#imagine the looks on Lucius’s face when he finds out his name is in a MUGGLE generator | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makethatelevenrings · 6 months ago

Text

Ubi Amor Ibi Fides (Where there's love, there's faith) // Lucius Verus x f!reader

summary: When he saw you that day, surrounded by a gaggle of children who begged you to tell them a story, he had no idea that the Fates had their own epic tale in mind of everlasting devotion. OR, contrasting vignettes of the past and the present through the eyes of Hanno and his wife.

word count: 13.2k

warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE!! 18+, war, blood, death, allusions to rape and what happens to female prisoners of war, allusion to desecration of a corpse, historical inaccuracy (if Ridley Scott can do it, so can I!), smut, Lucius being Down Bad for this wife, mythology and religion (with inaccuracies), discussion of suicide, suicide attempt, grief, throwing up, Roman culture???, period-typical misogyny but like, make it feminist

“Tell me a story.”

Exhaustion clouded his voice and you turned away from your weaving to find him leaning against the roughshod mudbrick door frame. It was days like today that you cursed his stubborn nature. While he had been willing to let you help in breaking in the ground for the coming harvest, your husband sent you inside by midday when the sun was at its highest. Now, you were rested and chilled by the wind that eased its way through the small house, and he was completely depleted.

“Come.” You beckoned him with an outstretched hand. “Rest beside me and then I will tell you.”

He didn’t argue, for once, and took your hand in his. You drew him down to sit beside you, his head settling in your lap. Your fingers curled into the soft, downy hair at his temples and he relaxed with a sigh. While you wished you could continue stroking his hair, the weaving in front of you wouldn’t be completed without two hands. As you went back to your work, you began to speak.

“There were once two lovers by the name of Pyramus and Thisbe…” He huffed out a quiet laugh. You smiled at him, delighted that it made him relax even further. Most of your stories were the ones he had told you about from his childhood and you weren’t really in the right mind to come up with a fresh story.

“The parents of our two lovers refused to let them marry, but their love reigned strong through the thin crack in the stone wall that divided their property.” As you spoke, you embellished the story with extraneous details and dramatic gasps, eliciting quiet chuckles from your husband. He looked weary these days and not just from the labor in the fields. The Romans were creeping closer, and it would only be a matter of time before they came to your city. You woke up last night to a cold bed and found him standing at the doorway, staring out towards the sea. He knew what was coming. You both did.

“The gods looked favorably upon their sacrifice and changed the tree to its dark appearance to signify the devotion between them.” You ended the tale and stopped your weaving for a moment to gently trace your fingers along the edge of his features. You loved the sharp crest of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the bright blue of his eyes. His lashes were so long that they left shadows across his cheeks when he shut his eyes.

“I understand why he did it,” he said softly.

“Hmm?” Your hand stroked over his curls once more as you thought through everything you needed to get done tomorrow. You paused, however, when you felt his face turn to see you better and his lips brushed against your palm.

“I understand why Pyramus ended his life.” His calloused palm covered your own and he turned your hand over, his fingers sliding along yours and intertwining. “One can only imagine the pain he must have felt.”

A painful squeeze built in your throat and you felt an awful burning sensation behind your eyes. He sat up and gently cupped your face in one of his large hands, drawing your gaze up to meet his.

“Hanno,” you breathed. He smiled softly and leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He was never one for words, always more inclined to act. Breaking apart, you pressed your forehead against his and breathed in the masculine scent of him tinged with soil, sweat, and something purely him.

“When death claims us, we go as one,” he vowed. “I cannot exist in this world without you.”

“As the gods see fit,” you assured him. “I will follow you wherever you lead.”

You wished this was a story.

It had been an easy day in the fields. You were sprinkling seeds in the ditches that Hanno dug earlier. The chickens clucked at you from their pen, begging for a bit more food as if they hadn’t been fed a hearty amount of grain earlier. After you planted these, Hanno would place the earth back over it while you worked on your herb garden.

You were capable of doing the hard, manual labor. Growing up, you would always help your parents through the entire process of planting, but Hanno was insistent on keeping his precious wife away from the heavy work. Rather, he encouraged your herb collecting and training with some of the city healers. You were grateful for him, truly. Most men would sequester their wives in their homes and work them to their deaths from labor, both of earth and child.

But Hanno was different.

He taught you to read, speak, and write in Latin. He would easily switch between Numidian, Phoenician, and Latin until you could respond perfectly. When he took breaks from tilling, plowing, and managing the harder tasks with the animals, he sat next to you at your garden and asked about the different plants. He was never cruel, never struck you or screamed at you the way you had heard other wives whisper to one another. In fact, Hanno was exceedingly kind to you and to anyone he didn’t view as a threat.

Which is why you thought this was a nightmare at first.

The horns of war sounded and you stood up straight to watch as the beacons erupted with fire at the top of the wall. Fear seized your heart and you stood frozen, transfixed, by the flames that licked the sky. Smoke curled off the top of them and the smell burned at your nose. You might have stood there all day if it hadn’t been for Hanno rushing out of the small house to your side.

“Come,” your husband instructed you. “We must get ready.”

He grasped your arm gently and it snapped you out of your reverie. Swallowing down your panic, you followed him into the house and to the small trunk he had made to hold your armor. The two of you silently donned your gear and were nearly finished when Jugurtha came to your door.

“My lord,” you greeted him with a slight bow. The chieftain’s face betrayed nothing, but you could see the worry in his eyes. Hanno and Jugurtha would be in the heat of the battle, directly in the path of the oncoming Roman fury. Would the gods listen if you sent them a prayer now? It felt as though they had decided to abandon you.

“The healers are gathering at Taklit’s house.” Jugurtha looked at the two of you, a hidden regret in his gaze. “We will come retrieve you once we have claimed victory.”

“Yes, my lord.” Your voice had softened as you realized how quickly this was all happening.

“I will join you soon,” Hanno replied. Jugurtha nodded and left, his imposing figure leaving an empty space in the doorway and in your heart. Needing a distraction, you turned and focused your attention on securing Hanno’s armor. As your trembling fingers finished tightening his armor, his hand enfolded around yours and he drew your fingers up to his lips. Hanno placed a delicate kiss on the tips of each finger. You searched his face to memorize every last detail, from the crinkles beside his eyes to the slight curve of his lip. Only the gods knew how this battle would end and the anxiety felt like it was going to swallow you alive.

“We go as one,” he reminded you. “I will not lose you.”

“Nor I, you.” His lips ghosted over yours and you leaned up, capturing him in a searing kiss. You poured every ounce of your devotion, fear, and worry into the kiss and he took it all onto his broad shoulders, shielding you from this world. His hand fisted in your hair and he pulled you impossibly closer so he could sink the weight of his devotion into every fiber of your being.

The gods had granted you this man as your husband. Perhaps they had not abandoned you yet.

“Be brave, my Hanno,” you whispered once you broke apart. He pressed his brow to yours and you breathed him in. “Be strong and be brave. And come back to me.”

The warm metal of his betrothal ring pressed into the skin of your cheek as he cradled your face between his hands. He kissed your forehead, his lips warm against your clammy skin. You savored the ring, this physical reminder of his tie to you, and touched the one that rested on your hand as a reminder of your tie to him.

“I will see you soon, my love.”

How bittersweet endings are, you thought to yourself as the walls of the city were seized by Romans. Men and women fell left and right from the parapets and you knew there was no help you could give them once their bodies hit the ground. Instead, you watched in horror as Roman soldiers grew closer and closer to where you were stationed and awaiting the wounded. You could see Hanno at the top of the wall fighting for his very life and your heart beat wildly in your chest at the sight of so many men around him falling in battle. Would he be next?

A cry of pain nearby alerted you to someone needing help. One of your people had been caught within the crosshairs of an archer and you rushed out of the house to grab them and drag them to safety. The child, only a mere babe, shrieked in agony as you dove to cover his little body when another arrow went sailing over your head. Even over the din of war, you heard Hanno scream your name.

A Roman soldier grabbed you by your hair and yanked you up off the ground, forcing your back to bend sharply and a shout to emerge from your lips. He drew his sword, placing it to your throat with the intention of drawing your blood, your life, out of you with one swift pull. Despite knowing it wouldn’t help, you shouted your status in Latin.

“Healer! I’m a healer!” Perhaps he would be merciful. Perhaps he would let you go. Your eyes sought out the top of the wall and you saw Hanno desperately fighting to get to you, but he was too far away. The blade knicked the soft skin of your throat.

Two things happened simultaneously. One, a general pointed at you from the crowd and yelled at his man to stop. Two, Hanno was shoved off the wall and into the sea, right where huge rocks clashed with the waves.

A scream escaped you. A wail. War makes widows, your mother had said. And here you were, one of them.

The soldier removed his blade and forced you up to your feet, shoving you back in the direction of the house. You scrambled to scoop up the child in your arms. If you could not save your love, maybe you could at least save a mother from grief.

The child died in your arms by the time you stepped into the healer house.

Numidia fell. Rome claimed victory and dominion over the land. Hanno was dead.

You busied yourself with tending to the wounded in hopes that you wouldn’t think about the fact that you were now under Rome’s control, a widow, and possibly homeless. What would happen next? Would they let you retrieve his body? Or would they throw him into a pile and burn it all along with the city itself?

A shadow fell over you as you tended to one of your own. You looked up to find the general gazing down at you. All at once, you were filled with hot rage and the deepest sorrow. You stood quickly, your hand reaching for a stray knife on the ground but he merely raised a brow. Right. What skill do you have against a Roman general?

“You’re a healer,” he said, not as a question. “And you speak Latin. How?”

“How do I heal or how do I speak Latin?” you spat. He remained stoic and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. You would never reveal Hanno’s secrets. Not even under the threat of death.

“My husband is-” You stopped yourself and swallowed hard. “Was a merchant. He taught me so I could help him sell.”

“But you are a healer.”

You shrugged. “We do what we must.”

He studied you carefully and then nodded at one of his soldiers. A sudden bolt of terror struck you. Was this your future? To be a general’s plaything? A concubine? Some kind of bed warmer until he got back to Rome and disposed of you into the nearest brothel?

No. You were the wife of Hanno, a kind man and a good soldier.

“If you expect me to lay with you, I ask that you let me slit my wrists first so that I can die knowing I never let you take more from me than you already have,” you hissed. The soldier went to unsheathe his sword, but the general raised a hand to stop him. He took in your figure and the way you trembled with rage and grief.

“I need a healer,” he explained. “For my men. I will not touch you, for I am a married man, and you are a widow.”

He turned to the soldier once again. “Place her in chains and then put her in my room. Do not lay a finger on her, nor let anyone else.”

What choice did you have? If you defied them, you would be dead. If you went with them, you would have a chance to avenge Hanno before you died. Either way, you would join your husband in the afterlife. Going meant you had a chance to drag another life with you on the journey.

You dropped the blade and let the soldier lead you to the ships, not daring to look at the mass of bodies being piled up on the sand. Tears blurred your vision as you were hauled onto the ship. The keening wails of mourners raised above the fractured walls and you watched as smoke started to envelope the city. Just this morning, you had been thinking about spring planting and now you were a Roman slave.

What fresh hell was this?

The soldier clamped the heavy irons onto your wrists, connecting them together, and then attached two to your feet as well, forcing you into a shuffle as he then moved further below deck to a room. He tossed a thin blanket onto the wooden floor and pointed at it. You needed no words to explain that it would be your new bed.

When the door shut behind him, you fell to your knees over the chamber pot and promptly threw up everything in your stomach. An agonized sob tore from your lungs and you grit your teeth to silence the wail that threatened to emerge. You beat your fists on the hard, unforgiving wooden floor and wept silent tears, rocking back and forth in time to the crests and waves of the wailing mourners outside. Your people were subjugated. Your home was destroyed.

Your Hanno was dead.

Oh Thisbe, you thought as hot tears coursed down your cheeks. I understand. I understand. I understand. If I cannot shoulder this burden, then let the gods strike me down so that I may join him in peace.

“Tell us a story!”

The voices of children bubbled up over the crowd and Hanno looked up from sharpening his sword to find a woman surrounded. The kids eagerly mobbed her, their little heads bobbing up and down as they pleaded for her to tell them a tale. A basket balanced precariously on her head, but she seemed as though there was no worry about it falling.

But the thing that Hanno noticed the most was that she was completely and utterly beautiful.

“Who is that?” Jugurtha smiled at the young soldier’s question. He saw the way the woman captured his gaze. He knew that look in his eyes.

Jugurtha said your name quietly and explained how your family used to live on the outskirts of the city so they could accommodate a larger farm, but recent skirmishes in the area had wounded your father and drew you behind the walls of the city. Hanno had met your father before and made a mental note to visit the man and see how he was healing. Perhaps he would bring some fresh fruits from the merchants.

Jugurtha must have caught onto his train of thought because he called you over. The gaggle of children followed closely behind and you laughed, a sound that Hanno delighted in hearing.

“Are you interested in a story too, my lord?” You said in greeting. Jugurtha grinned and gestured for you to sit.

“You’ve been hard at work. Take a moment to rest and tell the children a story.”

With careful hands, you reached up and lowered the basket to the ground. Hanno could see it was full of various types of plants and fabrics. He had a million questions swirling around in his head. What did you do to pass the time? Where were you staying? Did you like it here? He stayed silent, however, as you slowly lowered yourself onto the ground. Your dress pooled around your legs and the coins on your shawl clinked against each other. What would you look like bare? He banished the thought as soon as it appeared.

“Come.” You beckoned the children to sit around you and gathered one of the youngest into your lap. The child reached up and played with the ends of your veil and you smiled down at her before beginning your story.

“Long ago, there was a queen of Numidia by the name of Kahina. When invaders came to Numidia to conquer us, she stood strong and fought them off with all of her might. Kahina was brave and smart, using both her strength and her mind to push the invaders back.” You launched into a tale filled with drama, some comedy, and even a bit of romance that had the kids shouting and cheering with glee. Hanno even stopped cleaning his weapons to sit and listen. He was enraptured by the way you kept the kids engaged as you weave your tale. The child in your lap started to drift off and you didn’t even hesitate before drawing her closer into your arms and cradling her.

“Queen Kahina is a reminder to all of us,” you declared. “That each of us has the power to stand up for ourselves, to do what’s right, and to be proud of who we are.” You gazed out onto the sea of little heads bobbing their agreement and then looked up to lock gazes with Hanno. For a brief moment, it felt like everything in the world went still. He scarcely knew he was breathing until Jugurtha nudged him. You tore your gaze away and offered a brilliant smile to the children. Clapping your hands together, you shooed them back towards the gathering of homes.

“Your mothers are probably wondering where you’ve gone off to. Now, go home and do some chores to help her out.”

“Oh, but we want another story!” One boy cried out. You huffed out a laugh and shook your head, your veils moving like buttery silk across your skin.

“Only if you finish your chores for the day. I will ask your mother and you know I will. Now, off with you!”

The children dashed off, leaving you with the sleeping babe in your arms. You slowly started to rise, intent on not waking her, when Hanno spoke.

“Here, let me carry your basket.” He stood and took the wicker basket from the ground so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying both child and items. You regarded him warily at first and Jugurtha had to hide his smile behind his hands.

Truth be told, you were one of the most desired women in the city. You were also one of the least trusting. Your mother desperately tried to set you up with suitor after suitor, but none met your standards. Your father laughed off your mother’s attempts and said that the gods would lead the right man to you. You were older than most women to be unmarried, but you remained steadfast in your belief that the right man would come someday.

And perhaps today was that day.

Jugurtha offered you a short nod to express his approval of Hanno and your suspicious expression melted somewhat. You turned and started to walk towards the village. When you realized that the handsome man with blue eyes wasn’t following, you glanced back at him.

“Are you coming or not?”

Hanno scrambled to catch up and quickly joined your steps, a smile cresting on his face as he asked you about how you were settling into the city.

Hanno cried when his mother sent him away. He sobbed when he fled his hiding place, cried on the boat crossing, and sniffled away into his sleep the first few days of living in Numidia. But he had never wept like he did when they tossed him into the hold of the ship with a Roman brand on his shoulder and a ring that felt infinitely heavy on his finger.

The last thing he saw before plunging into the sea was the blade sliding across your neck. Stuck between the two worlds of consciousness, he saw flickers of a wheatfield stretched before him and, for a moment, saw the outline of your body amongst the stalks. He reached out, his hand passing through where you stood, and then you disappeared from his grasp.

Coming to, he rushed from the sea and towards the city, but two Romans stopped him. He needed to find your body. He needed to see that you were buried properly. He was never as devoted to the gods as you were. You kept idols on the hearth and prayed regularly, but he only found himself turning to the gods at a time like this. But, right now, he found himself praying to Viduus, Libitina, and Proserpina.

Let her soul cross, Mercury. Bring her to the Fields of Elysium. Please. Tell her I will meet her on the other side.

He was forced to kneel next to Jugurtha, stripped of his armor and weapons, and watched as they loaded body after body into a pit. Jugurtha’s gaze never left the growing pile, even as he asked the question that Hanno dreaded.

“She’s gone,” he said, his throat raw from screaming your name across the battlefield. Did it hurt? He wondered. Was it instant? Did you feel pain? His sweet wife who dedicated her life to healing and helping died in such a brutal manner. His hands curled into fists as rage filled his veins. You were supposed to die at an old age, tucked in his arms and surrounded by your children. That’s what he planned that day so long ago when he walked you home, basket in his arms and a babe in yours. You dropped the child off with her mother and he refused to let you take your basket back, instead carrying it to your small house where he checked in on your father, met your mother, and charmed your whole family.

He craned his neck to see the dead lying a few feet away in hopes of catching a glimpse of any sign of you but there were too many dead. Too many lost. He saw the man he had bought silk from two days earlier. The midwife in the village. So many of the soldiers he had helped train.

Hanno glanced beside him and saw a fellow healer who was weeping openly. He leaned closer and asked if she knew anything about what happened to you.

“They took her,” she wailed. “They took her.”

Any grief that remained calcified into pure, hot rage. They took your body? For what sick purpose? To desecrate your corpse? To taint you with their hatred and their delusions of power, even when you were already dead? He started to rise, intent on seeking out your corpse and draping himself over it so that he would still be holding you when they killed him. Jugurtha stopped him with a shaking hand around his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” the leader lamented. “But not like this. This is not how you will die.”

Hanno’s eyes fixed on the man standing in front of the soldiers, in front of the keening mothers and children, in front of the men he had defeated and stripped of their armor to expose their humiliation. Hanno remembered the way he pointed directly at you, encouraging the soldier to keep the bloodshed continuing, and knew what Jugurtha meant.

He was going to kill him, and then he would reunite with you in the afterlife.

“Tell me a story,” Lulit encouraged as the two of you picked herbs from outside the city. The two of you rode out early this morning to gather herbs not grown in the village gardens. Lulit was with child and Jugurtha insisted on a guard coming with you and you glanced over at the man asleep at the base of the tree that the horses were tied to.

You paused for a moment to consider which tale you should tell. Recently, the only stories that came to mind were romances. Your face burned at the thought, but you knew why they were the only things that floated to your memory. A certain blue-eyed man had consumed every waking thought of yours and it was driving you mad.

He was a consummate gentleman and always found ways to visit your family. He started helping your father get his new trading business up and running in the city. He brought your mother fresh wheat to bake bread. He carved toys from wood and willow reeds for your siblings.

Hanno was the man of your dreams. He was exceedingly kind, handsome, and funny. He was sincere and wasn’t putting on some kind of face to impress you. He was just truly nice to everyone he met. You saw him once helping one of the elders bundle their wheat harvest and carry it into their house. Jugurtha had already come by and assured your parents of Hanno’s good nature.

He had started to teach you Latin and how to read and write Phoenician and Numidian. He told you stories from other empires and listened intently when you told him tales your grandmother had told you. The gods had indeed brought the right man, the perfect man.

“Psyche was one of three daughters of a king and a queen of a far away land. She was renowned for her beauty and praised among the land as the second coming of the goddess of beauty. Her admirers would bring offerings and gifts to her, angering the goddess, who decided that Psyche must be punished.”

A thorn caught on your finger and you let out a hiss of pain as you brought your finger to your lips, sucking the blood away. You began to continue your work and your story when a horn trumpeted across the sky.

The sounds of war.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you immediately looked to Lulit. Her face had drained of color and she traded a worried glance with you. In the time you had lived here, the horns had never sounded.

“We need to move.” Despite being asleep moments earlier, Hanno was already leading the horses to the two of you.

“Who is it?” You knew better than to stall, especially when he wore such a serious expression. He helped you climb onto the back of your horse and paused for only a moment, one of his warm palms resting on your skirt-covered thigh.

“A small war party, by the looks of it. Nothing the defense can’t handle. But we need to get out of the way before they attack. There’s a forest just a few paces away, but we need to get moving.” He ensured that you and Lulit were secured before he climbed onto his own horse. Dust grew in the east and you felt your worry build with it. Hanno tugged at the reins of your horse, urging you to follow. You urged your horse into a gallop and kept close to him, but you still looked over your shoulder to gauge how close the marauders were.

“Hanno.” Your voice carried a warning and he looked back to see a rider closing in on them. He let out an expletive and pointed to the trees that were nearing with every step.

“Go! I’ll find you.” He slowed his horse and fell in line with you, his bright eyes meeting yours. “I swear to you.”

You swallowed against your rising panic and he sent you a reassuring smile before he turned his horse around and rode off in the direction of your pursuer. You looked back to watch as he drew his sword with expert ease.

Focus, you chastised yourself. You need to focus.

