his father did not allow this and threw him onto the dais in the great hall, forcing the ring onto his finger.  

 The newlyweds' lips pressed together awkwardly, and the hall was filled with a deafening roar of applause, the roar of an uncertain future that had stormed into the Golden House.

If we hit 20 likes ima post Chapter 1! Also lmk what u think by now in the comments :D

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 22)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Part 21

The hovercraft is only half full. Peeta, Cashmere and Y/N. Finnick, Cressida, Pollux and the others left the day before, they’ll be catching up with them once they reach the outskirts of the Capitol.

Y/N says goodbye to her children before school. Though Haymitch will be there in her absence, leaving never gets easier.

Peeta is skittish, from sitting under the harsh lights.

“You ok?” Y/N lays a hand over his.

He nods, still trembling. “My name is Peeta Mellark. I was born in district twelve…”

This is a new grounding technique he’s been practicing with Dr. Aurelius. It seems to calm him as they take off.

Y/N rests her head against the seat. Recounting the way she ran back down the loading ramp before take off, just to be held by Haymitch one last time. Even though he couldn’t go and she couldn’t stay. Just breathe.

————————————————————————

The truck that brings them in to meet the rest of their squad is welcomed with weapons trained on them, hot and ready.

Cashmere jumps out first. “Come on, Peeta. We got ya.”

“Y/N?” Katniss lowers her weapon.

“Hey.” Y/N smiles, one hand behind her holding Peeta’s. Protect Katniss from him. Protect him from Katniss.

“That’s close enough.” Gale says as they approach.

“Hey, stop.” Finnick steps out to greet them, pushing Gale’s gun to the side.

“What’s going on here?” Boggs demands.

“Coin sent us.” Cashmere explains, “guess she thought you could use a few extra hands.”

“How thoughtful.” Katniss snarks. Whatever game Coin is playing, they’re not meant to win.

“Tell me about it.”

————————————————————————

As it turns out, Daisy is not a fan of the formula provided by district thirteen. She is also very aware of the fact that Haymitch is not her mother and she’s isn’t thrilled by that either.

“Shhh,” Haymitch rocks her against his chest. “Daddy’s here.”

“It’s like she only wants Y/N,” Madge offers.

“You and me both, kid.” Haymitch stares down at his daughter, shifting between feet.

“It’s hard on everybody when she goes,” Madge admits, “but for what it’s worth, I think you’re a great dad, Haymitch. I know Y/N does too.”

Haymitch nods.

“I can take her for a while. A change of scenery might help.”

“I gotta figure this out on my own.” Haymitch mutters, under his breath.

————————————————————————-

The Star Squad sets out to film their first propo. With the assistance of the hollow, they’re able to clear the courtyard full of pods before entering.

Two large machine guns slide out from the pillars, raining bullets between the group; split in two to take cover.

Katniss on one side with Cashmere. Peeta, Y/N and Finnick on the other. There’s not a word Katniss can think of to describe the way it feels, watching Y/N place her hands over Peeta’s ears. Trying to muffle the gunfire.

Peeta lays his own hands over hers, his lips moving; quickly. “I’m a painter and a baker…I always sleep with the window open.”

He is trying, Katniss knows this. Even now, Peeta remembers everything she tells him, in great detail.

Y/N catches her staring, somehow she always does. Finding Katniss’ eyes and offering a tiny smile.

Katniss considers glaring at her, because she shouldn’t be here. She should be in thirteen, safe; the way Katniss left her. The other half of Katniss wants to make a run for it, to fall into her arms and say thank you. Thank you for always taking care of me, even when I ask you not to.

————————————————————————

Y/N calls Haymitch, using the hollow as soon as they’re hole up somewhere safe after the pods, after Snow’s broadcast announcing they were all dead.

It had just been the Leeg sisters…and Boggs.

“Ah,” Haymitch finally answers, his image displayed across the grainy screen in her hands, “she lives.”

“Oh good, you’re still up,” Y/N smiles. “I didn’t want to wake the kids, I almost waited until morning but-”

“Do me a favor, anytime you’ve narrowly escaped death and had it broadcasted to all of Panem, do not wait until morning to call me.”

“Deal,” Y/N agrees.

“How are you holding up, angel?” Haymitch sighs.

“I’m alright.”

“What’s wrong?” He can see it in her face.

“I miss you,” she shrugs, blinking back traitorous tears. “That’s all.”

Haymitch purses his lips, “when this is over, we’ll never have to miss each other again. We’ve got some fight left in us, we can ride this out.”

Y/N nods, “no, I know.”

“Hey,” Haymitch calls her attention back to the screen. “I love you, be safe.”

“I love you too.” She ends the call, they have to keep things short, on the off chance communication is being intercepted by the Capitol.

Cashmere waltzes over, plopping down beside her friend. “You should’ve let him come.” She teases. “Now he’s there and you’re here, and you’re both miserable.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to focus. And god forbid something happened to me, you really think he’d just keep going?”

“Like you could?” Cashmere calls her bluff.

Y/N bites back a grin. “I die, he dies. He dies, I die. That’s why he’s there and I’m here. So we don’t kill ourselves trying to save each other.”

Cashmere gets it, “you’ve gotten smarter about it, I’ll give you that.”

“I had to. Sometimes the only way to win the game is to bend the rules.”

“So when this is over and there’s no more…” Cashmere searches for the words. “Moves and countermoves, what are you gonna do? What’s your happy ending?”

“Me, Haymitch, the kids, Madge. We go back home to twelve, rebuild. Make a real life for each other, no more cameras, no one watching; we earn our happy ending. What about you, Cash?”

“I don’t know.” Cashmere shrugs, “I guess I have to figure that out.”

“You could come stay with us, there’s plenty of room.”

“Maybe for a while,” she agrees.

“I’d like that.” Y/N bumps Cashmere’s shoulder.

Part 23

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a @nj01 @eruannaaa-blog @thatkindofgurl

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 21

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I had such a shitty day but I’m lowkey in love with this part of the series so I decided to post. Also I did some editing so the sewers are now in chapter 24 instead of 23. Let the fun begin!

Content Warnings - descriptions of wounds

Finnick and you try to make the best of your last few days together before he has to leave for deployment. You continue to skip your schedule, with the news of Finnick’s impending absence leaving you mentally unstable enough for Dr. Aurelius to give you a pass.

You follow him around like a lost puppy, constantly grasping at his fingers as a reminder that he’s still here. That’s the only touch you will allow, however. Your progress has regressed a bit and the nightmares have returned. You can’t even sleep in the same bed as Finnick, worried that you might hurt him.

The only night this changes is the night before he’s shipped out to the capital.

“You can’t go,” you whine as you grasp onto him, worried he might disappear at any moment.

“We’ve been over this,” he sighs, rolling over in the bed to face you.

“I know but it sucks and I hate it,” you explain.

“Can I hold you tonight?” he asks, suddenly turning the mood even more sad than it already was.

You sigh as you lean in closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you.

“Thank you for loving me,” you tell him, moving your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thank you for letting me.”

Finnick doesn’t let you go to the hangar to see him off as he doesn’t want to say goodbye. You understand where he’s coming from but watching him get out of bed at 6am and leave your cabin nearly broke you.

Dr. Aurelius decided you would stay in the hospital again while Finnick was away. He didn’t think that you living alone was healthy and you agreed. As much as you hated the hospital at least you had Johanna there. She had a bad episode when she encountered water during her training and had to be sent back to the hospital.

You spend your days sitting with Johanna, neither of you having much to say. Mags comes to see you during her reflection time but again you sit in silence. Nobody was worth talking to as long as he was gone.

You stopped seeing Dr. Aurelius after he tried to explain that your dependency on Finnick was not healthy. He may be right but you don’t care. You need Finnick.

“Miss Y/L/N,” President Coin states as she steps into your room. You were not expecting her as a visitor. It had been only a few days since Finnick left. “You and Mr. Mellark have been called upon for a noble mission.”

You look at her confused. What were you and Peeta going to do? Coin sets down a pile of clothes on the edge of your bed.

“Suit up soldier,” she states. Maybe you would be seeing Finnick sooner than you thought.

You and Peeta are loaded into a hovercraft to an unknown location. Well, the people flying the hovercraft know where you are going, but you and Peeta haven’t been told anything.