Lulit silently followed you as you led the way to the forest. Once the trees began to cloud your vision, you looked back and saw nothing but dirt and sky. He would be okay. He had to be.

Dismounting, you grabbed the reins of your horse and led her further into the forest until you came to a clearing with a good underbrush. You tied the horses and instructed Lulit to dig out some of the underbrush so she could lay down and rest while you brushed out the horses.

“Are we in danger?” she asked. Were you? You had no clue. But you set your shoulders and covered her with the blanket she kept on her saddle.

“Hanno would never let anything happen to us,” you told her. You settled down onto the soft grass next to her. “Let me continue my story. While Psyche’s sisters married, she found herself still unmarried and that worried her father who consulted a seer. The seer predicted an awful outcome for the beautiful daughter, one of a brutish husband in the form of a dragon who came to claim her and whom the gods feared. But truthfully, the goddess of beauty had been so enraged by the people’s devotion to Psyche that she sent her son to enchant her with a hideous creature, but instead found himself falling in love with her.”

Lulit curled up onto her side, cradling her growing belly with her hands as she listened raptly to your story. You spoke of the trials the lovers endured in their pursuit of one another, but as you began to wrap up the story, you found that she had drifted off to sleep.

A branch cracked nearby and you flinched. There was a small knife in your saddlebags that you used for foraging and silently, you crept over to your horse and retrieved it. The leaves rustled and you spun to face whatever beast dared to come close. You held your knife aloft and pointed it in the direction of where the noise was coming from. Oh, you were not brave. You were a farmer’s daughter and a healer. The most you knew with a knife was how to butcher an animal.

“You need to adjust your thumb to the other side,” Hanno said in greeting as he stepped through the forest and into the clearing. “It will give you better control.”

With a ragged sigh of relief, your shoulders fell from their tensed position and you dropped the knife onto the grass below. He stooped to catch it and studied the small blade with a hint of a smile. Droplets of blood stained his face and you carefully examined him for any sign of injuries.

“I am unharmed, my little warrior,” he teased. He rose and handed you the knife once more. “And I will make sure to teach you how to use that.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He could easily be lying. Father always brushed off your mother’s worries so as to not incite her own anxieties. Hanno raised his arms from his sides and slowly turned so you could see that he was indeed unharmed. His sword hung from its scabbard and you could see that blood still lingered on its surface.

“Are we safe?”

His eyes darkened and he stepped closer, his hands hovering over your waist. He searched your face for something, you weren’t sure, but dipped his head into a nod. “Aye. I would never let anything happen to you. To you or Lulit.”

“Then rest, soldier. Let me clean your sword.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but determination furrowed your brows and Hanno reluctantly unstrapped his sword from his side and handed it to you. This was a task you had witnessed your mother perform before when your father took on anyone trying to attack the farm. Blood was not a foreign thing to you, even if Hanno appeared to want to protect you from it.

You took a rag from your saddle pack and sat down by a tree. Hanno joined you, his back against the bark and his eyes studying the treeline for any disturbance. Slowly and methodically, you ran the rag over his blade and ensured that every last drop of blood and gore was cleaned from it. He searched your face for any sign of fear. Fear of what? Of him? A man who so willingly charged into danger to protect you engendered no fear from you.

“There,” you declared. “Good as new.”

He gratefully accepted the blade from you and placed it back in his scabbard. The sun was starting to set and the glow between the trees created a halo of light around you. He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair out of your face before curling his knuckles against your jaw and stroking his thumb over your cheek. You let your eyes flutter shut and leaned into his palm, savoring the rough drag of his calloused fingers against your soft skin.

You loved him. Oh, the thought made your heart race and you surged forward. He caught your waist in his calloused hands and let his lips meet yours in a breathless kiss. Hanno groaned against your touch and you pulled away, thinking he was hurt with some injury you hadn’t seen, but he merely cupped your face and pulled you back in so he could nip at your lips and soothe the slight sting with his tongue. You whimpered at his touch and kissed him once again, moving your hands down to trace along the hard lines of his chest. Your hand moved lower and Hanno quickly pulled away from you, one of his hands catching yours and tangling your fingers with his.

“Not yet,” he panted against your cheek. “Not yet.”

Dawn was breaking when you awoke. Your head rested on a blanket that you recognized as Hanno’s while your own draped over you, protecting you from the bitterly cold nights of Numidia. Your soldier sat wide awake and alert beside you and you could tell, from the fatigue weighing down his eyes, that he hadn’t slept a wink through the night. A silent sentry, guarding you and Lulit from any unseen danger.

The blanket fell from your shoulder as you began to sit up and he instinctively reached over to drag it back up your shoulder, bathing you in warmth from both the outside and surging through your insides at his tenderness.

You woke Lulit and the three of you rode back to the city, barely making it in time before a search party headed by Lulit’s husband went out. He wept when he saw his wife and swept her into his arms. Two men offered to take your horses to the stables to care for them and you graciously accepted. Hanno refused to leave your side until he deposited you at your doorstep.

It was still early but you knew your parents would be awake, both from their anxiety and their history as farmers. Your mother let out a shriek when she saw you approach and ran from the doorway to hug you. Hanno squeezed your hand once and made to step away, but you kept your fingers tightly entwined with his.

“I believe you have something to ask of my father,” you explained. His brows raised in surprise and you offered him a shy smile. As your mother ran back to the house to exclaim of your return, you raised your clasped hands so you could press a kiss to his dirt-stained skin.

“Are you sure?” His hesitation had nothing to do with you, but rather in his belief that he was not good enough for you. You laughed and started to drag him in the direction of the house.

“You foolish man.” A boyish grin lit up his face and he followed you inside.

“What happens to me once we reach Rome?”

General Acacius looked up from the letter he was writing and turned to face you. The floor barely made a comfortable place to lay your head, but he had at least given you blankets and removed the chains from your legs. They only went back on when you were on the deck, thanks in part to your failed attempt to jump overboard and sink into the sea.

“My wife will find a place for you in her house,” he explained. You scoffed and picked at the dried blood under your fingernails. You spent your days stitching up and tending to the wounds of Roman soldiers and spent your nights curled up on the floor of this room, dreaming of bright blue eyes and a crooked smile.

“Why? Couldn’t you just drop me off at the nearest brothel and let them rip me apart?” His compassion, minimal at best but still present, confused you. To him, you were barbarian scum. A conquered people. Prisoner of war, spoils, an artifact of his military prowess. He winced at your accusation, knowing that it was true for many military campaigns that the women were subjugated into the slave trade and forced into prostitution. The general refused to meet your eyes and you savored what little bit of power you held over him.

You could picture it now. You would demure yourself and behave in his wife’s house until you found a chance to slit her throat and leave him with the same raw, empty feeling that consumed you.

“You have skills that would be useful,” he muttered. “Your husban-”

“Don’t you dare speak of him,” you hissed. “My husband was a good and kind man. You do not deserve to speak of him.”

“He taught you well,” he continued on. “Lucilla could use someone with your skill set.”

The name made you pause and you tilted your head to the side, brows furrowing as you mentally ran through your memories. “Lucilla, daughter of Aurelius?”

He regarded you with suspicion. “Aye. How do you know of her?”

“Everyone knows of Marcus Aurelius,” you retorted. “I’d be a fool not to.”

A sudden knock on the door drew his attention away from you and he rose to answer it. General Acacius left the room to sort out some sort of issue and left you alone with your thoughts. You drew your knees up to your chest and rested your cheek against your folded arms. If you shut your eyes, you could see his face. If you thought hard enough, you could feel him in your dreams. The rough stubble of his beard. The high plains of his cheekbones. The crooked smile he gave you when he made you laugh.

Lucilla, daughter of Aurelius, you ran the words over and over in your head. Aurelius. Aurelius.

You could only hope that Hanno would forgive you if you delayed your joining with him in the afterlife for a little bit longer.

He slept fitfully on the ship and in the cages. He dreams of your eyes, your laugh, your smile, and wakes with your name on his lips in a strangled cry that he buries into his bicep and lets only a few tears leak out onto his battered skin.

He has nightmares most nights and the lack of sleep fuels his rage. Dark circles take hold under his eyes and weariness leaves red rims around his blue pupils, making him appear as the wild barbarian they purport him to be. His muscles ache and scream and bruises litter his torso. He bites a monkey back and savors the burning anger that courses through his veins. The crowds cheer and shout and applaud his fury, but he pays them no mind. All he focuses on is going back to his cell and dreaming of you once more.

Killing men has never been an issue for him. He was raised a fighter, even in Numidia where he helped Jugurtha lead their forces. He fought in skirmishes and battles. When he met you, it brought another reason to keep the fight going. He refused to let a single person pass into the gates of the city when you were seeking protection inside. He had failed you, and every new scar on his body was merely penance.

Ravi chastises him for the way that he seeks out injury, but the man doesn’t refuse to help him. In an opium-fueled haze, Hanno tells him quietly that his wife was a healer. She was exceedingly kind and gentle. Too gentle for him. He was scared he would break her with his brutish nature, but she was also enduringly strong. A stray tear slips down his cheek and he tosses the opium aside in favor of feeling the pain and knowing that it pales in comparison to the ache in his chest. His grief builds and compounds into this sickening version of him that he cannot recognize. The blood of other men stains his skin, no matter how hard he scrubs in the baths. Even when the iron-thick substance is gone, he can still see it.

Macrinus brought the finest courtesans by his cell, but he refused them everytime. Once, the girl shared a similar hair color as you and he invited her into his cell, but merely let her rest on his cot while he sat at his desk and sketched what he could remember of your face on thin papyrus.

When he looked into the stands and saw your murderer seated with his mother, his rage calcified into his heart. With every kill, he pictured your pale face crying out for him. With every breath, he reminded himself of his failure to protect you. His mother had the audacity to reason with him.

“Do you have a family?” Lucilla asked.

He says your name with the reverence afforded to the gods and then hisses out that you were dead and taken from him by her husband. How dare she try to call her son home when she shares a bed with that monster? Ferality consumed him and his thirst for revenge. He meant what he said to Macrinus. Only Acacius’ head will quench this fire in his blood. For a sickening moment, he wants his mother to feel the way he does.

There are times when the night is darkest that his mind descends into the throes of the deepest depression and he wonders about how you would feel if you saw him like this. There is one nightmare that plays over and over again in his mind. He is in the Colosseum and the crowd is cheering in their bloodlust. The gates open and he steps out to face his next opponent, only to find you standing in the sand with your hands outstretched towards him. In this dream, he can’t stop himself from raising his blade an-

He woke up screaming.

Hanno doesn’t trust Macrinus within an inch of his life, but he trusts that he’ll bring him Acacius and that…that will be enough.

“Can I tell you a story?” Hanno whispered into your hair.

The wedding was an all-day event. You looked resplendent with flowers woven in your hair and layers of colorful fabric adorning your body. It felt as though the whole city came out to celebrate your union and the dancing, food, and music flowed for hours. Jugurtha clapped his hands on Hanno’s shoulders and congratulated him. A knowing glint flashed in the older man’s eyes and Hanno was eternally grateful for the man’s meddling.

Your father had tears in his eyes when he took your hand from his and placed it into Hanno’s, but they were tears of joy. When discussing the marriage negotiations and dowry, your father declared that there was no one greater for his daughter. In his vows, Hanno promised to protect and provide for you until his very last breath, one that he would take with you in his arms at an old age, with your children around you.

As the night grew longer, the crowds began to thin out. Parents took sleeping children home and the elders slipped away so they could rise early and start their daily chores. The fires began to burn low and Hanno looked over to you, only to have his breath catch in his throat at the realization.

His wife. His wife. Your lovely face was now his to wake up to every morning and your sweet laughter was his to elicit. Izim was telling some tall tale about his adventures as a sentry, but Hanno didn’t hear a single word. He ignored the hoots and hollers of his fellow soldiers and friends as he left their group and strode towards you.

The women around you tittered and giggled as he approached and it drew your attention away from whatever Seble was telling you. You barely had time to react when he suddenly scooped you into his arms. Hanno easily cradled you to him, your long veils swirling around the two of you, and he made his way towards the new house he had built with the help of your father and a few friends. The party cheered and you hid your laughter into the crook of his neck.

Hanno stopped in the doorway and set you gently onto your feet so you could examine your new home. Someone, your mother, you presumed, had already set some lanterns alight in the house and a clay jar of flowers sat on the small wooden table in the center of the room. It was a small house with the bed on one side and a small kitchen on the other. You traced your hand along the furniture that you knew he constructed himself. Your dowry chest laid at the foot of the bed already and a loom was on the wall. Your husband had done all of this.

The word made your throat squeeze with a level of affection you had never experienced before. He watched you carefully from the doorway, but you could see tension in the line of his shoulders and how his hands fidgeted until he clasped them behind his back. The flames from the lanterns made his eyes glow and heightened the smooth planes of his face. You reached up and unclasped your veils, letting them pool at your feet before you took a step forward.

He met you halfway, his hands going to settle on your waist as you nestled into his strong arms. Your hands came up to rest on the rough fabric of his tunic and you could feel his heart beat wildly under the tips of your fingers.

“My husband,” you breathed to the heavens. You wanted the gods to know that this man was yours. He had placed an iron ring on your finger and you savored the weight of it, the press of it against your skin. Hanno’s lips lifted in the barest hint of a grin, but his eyes took on almost burning intensity.

With nimble fingers, you released the clasps of his tunic yet kept your gaze locked on his as the fabric pooled to the ground. Hanno’s breaths grew ragged as you settled your hands back onto the chiseled muscle of his chest. For a moment, nothing happened. You just stared at one another as the air electrified with palpable energy. You had no idea where this boldness emerged from, but you slid your hand down his bicep, along his arm, and then to his wrist where you clasped it and raised his hand to rest on your breast. He swallowed so hard you could see his throat bob and just the simple evidence of his arousal made your skin burn.

“My wife,” he said hoarsely and untied your dress.

Hanno sucked in a shuddering breath as the fabric fell away from your body and joined his on the floor. He stroked his hands over your quivering flesh and stepped forward so that his body pressed against the length of yours. You felt him harden against your thigh as he leaned down to capture your lips in his. The two of you had kissed plenty of times, from small chaste pecks to that heated moment in the forest, but this felt entirely new and you welcomed it. He nibbled at your lips and explored your mouth with the desperation of a dying man searching for water. You moaned your approval which encouraged him and he let one of his hands drift down to cup your breast.

Hanno’s touch made your skin light on fire with every simple brush. How were you supposed to act when the man strutted around shirtless most of the time and built your house? Some of the older women in the city gossiped about their husbands. They told you about how it hurt, about the way he took without giving, and how they hated it.

From the delicate way Hanno touched you and the tender press of his lips against your pulse point, you knew that this would be different. He bent down and hauled you up against him, your legs wrapping around his waist for security, but you knew he would never drop you. You slid your arms around his neck, pulling your chest flush with his and he let his head fall back with a sinful groan, exposing the column of his throat. Eagerly, you licked a stripe up against his sweat-tinged skin and savored the taste of salt, musk, and man.

“By the gods, you will be the end of me, my little wife.” His teeth enclosed around the hinge of your jaw and you let your head fall to the side with a little sigh. Hanno nipped at the skin of your neck and you jolted against him, causing his throbbing cock to brush against you. Hanno squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation that wracked his body and you turned your head so he was facing you. Running your thumb along his jaw, you pulled your husband into another kiss and then pulled his bottom lip between your teeth. He sucked in a sharp breath and his hold tightened on you, sending a zing of pain mixed with pleasure down your spine.

“Take me to bed, husband,” you panted against his mouth. “Claim me as yours.”

Furs and silk lined the bed and softened your fall. You marveled at the way he prepared everything for you, even bringing over the blankets you wove for your marriage chest and setting them on the bed. He planted himself over you, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he took and you stole a glance down his broad chest to the heavy manhood that stood proud between his thighs. Your body pulsed with want even as your mind protested the idea of taking his length. He sensed your apprehension and leaned down to place a gentle kiss against your temple, your brow, both eyelids, and then your lips once more.

“I cannot promise it to be painless,” he said. “But I will do everything in my power to make sure you find bliss too.”

One of his hands snaked down to your most intimate place and your eyes widened with shock as he brushed the pad of his finger along the seam of your cunt. Your legs spread further apart instinctively and he kissed you in thanks for your invitation. A gasp escaped you as one of his fingers slid past your entrance and he kissed away your shock, even as you felt the rough and calloused pad of his finger slide up and press against some part of you that had you seeing stars. A little whimper from you had him pausing and he immediately pulled his hand away, eliciting a low whine from his wife. Hanno couldn’t stop his cocky smile that spread across his face before he touched that part of you again. His finger drew a circle over your flesh and your hips canted up, a mewl spilling past your lips and your breath catching. He stole a kiss, then another as he sent electricity up your spine and shocks scattered through your bones.

“You are magnificent,” he murmured just as he slipped another finger into your aching cunt. For a moment, you felt a hint of discomfort and bit your lip to refrain from making a sound. Hanno frowned and pulled your lip out from between your teeth. Some small part of you whispered ugly words and lies into your mind in an attempt to push his affection away. He only wanted you because other men did. You were merely a token to conquer. He needed a wife before he could get a concubine.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds.” He kissed the corner of your lips and you turned your head to see him properly once more. His eyes burned with a hunger you had seen before like in the forest or when he saw you carry one of the village babes on your hip. Hanno cheek pressed against your own and he whispered into your ear as he sank one finger into you and then two. He told you how proud he was of you, how good you were for him, how precious you were, as he pulled little cries of pleasure from you. You tightened around his fingers and he leaned back and watched your face as your body twitched and seized with the electric shocks of pleasure. A proud smile captured his face and he craned his head down to kiss you again and again and again. You climbed higher, higher, higher but then he abruptly pulled his hand from you, leaving you empty and aching.

“I know, I know,” he groaned in that deep timbre bass that wracked through your body. Hanno rubbed a gentle circle into your outer thigh and shifted himself until he was kneeling between your spread legs. He grasped his cock in one hand and pressed his other hand to your hip, holding you in place under his heavy gaze. You squirmed as his eyes raked down your naked body and the little thoughts began to creep in once more, but he silenced them with one word.

“Divine.” Hanno leaned down and laid the flat of his tongue along your cunt. Your back arched off the bed with a choked out gasp and for a moment, you thought you died and entered the afterlife. He chuckled against your inner thigh and pressed a kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his heels. He stroked his thick length twice before moving closer to you. He nestled his face against your hair and inhaled the sweet scent of rose petals. His cheek rested on your temple, and he shocked you with his question.

“Can I tell you a story?”

You choked back a laugh and kissed the shell of his ear. “I suppose.” While you were the typical storyteller, you would always accept whatever he gave you.

“There was a king of the island of Ithaca by the name of Ulysses*. He was sent to fight in the Trojan War and on the way home, was blown off course. The journey home took over ten years and was filled with countless obstacles and dangers.” You gasped as the blunt head of his cock slid past your entrance and Hanno inhaled deeply. “Odysseus had a wife, the queen of Ithaca, named Penelope. A hundred suitors from the various lands and tribes came in an attempt to woo her and take her hand in marriage. Everyone thought Odysseus to be dead.”

He rocked his hips and his thick length began to split you open and your lips parted in a silent moan. Any air that was in your lungs seemed to evaporate as he filled you fully. Hanno swallowed your shaky whimper with a sweet kiss. You clawed for purchase against his chest, your limbs liquifying when he pulled out. Hanno caught your hand in his and flipped your hand over so he could pepper kisses along the inside of your wrist.

“Penelope was a devoted wife and ever faithful. She never doubted that Odysseus was alive and would come back to her. She lied to the suitors and told them that she would marry them when she finished weaving a funeral shroud. But she undid her work each night.” This time, his intrusion didn’t have the burn like the last thrust. Instead, his cock dragged against your walls in such a way that had your eyes rolling back into your head.

Hanno groaned as he started a steady thrust of his hips. He moved your hands above your head and entangled his fingers with yours, squeezing them in assurance as he fucked you. The pleasure burned so hot in your stomach and consumed your entire being. Everytime he thrust in, it felt like he was carving you out and branding you with his claim and oh, how you wanted this. He built this house for you and your future and even though he put a roof over your head, you saw stars with every touch against your skin.

“Ha-Hann…” You whined as he hit a certain spot that made your head spin. “Hanno.”

He frowned and slowed his thrusts and he touched your cheek, his thumb rubbing away the tear that you didn’t realize slipped down. “Does it hurt?”

You yanked him closer until his nose was touching yours. Your legs wrapped around his hips and he bottomed out in surprise.

“Don’t you dare stop.” He grinned that reckless, crooked smile of his and swept your lips into a bruising kiss as he fucked every last thought out of your head. His name became a prayer that you chanted to the skies as he took you higher and higher until that coil that wrapped in your stomach snapped. You clenched around his cock and your body seized up as your orgasm washed over you. Hanno let out a guttural, animalistic groan and he spilled his seed into you, flooding you with warmth.

Silence enveloped the two of you, only the heavy exhales from exertion permeating the bubble that surrounded you. Hanno’s body relaxed and he caught himself before he put all of his weight on you. Rolling to the side, his arm came up to curl around your front, and he pulled you to his chest. Nose to nose, you met his gaze and let your breath mingle with his.

“Penelope didn’t falter in her devotion,” you said hoarsely. “Did she?”

His hand drifted up and down the raised gooseflesh on your arm and he reached over to draw one of the furs over you. “Aye, she didn’t.”

You tossed the edge of the fur over him and kissed him once again. “I will always remain steadfast.”