It’s a long few hours before you finally land in District 2.

“My name is Peeta Melark,” Peeta whispers to himself as he exits the hovercraft.

You struggle to stand up, a headache having accumulated during the flight. A soldier goes to help you but you swat his hand away, not wanting to be touched.

“What are we doing here?” Peeta mumbles as you fight to stay standing, the pulsing headache not helping.

“In the vehicles,” a soldier orders, motioning for you and Peeta to get into two separate armored trucks. Why are they separating you two?

The ride in the truck is long. You fade in and out of a fitful sleep, unable to rid yourself of a repeating nightmare you’ve had since leaving the capital.

In it, Wiress is sitting on the beach in the arena, staring out into the water with her dead eyes and slit throat, repeatedly muttering “tick tock” to herself. It always happens the same way. Her muttering gets louder until she suddenly goes silent and turns to face you.

You watch in horror as her ashy skin begins to flake off, revealing nothing but bones underneath. Black blood flows from her throat.

“Tick tock,” she screams at you.

“You can’t outrun the clock!”

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @vsnrly @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @imaegonstargaryenswife0

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

[twst-kumi]

Weeping Maiden [ACT I] CHAPTER 11

[Act I] CHAPTER 11

[Name] woke up in her room in Royal Dawn Dormitory. Flora was dozing off on the armchair by her bed. The fairy’s eyes looked puffy from crying. Flora woke up startled by the young girl snorting. The old woman looked at her for a minute before bawling. She was so loud that she could hear running in the mini castle. 

Ambrose barged in the room holding his robe up. He looked disheveled while panting. His eyes darted everywhere before he saw [Name] smiling awkwardly. It was his turn to cry.

“_Oh my sweet child! I was so worried.”

Alerted by the commotion, the other came to see what was happening. Aurelius also teared up as he saw the young girl. She was alive and well. 

“_ Don't scare us like that ever again. 

_ Yes, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to worry.

_ It's not about you worrying us, my dear child. It was dangerous. You could have died.” 

The director said glaring at her worriedly. He wanted to protect her. Not only was she his most delicate student, but she was first and foremost his daughter blood related or not. [Name]’s heart fluttered in front of his sincere eyes.

“_ It's a parent's job to take care and worry about their child. And a father's job to protect their daughter.”

The young girl couldn't say anything. Her heart felt heavy with unknown emotions. She didn't know how to react to it, but it felt good somehow. Like she was waiting for such words, she couldn't stop her tears trailing down her cheek. The old man held her in her arms and [Name] broke down wailing like a little kid. She couldn't help but cry as he hugged her tightly. It was warm. Ambrose’s embrace felt so warm around her. 

A few minutes after, her eyes were puffy and red gaining her some teasing laugh from Vil and the rest. 

“_You look like a baby chick who hatched with your eyes like that.

_Nooo, baby chick are ugly when they hatch.”

[Name] whined still sniffing here and there. The group laughed relieved everyone was alright. They got out with only a few scratch and bruise nothing to heavy. The most worrying peoples were Neige and her who were unconscious for two days. Neige woke up yesterday.

“_About Neige…” 

[Name] started to explain what she saw in his memories as they listened calmly. There was a silence for a moment until Alexis talked.

“_Like I give a fuck! He drugged you! Don't expect me to go easy on him because of his sob story.” 

Aurelius winced at his colorful language but agreed with him nonetheless. [Name] smiled gently at them.

“_ I'm not asking you to forgive him. I'm just stating the core reason for Neige's Overblot. Neige is incapable of valuing himself for what he is. For him, his worth can only be equated to his usefulness.” 

She understood this feeling better than anyone. As a former child actor and having grown up in a toxic family, she understood what Neige had gone through. Unlike her, Neige was probably not aware of his own abuse. 

“_ I see… Well, you may want to know. I decided to exclude Neige for a week.

_ Only a week? Don't tell me you are planning to let him go scoff free!”

[Name] looked at Vil who frowned at Ambrose’s words. She wanted to comments on how Crowley is letting every Overblotted students off the hook without any repercussions. Aside from Leona who almost got disqualified for Magicshift. The RSA director only laughed.