His lips met your temple and he tucked your head under his chin. “And I shall always come for you. No matter what it takes.”

Acacius lead you into the villa, the shackles and a new plate around your neck indicating your designation as slave. Lucilla immediately greeted him with an embrace and you looked away, your heart shattering at the sight. Quiet words were exchanged between the two before Acacius paused and stepped back to display you.

“She is from Numidia,” he explained. “She has skills in healing and I felt she would be a good addition to the household.”

Lucilla approached you and took in your sorry state. You felt bile rise in your throat as you bowed your head to the woman, but she stopped you with a raised hand.

“What is your name?” she asked you in Phoenician. You paused before answering her in your second tongue. That’s when you saw her eyes and realized, with a jolt, that she was indeed the woman you had heard of.

“Leta,” Lucilla called for another slave. “Come. Show her to the baths and give her a fresh chiton. Acacius, unchain her.”

He obeyed his wife’s command, but the slate remained. Perhaps you would wear it for the rest of your, hopefully short, life. Leta, an older woman, silently beckoned you to follow her deeper into the villa where a few slave women were gathered together over a pool of warm water.

“Who is this?” one of them asked in Latin.

“A Barbarian whore for the general, I presume,” Leta replied. “He brought her from Numidia. Thing hasn’t had a bath in her whole life.”

You remained silent, hands clasped before you, even as Leta pointed towards the bath. “You. Wash.” You pretended not to understand and she huffed out an annoyed breath and marched off, leaving you to strip out of your ruined and bloody dress from home and step into the water. You didn’t want to wash the gore off of your skin. Not when it was your last reminder of home. Of him.

Taking a moment to look around, you tried to picture what it was like living here in all its splendor. Leta returned and tossed a dress for you onto the edge of the tile and you stared at it blankly. She turned her back to you and started to gossip with the other girls. Your hands scrubbed at your skin, but your ears picked up all that they were saying. Gladiator games, senators, the emperors, it was all banal and boring.

But you found it all invaluable.

When night fell, you slipped out from the tiny cot you had been given in the slave quarters and silently made your way through the halls. Mosaics lined the walls and depicted everything from myths to actual battles. You stopped at the bust of Marcus Aurelius and stared at it for a moment. Shaking your head, you moved on to the hall that everyone had pointedly walked past and Leta explained was off-limits. Or as she said, “no touch”, because she thought that your supposed inability to speak Latin was also an indication of your idiocy.

You pushed open the doors and entered the chambers. Dust covered every inch of the place, as if no one had been in here for years. You carefully made your way over a broken tile and into the bedchamber where the sheets were still unmade and a book lay open on the desk. Turning slowly, you took in the whole of the room with an unsteady inhale.

“The gates of hell are open night and day,” you whispered under your breath. The words were etched onto the top of the wall. “Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.” As you spoke, you could almost feel the presence of him at your back, his rough and low voice breathing the words into your ear.

You fled from the room, unable to bear it.

You almost made it back across the atrium when Lucilla emerged from seemingly out of nowhere. The two of you paused and you quickly lowered your head in deference.

“I hope you weren’t trying to escape,” she said gently. “Acacius told me that you were recently made a widow.”

The wince on your face was visible even in the moonlight and she stepped forward, her hands clasping over yours in comfort. She spoke her next words in Latin. “I am sorry. These meaningless deaths are foolish emperors playing war without considering the human cost of it.” The older woman patted your hand and made to leave, but your voice stopped her.

“Your slaves do not respect you,” you spoke in Latin. “Leta spreads vicious rumors about you and she said she has ties with some of the senators. Your allies are playing you and your plan is shaky at best.”

She whirled around to face you and you jutted your chin out in defiance, your eyes flashing with something dangerous. “In Numidia, my husband was the soldier, Domina. But I was the politician.”

Macrinus delivered on his promise. Acacius faced off with four soldiers in the Colosseum before Hanno was given a taste of vengeance and oh, did he savor it. Acacius ordered your death. Now, Hanno had the chance to ensure you were honored properly.

But Acacius stood across from him, sword on the ground, and accepted his death with a stoicism that Hanno only dreamed of possessing. The crowd roared and swelled with indignation after Hanno demanded to know their morals, but he was ushered away before he joined his father in dying in this ring.

He was granted the chance to see his mother one last time before her execution for treason and his slaughter in the arena. Lucilla told him of his father and he remembered meeting Maximus and how kind he was, even in the jaws of death. When his mother meets him for the last time, his only thought is how much Lucilla would like you.

She gave him two gifts in parting.

One, his grandfather’s ring.

Two, a lock of hair. And not just any…

Lucilla smiled sadly. “Acacius took her from Numidia to be a healer and didn’t realize she was your wife. She is safe, Lucius, and under the care of my household. I’m afraid I put it together too late, and she isn’t aware that you are here.”

For a moment, the rage subsided and he heard only a shrill ringing in his ears, as though he took a heavy blow to the head. Lucius turned the hair over in his hand and raised it to his nose, smelling a faint hint of rose petals.

I shall always come for you. No matter what it takes.

His mother was taken back to his cell and he took a moment to curl his palm around this fragment of you and press it to his chest to guard it from the world.

And then he called for Ravi.

Your hands remained steady when you slit Leta’s throat. You did so quietly, in the darkness of an alleyway. Blood never fazed you before, and the taking of a life was no different now. As far as you were concerned, this woman was one of the reasons why your Hanno was dead. Was it a rational thought? Perhaps not. But rationality would come another day.

The Colosseum roared with fury and you tried not to flinch at the deafening sound as you slipped in through the gates below, into the pens with the animals and gladiators. Chaos reigned above and below the world’s largest stadium so it was easy to blend in with others. The cloak you stole from Leta made you appear to be a fellow slave working amongst the masses. It never failed to amaze you how they called you a barbarian when they fought men to the death for their entertainment.

Your fingers skated over the smooth wood that curved over your spine and you felt a little better knowing that it was on you. The games were already underway with a few prisoners being devoured by Barbary lions as the crowd screamed for their blood to spill. You slipped around a few courtesans that lingered in the hall and passed the raised dais where three maidens were chained. Pushing on, you found a small corridor that was unoccupied and slipped in between the stones to hide from any roaming eyes.

The noise increased and you knew what was coming. Lucilla would be executed and Macrinus was to blame. The lanista was the mastermind of all of this, and you knew firsthand what war could do to people. You refused to let Lucilla die and, as much as you hated the Romans for what they took from you, the innocent children in the streets would die.

After this, you promised yourself, you would join Hanno.

Footsteps rushed past your hiding spot and when it quieted down in the hallway, you took that as a chance to peek out and see if you had an opening. You slipped out into the hall and darted towards one of the gates that was partly open. A bloodbath was the only word to describe what was happening in the Colosseum. You blanched at the sight of Lucilla tied to the dais, but it seemed as though the gladiators had it well in hand.

Removing the bow from your back, you notched an arrow onto the string and inhaled deeply. Macrinus was not hard to stop, thanks to his place behind Emperor Caracalla, but you didn’t have a clear shot. The crowd was turning on the Praetors and more soldiers entered the Colosseum on horseback. One Praetor nearly took the head off of a gladiator and you turned your bow in that direction.

Breathe in, aim, fire as you breathe out, Jugurtha had instructed. Keep your arm steady, your aim true, and your mind clear. There is no time to panic, just shoot.

The arrow sailed through the air and straight through the Praetor’s shoulder, knocking him off his horse and to the ground. You drew another arrow and started to aim towards Macrinus once more, but this time he was standing up. Caracalla was slumped over dead in front of him and Macrinus had his own bow in his hand.

Numidians were excellent horsemen and archers. Before you ever met Hanno, before you even bled for the first time, you were trained in the art of horsemanship and archery. Indeed your husband vowed his protection, but you were not one to go down without a fight. He taught you how to manipulate a knife, where to aim on the body, but Hanno never came close to your familiarity with a bow.

Your next arrow arched through the air and collided with Macrinus’ shot. The wood splintered midair and you loaded a third, but the lanista fled the stands before you could take another shot. It gave a gladiator the chance to free Lucilla and pass her to another gladiator, a hulking beast of a man. The gladiator gave chase to Macrinus and you focused your attention on your subject at hand.

There had to have been a reason the gods kept you alive and took Hanno. Clearly, it was to protect your husband’s mother.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re hiding from me?”

His hand stilled from where it had been absentmindedly stroking your thigh. Hanno came home from the field and immediately drew you into his lap, inhaling your sweet smell and letting his hands roam all over your body. You savored his touch, but marriage had sharpened your mind regarding his mannerisms. Something was bothering him.

Hanno sighed and he nuzzled his nose against your shoulder. You let him have this moment, but you would weasel the truth out of him, someway or another.

“Is it another woman? A concubine?” you asked, your voice hushed and wounded. He laid a kiss against your skin and shook his head.

“Rome is moving closer,” he finally said. You turned so you could see his face and cupped his chin, drawing his head up to meet your gaze. He blinked up at you with those sky blue eyes of his and nestled into your palm until he could lay a gentle kiss there.

“My name, my real name,” he whispered, “is Lucius Verus Aurelius and I am the prince of Rome.”

The first thing he did after ascending his rightful place as Emperor of Rome was go to his mother’s villa.

Lucilla was fine, a small gash on her bicep and shaken up, but fine. He tried to be a good son, but she could tell his focus was on anywhere but her. Lucilla directed him to the gardens and that is where he found you.

The Roman dress was different from what he was used to seeing, but you still covered your head with a veil when praying to your gods. Head tilted towards the heavens, hands outstretched, you made a beautiful image of devotion.

Your feet inched closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Forgive me, my love, for being so weak that I could not do this sooner,” you said. Tears coursed down your cheeks and stained the fabric of your chiton with damp tracks. You muttered a mixture of prayer and apology and he strained to hear it.

“Give me the strength to commit this final act, oh gods, grant me this. I have protected his mother and granted her the life he was not spared. Please, oh Hanno, let me see you in the afterlife. I am tired, so tired of only seeing you in my dreams.”

“Step back from the edge, my heart.” His voice came out in a tremble.

“Hanno,” you whispered. “Forgive me for being so weak. Forgive me for failing you. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been nothing but strong.” A ferocity claims his words. “Step back from the edge.”

“We made a promise,” you pleaded. “We go as one. Let me join you, please.”

You raise one foot over the rocky cliff and he lashed out before he could think. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back so hard that the both of you tumbled to the ground. Quickly, Lucius kneeled by your side to search for any injury.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered. This was the afterlife. It must be. You obeyed his command to find those bright blue eyes that haunted your dreams.

“Am I finally dead?”

“Not for a long, long time.”

No, this wasn’t the afterlife. Blood caked his skin and scars littered his bare arms. He had been muscular before but now he appeared to be only thick, corded muscle. Your hands came up to rest on his neck and you examined his face. The same freckles. Same lines by his eyes. Same long eyelashes.

Trailing your hands down along his arms, you skirted around the obvious injuries he had until your fingers brushed something new, something entirely foreign to you that resided on his shoulder.

A brand.

And with that, the dam within you shattered. The wails of a widow finally escaped your chest and you let out an agonized scream as you curled in on yourself. Hanno gathered you into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck. Hot tears slid down his cheeks and onto your skin. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on the armor that still adorned his body and you eventually settled on cradling the back of his head with one hand and grasping his forearm with the other.

“I am so sorry,” he wept. “If I had known you were alive, I would have come for you sooner.” He wrenched the slave plate from your neck and kissed the places where the chain had rubbed your skin raw.

All the agony of grief and rage and terror from the last month spilled out of him in broken, gasping sobs. His precious wife was alive and in his arms. Numidia had fallen, but now he had the chance to protect her with all the power and might of Rome. He could now have armies at his beck and call, coffers of coins brought to him, and enemies assassinated but the true power laid in his arms.

His little wife was right. He was the soldier, the muscle, the physical strength. But the reason he fought and killed, the reason he kept going even when every part of his body screamed to give up, was because of her. As far as he was concerned, she had the power to raze cities and command armies. All she had to do was ask him.

“Is this real?” you breathed once your sobs and trembling ceased. He pulled you into his lap and almost began crying once again at the feel of your supple body against his.

“It’s real,” he assured you before he bent down and kissed you. Despite the blood that coated his skin, you savored the taste of him. You never thought you would get this again. Maybe the gods did bless you.

He kept you pressed against his side as you made your way back into the villa. One of the slaves nearly dropped her tray at the sight before her and ran to grab Lucilla. The stately woman swept into the courtyard and met you both there.

“Lucius,” she exclaimed. “I take it that this is your wife.”

“Yes.” His gaze never strayed from your face. “This is her.”

You instinctively went to bow to Lucilla but she stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“You are not my slave any longer,” she assured you. “Not only did you save my life, but you are now my daughter and also Augusta.”

Hanno, Lucius, you reminded yourself, stood in all his resplendent glory, covered in dirt and blood with his gladius hanging from his sheath. How different the two of you were now, yet still fit like the gods made you for each other. Your small house was gone. Your home was subjugated. Your family and friends in the afterlife. But Lucius was still here and still breathing. That made it all worth it.

He might be the Emperor of Rome now and you, the Empress, but he was still your charming soldier, your devoted husband. This, you decided, would make an excellent story someday.

#hanno x reader #lucius verus x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #lucius verus #hanno

2K notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, I hope your having a nice day, can I request Yandere 1st Years + Grim (Platonic) with a Komi Reader? (From Komi can’t Communicate)

Reader’s known for being incredibly beautiful, intelligent, athletic and elegant in everything she does, however she has crippling Social Anxiety and ends up scaring everyone away with her ‘mean/scary’ look so everyone tends to avoid her (When it’s actually herself that’s nervous since she doesn’t know what to say)

Except for Ace, Deuce and Grim after they spent time with Reader in the mine, they discovered her anxiety she wrote it out so now they’re mostly the ones who do the talking for her and try to help her reach her goal of making 100 Friends in NRC, even though they both think that’s a ‘weird/bad goal’ because this IS NRC

Reader loves cats, so she spoils Grim and Lucius (The latter likes laying in her lap and even follows her around) with pets, treats and affection and helping her friends with studying since she gets perfect marks

How would they react to hearing Reader’s voice for the first time? Not to mention have Reader tell write out that she made a friend all by herself who visits her dorm at night and does nightly walks (You know who it is)

Komi-San Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re quiet and intimidating but not because others find you scary. The exact opposite, they’re obsessed. You’re athletic, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re kind, and the list goes on. Without so much as opening your mouth, the school is at its hands and knees all for you. Little do they know about your silent struggle, not like your dearest first-year friends. More than anyone they know how hard you work and if their hearts could overfill with love for you it already has. So imagine your stalkers' friends; reaction to you’re never heard before voice:

Ace Trappola

“Aw man, (Y/n) I can’t begin to explain how much of a pain he is! With his moodiness, we’re not going to win the game.”

“...”

“Don’t say that, I am great but not that great.”

“...Y-you c-can d-do it!”

He plays 10x better

All while running on his excitement and embarrassment

“Whoa, Ace! W-were you holding out on us!”

Everyone is floored that he’s suddenly just doing so well

He’s keeping your quiet cheers to himself

Replaying it in his head

He will teasingly ask you for a recording even when you cutely shake your head

“Oi oi don’t get all shy now, you were doing so well!”

He does circle back having already written down the names of those who turned their heads

If they’re so inclined to hear your voice in a roaring crowd

Then they should be alright with their ears no longer working

He’s being merciful when he does just this

And if you mention any mysterious friends, he’d no doubt try to follow up on that same treatment

Deuce Spade

“M-maybe being an honor student was too high of a goal.”

You shake your head

“Ahh I appreciate it, (Y/n) but if I’m going to flunk again I’ll be in trouble. Both with Riddle and my mom, I just can’t measure up. ”

“You…are a good student.”

He blushes

“G-g-g-g-good j-job (Y/n)!”

He knows how much this is taking for you to try

But he just can’t keep it together

He’s among the first to hear your precious voice

He has to be the only one

He doesn’t know what this feeling is but he doesn’t want to share

It especially rubs him the wrong way when you mention a mysterious friend

He decides to wait it out

See who this new friend he’s going to gut he has to meet

Epel Felmier

“Grrrr I can’t stand it! Why can’t I be taken seriously? I just hate my face!”

“...”

“Don’t hafta lie ta me, (Y/n)! I know I’m not handsome.”

“...I….th-th-”

“Huh?”

“I think you’re handsome.”

“Aw shucks, (Y/n)!”

He definitely wasn’t was expecting that

You’re just the sweetest as he predicted

He already keeps the notebook you’ve lost+ gone through with your written words

And the apple cores he lovingly retrieves from Ramshackle’s trash no doubt cultivating whatever ends up growing from them

He avoids the impulse to tear his book open at the mention of a new friend

Well I hope they like a poison-apple

Jack Howl

“I have a magift practice later on…are you still going to come?”

You nod your head

“T-thank you, I’d appreciate your support from the stands.”

When he says that he doesn’t expect you to actually whisper anything out

“G-go Jack!”

His keen ears pick it up and suddenly he’s breezing through obstacles like never before

And of course, he did his mate practically cheered him on

It makes it much earlier to replay that encouragement when he’s fighting for your honor his ownership of you

No doubt Savvannclaw is filled with your admirers

But some are a little too bold

So leave it to your mate to take action first

And while he’s at it he might as well guard your home more intensely

Sebek Zigvolt

“WHAT A MARVEL HUMAN! YOU’VE TAMED ALL THE FERAL FELINES ON CAMPUS!”

“...”

“WELL FOR A HUMAN IT IS DECENT WORK! PERHAPS YOU DO HAVE–”

“C-can you please be quiet?”

“...?....!..Y-you think y-you, a mere human, can tell me what to do?!”

Yes you can, having the loud half-fae go down two whole octaves was a feat

And he keeps replaying the moment in his head specifically the way your lips moved

Burning hot all over he’s not really listening to anyone for the next week month

But once he’s broken out of it he’s determined to repeat the miracle

And it seems it works best if your alone?

Then he’ll be sure to chase off the gaggle of scum+ admirers who you claim to be friends with

And he thinks nothing of a midnight friend…that is if you’re alone with them than that’s completely unacceptable

Grim

“Henchhuman! Everyone is soooo mean! Why doesn’t anyone like me? I know I’m so cool and maybe that’s why–”

“I like you.”

“Well of course you w–W-wait did you speak? T-t to me! Whoopee, I’m going to tell everyone the great Grim is who you spoke to first!”

He runs off to do just that

Bragging to anyone who would listen

He has to dodge a lot of assassination hits that day

But it gives him the content whenever that icky feeling comes up sometimes

And as for your ‘Hornton’ friend he’s seen him and next time he comes around he’ll boast all about his greatness and how you spoke to him

2K notes · View notes

hederasgarden · 3 months ago

Note

With all the talk of the ‘Fisherman’s Wife’ universe I keep imagining a scenario where the reader and Lucius are just spending time together in the cells, perhaps he teaches her a few moves and they have a sparring session?

Of course that leads to sexy times and helping each other with self-care later on that night 😉

Oh my gosh, he'd certainly want to teach her to defend herself, especially once it became clear she would need to disappear with his mother for her safety and he wouldn't be around to protect her. But since they don't have sex for the first time until literally a few days before she's meant to leave, I only see this situation occurring after Macrinus’ party.

Pairing: Lucius x F!Reader Word Count: 1K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Smut and angst. A/N: This is part of Lucius and the Fisherman’s Wife Series. Thank you @famfan-1034 for looking this over and @whatblogisthis216.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

It’s late, and the only light in the room comes from the flickering flame of the lone candle on the desk. Most of the other gladiators are at dinner but you and Lucius shared your meal here, away from prying eyes, where there was no need to hide the soft touches or pretend to be something you weren’t. The others won’t be back for some time, and the stillness of the evening settles around you. It’s the perfect opportunity for Lucius to continue your lessons, uninterrupted by distractions.

"You must strike at the groin or neck," he instructs quietly. "Those are always a man’s weak points."

You nod hesitantly, your gaze drifting toward the small window of the cell. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the faint shuffle of footsteps and the squeak of an iron gate, but Lucius doesn't seem concerned.

"The goal should always be to escape. You are not a fighter," he continues though there’s no unkindness in his tone. It’s simply a fact, one you're painfully aware of.

"I understand," you reply.

Lucius moves around you, positioning himself behind you. You feel the heat of him before you even see him, and in an instant, his chest is pressed against your back. One arm wraps around your stomach while the other pins your arms to your sides. The feeling is familiar, but this time, the intent behind it is different. His grip isn’t comforting, it’s purposeful.

Your mind flashes to the last time a man held you like this—the one whose hand Lucius took. That moment feels so distant from now but it still sends a small shudder through your body. Lucius' hold on your slackens and he whispers your name softly.

"We do not have to continue," he murmurs, rubbing his nose gently along your cheek, offering comfort that you instinctively lean into. You could return to the bed, find solace in the warmth of him once more, but you know this is important, for his peace of mind and for your own safety.

“All is well,” you assure him, your voice steady despite the way your heart races in your chest.

“As you wish,” Lucius replies, pulling you closer, the strength returning to his grip.

"If a man holds you like this," he continues, "you want to strike at the top of his foot, hard, and throw your elbow back. The goal is to create space to escape."

You nod, then carefully follow his instructions, focusing on the movements.

"Harder," he urges. "Do not hold back on my account."