“_ Of course not. But I think that everyone can get a second chance, if they do show determination and sincerity. The same could be said for you. When I call for you as a primary suspect, I wanted to give you a chance to defend yourself. And if you were the culprit, a chance to redeem yourself.”

Vil couldn’t say if he was unconfortable or just jealous. The director knew Neige longer than him, so it was normal to trust him more than the actor. On the opposite, Crowley didn’t hesitate to send Vil the moment the school reputation was brought up. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Thanks to Ambrose, Vil was able to return to school. He covered it as a flu, he and [Name] caught that. The young girl coming from a different and closeted “land”, her immunity system was a bit weaker than them. It was the excuse they gave everyone to explain their absences. 

“_Where is Neige? I would like to talk to him before he leave.”

There was another silence. 

“_Hey! You heard her? So, are you going to hide behind that wall longer?”

Alexis growled looking toward the open door. They could see a shoulder flinching but no other mouvement. Seeing that he wasn’t going to move, the gentle-looking boy felt even more pissed.

“_ COME IN!!! YOU PIECE OF S…. syrup! I was going to say syrup.”

Everyone looked at him unconvinced and Aurelius couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle. He was going to be in trouble if he continued to swear like a sailor. Vil on other side was wondering if it was a normal for small and delicate looking boys to have a foul mouth. This was the second one after Epel. That being said hearing Neige getting insulted didn’t felt bad. He will acknowledge that Neige’s situation was sad, but it didnt mean he would like him. If anything, he had even more resentment toward him. 

Neige walked inside, his eyes darted to the floor unable to confront their stare. Taking on the cue, Ambrose made everyone leave. Aurelius and Alexis couldn’t help but glare at Neige. 

“_Scream if he try to do anything suspicious. 

_ Yeah, we will beat him for you if he try anything so don’t worry.”

Aurelius and Alexis said while burning hole with their glare on Neige. Vil felt refreshed in a way. Look like RSA too could be a little violent. 

Alone, Neige and [Name] looked at each other for moment. The boy looked devastated, remorse was obvious on his face. 

“_ I’m sorry… I… 

_ I never liked you more than a friend, Neige.”

Neige flinched a little. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. He looked at her before smiling at her. He tried to push back on his need to cry. He was  aware, she didn’t share his feeling.He was going to use this week to reflect on it. Deep down he felt like he didn’t have any right on loving her or coveting her affection.

“_ I know… I’m quite aware of it now. I just want to say it at least once. I love you, [Name].”

[Name] was speechless for a moment. His eyes shined with a resolve she never saw in him before. Something changed in him, he looked a little bit more like a man rather than a delicate boy. Both exchanged a small laugh before Neige stood up to leave. She rejected his confession but at least she acknowledged it. 

Neige was walking down the stair under the two freshmen’s glare. It was understandable for them to hate him. Remembering something, he stopped in his tracks and looked at them. 

“_Please, take care of her.

_We don’t need you to tell us that. 

_Just leave already!”

Neige chuckled a little looking at the two. What a duo of  brave little knight they were. 

“_Right, before I forgot. Don’t trust Henry that much.”

Aurelius frowned a little. What does his dormleader have to do with all this? The young man felt his stomach churn. Pushing his worry aside, he walked back inside the bedroom once he was sure Neige left the dorm. 

Act I: Poison of Delusion. (END)

< previous. Next >

Tag

@cocomollo @owodi @illytian

[cumtastiics]

I'd totally like a full fic of Aurelius running around his little concussioned, semi-amnesiac patient!

YAN! DOC x G/N READER

tw(s); yandere & mentions of iv's a/n; this has no official title since i'm lazy sorry :p the post that inspired this here oops this became more angsty than i thought if you wanted more fluff erm sorry ab that!! lol!

would def make this fluff if u guys want

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple.

Some nurse thought it was a great idea to let you out of your room, almost causing Aurelius to get a heart attack.

"Where's (Y/N)?" He asked the lady at the front desk, his patience leaving.

"They were taken out by that nurse of theirs. The cute guy everyone's been falling in love with," the women spoke, taking a bite out of her granola bar, paying no attention to the others around her.