You hesitate for a moment, concerned you might hurt him. The thought seems absurd, Lucius is a gladiator, a man who has endured much worse than this. When his hold tightens once more, you nod to yourself, then do as he asks. You’re startled by the soft grunt he lets out when your elbow connects with his side and your foot jams into the top of his. Even more surprising is the way his body shifts in response, his hold loosening. Without hesitation, you break free and turn to face him.

He’s smiling, a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. A rush of satisfaction thrums under your skin at the way he looks at you.

"Good," he praises. "But next time, you must strike even harder."

Lucius guides you through more scenarios, each one more complex than the last. He pushes you and tests you until you find yourself pinned against the wall once more, your back to the cold stone. You're both breathing hard and an arm across your chest keeps you in place. Sweat dampens his hairline and his tunic clings to his chest.

You expect him to give another round of instructions, but to your surprise, his eyes drop to your lips before slowly traveling lower, pausing at the way your dress strains against your form.

"Is this some new tactic?" you question.

The sound of your voice has his eyes snapping back to yours, startled.

"No," he murmurs after a pause, his gravelly voice tinged with something different. He tilts his head to the side slightly, his gaze softening. "I..." he trails off and his throat bobs.

You understand his hesitation, feeling it yourself. Despite the time you've spent together, this thing between you is still new, tender, almost fragile. The first sign of spring after a long winter.

You touch his side and the arm across your chest withdraws but Lucius remains close. He cups your face, his eyes searching yours. You nod and he captures your lips in a heated kiss, drawing a moan from you. His weight falls against you fully, sending a jolt of pleasure and desire through your body. He's so warm and firm and your arm slides over his broad shoulder, needing him even closer.

"I would have you again," he groans. "If you let me."

There’s no reason to deny him, not when your time together grows shorter with each passing day, especially with your own need for him ever present.

"Please," you whisper back. "You are all I think of."

The admission is shameless but you cannot find it in yourself to be embarrassed. It is the truth. Lucius fumbles with your dress, blunt nails catching on the skin of your inner thigh. It burns when he pushes inside but you take him readily, curling a leg over his narrow hips. There is nothing soft and slow about the way he makes love to you, each thrust nearly lifting you off your feet.

You're equally frantic, consumed by a desperate need to have him, just as much as he craves you. Time is slipping through your fingers, running short, and Lucius has made you greedy—greedy for him, for the life you could have, and for the hope he's planted inside your heart.

Lucius pants and plants a hand above your head, shuddering and groaning. You’re close, head tipped back to allow his mouth to ravage the delicate column of your throat. The scrape of his beard and the sharp nip of teeth against your skin tip you over the edge. Your fingers tangle in the curls at his nape, your chest brushing his as your back bows, pleasure coursing through you.

He comes quietly and his shallow, desperate breaths fall against your skin when he pulls back. The smile that spreads across his face is both genuine and beautiful. Unable to resist, you lean in and press a kiss to his lips. Lucius seems on the verge of saying something, but just as he opens his mouth, the sound of laughter and voices echoes down the corridor, signaling the men’s return from dinner.

The joy in his expression falters, quickly replaced by a hard mask. He pulls away from you, and the absence of him inside you leaves you feeling empty, almost hollow. You straighten your clothing, trying to regain composure, and glance up just in time to meet Viggo's watchful gaze. He smiles knowingly, and Lucius growls at him, but Viggo merely laughs in response.

The thought of leaving Lucius twists like a blade in your gut, a pain you can’t quite escape. Every moment you’ve spent with him since Macrinus’ party is a gift and deep down, you know it’s only a matter of time before Acacius’ men arrive to spirit you away.

Like the relentless ticking of a clock winding down, your time with Lucius is running out, and no matter how hard you try, there's nothing you can do to stop it.

♡

This can be read as a prequel to Finis.

#is #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x you #Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife

108 notes · View notes

lostdrarryfics · 5 months ago

Text

Oh, hey! We're back! Happy new year ✨

Our inbox is back open and we are accepting new requests! Thank you so much for your patience.

We have also compiled the last handful of lost fic requests from 2024 that we could not locate. You can browse those below if you don't mind taking a look. Please let us know if you recognize any of these fics!

1. looking for a fic where after the war hermione and harry also receive punishment for the crimes they committed over the course of DH (unforgivables/gringotts) I don’t remember it being framed as unfair or anything and the punishment iirc wasn’t draconian or anything, to my recollection, something like probation or community service. I believe in this universe it was just the case that people on all sides were tried, not just death eaters and their ilk. I honestly can’t remember how central to the fic this detail is, it might not be super prominent/plot pertinent, just a detail that stuck out to me, but since it’s not exactly typical for how people imagine the immediate aftermath would go, I’m hoping it’s findable. It was definitely drarry, definitely on ao3, and may have been multi chapter. fic is not Make Yourself by AnyaElizabeth

2. I've got a scene stuck in my head, but I'm struggling to remember which fic it's from. Harry and Draco are having supper, and Harry is eating a lot/very quickly, I think. Draco then (very bluntly/abrubtly) tells him that he had an eating disorder in 6th year, and asks whether Harry has food issues bc of the way he's eating? From what I remember, Harry is quite taken aback and denies, says he's just not great at cooking, or something along those lines. I'm pretty sure it's just a small scene in a longer fic, so I hope that it won't be too difficult to find! I almost definitely read it on ao3.

3. It is a little fuzzy in my memory now, but I remember it was set after the war. Harry and Draco enter a maze or forest by going through a tree gateway, I think the two trees that made the gateway were the trees that their wands were made of. In the place through the gateway(i dont remember what was beyond gateway) they face hardship, get together, and their souls get bonded. At the end they escape back and a deity/goddess tells them she made them face this trial to push them together and that drarry would always be together in the end, but she wanted them together quicker because if Ginny and Harry get together first, their child becomes a dark lord. The goddess/deity wanted to prevent this from happening and now that Drarry got together and are soul bonded, Harry will not be able to have kids with someone else.

4. something happened to Bellatrix (in the DOM, I think) and she was either killed or imprisoned. As a punishment, Voldemort took Narcissa as his lover in order to humiliate Lucius. I remember a scene where Harry and Draco sneak into a Death Eater gathering and Voldemort is sitting on a throne with Narcissa in his lap, wearing a Death Eater mask.

5. Post-war drarry, definitely dark with sexual assault triggers. Harry is struggling and ends up sleeping with Draco. When Draco doesn’t follow up, it triggers some lingering trauma from Harry’s childhood (he was assaulted by the husband of one of his uncle’s friends/coworkers/cousins as a kid). I remember at one point Harry having a breakdown in his bathroom and maybe being sent to St. Mungo’s? Either Hermione or Ginny feature as well (there was a line about one of them seeing him & instantly knowing he had gotten himself into trouble). Eventually Draco finds out, but I don’t remember the ending.

6. I read this probably 10+ years ago, I believe on ff.net. Pretty sure it’s set at Hogwarts during school years, multi-chapter, and Draco is either a spy or a reluctant ally to the Order/Golden Trio. The only detail I remember clearly is that Draco has an owl (or possibly a raven or another kind of bird) named Mordred. Ron tries to argue that only an evil git would name their pet Mordred. Draco explains that he named him Mordred because Mordred also killed his father, which reveals/confirms that Draco killed Lucius, and that helps convince Harry, Ron and Hermione that Draco is on their side.

7. looking for a fic where Harry has to attend an event (I think it's an opera?? or something classy) because Hermione had already bought the ticket and she didn't want it to be wasted. So, reluctantly, Harry attended the event and accidentally met Draco there. One thing I remember, when Harry arrived at the location, he was hungry, but as far as I remember, he didn't know where to buy food (or the ticket that Hermione bought didn't give him special access to buy food). After that, Draco came and invited him to eat together at the table he had reserved?? And then, they watch the show together and then, of course, they sleep together. Another thing that I remember is that Harry was in a relationship with Ron's brother, I think Charlie?? However, at that time, during their relationship, Charlie never revealed it to the public, even to his own family. It was as if Charlie was hiding the fact that he knew Harry was alive. Then, for a while the relationship continued, Charlie suddenly had to return to Romania and from there he cut off contact with Harry. Ron didn't know anything about this, and he often teased Harry by calling him bad names (without realizing that Harry was really hurt when Ron called him that). After hearing Harry's story, Ron was furious with his brother and threatened to tell his mother the same thing.

8. I read this fic on ao3 it was a ministry set one with established!drarry . Harry was an auror (possibly head auror) and Draco worked in the ministry too and Draco always matched his tie to the minister of magic

9. I just remember Draco is released from Azkaban and rowed over a body of water back to the real world for his release. His time is Azkaban took its toll on him and later he talks about it and what he did mentally to try and keep his happy memories in tact (at least the ones he could, others he lost to the dementors) the fic was most probably a long fic on ao3!

10. fic on AO3 that I read like 1-3 years ago! Pretty sure it’s longer/possibly chaptered, and most likely rated explicit/mature/not rated. Either one or both Harry and Draco are Veela (pretty sure? Might be some other magical creature). Takes place mostly in France at some sort of opulent Malfoy chateau/manor. There are some d/s dynamics but I can’t remember if it was actually tagged. They end up going at it in the bathtub and Harry gets pushed underwater for a bit during it. Other than that I remember Narcissa was good and a pretty major character, and there may have been a scene/chapter where they celebrated Christmas together and Harry got emotional because like found family, but I may be confusing this scene with another work.

11. fic where veela draco chooses harry as a mate, but harry refuses and insists he will never be his mate. however, they stick/live together, and sometimes harry "uses" draco for protection. i think harry was fighting for a political campaign? there was a scene where harry gets attacked and draco comes swooping in since he could sense the danger

12. Tsundere(?) Draco incomplete fanfic So read this fanfic years ago and im hopeful I can find it at AO3 if only I can remember the name. Here's what I remember: *Harry and Draco have a established relationship at Hogwarts. I don't think they were students, they were living there and training. Draco is kind of a tsundere in this one. *The first chapter was Harry and Draco coming back to their rooms from a wedding. Harry asked if they would ever get married to which Draco replies that he would give Harry the ring he gave Pansy. Harry says he doesn't want anything that belonged to Pansy to which Draco replies that he was just kidding, he would get Harry a new ring. Harry says it was still not what he meant and Draco says something romantic and says the only one I want to break my heart is you so don't break my heart, I can be a vicious bastard when i am wounded. To this harry replies, you must remain wounded something chronic *There's a female teacher who's teaching them combat i think with a staff and she hurts harry and Draco goes nuts and attacks her. I think the boys end up in the hospital wing and the teacher tells Dumbledore or someone how protective Draco is of Harry, she's never seen anything like it or something. *Then there's also a part where Draco goes out into the Hogwarts ground and summon a fairy like creature asking them to destroy voldemort so that he can be with harry at peace. And the fairy tells him that making rhe wish means he won't be able to have any children. She then informs him that Harry's awake, Draco's troubles have awakened him. He goes inside the castle and Harry confronts him asking what was happening. Draco refuses at first and Harry gives him the ultimatum that if he doesn't tell him, he will leave Draco. So Draco tells him. Harry then tries to comfort him and Draco says that he dares harry to tell him to adopt *There's a part where harry and Ron are playing Quidditch and Sirius and Draco are watching them. Sirius remarks that everytime he sees Harry and Draco together it looks like they are coming from a funeral. And Draco says he does make harry happy, would Sirius like to hear just how happy he made Harry this morning. And Sirius tells Draco to laugh with Harry. *The last chapter I read was Draco marrying Harry. He goes down on his knees in Ron and Hermiones kitchen and then says the vows and Harry is completely surprised and overjoyed. And Hermione asks Ron how he feels about it and a grinning Ron says like barfing. The fic was far from complete and i think itwas discontinued.

#drarry #lost fic #drarry fic search #drarry squad #monthly roundup

35 notes · View notes

serensama · 8 months ago

Text

In Sacrifice, Glory: Chapter 5

Thank you @illneverrecover <3 Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit (for later chapters) Summary: The sky is asunder and the world is in chaos. Something needed to be done and someone needed to stitch all the pieces together- but there was no-one. So she was sent back. The Hero of Ferelden rejected by death to become their Herald, their Inquisitor. What would that mean for the world and, moreover, her family, friends and lover she had left behind? Will she find her place in a new life- a new love- or will the draw of the past prove too strong to truly forget? Chapter Summary: Breeches, Ice Sculptures and Swords- oh my! Word count: 8210

Cassandra had been muttering under her breath since their meeting with the Templars. Every so often she would burst out with a ‘Has Lord Lucius truly gone mad?’ or ‘How could he do this?!’ startling them to no end. She remained distracted as they searched for clues for the friend of Red Jenny, with the warrior often walking into the back of Varric and never rising to the occasion to any of his barbs. The dwarf looked at Elissa and Solas completely at a loss as to how to break the Seeker from her thoughts, and they all silently agreed to give her the time to adjust to the knowledge there was a newer, more sinister leader of the Seeker order.

It was not until another elf made herself known at their rendezvous point did she snap out of her self-imposed daze, the loud and lairy rogue bright enough to shock someone back from the brink of death.

“Y-You, you are the Friend of Red Jenny?” she asked, mouth slack and surprise plastered across her face, her expression only deepening the more she heard the woman talk.

“Well yeah, one of them anyways. Name’s Sera. This is cover. Get round it. For the reinforcements. Don’t worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches,” she giggled, a look of pure cheekiness upon her young face.

“Breeches?” Cassandra echoed, completely confused and struggling to catch up with what was happening. She looked between her companions to see if she was the only one who felt as if she no longer understood the Common tongue with the way this stranger wielded it. Cassandra glanced at Elissa who only shrugged but readied her staff for whatever was to come their way.

Thankfully the fight was quick and the Herald and Sera seemed to understand each other and made light work of recruiting the archer and her network of ‘people’ to aid the Inquisition; their brief interaction ended with Sera skipping away from their group with a promise to meet them back at Haven.

“That is by far the oddest elf I have ever met,” Cassandra baulked after her as she shook some blood off her blade.

Solas made a strangled noise at the back of his throat and gawked at Cassandra. “Oh no Seeker, this has nothing to do with her being an elf at all, we have all had the pleasure to bear witness to what a storm looks like trapped in skin,” he groused, shaking his head disbelievingly.

“Yeah, and yellow plaid slacks,” Varric chuckled as he pulled out his book and wrote something down that made him snort at his own cleverness. Elissa tried to peek over his shoulder but he noticed and snapped the book shut from her prying eyes with a small smirk.

“What, are you writing a note to buy some for yourself? Sorry to break it to you Master Tethras but you couldn’t pull it off,” she tutted with mock sincerity which earned her a light snicker from Solas. “Solas on the other hand could definitely make those trousers work.”

Solas abruptly stopped laughing which caused Cassandra to snort inelegantly; allowing for Varric to write an additional note about them all undisturbed. Elissa could only imagine the tales the dwarf was spinning about them, but she yearned to be there when it was all over; sat by the fire to hear him recount their tales just like he had about Hawke and their friends. She could envision it, everyone- right there with her as they listened to the storyteller well into the night. The madness they were currently fighting, nothing more but an entertaining memory to warm them for years to come.

A distant tolling of a clock let her know just how late it was, reminding her that she had yet to rest since leaving Val Royeaux earlier that morning. Elissa suggested that they head back to their lodgings and get cleaned up and get whatever rest there was to be had. They had to have their wits about them, she knew that for sure. She could almost hear Leliana in her ear, a faded memory playing in her mind. ‘You cannot enter an Orlesian event without arming yourself. Douse yourself in etiquette and only speak if you can promise a chance of intrigue; pair it with the right shoes, Lissa- and they cannot touch you!’

Unfortunately for her she only had the boots the Inquisition had commissioned for her, it would just have to be enough for First Enchanter Vivienne... whoever the hell she was. Elissa squeezed her eyes shut to try to block the ringing in her ears and the creeping pain across her temples as the memory faded away, the pit of worry in her stomach descending ever further. Each time she gained a memory it was always accompanied by pain. She could not shake the feeling that whatever her mind was hiding from her was so sinister, that it may be better to continue on as she was. That whatever her past held, was better left forgotten.

---

Orlesians.

She couldn’t have been bloody Orlesian. The only one she could stomach for any great length was Leliana. Of course she understood pomp and pageantry but these people took it to a level she could not grasp. A part of her appreciated the beauty of it all; their architecture, their fashion and the general opulence the empire held- but if she had to listen to another Orlesian noble harp on about some random Vicomte or Baroness she would try to drown herself in the shallow fountain in the centre of the room.

She had already managed to convince a Comte and Comtesse that everything they heard about her and the Inquisition was true. She was just about to tell them that at night bluebirds came down from upon high, to lift up her blankets and tuck her in and sing her sweetly to sleep. Unfortunately a particularly sour fellow interrupted her and started challenging her to a duel. She was about to accept and thus escape the inane drivel of the salon when ice encased the man, not letting him move, let alone breathe.

Did she do that? She had thought that was getting her magic under control but-

“My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house... to my guests. You know such rudeness is- intolerable.”

Oh thank goodness. It wasn’t her.

Their host, a fiercely clad woman in ivory and silver, turned on her heel to address her. “My Lady, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Elissa did not bother to glance over at the frozen Marquis in case the irrational thought of smashing him to bits with her staff proved too tempting.

“I did not come here for the Marquis or to take heed of any nonsense he or anyone else may espouse. Truthfully he bores me, so I leave him to you, to do as you please with him,” she replied, trying to sound as aloof as possible to play to the crowd that had stopped to watch their every move. She slowly released her held breath to ensure her nervousness remained hidden; relieved their host had chosen to spare the idiot, publically humiliate him true, but spared him nonetheless. Whilst she certainly didn't like him, she would never wish him dead.

Once the Marquis made his shameful exit and the rest of the party had spread out to continue with their Orlesian style revelry, the mage motioned for Elissa to follow her to a more private area to talk.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court,” she declared so confidently that had she offered her hand to Elissa, she would have taken it and kissed it without a moment’s hesitation. “I wanted to meet you face to face, it is important to consider one’s connections carefully. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

She bristled at the term “loyal mages” but decided not to prod at the snap happy First Enchanter lest she be turned into the next ice sculpture of the salon.

“Why seek me or the Inquisition out, Lady Vivienne? You seem quite well off here already as First Enchanter and Enchantress to the Empress, what’s in this for you?” Elissa questioned wanting to understand this woman’s motivations. She watched as the Enchanter smirked and tilted her chin up, somehow making herself seem even more larger than life than before.

“The same thing anyone gets by fighting this chaos. The chance to meet my enemy and to decide my fate. I will not wait quietly for destruction,” she declared, her body language screaming at Elissa to dare to contradict her.

She had to give it to the evening’s host, she was every bit as fierce in persona as her bold choice in attire. Perhaps she had found another Orlesian she didn’t immediately want to kill by choking them with their own frilled collars.

“The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne,” she smiled as she called over a wandering server with sparkling wine and took two long stemmed glasses, one for each of them. Vivienne quietly thanked her and offered the rim of her glass for Elissa to clink against her own in celebration.

“Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that,” she proclaimed before taking a long sip.

“Oh of that I’ve no doubt First Enchanter,” Elissa agreed, raising her glass up in salutation to the frost mage. “No one dressed as fabulously as you are could promise no less.” Vivienne’s mouth pouted and twitched at the corners, Elissa surmised that was the Orlesian equivalent of a smile.

“My darling, oh I do think I actually like you. Well done,” she acknowledged as she moved back into the thrall of nobles, leaving Elissa to her own questioning whether gaining the Enchantress’ approval was something to be applauded or feared.

---

“I just got back Leliana,” Elissa groused as she stared down the Spymaster from across the war table. At least the redhead had the humility to look abashed by her request. To think she had just literally swung her leg off of Charlotte and handed her reins to Master Dennett, when a scout raced out letting her know that her presence was requested inside the Chantry. Maker be praised that she didn’t need to relieve herself first, perhaps have something to eat or even try to pretend the inside of her thighs weren’t burning something dreadful due to the travel to and from Val Royeaux. If there was one thing Elissa was damned sure of, she was going to teach the former Left and Right Hands of the Divine some bloody patience.

“I understand that Herald, and I would not think to ask if it were not important,” she implored as she pointed to a mark on the Hinterlands. “This is the last known sighting of the Warden.”

Elissa scratched at her neck in irritation, racking her brain for a reason why Leliana thought it imperative for them to find some random Warden, it wasn’t even about Darkspawn, what good would the Grey Wardens be?

“Surely it is more important for me to get to Redcliffe and meet with Fiona and see if she and the other mages would join our cause? Can we not look for him on the way back after speaking to her, or better yet, after we’ve finished what needs to be done with the Breach?” she asked, pointing at the map herself. “It does not make sense that we wander around the entire expanse of that countryside looking for one man, that has nothing to do with what we’re trying to accomplish here.”

Leliana looked like she wanted to smack Elissa on the back of the head but instead plotted the proposed course she would take with her finger in order to find this Warden Blackwall.

“I am not sure that is entirely true Herald,” she stated, waiting for Elissa to show curiosity at what she said before continuing. “The Grey Wardens have now disappeared both in Ferelden and in Orlais, and we need answers as to why. My last contact here within the Wardens has stopped responding to me and I hear no reports at all from Vigil’s Keep… we cannot rule out that they know something that we do not, and knowledge is everything. Warden Blackwall is the best key to get that knowledge.”

Elissa sighed heavily and acquiesced, she knew that Grey Wardens were important to their world and with all the craziness that had been happening, she would be foolish to discount the possibility that something had happened to them too. She was not happy about it, but she would do it. The weary mage gathered up all the missives relating to the Warden and carefully placed them in her pack before giving the Sister a withering glare.