Aurelius clenched his fists in frustration, his jaw tightening as he fought to contain his anger. "That 'cute guy' needs to learn some boundaries," he muttered, raising an eyebrow at the nonchalant woman. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether to give her a piece of his mind or find you as soon as possible.

Deciding to keep his emotions in check, he forced a strained smile. "Well, thank you for the information," he said, his voice dripping with false politeness. Turning on his heels, Aurelius stormed off in the direction the nurse had taken you.

He couldn't understand how someone could be so irresponsible, oblivious to the potential harm they could cause. All he wanted was to ensure your safety and well-being, and now he had an additional cause for concern.

As he wove through the bustling hospital corridors, his thoughts raced with worry. What if you had been injured or distressed while under the care of the oblivious nurse? The mere thought made his blood boil, making him want to throw up.

Just as he rounded a corner, he caught sight of you standing near a window, seemingly oblivious to the chaos they had caused. Relief washed over Aurelius, briefly suppressing his anger. "There you are," he sighed, his voice filled with a mix of concern and irritation.

"You look mad," you commented, your eyes looking through the window, not paying any attention just like the women from earlier.

"Who brought you out?"

"Some guy. Dunno his name,"

"You're left alone, and not even in a fucking wheelchair for that matter," he spoke, his voice sounding more annoyed as each second passed.

"Sorry..?" You offered, not really wanting to deal with him.

You were finally able to get some fresh air, and you were not going to let him ruin your chance.

'Let's go," he grabbed your arm, making you almost fall over. Aurelius's grip on your arm tightened, his anger boiling over as he yanked you towards him.

"You don't get to just wander off without a care in the world," he growled through clenched teeth. "I'm here to protect you, and if you can't see that, then maybe I shouldn't even bother." His words stung, although you understood his concern.

"I didn't mean to cause you worry," you said, trying to steady your voice. "I just needed a moment to breathe. But I'm fine now."

"Fine? You call this fine?" he scoffed, his grip still firm on your arm. "You could have gotten hurt, kidnapped, who the hell knows what could have happened? And you think it's just fine?"

"I'm not gonna fucking die without you!" You yelled, trying to get out of his grip.

"Yes, yes you will!" Aurelius's voice grew cold, his eyes flashing with a toxic mix of anger and superiority. "You're nothing without me. You're weak, helpless, and if I'm not there to protect you, you'll end up getting yourself killed."

His words tore through you like a knife, the toxicity of his possessiveness becoming unbearable. Anger swelled within you, fueling your determination to stand up for yourself.

"I'm not weak, Aurelius. I can take care of myself. I'm not some fragile little thing that needs to be sheltered from the world," you shot back, your voice laced with a newfound strength. His grip on your arm tightened even more, his face contorting with rage.

"You think you're so tough? You think you can survive out there on your own? You're delusional. You need me, whether you like to admit it or not."

"No, I don't," you replied defiantly, staring him straight in the eyes. "I need someone who respects me, who trusts me, and treats me like an equal. Not someone who thinks they have the right to control my every move."

Aurelius's facade of superiority shattered for a split second, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. But it quickly turned back to anger, his toxic traits taking hold once more.

"You're just a fool if you think anyone else could ever care for you like I do," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "But go ahead, try to find someone else. You'll see how quickly they abandon you when things get tough."

You finally got back to your room, after what felt like ages. He glared at you, as you avoided eye contact.

You felt like you were constantly walking on eggshells, never knowing what would set him off next.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Bacchanalia

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.2k words

Summary: At one of Rome's debauched celebrations to the god Bacchus, you and a handsome, masked stranger have a little celebration of your own.

Warnings: MINORS DNI this fit is 18+, smut, porn with no plot, implied orgy (it's happening in the background somewhere lmao), masquerade type setting, oral (m and f receiving), shenanigans with wine, fingering, unprotected p in v (you better not try this at home), creampie, swearing, aaaaand I think that's its but lmk if anything else lol

-----------

The atmosphere was heady, perfumed with sweet violet, myrtle, and the musk of sweat-slick bodies. The air was thick and smoky with incense, giving the vast room a dreamlike quality. The warm flicker of candlelight casted long shadows of writhing forms on the walls, moans and other sounds of ecstasy drifting to your ears as you passed by a couple of curtained siderooms. 

Still, nothing really seemed to pique your interest enough to get involved. At least, not yet.

It wasn’t your first Bacchanalia, so you already knew what to expect, but you were even more thrilled at the fact that everyone was wearing a variety of different masks. Even the naked servants carrying trays of wine did not show their faces. Pleasure did not always need a name, after all. Without it, one could be whoever they chose, if only for a few hours. 

Your mask was meant to represent Diana, lunar goddess of the hunt. You walked slowly and deliberately through the halls of the estate, doing exactly that, except you weren’t entirely sure what you were hunting for.

You passed an archway that led to the gardens and saw a couple of lovers playfully chasing each other in the moonlight, wearing the faces of nymphs and satyrs. You huffed with amusement, leaving your empty cup on a passing servant’s tray and continuing on your way.

Your eyes skirted past Jupiter who was clearly trying to get your attention, but his disappointment was short-lived as Juno came to lead him away. You sighed, following an instinct that led you down another hallway across the atrium.

And suddenly, rounding the corner, you saw a stag at the other end of the hall – or at least, a man who wore the mask of one. The two of you seemed to spot each other at the same time, freezing on the spot. Time seemed to condense into just that moment, while you assessed one another.

He was tall and statuesque, built like the beautiful Adonis. He wore a loose, artlessly draped toga, revealing most of his lean, muscled torso. The thought of him wrapping those strong arms around you, lifting you or wrangling you into different positions, immediately came to mind. As if he could sense your thoughts, he smiled, an eager invitation to make fantasy into a reality. 

You huffed once again in amusement, curiosity finally overtaking you. Like you, he didn’t seem to be accompanied, but that was all the better in your eyes. Something about him seemed to stir your greediness, unwilling to share the bounties of your hunt.

You pantomimed retrieving an arrow from a quiver at your back, notching it to an invisible bow and drawing it back, then releasing it with a splay of your fingers. He reeled back as if struck, clutching the imaginary wound on his chest and falling to his knees.  Your chin was raised triumphantly as you stalked towards him, looking down to see a pair of crystalline eyes staring back at you through the holes in the mask.

There was a spark of mirth in them, reflecting your curious desire. You grabbed his bearded chin with one hand and leaned in,  your eyes drawn down to the slight heave of his chest. A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips.

“Got you now,” you said, voice low. “Come with me, my trophy.”

You turned to lead him away, glancing back flirtatiously as you let your tunic slip off your shoulder. He scrambled to his feet, following behind as you searched for an empty side room. You beckoned him into the first one you found, slipping inside, and he took some wine from a passing servant before joining you.

The room was darker than the hallway, with only a few candles illuminating one side of it. You let your tunic fall to the ground just as he entered,  warm light flickering over your skin. He stood there for a moment, stupefied at both your beauty and your boldness. He felt himself the tribute to an actual goddess, blood already boiling even if he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

He approached, raising the cup of wine to your lips so you may drink. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Instead of drinking some himself, though, he raised the cup above your heads and poured the rest of the wine on both of your chests. You gasped, taken by surprise, and he tossed the cup aside carelessly.

He buried his face in the crook of your throat, licking the droplets that had spattered there as you pulled at his toga, clumsily undoing it. His eager tongue lapped at your clavicles and sternum, moving down to the swell of your breasts. But before he could get there, you pushed him back only to get your mouth on him, too.

The wine tasted even sweeter on his skin, especially when you heard the soft little moan in his throat. Unable to resist, you bit one of his pecs, tongue swirling around his nipple. He sucked in a breath, kicking aside the fabric of his toga as it fell to his feet.  He gently tugged your head back by your hair, his lips meeting yours ferociously.

You weren’t sure if your head swam from the wine or the kiss, but you submitted to it all the same. His arms enveloped you once more, his tongue dragging over yours, eliciting a soft mewl from you. You felt a sort of frenzy overtake you, the impulse to devour him whole threatening to consume you. Especially as there was a rather pressing distraction between you, bumping against your navel.

You cupped him in your palm, smiling against his lips as his breathing hitched. “Someone’s excited.” 

“H-how could I not be?” he rasped, head tilting back as your lips went back to his chest. “Who else can say they’ve been ravaged by the fierce Diana herself?”