“I did not mean you had to go right away Elissa!” she called out as she made her way out of the Chantry.

“There’s no need for me to get comfortable if all I’m to do is leave again, I’ll just restock on some supplies and be on my way,” she sniped over her shoulder, waving to Josephine as she passed her office. “See you when I see you.”

Josephine rushed from behind her desk to see the Herald stomp off into the village, clearly annoyed but still kind enough to say hello to everyone who greeted her. Leliana looked over at the diplomat and shrugged, unsure if she should go after her and try to make nice before she left the camp again.

“Did you tell her why you were sending her out there instead of one of your scouts?” Josie asked, already knowing the answer.

Leliana shook her head and pursed her lips, thinking of the best way to reply to her Antivan friend. She retreated back to the war room knowing that the ambassador would follow until she received her answer.

“No Josie, I did not tell her the reason I sent her,” she relented as she carefully slid herself onto the corner of the table.

“Was that not your mistake then? If you told her why you thought it was important maybe she would have been more understanding?” she reproached her, looking far too similar to a Reverend Mother admonishing her young initiates.

“Because the last time I told her something she passed out Josie,” she bit out more harshly than she intended. “So I thought, if she were to meet with a warden, talk to them, perhaps that would help jog her memory naturally and she wouldn’t have to go through more pain.”

Josephine gave her a sad but understanding smile and motioned for Leliana to make room for her on the table to sit beside her.

“Alright, that makes sense. But why did we have to send her? We know where he is and we could have invited him here to Haven, ready to speak to her,” she asked, trying to understand her reasoning. Leliana opted to keep those reasons secret, mainly because they were not hers to say. She had gleaned from her time with both Elissa and Alistair that not only could they sense darkspawn, they could also sense other wardens. If Elissa could feel whatever it was they felt when looking for the Warden, perhaps that was the key to unlocking who she was.

“The more she is seen out in the field, doing the people’s work- they will see through the lies the other clerics have been spewing about her, about the Inquisition. She needs to be seen amongst the people and not someone leading an army to take over Thedas,” she said instead, not entirely a lie, but definitely not the whole truth. It would be of great benefit indeed to their cause for the people to see Elissa as one of them, though it would be even better if they saw the Herald of Andraste was also the Hero of Ferelden.

Josephine linked arms with her and lay her head on Leliana’s shoulder, enjoying the reprieve from her never ending mountain of correspondence.

“You do realise you will have to somehow make it up to her, yes? She had been on the road for quite a while with little to no rest... she probably feels more like the Inquisition’s lackey than any sort of Herald,” she said, jostling her friend slightly when she did not reply.

“I know, I’ll speak to her when she gets back...” Leliana faded off at the sharp look Josephine gave her, “...after she has had a long rest and is ready to discuss things with me.”

Josephine smiled proudly and nodded her approval at the Spymaster’s change of tactics then hopped off the table.

“A fine plan, perhaps you could make a night of it then? I could give you one of the bottles of wine I’ve brought along from my family’s vineyard and you can both get drunk and bond like two noble ladies sneaking into the cellar after a ball.”

“That sounds awfully like something you are suggesting from your personal experience, Lady Montilyet,” Leliana chuckled as the diplomat’s mouth opened and closed in surprise.

“Of course not Sister Leliana,” she gasped, smoothing down the front of her blouse. “I would never sneak and I would also never wait until aftera ball, all the best wine would have already been drunk.”

---

The bloody pack would not stay fastened to Charlotte no matter what she did; she could not tell if she had managed to forget how to secure the damned thing in the two hours she was back in Haven or if the bag had somehow broken. Elissa pulled it down to inspect it closer, only for the loosened flap to open and spill out her newly acquired provisions. She threw her bag down and raised a shaking hand to shield her eyes from the midday sun, unsure if she was going to swear or scream or cry. Maybe all three, she deserved to treat herself.

She heard someone greet her and looked down at her feet. A man was bent over picking up her dropped items, brushing off the dirt and snow from each object before carefully placing them into her pack.

“Oh Commander, you don’t have to do that-” she started, ducking down to help him.

“It is no trouble,” he interrupted her, giving her a warm smile. “Sometimes this is the Maker’s way of telling us to stop for a moment.”

“Is this the Commander’s way of ordering me to stop for a moment?” she questioned, grin playing at her lips at the way he paused at her gentle teasing.

“Not so much an order as it is wise counsel. It will do you well to take a second before heading out to -?”

“The Hinterlands. Leliana wants me to go out and search for a random man in a random place,” she frowned as she threw the rest of her belongings into the pack to save any further embarrassment at having the head of the army pick up after her, like the parent of a petulant child after throwing a hissy fit.

“Certainly, and as uh, important as that mission sounds, it would serve you better to have some rest and go back out there with your head screwed on straight. I’ve seen many great soldiers not come back because they were too tired to think clearly,” he explained as he secured her bag and attached it to the back of Charlotte- who did not look impressed to be travelling so soon, much like her mistress.

Elissa could not argue it was indeed wise counsel. She remembered seeing soldiers come back from a campaign and some so weary they did fall off their horses. She hissed when a sharp pain exploded from the back of her eyes and she fell against her horse for support. Cullen’s gloved fingers gently took hers in hand- she had not realised she had clasped them around her face- and pulled them down to examine her.

“Herald, are you alright?” he asked, panic colouring his voice. Elissa slowly opened one eye and then the other, afraid another pang would hit her. The world unblurred and she was looking into warm pools of honey, scanning her face and hands frantically for any injury. “Did something hit you? Are you unwell? I should call for Solas-” he scrambled, already waving for the nearest scout to come to him.

Elissa stilled him and waved back the running scout, apologising for scaring him over nothing and that she was perfectly fine.

“Fine is it? Is that why you’re still holding onto my arms to stand upright Herald?” he said, calling her out on her little white lie.

“Jokes on you Commander, I was just holding onto you because I’m trying to steal this fantastic surcoat of yours, it is far prettier than anything I own and- ah!,” she gasped as another bout of pain attacked her senses, her fingers clinging onto his armguards.

Ignoring her protests he guided her over to the closest tent and sat her down, he had thought to carry her but he was not sure what that would do to her pride and for the troop’s morale. To them, she really was the Herald of Andraste and he was not going to shatter any illusions that kept their spirits high.

“Please stay here, have something warm to drink and you can get some rest-”

“Truly, Commander, it’s fine, I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not. So now it is an order. You will stay here until I or Solas give you clearance, do you understand me Herald?” he asserted as he pressed a cup of freshly brewed tea into her hand, wrapping his hands around her smaller one to make sure she had a safe grip on it.

Elissa stared up at him, even as he knelt down and crouched forward; he was so much bigger than she was. Everything about him was large and strong. The pain she felt swiftly receded and replaced with a rush of something else, his touch and manner firm but gentle... Elissa get a grip, he was just helping because you’re their Herald of Andraste, stop deluding yourself woman. Just drink the damn tea.

“...I’m not hearing a ‘Yes Commander’ there, Herald,” he smirked, thoroughly enjoying the way she licked her lips as she looked up at him. The Maker preserve him, he was going to be struck down by lightning.

“Yes Commander,” she whispered as she brought the cup to her lips, watching him watch her with rapt fascination. It was not until he recognised his gloves that he realised his hands were still wrapped around her hand and the cup.

Cullen could feel his face flood with colour to the tips of his ears as he released her suddenly and fell back, almost losing his balance.

“Commander! We need your assistance here Ser!,” a lieutenant called out to him, allowing him to escape and save face. He repeated that she needed to rest and that he would be back shortly but to call out if she needed anything, not quite able to meet her gaze for fear he would combust.

He hadn’t meant to flirt with the woman, he had only wanted to help her. He had seen her ride in with the others and was glad to see that they were all in one piece and seemed in good spirits which surprised him considering the reports that were sent from their trip to Val Royeaux. However they did come out of it with new merchants and allies so it was not all for naught.

Cullen still hadn’t made up his mind about the Herald since his last chat with her. He could clearly see that they looked like the same person but it was just too fantastical to think of someone coming back to life just to help them out of the mess they were in. The Maker had long abandoned them, or so said the Chantry, so why would he send her?

As he watched her head into the main camp he could not help but watch her walk away; he was not a blind man, and she was for all intents and purposes a very beautiful woman- one who happened to look like Elissa Cousland’s twin. Back in the day, there were talks of the Hero of Ferelden being a warrior whose beauty dazzled both the darkspawn and the Fereldan nobles into submission. Bullshit. Even as angry as he was back in the Tower, he knew the woman could fight and had both talent and spirit enough to defeat demons and abominations, it was not just about her appearance. Yet he had to admit, looking as she did probably assisted more than inhibited her... and probably why she was so free with her charms; he doubted anyone would deny her whatever she wanted, especially if what she wanted was them.

One of the recruits slipped and he helped them up with a hearty pat on the back, Cullen told them to take a quick break before heading back out to complete the drills, when he remembered that it had been more than an hour since he had left the Herald. She was probably long gone by then, already taken that horse and rode off into the Hinterlands to do what was needed, why would she heed his order? Still he made his way to where he left her to find her sitting closer to where the soldiers trained, hands holding the empty cup and watching them go through the exercises with a look of wonder and appreciation on her face. He could not help but be amused by the sight, after all he probably looked exactly the same when a group of Templars had arrived in Honnleath and he trailed after them day after day, completely awed by their skill and knowledge.

Cullen took a seat beside her but she did not notice, her attention too focused on the recruits using a sword and shield. Her eyes darted back and forth as they sparred and her smile grew wider each time one of them managed to successfully complete an attack or block one. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she placed the cup down and leaned forward, her chin resting on the heel of her mark-free palm, grinning as the spar grew more intense. Finally the more experienced soldier managed to find an opening and struck the recruit in the side, winding the young man and causing him to fall to his knees and surrender.

“Oooh poor dear, he should have kept that shield up,” she muttered to herself as she clapped for them both nonetheless.

“Have you ever held a sword before Herald?” he asked, genuinely interested if the woman had any skill for melee combat with something other than a staff. She sat still and continued to watch the other soldiers so he had thought she hadn’t heard him and was about to repeat himself, when he noticed her shoulders moving up and down slowly and her lips pressed tightly together to hold in her laughter. What was so funny that she had to- “Oh, you’re just as bad as my men!” he scoffed as her giggles bubbled out of her.

“My apologies Commander, but truth be told, I don’t remember if I’ve ever held a sword.”

“Well, would you like to try? Oh- Herald would you stop laughing!” he crowed, unable to hold back his own grin at her japes. “Would you like to train with the troops? Only if you’re feeling up to it of course.”

“Why Commander, I thought you would never ask.”

Elissa beamed and stood up with her hand extended to help him to his feet which he accepted happily. As he pushed himself up he realised he was standing too close to her to be considered proper, with less than one arm’s length between them. Cullen stepped to her side and led her towards an open area where she had more room to practise without too many soldiers to stare at her.

Cullen went over to a nearby weapons rack and picked out one of the training longswords, probably the same weight as her current staff, perhaps even lighter.

“Try this one Herald, tell me how it feels.”

“Cullen if you keep making it this easy to make everything you say into a double entendre we will literally be out here all day,” she smirked as she manoeuvred the sword in her hands to see what felt most comfortable for her.

“Truly, that mouth of yours will get you into trouble one day,” he snickered before realising what he just said, throwing his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “Let’s just begin with a basic attack. Now first put your left foot forward and the right behind you- yes like that. Now make sure your hips are facing your opponent and not on an angle. Sword held at your shoulder height.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Now grip the handle firmly, starting with both hands, and what we want are smooth, fluid motions. We want to close the distance between you and the enemy, but when you move forward ensure you move out of their line of attack- whether that is to the left or right is up to you- this way you are ready for any counterattack. From here bring your sword down in one straight swing down towards their head and neck.”

Elissa looked at him unsure of herself, she had just gotten used to her staff and that had taken weeks. She could only imagine how long she would have to be at the training dummies before she could do anything that looked remotely like an attack. She had to remind herself that he was very used to seeing men and women take their swings during training and she couldn’t embarrass herself that badly in front of him.

Ah, stupid girl. You made that sound like a challenge. Not only will you not stop flirting with him, you will now be able to show him how bad you are at actually holding a sword. Double entendre or not. Bravo.

“Is the sword too heavy, Herald?” he asked when she stood there unmoving, silently berating herself. “I can get you another, perhaps we have a wooden training sword somewhere-”

“By wooden sword do you mean that toy sword that one of the tavern server’s son plays with?” she questioned incredulously, almost offended at the idea she looked that weak she could only lift a child’s play thing. Cullen didn’t answer except for a shrug as his smile broadened, his silence enough to light a fire under her to prove him wrong. With her self-consciousness all but gone, Elissa moved toward the practice dummy and swung down, easily slicing the burlap where the neck would have been.

The Commander blinked a couple of times to register what happened; most times people who had never held a sword would miss or move very clumsily, however the Herald moved with no hesitation and in one clean sweep. It could have been beginner's luck of course.

“Again Herald,” he instructed, gaze fixed at the sword in her hand.

Elissa nodded and completed the exercise another three times without being prompted, each swing powerful and effortless as if she did not have to think about it at all. However he supposed after weeks on the road the training with Cassandra could have prepared her much better than anyone expected- even if with a completely different weapon. He called over a recruit and told him to run to the tavern and ask for an assortment of vegetables varying in size, whatever they had that was already turning and about to be thrown away or fed to the animals.

Whilst he waited for him to return, he continued to observe the Herald who had started to move with more confidence and had experimented with different angles of the sword to hit the top of the head, the shoulder, the top of the arm- in almost a practised pattern. He could not deny that she held great promise and could not discard the idea that she had previously been trained, or at least began her training in swordsmanship prior to the Conclave.

The scout returned with a small crate of cabbages, onions and potatoes to pass to Cullen. Thanking him as a dismissal, Cullen carried the humble assortment of produce towards a nearby wooden post where they were about to build a new dummy to train on. Carefully he balanced the largest cabbage on top of the post and called the Herald over, still practising the simple attack.

It was one thing to be able to attack a large target, if she could control her sword to accurately slice the vegetables up there could be no doubt she was either a prodigy or she had been previously taught.

She came over to him and wiped the sweat that had already formed around her hairline, her sword held up with the tip in the air and the flat of the blade against her shoulder. The proper way to travel with an unsheathed sword; not that he had taught her that, nor was it something she would have had the opportunity to see from any of the soldiers around camp.

“Herald, could you please try to aim for this cabbage using the move you’ve been practising?” he said, gesturing to it.

Elissa stared at him as if he had grown another head.

“Come now, you were doing a fine job with that now dummy. If that was a person they’d be well and truly dead.”

“Yes, but that dummy had an unnaturally large head. That cabbage is much more head sized and not attached to anything else I can stab,” she rebutted, trying her best to dissuade the Commander of this idea.

“Unfortunately for you, you’ll find most people have more head-sized heads than not,” he pointed out, stepping outside of her sword’s range so she could begin. “Please, just try your best. If we find this is not something you’re able to do yet, it is something we know we need to work on.”

“Has anyone told you how annoying it is when you’re being logical and right?” she mumbled but still fell into the correct stance.

Cullen laughed through his nose and tried his best to suppress the smug smile that threatened to bloom across his mouth. “Not today... or at least not out loud, Herald.”

Elissa took a deep breath and then another, completely focused on the cabbage with its browning edges and smaller area for attack. She imagined the arc of her blade, the way it would cut through the air and where it would end. Her feet moved and then her arm, smooth and clean, the cabbage lying in twain on the ground. Not a perfect cut down the middle but still, if that were a head- the person would not be alive to mock her for a less than stellar hit.

Without missing a beat Cullen took out a large potato and set it where the cabbage was upon the post.

"Again, please,” he asked, his hand motioning towards the brown vegetable.

“Commander-”

“You did not think you could hit the cabbage. You did. Just try it, please.”

Elissa huffed and got back into position, shaking her head in disbelief. The man was being stubborn and pushing the limits of her abilities.

The arc of your blade. The sound of the air it cuts. The point of your sword when the swing is done.

Two portions of the potato lay near the man’s feet and he let out a low whistle of appreciation. She had great control, strength and aim, that much was assured.

“Hey, would you look at that! I did it! Commander did you- what the actual-... Cullen!” she screeched as he threw an onion at her without warning. Instinctively she cut down the projectile enough to deflect it from hitting her. “What the heck? Are we just pelting the Herald of Andraste with spoiled vegetables now? I expected this when I first woke up from the Conclave not bloody weeks after, man!” she ranted with no particular heat behind her words.

“My apologies Herald of Andraste,” he saluted, his eyes fixed on her as he grinned. “I just had to see.”

“See what? If I’d look better with a black eye?” she voiced, cleaning the juices off the blade on the back of her forearm. “I’ll save you the wondering, I do not. Just ask Cassandra when one of the rogue Templars out in the Hinterlands managed to land a punch on me. Looked like an angry little badger for a week. Though it smarted for longer than that- the bastard.”

Cullen’s smile quickly faded at the thought of someone from his previous order hitting her and turned solemn immediately. Of course he knew that everyone there was in danger and anyone at any time could get injured or killed; but the idea of her being hurt in particular, did not sit well with him. It was probably because she did not sign up like he did, joined the Inquisition out of necessity and not out of free will. Probably because she was so easy to get along with and helped boost the people’s determination by her mere presence. Something like that. Probably.

“I am sorry to hear it Herald, and no, it is not something I would like to see on you,” he said gravely, something in his tone making Elissa look up at him. “I uh, I mean anyone. Anyone within the Inquisition of course. I hate the idea of anyone under my charge getting hurt, of course.”

“Of course,” she smiled politely, the warmth not quite reaching her eyes as they normally did.

“I just needed to see if you were able to hit a moving target and you could, quite well considering the size of the object,” he praised her, pointing at the ground where the pieces of onion had landed. “It is not something a green swordsman could do, especially when they were not expecting it. You have been trained Herald, the only question is how much.”

Elissa rested the sword against a nearby dummy and pondered on his assessment. She had to admit that she felt more at home with a sword than she did with a staff, something familiar and comforting in the movements. Perhaps that earlier memory of the army was of her in an army. Was she part of the King's Guard? Made sense why she knew what the name of the pub in Denerim was...

“... I would like to test this, but the only way to do it is get you out there and to fight someone. Would that be something you’re interested in doing?” he questioned, already thinking of the best suited soldiers to call upon.

“What? Oh, yes that would be fine,” she agreed, not quite understanding what she had consented to until Cullen returned with a handful of his troops who looked a little too thrilled to be chosen to help train the Herald of Andraste.

“Are you ready Herald?” he asked as one of the newer recruits walked toward her with his sword still sheathed.

“Good day Herald, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Devon,” the young man said. Elissa looked over the lad and he couldn’t be a day over 18, a child fighting a war.

“Good day Devon, thank you for helping me today,” she replied as kindly as she could, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tinge of sadness in her voice.

“Not at all Herald, it’s the least we could do,” he chirped excitedly, drawing out his training sword.

“Begin!” Cullen yelled out, surprising the two fighters.

Elissa registered that she was starting to panic, going from dummy to flying onion to person was a massive change in the space of an hour but it was too late to object. Devon was side stepping in a circle and she followed in suit, not entirely sure what she was doing but it was better than becoming a still target for him to wallop.

“Devon, we’ve established the Herald can walk, please do something else,” Cullen instructed from the sidelines, watching the both of them intently.

“Yes Ser!” he called out before flashing Elissa an apologetic expression and swung at her, which she clumsily evaded. He tried again but she managed to parry his swing and rotate the blade with such force the sword flung out of the soldier’s hand.

“Next!”

“What, next?”

“Good afternoon Herald, my name is Edmund,” he said quickly before running at her with his sword ready to thrust into her abdomen. Elissa squawked as she jumped out of the way, almost tripping over her feet as she put more space between her and her opponent. She calmed herself and set herself in position to brace for attack and allowed Edmund to rush her, eyes fixed on him like a hawk, reading his movements to effectively block each incoming swing. She had stopped thinking and allowed her body to take over, it seemed to know what to do and her thoughts were only getting in the way.

There, she thought as she realised how open he left himself whenever he tried to attack from above. Without a second’s hesitation she reared back and placed a well-aimed kick to the left of his groin, hard enough to push him back and pretend to stab him through the stomach where he lay.

“Lysette, your turn!”

“Lysette? She’s a bloody trained Templar!” Elissa panted, whipping her braid back with a flick of her head.

“Do not worry Herald, I will not harm you,” the taller warrior said, saluting to her before pulling out both her sword and shield.

“I have a new found empathy for your recruits Commander,” Elissa quipped, sending him a glare which he accepted with grace.

“I’ll be sure to relay that to them all,” he replied proudly. If all of the new recruits learned to fight like the Herald then they truly stood a chance to defeat whatever was coming. “Keep your wits about you now, this will be a real fight. Lysette might be a newer Templar but she has been well trained.”

It hadn’t escaped Elissa that more of the army had noticed their sparring and had stopped their training to look, no matter how hard the Lieutenants had tried to refocus their attention. Lysette looked ready to dive into their duel whilst Elissa suddenly felt like the tavern server’s son with a toy sword playing at war. Lysette, armoured and imposing with her sword and shield, bowed graciously before charging at her.

The Templar was indeed well trained, with precise strikes and practised defence, it was all Elissa could do to stay on her feet and not have her head rung like a bell. Lysette pressed her advantage forcing Elissa to retreat from her step by step.