You chuckled, flattered at his words. “No one, of course.”

You left a trail of searing, open-mouthed kisses leading downward until you were on your knees in front of him. You kissed one hip bone and then the other, repeating the teasing process with his thighs. His erection pulsed in response, demanding attention. In the low candlelight, you could see a glistening bead of precum on the tip of it, lightly smearing near his belly button.

You flattened your tongue and licked the underside in its entire length. He shuddered, thigh muscles clenching as he resisted the urge to guide your head. You teased the tip with a few kisses, swirling your tongue around it and tasting his arousal. You gripped the base as you took it in your mouth, his deep groan nearly giving you goosebumps. 

One of his hands hovered just behind your head as it bobbed up and down, taking more and more until you could feel the tip at the back of your throat. He murmured expletives, his eyes screwed shut. But before he could get too close to the edge, the muscles of his lower abdomen already tense, he pulled you back by the hair as he bent to kiss you. 

His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting traces of his precum. Given the mess you’d been making of him, a debauched string of saliva connected your lips as he pulled back slightly to look at you. You grinned, biting your lip, your hand still stroking him. He placed a hand over yours to keep it in place, drawing in a long breath.

“Not like this,” he husked, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. “Let me have my turn.”

You slightly tilted your head to one side and nipped at one of his fingers playfully. You could feel your own arousal drip onto the floor, more gathering between your thighs. The least he could do was help clean you up.

“Come here, then,”  you said, rising. 

You had him sit on the floor, his back against the wide couch on the other side of the room. You drew closer, practically cornering him, and propped a foot on the edge of the couch by his head. You enticingly slipped your fingers through your slick folds, feeling his hot breath against your cunt as he lifted his head.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tongue tracing your inner thigh, followed by his teeth. “Sweeter than wine…”

“And there’s more where that came from,” you rasped, fingers threading through his hair so you could press his face against your cunt. 

He lapped you up with gusto, using lips, and tongue, and teeth to savor you properly. He gripped your leg for support, keeping you in place at the same time. Your head tipped back as a moan was wrenched from your throat, your hand keeping a tight hold on him. Absently, he stroked the head of his cock ever so slowly, keeping himself teetering on the edge. But he wanted to save it for the best part, when he’d be buried deep inside you, your bodies melding into one another.

Your hips rocked back and forth against his face, seeking the added friction. He moaned against you, feeling like he could stay there for hours, drawing out your honey and worshipping you. Quick little flicks of his tongue against your clit make heat spiral upwards from your navel, your legs beginning to tremble.

You held onto his head as a choked sound escaped you. You gushed on his tongue as you came, a few more erratic drags of your hips to fully ride it out. Your cunt clenched around nothing, achingly empty, but not for much longer. You were still dazed when he decided to take over control, grabbing you by the hips and turning you around to bend you over the couch. 

One of his hands pressed your head against the mattress, keeping your hips hiked up. You leaned into his touch as you felt him palming the swell of your ass, making you squeal a little as he bit the supple flesh. He teased the entrance of your cunt with the tips of his fingers, humming pensively.

“Seems like you’re more than ready for me…” he purred, a teasing edge to his tone. “Shall we try it out? Hmm?”

You could only nod desperately, hips wiggling as he pulled back to situate himself behind you. He dragged the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick, and lined himself up with your entrance.

“Nice and slow,” he said, pushing inside. “That’s it. Oh, you see how you’ve got me? How I’m aching for you?”

You gripped the cushion under you, nearly overwhelmed by the delicious stretch that bordered between pain and pleasure. He felt impossibly deep at that angle, hitting a spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

“Gods,” you mewled, voice tight. “You’re so big.”

He chuckled, the sound melting into a low groan as he kneaded your ass with his hands greedily, spreading you to get a better look at his cock sliding inside your cunt. “And yet you’re taking me perfectly well.”

He was in no rush at first, keeping his thrusts shallow until you grew more accustomed to him, enjoying the velvety warmth that enveloped him. You pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts, his grip on them tightening. He was trying hard to stave off his growing pleasure, but you felt so good that he knew he wouldn’t last too long. He murmured praises as the snap of his hips became faster, obeying your pleas to go harder.