Elissa wanted to surrender, there would be no shame in it, she was outmatched. She was just not at the other woman’s level and she should have been proud that she lasted for as long as she had. But the words would not come out of her mouth, too bitter for her to say; the words just fizzled on her tongue as she bore her relentless strikes one after another. Her pride would not stand for it. She would rather be knocked unconscious than to say she would give up, and once again she cursed her predilection for putting herself in circumstances that could get herself killed.

In her mind, she pretended to be a seasoned warrior, determined to at least put up a fight. She blocked, parried and attacked, and though she may have looked a fool- at least she wasn’t a quitter. Elissa’s blunted longsword continued to fend off Lysette's once confident advances, slowly turning the tide for the mage.

Elissa knew she had to end things quickly in fear she really would fall to a well-aimed blow as she could feel the effects of the fight start to weigh down her arms. She spotted a shield on the ground near where Devon and Edmund stood and seized her moment; stealing and attaching it easily as Lysette hunted her down. Did she know how to wield it properly? Who knew, but she did know that her left arm felt like it was missing something whilst she fought and she knew she would only be balanced with a shield to hold on to. Or maybe hide behind.

The additional heft on her arm briefly slowed her movements as she adjusted herself, but found she was filled with a renewed vigour, this is it, this is who she was. Sword and shield, this was the Elissa she should be.She parried Lysette's strikes and delivered a series of powerful shield bashes that pushed her adversary back awestruck. Both women, exhausted and battered, locked eyes in a moment of mutual respect. It would be shameful for Lysette to keep fighting an opponent who was obviously well trained but just not at their best, and thus she withdrew to not debase herself by continuing.

“A draw for now then,” Cullen said as he dismissed the other recruits. “A testament to you both.”

“A rematch though? In time?” Elissa called out to the Templar, who simply saluted to her again with a genuine smile on her face.

Elissa waved goodbye to everyone before she sunk down to the ground, driving the sword into the ground and holding onto the hilt for balance. Cullen had someone bring over a water skin and offered it to her, which she thankfully accepted and guzzled down more than half the contents, only pausing to gulp an equal amount of air.

“Would you like to hold a sword, he says, need to know if I’m trained, he says- truth of the matter is the Commander of the Inquisition is just a sadist with a cute smile,” she wheezed, emptying the remainder of the skin’s contents. Swinging and fighting with her staff was one thing, her muscles had become accustomed to moving in a completely different way and there were no jarring vibrations from the clash of steel to contend with. However, no matter how tired and sore she was, she could not remove the large smile off her face.

Cullen knelt back down and rested his arm against his raised knee, a shy smile playing at his lips.

Oh curse that scar, how is it right that a scar could add to someone’s looks? Bloody ridiculous.

“In truth, I had started with the intention for you to sit and maybe have something to eat, so you could rest and travel safely. I had not meant for you to massacre my troops so efficiently,” he admitted, massaging the back of his neck awkwardly. Elissa rolled her eyes comically and exhaled loudly, looking over the sheepish man. She proffered her hands out as a sign of peace and the Commander took them willingly, helping her up like she was just another training sword. She supposed wearing such heavy armour and swinging around weapons all day would tend to make one quite strong.

Elissa took a moment to steady herself and did not relinquish her hold on the Commander’s hands, not that he seemed like he was in a hurry to reclaim them.

“At the very least, Commander, I had a lot of fun and we can now be sure of two things.”

Cullen looked at her and raised his eyebrows in wait for her revelation, quite aware he was still holding the Herald’s hands but in no rush to release her. She was tired after all, she may be unstable on her feet.

“Whoever I was before I woke up here, I was a warrior. Whether that was to hide my magical abilities or if they were just dormant, I do not know,” she explained looking up at him, marvelling at how tall he seemed but if she was just bold enough to stand on her tiptoes...

“And the second?” he queried, his voice naturally lowering, much to his surprise, as he tried to ignore how well her lashes framed her eyes.

“That as a warrior, I have in fact, held many, many swords,” she affirmed, her mouth spreading into a smile that spanned from ear to ear.

Cullen let go of her hands and raised his own in defeat, releasing a peal of laughter loud enough for some nearby troops to hear over the din of the training yard.

“You are impossible, Herald, even when exhausted you are impossible!”

Chapter 6

#dragonage #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age origins #cullen x inquisitor #alistair x warden #alistair x warden x cullen #alistair x inquisitor x cullen #dragon age 2 #dragon age fanfic #cullen x warden #alistair x inquisitor #long post

3 notes · View notes

seitmai · 5 months ago

Text

Wow I just have many thoughts...

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.

Seems like the prayers worked 🤭

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.

I feel like he would be overwhelmed with so many people there to help him, so he just keeps the bare minimum or rather the people he really want to have around him

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.

They probably share those feelings about home 🥺

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.

Ahhh those shared glances 🥰

“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.”

Oh he is probably so disappointed by that 🙈

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.

Everyone deserves love though 🥺🫶🏻

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

Let's find it again 😌

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.”

I'm just in love with this little conversation 😍

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.

To have someone listen to you and wanting to hear your thoughts is just such a great way to show love 🥹

That's just so cute 🥰

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.

🥹🥹🥹

He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

Not the glance over the shoulder 🥺

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

He said "yeah thanks, but no thanks" just more politely 😅🤭

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 really made sure she knows his feeling about this meeting!!

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.

A fresco for his past as a gladiator and one for the future his wants, his muse😉

“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.”

Urgh im swooning, he just wants her to relax and take care of her 🥰🥹

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.’

Valid reaction

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

The pleading 😮‍💨🥰

“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.”

😭😭😭

“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.”

Urgh I just love that you can truly feel how he means it 🥹🥰

“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.

I'm crying this is just so good 😭🥰

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.

They shared their names to now entrust each other's hearts 💕

“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.”

He is just so excited for her, especially because he has thought about it for a while🥹

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.

both if them shaking just shows how emotional and meaningful it is for the both of them 🥹🥰

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.

I love that he not only noticed it but also adressed her new aura 🥰

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 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.”

Ahhhh it's happening!!

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

Oh, he is so ready to worship her even if it's just laying at her feet

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.

I've had a head massage before, so I get it 😌

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.”

This is just one of those key elements in this story that I love so much!! Him giving her his name, showing how much he values her and giving her time and space to truly make up her own mind if she wants this, it's just perfection 🥰👏🏻

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.

A truly good man ❤️‍🩹🥹

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.

A sight to be seen, I'm sure 🤭

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.

🥰🥰🥰

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.

Aww rats just so cute, I love tender little moments like that (especially after some other things happening before 🤭)

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.

I'm a true sucker for post-sex laughter and giggles shared together 🥰

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.

I just loved this so so much 🥹🥰👏🏻

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.”

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.”

“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.

“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.

“Make a wish,” he said.

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.”

“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. ”

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.”

“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.

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.

—------------------

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.”

“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.”

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 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.

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.

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.

“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.”

------

997 notes · View notes

semicolonsspace · 3 years ago

Text

SUMMARY: Growing up, your family was close to the Malfoys. Draco, having a crush on you, is constantly teasing you... Until one time, in library, something happens.

WARNINGS: Teasing, language, imagining(?), Acting innocent, ring kink, hand kink, nipple sucking, degradation kink, oral (f to m) , Dom fail, Dom!Draco, sub!Y/n , mirror kink, slapping, p in v(minors DNI! please be at least 16+ to continue. You have been warned.)

Y/n's family was always close to The Malfoys. So you you had put up with Draco Malfoy growing up. He was the same age as Y/n.

Y/n and Draco had a relationship where they would constantly tease the other on stupid things.

Draco always loved when you would call him names. He would often find himself thinking about what you said in class. So much I'm fact that he would become hard.

Y/n was reading a book at the library, with her legs crossed, dangling her foot up and down at times.

Draco; being who he was, searches for her. He figures she would be in the library, so he goes there.

He finds her, staring at her. He loved when she sat like that. The perfect view of her legs. Staring at her more, he feels blood rush to his cock. Situating himself, he walks over to her and grabs her book.

"Give it back!" She whispers loudly, standing up trying to reach for it.

Draco being taller than her, he smirks down at her. "You should try harder." He chuckles, watching her struggle.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, give me my damn book back, you stupid cunt." Y/n squealed becoming enraged. Y/n grabs his tie, bringing him down.

He lets this happen, getting close to her face. Seeing as she still can't reach her book, he chuckles.

"Why do you always have to come and bother me? Give me it to me please," she pouts, Y/n becoming desperate.

"What is so good about this book anyway?" He opens it up above his head and begins to read it.

Y/n becomes red, panicing more, jumping up and down trying to reach it.

Draco smirks, while he gives it to her. "I didn't know you liked dirty books L/n. Momma wouldn't be too proud about this" he whispers lowly, like a growl.

"Wouldn't be proud. As if. She was the one who got it for me." Y/n laughs out, looking at his features. His blond hair was a bit of a mess, strands of hair poking out a bit. Oh how she loves that. Maybe just a bit too much.

"Don't look at me like that." He growls again.

"Like what?" Y/n whispers soft, acting innocent.

Draco steps back a bit, turning around, and whispers under his breath.

"Merlin, you drive me insane."

"What was that?" Y/n asks, teasing, as she heard exactly what he said.

"I didn't say anything." Draco whispers out quick.

"Then why are you panicking?" Y/n grabs his arm and turns him around and looks him in his lusted-out eyes. She laughs, softly and speaks her mind. "How do I drive you insane? You're the one who always comes bothering me."

Draco, mistakened that she didn't hear, speaks. "This is what I mean. You act so innocently but you aren't. It drives me insane."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Y/n laughs.

Draco takes a step, grabs the back of her neck with his hand, and kisses her. She drops the book and kisses back. The kiss becomes heated, teeth-gnashing, and tongue wrestling. Draco closes the distance, y/n's back against the wall. Y/n's hands moved up to his back, holding him closer.

Draco pulls back looking at her, smiling. "I'm sorry. I've been wanting to do that for a while."

"You want to know something else that someone has been waiting for a while to do?" Y/n whispers, teasing the man towering over her. Draco nods in response, confused.

Y/n grabs his hand, grabs the book she dropped, and heads towards her dorm room. Getting looks on the way, but both do not care.

She gets to her room and pushes him in, locking the door. She turns around grabs her wand and casts a muffling spell. He watches her, lust headed. She pushes him onto her bed. He gets the hint and grabs her, spreading her legs so she is on him directly.

They start kissing again, his hands going under her skirt and onto her bare ass. She feels his cold rings on her skin, shivering. She reaches up, tugging his hair as they continue to kiss.

They pull apart, catching their breath. She moves back a bit to look at him, she feels his cock press against her cunt.

She looks at him, reaches down, and starts toying with his belt buckle. He stops her, and picks her up, setting her back down again. He growls at her stance.

Y/n was leaning back on her elbows, her legs spread. She watches while he takes his robes off, and starts unbuttoning his shirt in a hurry.

"Once we do this, you are mine. You understand that?"

She nods, her lips trembling. He looks at her, staring at her body.

He takes his rings off, her whimpering in response. He looks at her, smiling. "You're gonna have to talk to me dollface."

"Leave them on," she whimpers out.

He smiles putting them back on. He goes to kiss her, kissing her neck. She pouts her lip moaning, "Draco"

He continues littering kisses everywhere, stopping at her clothes breast, sucking them. He reaches down, rubbing her clothed clit.

"gosh you're so perfect" he looks up at her, continuing to suck on her clothes nipple. Watching her face ripple with pleasure, he feels his cock brush the edge of the bed.

"God damn, I can't take this. On your knees. "

She does what he says looking up at her, opening her mouth.

"Look at you, don't even have t' say anythin'. Too much of a whore to know what t' do." He laughs at her, teasing.

He moves his dick in front of her face. She takes it, licking the tip and sucking it. He throws his head back in response. "My beautiful girl. My beautiful fuckin' girl. S' perfect." He moans, mouth agape. He takes his hand and shoves it through his hair.

Going deeper she starts to Bob her head. She uses her tongue and glides up and down to increase the pleasure, occasionally swallowing on him. Groaning deeply he grabs her head, using it like a handle.

Feeling his dick rub the back of her throat, she knows she won't be able to talk much after. His rhythm starts to get sloppy; he stops.

"Don't wanna finish until I'm inside you. " He groans out of pain from stopping. He stands her up, guiding her in front of the mirror.

"what are we doing here?"

Draco laughs, "You will find out."

Holding her head to look at the mirror, he takes his other hand taking her robes off.

"Oh," she says realizing what was happening.

He takes both his hands, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. Watching his ringed fingers, she closes her legs together tight; trying to avoid the sensation.

He laughs, watching her body in the mirror. He looks at her in the mirror, while his hands continue their work, unclothing her body. He watches her face, pulling her skirt off.

"Look at your body, baby. Look at how perfect it is. "

She looks at her body, seeing how close he is to her. She watches his hands glide on her body. Rubbing small circles on her body, she feels the cold of his rings once again.

"watch"

She does what she's told; watching his hands. Gliding down her torso, he spread her legs with his leg. Gliding his hand down, he spreads her pink pussy, watching her slick drip down. His other playing with her breast.

"look at that, filthy." He chuckles right in her ear, feeling the vibration from his chest to hers.

He starts rubbing circles of eights on her clit, while kissing her neck. He steps closer, making sure his cock is touching her lower back, watching her struggle with all the sensations.

"look at this," he tells her removing his fingers from clit.

She looks; seeing her slick on his fingers, she moans. "Draco please."

"try again, love."

"Please, sir." He laughs at her response.

He plunges his fingers in her cunt, instantly gliding them back in and out. He watches her face contort with pleasure, her torso arching from it.

He moves his other hand to her clit rubbing slow.

"look how fucked out you look. And we haven't even begun." He laughed evil.

And that's how Y/n was before she was pushed closer to the mirror, being fucked into it. She watched her face contort with pleasure, moaning his name. He wrapped his arm around under her breast. Driving him crazy, feeling her breast jump up and down on his arm. His cock grazed by her Gspot, driving her into infinite.

"look at you, taking my cock like a needy little whore." He laughs out, feeling her cunt clench tight on his cock. "But you're my whore. Aren't you?" He asks, slapping your face slightly.

"Y- yes. I'm always yours. Always was." Y/n slurs out, feeling his hand go to her sensitive clit, making her scream.

Your legs shaking from all the pressure he laughs again moaning himself. "Fuck baby"

"I-I'm c-close" y/n stutters; clenching her cunt on his cock.

"I know, love. I can feel you. Cum for me, baby." He says softly, tapping her thigh.

As he finishes, you finish with him. Cumming inside you, he waits a bit before pulling out. "Merlin, I love you." Once he pulls out, his cum gushes out.

Y/n looks up in the mirror, shocked at what he had said.

"You love me?" She asks, mouth agape.

"of course I love you," Draco smirks, and kisses her forehead.

"well, I love you too." Y/n stutters out the confession.

"I know you do, I read your diary a while ago. " He laughs, picking her up, carrying her to her conjoined bathroom.

"you what?!"

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader smut

2K notes · View notes

italoniponic · 3 years ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for deuce, sebek and ace getting detention because their homework had doodles about their crush like those heart initial or a chibi face on the reader or a random ass paragraph about how amazing they are (on like match homework)

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

| Notes: Hi, anon! This was very cute to write and it has a special participation of Crewel and Trein. I managed to make each one a bit different from the other and had some fun imagining the class's subjects, especially the history one! Hope you like it! Thanks for the request <3 |

Deuce Spade, Sebek Zigvolt, Ace Trappola x gender neutral reader / headcanons / crush / reader doesn’t get too much involved / special guests: teachers + lucius / fluff / use of “you” pronouns

Cherry’s Harvesting event 🍒 Masterlist

Detentions and Doodles

Deuce Spade might not be the smartest student in school, but no one could say he didn't try hard. Even though he made mistakes at times, he never gave up and always kept moving forward. You ended up becoming another reason for Deuce to devote himself more to his studies. After all, he wanted to impress you and show you that he could be someone worthy of being your companion for life;

A particularly tedious pharmacy class was coming up halfway through, and although Deuce spent the first thirty minutes focused on jotting down elements, measurements and druids names, at one point he started writing his initials with yours on some hearts. So he started testing the same thing on spade suits and went on a tangent;

As strange as this comparison is, scribbling initials reminded Deuce of his old days of delinquency where he sometimes marked his initials on the walls of some neighborhoods along with his gang mates. It wasn't very honorable at all but, it gave him some basic minimalist drawing skills;

In fact, scribbling the edges of the notebook was becoming an addiction over these past months. Deuce had most of his notebooks filled with your initials, of every possible size, style and shape. And it was a real ninja art considering you sat next to each other. Either he was too brave, or too foolish;

But you were such a constant presence in Deuce’s life that there was no stopping you from reigning even in his books. Like the Queen of Hearts, all paths are yours and Deuce was only too happy to serve you, even if secretly. And somehow inexplicably, you never came to suspect it. Much less the scribbles in his notebook;

Whoever saw it would think that Deuce was writing down the same information over and over again. Perhaps Ace had a better chance of finding out what it really was, so the boy never let the material fall into his roommate’s hands. However, one cannot hide this kind of thing for a long time and from everyone;

“Spade, sit down. I want to take a moment to talk to you in particular,” Prof. Crewel said when the class ended. The students were dismissed, Ace and you fell a little behind as you faced the frightened and fearful expression of Deuce who had just closed the notebook. You touched his shoulder for a moment, wishing him a quiet “good luck”;

When there was no one else in the room, Crewel approached Deuce’s place in the class and held out to him the work papers about medicinal herbs that the students handed in yesterday. “You made a very good report, I was even impressed. But you'll have to stay in detention to copy your text again, Mr. Spade. Clean edges this time,” the professor said;

Deuce took the papers and quickly identified the problem. He was working hard on this report a week ago and on the last page, he got too distracted thinking about you. Hearts spliced into suits of Spades, your names together as if you were a couple... it was a pity that he couldn’t earn points for being so in love;

Deuce gaped, looking from his work to the teacher and vice versa. He began to imagine the consequences for the future all because of this little mistake. His high school years, his relationship with you, the professionalism, the jokes, the awkward looks. All because he didn't realize he was scribbling on a homework assignment;

“Yes, sir! I'll start copying right, sir!,” Deuce promised, rising and making innumerable reverences. He was extremely embarrassed, blood rushing fast to his face as if he were fleeing from an angry army of cards. Crewel patted Deuce lightly on the head, smiling to himself. Love at this age is really complicated.

Sebek Zigvolt wasn’t known to be so easily distracted in classes and always turned in completely impeccable homework. His gaze was always sharp as a sword, completely focused on the teacher in front of him and the teachings he was receiving. Sebek would actually like to be tutored by Lilia but, he assumed that the teachers at the renowned NRC are good enough for the job — although he detests Lucius in Prof. Trein’s classes;

But on that morning of an even particularly interesting 1-D history class, Sebek wasn’t watching the teacher or even getting annoyed by Lucius’s occasional meows. In fact, he had his eyes on his own notebook almost the entire time. What started as notes turned into a tangent of thoughts that led to you;

Oh, surprise! He was thinking of you, secret owner of Sebek’s heart — or “crush,” as Lilia taught him to speak. Sebek didn't know what to do about his growing feelings for you. What began as a simple acquaintance became an interesting friendship that evolved into something more. Passion, love, devotion. He couldn't tell;

Words weren’t enough to describe Sebek's love for you. He was very well versed in literature and poems, especially the classic gothic poems of the Valley of Thorns, so he could categorically state that a twenty-page thesis about you wouldn’t be able to fully compress or express his feelings;

Somehow, between writing down about the migratory journey of goblins from proto-Pyroxene to the Fairy Valley and sharpening his own pencil, Sebek began to draw some doodles on the edges of his notebook. He began by testing the first letter of your name in various handwriting and then began to write his name next to yours;

At one point, Sebek was one step away from finding the perfect monogram for your wedding invitation. Arts might not be his forte but, with a little practice, he managed to find a way to make his “S” marry your letter and he was very happy with the result. Sebek would look at some references later to make more arabesques — and let their vines look more like leaves and thorns than sausages;

“Mr. Zigvolt? Can you take your place for a moment?,” Prof. Trein asked cordially when the class was over. Sebek looked up from his notebook and nodded, closing his notebook quickly. The room was already empty when Sebek approached Trein’s table, Lucius was lightly wiggling the tip of his shaggy tail while on top of some paperwork;

Trein opened a folder, pulled out a bundle of stapled sheets that was Sebek's last history work. The old teacher sighed for a moment, opening on the penultimate page. “Your report on the rise of the first dynasty in the Lands of Sunshine is magnificent but...,” and on this, Trein gave the papers to Sebek. “... I'm afraid you have to complete the rest because the Ramshackle’s Prefect has definitely not participated in any of these events.”;

Sebek ran a quick glance through the middle of the penultimate to the last sheet of his work, every paragraph describing your beauty, superiority, elegance and grace, things he imagined he had thought to himself and not actually written in his own schoolwork. It was very late at night when he finished that work, too distracted and daydreaming to repair this mistake;

Trein watched Sebek’s face initially turn pale white and then turn violently red, almost going up in flames. He just dismissed the student for detention and that the deadline for delivery was until midnight. Lucius meowed in Sebek’s direction — amused by his static expression — and as he got down from the table, brushed his head against the half-fae’s leg;

“I swear, professor, by my love for the Prefect and the Young Master’s honor, that I will serve my detention properly and deliver the right work!,” Sebek promised, beating on his own chest. Trein just nodded, taking Lucius in his arms and letting Sebek fall dramatically onto his desk, desolate and embarrassed. The teacher ended up laughing with the cat himself, however. Young people in love are so energetic!

Ace Trappola — despite the first name — couldn’t exactly call himself an “ace” in school. He wasn't stupid, he just got bored easy in most theory classes and for very little, he managed to keep most of the average grades. Ace was one of those people more focused on fun or sport, things that got him moving. So no surprise that he sought any other distraction during very boring subjects;

It was one of the last classes of the morning and Ace was doodling things in his own notebook. He had put the notebook right next to him, a little tilted up, but not enough for the people at the top of the stand to see, let alone the people next to him — Deuce and you. Especially you;

While Prof. Crewel was giving a detailed explanation of the basic effects of a Belladonna-based potion, Ace kept all his concentration on drawing your face in a cuter version next to his face. It was kind of embarrassing to do that, but, he was bored and he already had every excuse up his sleeve to tell you in case you questioned him about;

Ace could tell that it was a mere joke with you or that he was just training a little for art classes. And in fact, playing around with drawing your chibi face with blush face scratches and heart eyes for him was actually making him better at it! Before they were just strange polka dots with not very articulate expressions, now they were a little more professional;

He practiced a bit how to do your hair, drawing your chibi into various hairstyles and also different card suits in your eyes like all Heartslabyul students had. Obviously Ace thought the suit of Hearts suited you perfectly. He sometimes gave a satisfied smile to himself when analyzing this;

But if you turned to him, Ace would cover the edges in the notebook with his arm and disguise the fact that he was busy drawing you. You had no idea how much Ace was in love with you and these feelings were eating him away from inside in a violent mix of euphoria, energy, embarrassment and tiredness;

Ace felt ridiculous for doing those doodles — and a little frustrated that he could come off as kind of weird. It was like he was twelve years old again, childish and clueless. To make matters worse, it was an unnecessarily dangerous situation for Ace to doodle your little faces together just as he sat next to you and in the middle of class!;

But no one had ever noticed until that moment and Ace felt relieved by it. “Trappola, I need to talk to you,” Prof. Crewel stopped Ace before he could leave the room with you and Deuce. Ace swallowed hard, worried if the professor had discovered something he did — and he didn't even know what it was to prepare an excuse. You said goodbye to him and wished him good luck;

Crewel was smiling when Ace waved back at you and turned to the professor, aware that his smile wasn't a good sign. It never was. “I'm sorry to say you're going to have to spend the day in detention to hand me your homework a little fuller and cleaner of drawings, Mr. Trappola,” Crewel showed the alchemy quiz to Ace;

Ace didn't even know how his heart didn’t stop at that moment. In fact, the quiz had some blank answers but, what was that to notice when two very well drawn chibis of you were holding hands as Heartslabyul’s leader and vice — and on top of a very angry Riddle. Ace wanted to find a rabbit hole to throw himself down and disappear;

“I… a-am… I'm going to do that... t-thank you, professor,” Ace somehow managed to answer. If he hadn't finished that questionnaire in a hurry so he would have noticed the doodles he left. Crewel chuckled a little, amused by the student's bright red face and how he tightly hid the paper behind his back. Ah, young love!

#twisted wonderland #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst imagines #divus crewel #mozus trein #cherry's writing #cherry's harvesting

493 notes · View notes

sara-scribbles · 3 years ago

Text

Tsunotarou Jr.

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/GN!Reader Other Characters: Grim, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt, Lilia Vanrouge Word Count: 2,002 Note: This came as an idea of 'what if the character got turned into a cat?' and it's honestly just a lot of fluff. I imagine cat Malleus being a regal long hair cat. Probably on the larger side because he's so tall. Warnings: None

---------

“I’m beat! Trein’s too mean!” Grim complains.

Rolling your eyes, you point out, “You fell asleep in class right in front of him. And you even told him to give you five more minutes.”

“S’not my fault his voice is so boring,” the cat grumbles. You pause by the potions room causing Grim to look back. “We’re gonna miss dinner!”

“I thought I heard something…” Shrugging you start to follow but hear the noise again, this time louder. Turning back around, you go inside while ignoring Grim’s protests. “I swear I heard a cat meow.”

“It’s probably Lucius.”

“Since when has Lucius ever wandered away from Professor Trein?” You peak around a few cauldrons but don’t see anything. “Hmm…”

“Meow!” Suddenly a large black cat comes from behind one of the cauldrons.

Both you and Grim jump in surprise. “I knew I heard something.”

The black cat has a thick, silky long fur coat and bright green eyes that almost seem to glow. You would’ve thought the cat is a normal one except for the two tiny horns sticking out of its head.

Kneeling, you hold out your hand. “Hello there. Good kitty.” The cat stares at you with its large knowing eyes before leisurely walking over to you. It starts to purr as it rubs against your side.

“Oh wow, you’re friendly. And very soft!” You stroke the cat’s head, being mindful of the horns. “Where did you come from?”

“(Y/N), can we go get dinner now?” Grim whines.

Sighing, you debate whether to leave the cat behind. Staring into its eyes, you ask, “Do you want to come with us?” The cat seems to nod. “Alright, let’s get going buddy.”

Hefting the cat up, you glance down. “Okay, you’re a boy. And a heavy one at that.” Your words seem to embarrass the cat as he meows before burying his face in your shoulder.

If you had taken a look around the cauldron the cat came from, you would’ve found a pile of clothes on the floor.

Arriving at the dining hall, it’s mostly empty. Grim already has a pile of food on his plate. You make a plate for yourself and the cat after ensuring he’s fine being alone at the table. You weren’t sure what to get him, so you opted for fish and a side of chicken.

“Hey, Grim? Can you understand him?”

After swallowing whatever is in his mouth, he glances at the cat, who gives him a curious meow. “Nope. It’s like he’s speakin’ an entirely different language.”

“Huh…” As you eat, you wonder about your new companion.

Later on at Ramshackle, you’re busy finishing up homework. The cat had decided your bed is his new favorite spot. Grim is off somewhere in the dorm doing who knows what. Leaning back, you stretch out the kinks in your shoulders from being stooped over for so long.

Turning in your seat, you regard the cat. “You know, I should give you a name. That way I’m not calling you just cat. And I have the perfect one. Tsunotarou Jr!”

You laugh at your own joke as the cat just stares at you. “You remind me of my friend Malleus if he were a cat. You even have the same pretty eyes and horns,” you explain. He tilts his head at your last comment.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, you jump up. “Oh no! I’m gonna be late!” You have your usual meeting with Malleus around this time.

Tsunotarou Jr. hops off the bed and follows you down the hall and to the back of the dorm. The back garden is empty when you arrive at your usual meeting spot. “Guess he’s running late too. But I have you to keep me company.” You pat your lap. After a moment of hesitation, Tsunotarou Jr. jumps into your lap and makes himself at home.

You gently stroke his fur as you wait. You find yourself rambling to the cat even though he can’t really respond. “You know when I first met Malleus, I didn’t know who he was. He didn’t tell me either, so I ended up calling him Tsunotarou.”

You chuckle as you recall finally finding out the truth. “I was a bit surprised at finding out he was The Malleus Draconia, who is one of the top five mages in all the land. The one everyone whispered about at school as being scary and having an overwhelming magical presence. But at the end of the day Malleus is still my Tsunotarou.”

The cat purrs loudly. “Oh? Do you like when I scratch behind your ears?” You smile fondly at the creature. “I have a cat back home. She’s a bit of a spoiled princess, but she loves being scratched behind the ears.”

You slow in your petting as melancholy overtakes you. “I…I miss home. I know Crowley says he’s working on finding a way home, but sometimes I feel so alone. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be able to go back. But then I also remember that I’ll have to leave the people here behind. And I don’t know which idea I hate more…”

A furry paw touches your cheek. Tsunotarou Jr. looks up at you with concerned eyes. “I’m okay. Thank you though.” You bop the cat’s nose.

“I guess Malleus isn’t coming tonight,” sighing, you carry the cat back inside.

Grim is already asleep in his bed. You quietly tiptoe around the room before getting into bed yourself. Making sure Tsunotarou Jr. has enough space next to you on the bed, you quickly fall asleep. The cat reaches over and pats your head with his paw and nuzzles your cheek before settling down for sleep as well.

---------

The next morning, you decide to make a quick breakfast for yourself. You feed the cat some of the tuna Grim had stashed away. To make it up to him, you cook up a stack of pancakes, which seems to satisfy the grey cat.

As there’s no classes today, you spend most of the day lazing around the dorm. You spend time reading, tending to the garden, and watching videos. All the while Tsunotarou Jr. is your constant shadow. You’re laying on the couch with the cat sitting on top of your stomach when someone bangs loudly on the front door.

Groaning, you call out to Grim, “Can you get the door, Grim?” It takes a moment for him to come down. You can hear him grumbling all the way. The door opens with a creak, and you hear him ask, “Whacha want?”

“Is Malleus here?” Silver asks.

“The young master is missing!” Sebek shouts, his voice echoing through the dorm.

Sitting up, you carry Tsunotarou Jr. with you to see what the commotion is all about. “Why would he be here?” Grim asks, still annoyed from being disturbed from his nap.

“Hey, guys. What’s up?”

Sebek is the first to rush toward you. “Have you seen the young master?! He’s been missing since yesterday evening!”

You wince as his louder than necessary voice rings in your ears. “I haven’t seen Malleus, Sebek. Can you use your inside voice please?” Tsunotarou Jr. growls at your obvious discomfort.

The green haired youth composes himself. “Sorry… Master Malleus has been missing, and we’ve asked every dorm so far, but no one’s seen him. Where could he have gone?!”

Silver seems to take an interest in the cat you're holding. “(Y/N), is that your cat?”

“Not really. Grim and I found him in the potions room yesterday. Isn’t he beautiful!?” you gush.

You lift the cat up higher and press a kiss to his forehead. His eyes widen into saucers as his body goes stiff. Chuckling, you gradle him back in your arms. “Tsunotarou Jr. is such a well behaved cat. I was gonna go to Crowley to see if we could find his owner.”

The two boys share a look. Silver clears his throat. “No need to find his owner. He’s…Lilia’s pet.”

“Lilia?” You never thought he was a cat person. “Oh… I guess you have to go back to your owner, huh?” Pouting, you snuggle the cat, who’s still shell shocked from before, a bit before sighing. “Alright, can I drop him off with Lilia?”

“We can take him there,” Silver offers.

You shake your head. “I’d rather do it myself. And spend a bit more time with Tsunotarou Jr.”

“A-alright.” He agrees though he looks a bit worried.

Leaving Grim at the dorm, you follow the two back to their dorm. “Did Lilia bring his cat from home here?”

“Something like that,” Silver replies. Sebek remains surprisingly quiet, though he looks like he wants to say something. Going through the mirror, you arrive at Diasomnia’s lounge. Lilia eagerly walks over when he notices the two back.

“Did you find Malleus?” He even looks a bit frazzled.

“Ah, no. But we did find your cat,” Silver says, eyes darting to the cat in your arms.

Lilia’s brows furrow as he peers at the cat. “My cat?” His eyes widen. “Oh! My cat!”

You sadly hand the cat over to him. “I found him in the potions class. He’s very nice.”

“Thank you, (y/n). I don’t know what I would do without Mr. Fuzzywonkos!” Lilia cries. The cat hisses as he’s smothered in the shorter one’s chest.

“Fuzzywonkos…? Okay. So what kind of cat is he? The horns are unique.”

Lilia smirks as the cat tries to worm out of his hold. “He’s a special species found only in Briar Valley.”

“Too bad… Well I should go back. I hope you guys find Malleus. I’ll keep an eye out for him too.” You give the three a wave before stepping through the mirror.

Once you’re gone, Lilia lets the cat go. “How did you end up as a cat, Malleus?” he chortles. “Did you have fun being cuddled by (y/n)?” He merely turns his nose up.

“Master Malleus! I’m sorry I did not recognize you sooner!” Sebek exclaims, dropping to his knees.

Silver observes Malleus from all sides. “Will we be able to reverse this?”

---------

You’re waiting in the back garden as usual when fireflies swam the area. Smiling as Malleus appears, you let out a relieved breath. “I was worried. Silver and Sebek said you were missing.”

He takes a seat next to you on the small stone bench. “I was busy with something else. What were you up to?”

“Well, I met Lilia’s cat…”

After some time, you can no longer suppress the yawn you had been holding in. “S-sorry… It’s getting late.”

Though you told Malleus everything that happened with Tsunotarou Jr. he seems more reserved than normal. You decide not to ask; he’ll tell you when he wants. Standing up, you yawn again. “I kinda miss Tsunotarou Jr.,” you mumble.

“Do you prefer him over me?” Malleus suddenly asks.

You blink a few times trying to process the question. He remains seated as he waits for your answer. Shaking your head, you bop him on the nose. “Of course not. He might be soft and cuddly, but he’s not you. Plus it’s kinda hard talking to someone who can’t respond.”

He rises from his seat towering over you. Sometimes you forget how tall Malleus actually is. He seems to hesitate before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Can you close your eyes?”

“Sure?” As you close your eyes, you wonder what’s gotten into him.

Your senses are filled with the smell of charcoal, old paper and something warm. You feel a cold brush against your forehead. Your eyes fly open to see Malleus looking down at you with a sparkle in his gaze. A gaze with eyes a bright almost glowing green.

“D-did you j-just…??” You touch your forehead as your face heats up.

“That’s for earlier. I’ll see you tomorrow, child of man,” he says teasingly. He disappears in a flash, leaving behind fireflies.

“For earlier??? Malleus???”

#twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #reader insert #scenario

908 notes · View notes

brightfancies · 1 year ago

Text

James thinks he hears wrong at first.

Her sister’s name rolls off her mouth so low, a mere whisper and it rips his heart. Perhaps she was calling for her. Narcissa had been in the rain for how long, now? The night felt eternal and yet perhaps, she had been waiting for her oldest sister to arrive. A frown marrows his face, and he leans in closer as if this would allow him to hear her better. Moonlight shining on her eyes while the flickering glow of the flames highlights golden strikes on her wet hair.

Except when he hears it again, he wishes he had heard her wrong.

It was Bella.

His mouth opens slightly, grasping at air and pushing it down to his lungs. But his best friend is not done.

Rodolphus. Lucius.

Golden brown eyes widen, searching her face frantically, meeting her tearful eyes - the boy's mind struggling to catch up as if what she was saying was not clear enough. As if she wasn’t perfectly petrified by this truth. Bella had almost killed her - her own sister! And her fiance and future brother in law knew this. Cissy, herself, had known all along - and stayed silent.

James launches forward without a thought, wrapping his arms tight around her. The Gryffindor brings her close to him, shifting on his knees so he can pull her full into his embrace - flushed against him, even though throughout his skin burns with the need to act. It is a fury that threatens to conquer - an anger that he swallows immediately. Finding Malfoy and Lestrange wouldn't be difficult, he has the map and his cloak and throwing them from the tallest castle tower would be extremely satisfactory. Bella must be in her dormitory, but then what - what could he get out from her when she attacked her own goddam sister?!

Why? Why would they do this at all - to the students, to Narcissa?

Flashes of the night ran through his head. Finding her unconscious, bloody -- alone in the stone-cold floor, hidden in the shadows of an empty room. They left her. They left her! Abandoned her... it could have taken days for anyone to find her, weeks! Bella attacked her sister and ran -- Malfoy and Lestrange saw it, and ran. It is a concept he has no name for, his mouth suddenly sour and hear beating loud against his ears. They all left her to die.

The Gryffindor still holds her in his arms, fingers holding on to the back of her head, leaning back slightly if only to catch her gaze. And he looks at her - locking on to the beautiful blue of her eyes, reddened with her tears and fury rages again, gripping at his heart. What could he say, if anything at all, to make this any better? How could he not make it any worse?

“ Cissy, I… what the hell…” he starts, bumbling like an idiot. There are no words to tell her. Nothing that can truly express anything of real value. Is this... is that why she wouldn’t wake up?

“ I’m so sorry, love. “ He says, finding no better words, a sight follows soon. “ I’m sorry that happened to you. That -- I can’t understand why they did this. Why did she do this… to you, to all the other students… ”

His thumb caresses the crest to her cheek, feeling the monster inside wrestle back and forth between blind fury and soul-crushing ache for her.

She had held on to this for so long, alone.

“ Is there anything I can do, for you? ” He asks, “ I can listen or I can do something, anything-- for Godric’s sake, Cissy... did you know all this time? Fuck! I-- I can’t imagine what you are going through love, and I know I’m a fool but I can tell you this -- I promise you this: I will do anything - everything, I can, always, to never leave you alone again. ”

After so many years of walking this exact path, the young witch knows that the trek from the courtyard to the library takes hardly any time at all. So, why does it feel like centuries before the two of them get there? Somewhat hopelessly, Narcissa attempts to focus on things in the here and the now — things like the warmth radiating from James' body or the way his thumb feels grazing over her cold skin. Each time the lion's dark head turns back to look at her with all that concern and all that sad, sad warmth, she wishes she could muster up the energy to just grin and bear it all. Whatever it took to make this wretched feeling in the pit of her stomach go away.

Unsurprisingly, the library is absolutely magnificent at this time of night. Moonlight filters through the stained-glass windows, peeking through the bits of dust and accumulated time in beams of silver and cool iridescence. She watches the way that they dance off the wizard's tanned skin and the unkempt curls atop his head. Narcissa is somewhat glad for the loss of the cloak, if only so she can breathe air that isn't entirely saturated with him. Being so explicitly aware of James Potter doesn't make any of this easier. She's dragged him into this and now, even if she actually wanted to, he won't let her go through it alone.

The touch of his hand is the only thing holding her together right now.

A trembling sigh tumbles from the pretty blonde's parted lips, still warm and tingling with the cinnamon of the golden boy's kiss. Even now, his fingers still latch with her own and the weight of his jacket once she takes it with her free hand is surprisingly comforting. She knows what this is; she can read it even behind the sadness and fear that burden his gilded gaze. Affection. It's almost amazing how something that comes so hard to the entirety of her family is as simple as breathing to the boy beside her. She's missed it - missed him - more than she can say.

There's a sad sort of tiredness clinging to the girl as she lowers herself onto the ground beside him, the warmth of the fireplace blanketing Narcissa's shivering frame in an attempt to combat the chill that's taken hold of her. As he speaks, she only feels worse. As grateful as the girl is for James - as much as she desperately wants to cling to him like the lifeline that he is - it also hurts. It's bittersweet. Because, he shouldn't have been the first to say or do these things for her — the only one with the stubborn determination to reach her in the storm.

Gods, she hates this hopeless feeling that has its hold on her! She hates the helplessness of being lost and the isolation that wraps around her, serpentine and crushing. When she looks into James' swirling gaze, concern and warmth so very evident in their depths, it's all the poor girl can do to stop herself from crying like a child. The graze of his mouth against her crown is all too much to bear, wet lashes falling against the crests of her pale, aristocratic cheeks as the fingers of her free hand curl into the leather of his jacket draped over her lap.

I am with you, love. Always.

Was that really so hard for anyone else to say?

❝ Bella — ❞

Her throat is so dry that she nearly croaks out the name and even uttering it feels like a betrayal. Narcissa is the secret keeper, just as she always has been. She's the cleaner of messes and the righter of wrongs. If trust exists in their family, then the small blonde is surely its personification. There was nothing that any of them could do that she would not forgive. But this...

❝ It was Bella. ❞ Whispering the truth doesn't make it any easier, flashes of that night replaying over and over behind her haunted eyes. The screaming and that white-hot flash of light. The hand still firmly held in his shakes with the rest of her, nails biting into the leather of his jacket.

❝ Rodolphus. Lucius. ❞ Her fiance's name comes out angrier than the others, less sad and more disgusted. Had it only been him - if it were just him, she would have gladly told Dumbledore and been free of the burden.

❝ They were all there in that room, but it was Bella that — I...I saw her wand and...that look in her eyes... ❞ Her frightened eyes meet his, the blue of her irises almost debilitating. ❝ I can't — I could have died! ❞

A part of her can't help but wonder if it would all be easier if she had.

#&. golden boy #&. golden boy / thread

9 notes · View notes

heavens-bookshop · 3 years ago

Text

The Book Of Marmalade (read on AO3 here!)

"You want me to do what?"

Lucius has a look about him like a cornered rabbit, and Ed supposes that's fair. Still hasn't quite recovered from the whole attempted murder thing, it seems.

"I want you to show me how to… write stuff," he mumbles, feeling his ego dent somewhat at having to make the pathetic request twice.

"Okay…" The fear on Lucius' face morphs to something more quizzical. "Why not ask Captain Stede? He's got much better handwriting and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help you."

"I can't ask Stede," Ed says through clenched teeth.

When Lucius continues to stare, baffled, Ed spits out the embarrassing truth.

"I wanna… I want to surprise him with a love letter."

"A love letter?"

"Yeah, you know," Ed says, waving his hands and ignoring how hot his cheeks are getting. "I love you and… I think your face is great."

Lucius cocks a rather cynical eyebrow. "Is that usually how love letters go?"

"Well I wouldn't fucking know, would I?"

Lucius brings his hands up defensively, and there's that panic again. Ed only feels a little guilty about it.

"Alright, alright, I'll help. So when can I pencil you in–?"

"Now."

"Now?" Lucius asks, and then shrinks a little under Ed's glare. "Okay, now. Let me go get some supplies, I guess."

They set up at a small table wedged in a corner of the crew's mess, somewhere they hope Stede won't come looking. Lucius spreads out their materials - several books, some bits of parchment paper, a bottle of ink, a quill - and spends the next hour or so going over the shapes and names of letters that were up til now just squiggles to Ed's eyes.