“Give me another one,” he pleaded in return, leaning more of his weight on you, pinning you down. “I want to feel you properly this time.”

You didn’t have much choice but to take it as he pounded into you, rough, feral noises escaping him every time he bottomed out inside of you. Your teeth sank into your forearm as you came apart a second time, dark stars dancing across your vision. 

He husked an encouraging ‘there we go, there’s a good girl’ close to your ear as he felt you clenching around him, pulling him along into oblivion. He stayed buried to the hilt on his last stuttering thrust, his grip on your hips bruising as he filled you with his spend.

His hand rested on the back of your neck like a mark of ownership, his cock twitching once more at the imagery. But you both needed to recover your strength first, and so he collapsed on the couch as you rolled over onto your side.

You looked at each other for a moment, sharing a soft, exhilarated laugh. He pulled you closer, one arm draped over your waist. In any other instance, with anyone else, this sort of intimacy with a complete stranger would seem off. But there was something about him that made it feel almost natural, and therefore you welcomed it.

“Who ravaged who, in the end?” You joked, making him chuckle once more.

“Let’s call it a tie for now,” he said, fingers tracing your back. “After all, we still have plenty of time to decide who the real victor is.”

You huffed, tracing his lips with your thumb. “Something tells me you think it’s going to be you.”

“Well, if there’s one thing you should know about me,” he said, nipping at your thumb. “It’s that I don’t like to lose.”

“Oh, is that so?” You countered, pushing him onto his back and grinning like the cat that got the cream. “As it happens, neither do I.”

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

[grecoromanyaoi]

ok. so. this contains spoilers for the movie gladiator 2 (2024). i will probs add more bc im sure im forgetting smth. tldr - theres not a single historical fact in sight god bless ❤️

- they were so confused abt the message of the movie. they tried to say so much while instantly forgetting everything the moment they said it. oh, u thot this was going to b a movie talking rome as a brutal imperialist force from the pov of colonized ppl? well, it is, for like 10 minutes. n then they forget abt it. rome is good. u thot this was going to b abt slavery n how deeply ingrained it was in roman society? it talks abt that for 5 minutes. marcus aurelius had slaves, they say, then forget abt it after 10 minutes. marcus aurelius was a good man. rome is bad bc its an empire built on slavery n imperialism, we should fix it, n make it a REPUBLIC built on slavery n imperialism.

- ok so hanno is a pheonician name. n he was given that name in numidia. which was an amazigh kingdom. n everyone else around him were aesthetically amazigh??? except for when they were aesthetically west african. im p sure ridley scott still doesnt know where numidia is. (also in the hebrew subtitles they translated hanno into האנו when it should b חנו??? its a semitic name. its חנו like the word חן. whatever. least of my worries.)

- there was a jumble of accents which made immersion in the setting so hard. why did denzel washington n pedro pascal keep american accents while most other ppl had british accents. why did lior raz keep his accent. where is he even supposed to b from.

- ok. i dont like using the word woke in a way that doesnt align w its original meaning. HOWEVER. this movie felt like republicans making fun of progressives n making a movie that was 'gladiator but woke'. they tried so hard to put poc in the story n they talked abt imperialism from the pov of the colonized n characters who were canonly lgbt but also this was all so surface level bc. even the character that was supposed to b the pov of the colonized turned out to b a roman prince n turn around to support rome n the roman army. they still had characters (namely caracalla n geta) b gnc as a way to signal that theyre morally corrupt.

- why were all the rich romans so pale, powdered n sickly looking

- speaking of caracalla n geta. this remains the funniest whitewashing in history. i had to stop myself from bursting out laughing every time they were on screen. look at what theyve done to our beautiful brunettes

- also. twin emperors?????? lmfao. why was geta the prime brother n leader. caracalla was older

- why were all the statues white!!!!!

- why did they make up that random roman figures were gay. why did they made up that lucius verus n caracalla were gay. why did all the men want his gladiussy so bad

- ok last but is actually the most important point. WHERE THE FUCK WAS IULIA DOMNA. (sidenote - they joked abt the incest storyline they made up for the first movie but no mention of the real historical incest rumors abt caracalla fucking his mother??? smh)