"So," Lucius says at last, pulling a fresh piece of parchment in front of them. "Why don't we get cracking on your letter?"

Ed twirls the quill between his forefinger and thumb. "Okay." The pen feels odd in his hand, a phantom limb. "I don't think I know how to start though."

"Right, well we could just go with his name," Lucius says. "That's S-T-E-D-E."

Ed scrawls the letters onto the paper, pen scratching with every stroke.

"How's that?"

Lucius pulls his mouth into a thin line and nods.

"It's… yep, that's a start."

Ed stares down at his handiwork.

"It looks like a fucking child wrote it."

"Yeah. You've also done the D backwards."

"Eh?"

"Says Stebe."

"Oh fuck this," Ed growls, crumpling up the parchment and tossing it across the table.

"Come on, you've only been at this for like, an afternoon," Lucius grabs another piece of paper. "The captain'll love it, just have some patience with yourself."

Patience is not something Blackbeard is known for - least of all with himself - but then Ed imagines Stede's face when he sees the letter, plastered with that stupidly soft smile, and finds his resolve.

"Fine."

Lucius tips his head to the side and then holds out a hand. "Here's an idea. Why don't I write the first draft, and then you can copy that?"

Ed nods and passes him the quill. "Yeah that sounds alright."

"Okay," Lucius says, putting pen to paper. "Let's see here. To my… dearest… Stede…"

Ed watches him write, the loops and lines flowing easily from the nib, until he stops and stares up from the parchment.

"So…?"

"Oh shit," Ed says flatly. "I need to come up with words."

"That is traditionally how letters are written, yes."

When Ed doesn't say anything, Lucius shrugs and says, "I love you and your face is great?"

That dislodges a growl from the back of Ed's throat. It seems somewhat obvious now, but he'd been so caught up in the anxiety of the asking and the learning and the overall gesture of the letter that he'd simply forgotten he actually needed something to say.

"Fuck, how am I supposed to do this?"

"Well, what's inside here?" Lucius gestures to his chest with the feathered end of the quill.

"Guts, I guess. Blood. About half a bottle of rum."

"Good god," Lucius mutters under his breath. "No, I mean your feelings."

"Oh. Well… I love him." Ed scowls at his own simple-mindedness. "Except I wanna say it fancier than that. I dunno how Stede's so good at this, I've got all this stuff in my head but I don't know how to make it come out of my mouth."

"How about we try it another way. What do you think of when you think of the captain?"

Ed takes a moment and thinks about Stede - thinks about warm eyes and kind hands, about quiet kisses on a beach and you wear fine things well. He thinks about tea and silk and breakfast together on the maintop.

"I dunno… I guess… marmalade? Warm and sweet but also weird and tangy. Got all those unexpected bits in it."

He thinks about waking up together, about sleep-warm skin and finding each other's soft edges in the early light of dawn, and smiles.

"And I like the taste of it first thing in the morning."

Lucius' face crumples in disgust. "Oh Jesus Christ."

The reaction hits Ed like a punch to the gut and suddenly his face is on fire. "Oh for– I meant, like, kissing!"

"God it's like… picturing your parents going at it."

"Well stop picturing it then!"

"Okay, okay, okay." Lucius rubs his face and takes a deep breath. "That's actually… oddly sweet. I think we can make something out of it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The next morning is a calm one. Lucius stands on the quarterdeck, covertly eyeing up his co-captains sitting side by side on the maintop. It's become their routine, eating breakfast up there together, though Lucius can't help but notice how much Blackbeard has been fidgeting for the last ten minutes.

"They're cute, aren't they?" Pete says as he sidles up next to Lucius.

The two of them watch as Blackbeard hands over a piece of paper, much to Captain Stede's surprise.

"Hm… How would you feel if I wrote you a poem about marmalade?"

Pete leans into Lucius' shoulder. "Um, I dunno. That sounds kinda sweet."

Lucius studies Captain Stede's face carefully - or at least as much as he can from this distance.

"And if it contained the line 'orange you glad we met'? What then, Pete?"

"Oof. You didn't let him write that, did you babe?"

Above them, Stede breaks out into a smile and pulls Blackbeard into an enthusiastic kiss.

"Okay, seems like Captain Stede likes it well enough at least."

The kiss gets a little more lively, Stede pushing his body into Blackbeard, until the two of them disappear in a heap on top of each other.

"Wow, he really likes marmalade, huh?" Pete says.

"Yeah, I think this is our cue to get back to work."

Lucius grabs Pete by the elbow and hurries them off below deck, firm in the knowledge that he will not be able to so much as look at the jam room for the foreseeable future.

#my fics #our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #more ficlets hell yeah

203 notes · View notes

deepperplexity · 2 years ago

Text

Prompt: 16. A Folly Holiday

Pairing: Student!Snape x Student!Reader (in a dress)

POV: Third, Snape

Setting: A Yule Ball, Hogwarts

A/N: I am exhausted. Tomorrow kicks off the first Christmas celebration and I have managed to write today's fic, tomorrow's fic AND half of Sunday's fic. My brain is fried, my fingers hurt and I want to take a nap even though it's almost 8pm 😂 Either way I hope you'll enjoy this fic as we are changing it up a little bit again with a young Snape this time around 🥰👏

Tags/TW’s: Confessions, Longing, Self-doubt,

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 1.9k+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

He was going to do it. If only he could find something to bloody wear! He dragged his hands through his hair, racking through his brain as he glared at his all-black and dark purple wardrobe. There was nothing in there appropriate for the Yule Ball — for getting you to finally notice him as something more.

It was his last chance perhaps, and he wished with all his heart he could just have plucked up the courage to ask you to the dance weeks ago but he never dared, not even when you studied with him or walked to class together while you talked his ear off about the whole ordeal.

There was only one set of attire left for him to wear, hidden away in his trunk. He’d never imagined he’d ever wear it when Lucius had gifted it to him. Then he had imagined himself dressed in it for the first ever date with you, that he never dared ask for.

After all, what would you think if the misfit with an abnormally large nose and usually greasy hair asked someone like you out on a date? Yet he had dreamt of it many times, wondering what it would feel like to be with you. It made his stomach clench with nervous knots. But I’m going to do it. Tomorrow I am going to go to that infernal ball even if I do not have a bloody date and I am going to ask you to dance with me. I really am going to do it. And then they’ll all laugh at me… Won’t they?

≪⁕≫

His hands were shaking while adjusting the black bow tie around his neck. He could hear the chatter from the Great Hall but had yet to gather enough courage to go in, he’d be forced to soon or the doors would close and it would all start without him. He needed to sneak in undetected and hide away in the back until the dancing had started.

He smoothed his hands over the emerald green fabric of his tuxedo one more time and tugged on the lapels a bit even if they laid perfectly. Here goes, he thought and began to sneak towards the Great Hall.

Somehow he managed to get in undetected as everyone was busy looking at the spectacular decorations and the array of girls dressed up in beautiful dresses. Severus only had eyes for one girl though, dressed in a billowing purple dress with no other adornments — it took no focus away from your beautiful face but rather enhanced everything about you. He almost lost the capability of breathing when he spotted you in the middle of the crowd on Carmichael Vance’s arm, one of the popular boys with a charismatic smile and perfectly proportionate features only elevated further by his tanned skin and short, tightly curly hair.

You were smiling widely while he spoke with you and Severus could only watch, hidden at the edge of the room. That it hurt so badly within him to see you laugh and chat happily with the handsome boy he could do nothing about. Of course he’d ask you… The handsome Gryffindor boy going with the pretties, kindest… I had no chance at you anyway.

Headmaster Dumbledore stepped up on stage and spewed out some happy speech about friendship and ‘good fun’ while Severus focused only on the back of your head. His eyes never left you despite the growing sense of what a fool he was for dressing up, for coming to the ball, for daring to even think of asking you for a dance. He was most likely some charity case for you, because you’re too kind…

The music kicked off and the four leading couples, two students from each house mixed together, lead the first dance. You and Mr Vance were of course one of those couples and there was no denying the two of you danced splendidly together. Both of you from wealthier families, undoubtedly having been taught proper dance from a young age and so you appeared to easily fall into a steady pace with each other.

You were too beautiful while smiling widely, as you seemed to always do whenever he spotted you around the school. Less so when you’re with me…

He watched, from afar, while the dance floor filled with students of all ages — dancing, smiling, laughing people that he shared nothing with. So, as the music grew louder and the time ran forward he slowly removed himself, edging towards the doors while still watching you laugh and smile so brightly it nearly hurt his heart. You never smiled like that when you were with him. And he still did not understand why you sought him out for study hours, or late dinners.

“This was a stupid idea,” he whispered to himself as Mr Vance twirled you around. He turned his back on the Great Hall and the Christmas-like decorations all in silver and white while his shoulders slumped and he glanced down at the expensive clothes he’d adorned in some foolish hope he’d finally be brave enough to step up. That perhaps, with his hair washed and tied up in a ponytail with string — just a few errant strands framing his face — and the costly clothes he’d be something more worthy of your attention. That for one night he could have been someone else, anyone but the pour half-blood that had absolutely no business even looking in your direction.

The music faded as he stepped out on the courtyard, dragging out his winter cloak from the little bag with an undetectable extension charm to it tied to one of the belt loops of his pants. The wind was gentle but cold, the sparkling snow crunching beneath his shoes as he walked towards the bridge where he knew he’d be alone.

At least the other gits were too occupied with the ball to torment me. And, I got to see you dance… He sighed and stopped at the middle of the bridge, watching out from one of the many arches. He felt more alone in the world than ever before.

“Severus!” He jolted, the sound of your voice coming from far away. I’m delusional too. Fantastic.

But, the sound of thudding steps in a run reached him a second later. “Severus!” you called again and he turned to see a flurry of purple fabric moving towards him before his eyes got snagged by yours. “Y/n?” he asked, his breath fogging over and your smile shifted. The wide, sparkling smile that was beyond beaming turned small and your features turned more lax. “What are you doing out here?” “Nothing,” he said as you stopped right before him. Your cheeks were rosy, and your bared shoulders and arms were covered with goosebumps.

“Why did you leave?” you asked while reaching up to hug yourself. “Why would I not?” “I was waiting for you,” you said and he arched his brow at you, not knowing what to think of that. “Why didn’t you ask me to dance?” you continued and his cheeks heated. “Why would I? I wouldn’t want to ruin your night.” “Ruin my night?” “You looked happy, when you are with me you never smile like that so why would I—” “Are you a complete idiot or playing the fool?” you interrupted and he jolted at your harsh words spoken in a light voice.

You stepped closer, shivering and trembling in the cold and he could not stand it. “You’re freezing,” he muttered and removed his cloak only to drape it over your shoulders. “So warm,” you hummed and pulled it tighter, he could have sworn he heard you inhale a little bit deeper before sighing. He could not help but adore the view of you in his cloak. “But honestly, are you so dense?” you continued while looking up at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “I even wore your colours,” you murmured, as if you were nervous and he couldn’t understand why your voice shifted in such a manner. “What do you mean, my colours?” “Well, look at me…”

He had done so all evening already so there really was no need but he did as you asked and looked you over while you held open the coat. “You’re very pretty,” he said. “But you always are.” “Ugh, Severus!” you said and stomped your foot while rolling your eyes. “What?” “You really are such a thick-head sometimes!”

He blanched at the comment, not the kind he usually got thrown at him. “With you, I don’t have to smile like that, there’s no need for me to pretend and be someone I’m not,” you said and his back straightened at the severity in your voice. “I don’t have to constantly laugh and smile, you know my cheeks hurt every evening from that!” “Y/n, what are you on about?” “Ugh, Severus! I like you! I don’t know how much clearer I can make it? I feel like a bloodhound! Always hunting you down, always forcing my company on you, always trying to talk to you and get you to just notice me! It’s like, the one guy I have always fancied doesn’t even acknowledge my existence. And there I was—” you yelled while pointing towards the castle “—seeing you at the edge all the time, watching me constantly and you never even bothered to talk to me.”

He didn’t know what to say. You weren’t wrong. He always struggled to talk with you, always found it hard to look at you as his heart would go rampant and he wouldn’t be able to focus on whatever the two of you were talking about. “Severus, don’t you like me? At all?” you asked quietly and he had to look at you when you sounded so hurt. “I like you…” he whispered, barely able to get the words out. “I-, I got all dressed up like an idiot too, thinking if I could just look like someone else, someone worth your time for just an evening you’d-, I don’t know, something.” “Sev…” you whispered while smiling softly up at him. “I don’t want any of this,” you continued while reaching up to tug the string from his hair, allowing it to fall freely in its usual black curtains.

“There’s no need to dress up, just because of some folly holiday. I just want you, the everyday you. Not this yule ball version of you.” “You think Christmas a folly holiday?” he asked while his hands clenched, in an effort to stave off the shaking from how close you were. “I love Christmas, but I think it’s folly to change who you are for something momentary. Like kids being good the last week before Christmas in hopes of receiving more gifts when one should be kind all year round. And you’re a wonderful grump dressed in black and purple all year round,” you giggled out as a small smile tugged on his lips. Something warm slipped inside of him.

“Sev, please, won’t you give me a chance?” you asked and his heart did a somersault. “You mean-, as a-, a—” “As a couple, Sev. I like you, I really, really do. And I’m tired of having to pretend that I’m fine when I’m not with you…” The honesty in your voice made his hands reach out instinctively, taking you into a tight embrace despite the fear blaring in him that there was no way beautiful you could be willing to be with someone like him. “I’d like that, Y/n.” “Severus,” you said against his chest and reached around to hold him just as tightly.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: This was short and sweet, a little on the simpler side of things but still, so cute 🤭🥰❤ I hope you're having a fantastic Friday (or whatever day when you read this) and that you remember to treat yourself with kindness ❤

Taglist: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @morphineisouthoney @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish @romanceandsarcasm @severuslovebot @leah1243 @glowstar826 @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @a-queen-and-her-throne @impulse-anchor @commodoreseverus @writewithmarites @alisongurl13 @yan-senna @writewithmarites @reinekefoxart @nixislight @snowblossomreads @leah1243 @reiketsunomizunomegami @lokisbjchn

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2022]

#rickmas2022 #rickmas #snape fic #snape x reader #pro snape #snapedom #young snape #student snape #alan rickman #rickmanaic #deepperplexity fic #deepperplexity #plex #writing #fandom

123 notes · View notes

engie-ivy · 3 years ago

Text

'Well, liven up the party Remus did, though probably not in the way James had imagined, when Remus was caught by Lord Orion Black in the storage room fooling around with the lord’s eldest son and heir...'

(Back to Fluff and Humour! Sort of a short Historic AU? Wolfstar, of course.)

The Fancy Things In Life

“One party,” James says, rubbing his temples. “One party! I took you to one party!”

Remus bites his thumb nail. “Well, at least you can’t say this party was boring.”

James just glares at him.

It is true, though.

James Fleamont Potter, as first and only son of the House of Potter and therefore the future Lord Potter, is expected to make an appearance at all the fancy events the elite organises, which is a lot. The same stiff people with the same fake smiles engaging in the same tedious conversation. Remus, on the other hand, is just a local town’s boy, who would normally never be at a party such as this, were it not for his unlikely friendship with James. When James, after pushing Lucius Malfoy into a pond during a hunting party to prevent him from killing a deer, had come into the local inn where Remus works, hoping for a place to hide, Remus had kept him hidden when a disgruntled Abraxas Malfoy later appeared in town demanding information. Now, James had the idea that maybe these parties would be better bringing his friend along, so he dressed Remus up in one of his costumes and took him with him as a guest, hoping that Remus would liven up the party a bit.

Well, liven up the party Remus did, though probably not in the way James had imagined, when Remus was caught by Lord Orion Black in the storage room fooling around with the lord’s eldest son and heir.

After staring in utter shock and outrage, Lord Black had said in a booming voice “What in the devil’s name do you think you’re doing?! Do you have no shame, defiling one much above your station like some scoundrel! I demand to know what family you are from! They’ll be rightfully embarrassed by your shameful behaviour.”

Remus had blinked at the red-faced man in his fancy coat with his flaring nostrils, then straightened his clothes before saying with a grin “I wouldn’t worry ‘bout that, m’lord. Mum and da run an inn, so they’ve surely seen much worse!”

Lord Black must’ve assumed Remus was some minor nobleman. Makes sense, as no one but a nobleman would normally be at an event such as this, and since he doesn’t know Remus, he can’t be anyone important. Knowing that Remus is a common innkeeper’s son did not make the situation any better. At all.

While the young man Remus had been... interacting with, Sirius Black, whom he noticed still had his hand on Remus’ hip, had to stifle his laughter in his sleeve, Lord Black’s head looked like it was going to explode.

To prevent the situation from escalating, James had dragged Remus away, while Sirius tried to calm down his father.

And that’s where they are now.

The door opens and closes and Sirius walks into the room, running a hand through his hair, that still looks dishevelled from where Remus had been running his hands through it, and Remus feels a, probably quite inappropriate, swell of pride at that. Remus gazes at Sirius for a moment, as he looks just beautiful. Sirius Black is widely regarded as the most handsome young man in the land. Really, how had James expected him to resist when Sirius admitted that the pang of attraction Remus felt towards him was very much reciprocated?

“I am ever so sorry about this whole situation,” Sirius says, in that posh way of speaking Remus finds so annoying in other nobles, but for some reason finds endearing in Sirius. “I at least managed to calm him down to the extent where he won’t try to strangle Remus the moment he sees him,” Sirius continues. “He is still very much affronted, but I am quite sure it is nothing I cannot handle.”

James lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness for that.”

“Jamie,” Sirius asks. “Might I have a moment of privacy with your friend?”

“Absolutely not.” James crosses his arms over his chest. “As I recall, this whole mess started with you ‘having a moment of privacy’ with Remus!”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “See for yourself then.” He turns to Remus and takes his hand. “Remus, you have my sincerest apologies for the way my father unjustifiably mistreated you, and I regret very much how we were rudely interrupted.”

“Yeah,” Remus says, and he scrapes his throat. He hates how rough his voice sounds, and wishes he could use fancy words to puzzle together nice sentences in a soft, melodious voice, like Sirius. “I’m sorry too. Hope I didn’t put you in too much trouble with your da?”

Sirius shrugs. “Like I said, I can handle it. And in any case, it was worth it. I have no regrets.”

Remus smiles. “Me neither. It felt... right.”

“Right indeed,” Sirius smiles back. “You know, Remus, my days are always filled with stiff protocols and strict rules, but tonight, with you, I felt more alive than I’ve ever felt before.”

Remus opens his mouth to reply, but a loud groan makes them turn their heads to James, who is pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Good lord. I had thought this was just an ill-advised hook-up, that blew up in your faces, and now we deal with the aftermath, do some damage control and be done with it. But no! You two have to actually be in bloody love with each other!”

He points at Sirius. “All these wealthy members of the high society competing for your attention, and you’ve never had even the tiniest bit of interest in any of them, but now you go and fall in love at bloody first sight with a town’s boy who works in the local inn! It is just so typically you to go for the whole ‘impossible lovers from different worlds’ trope. God, Sirius, you’re so dramatic!” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Now what do we do? We’re going to have to arrange secret meetings in secluded gardens, and those kind of things. After tonight, Lord and Lady Black will surely be suspicious about everything. You mother will most likely send her manservant Kreacher to spy on you, which means we’ll have to ask Regulus to deal with that, and God knows Regulus’ help always comes at a prize. Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if your parents will now try and arrange a proper marriage for you as fast as possible! Now how are we going to get you out of that? And speaking of marriage, can you two even ever get married? Will your family acknowledge it? And if they don’t, how do we find a pastor willing to marry you if Lord and Lady Black disapprove of it?”

“James, Jamie,” Sirius says, holding up his hands. “Remus and I have known each other for a couple of hours. There’s no need to already start panicking about when we’ll get married!”

Remus arches an eyebrow. “When we’ll get married?”

Sirius smirks. “I consider myself an optimist.”

“Even with all the troubles we’ll face? Society’s judgement, your family’s anger?”

“I’m ready to face all of that. Besides, it does kind of make it more romantic, doesn’t it? Two lovers, crossing social borders, defying society’s expectations, and overcoming all obstacles, to fight for their love!”

“Oh God,” Remus rolls his eyes. “James was right. You are dramatic.”

“I prefer the term passionate,” Sirius grins. “But all joking, and all premature panicking-” he eyes James “-aside, I do genuinely feel something for you that I haven’t felt for anyone. We’ve only just met, but I feel this instant... attraction? Connection?. Now I don’t know if it’s going to end with us running off for a secret marriage on the countryside with James as our only witness, but I do know that I’d very much regret it if tonight will be the end of it.”

Remus can feel a bright smile spread over his face. “Me too.” He reaches out and cups Sirius’ face in his hands. “I feel it too, and I don’t want to walk away from this either.”

The next moment they’re kissing. It’s perfect. Perfect until they hear a loud shriek.

Lady Black’s shriek is immediately followed Lord Black thundering “What the-?! AGAIN?! Why, you filthy little...!”

Remus reluctantly pulls away, and Sirius chuckles softly as he rests their foreheads together. “Well, here we go.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #historic #first sight

314 notes · View notes

saintlike78 · 4 years ago

Text

Little one [L.M.]

A/N: This is an au where both Voldy (mr. no-nose) and Narcissa don’t exist. Lucius is just mean, but not evil, yk

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x fem! reader

Words: 3.4k

Summary: You start your internship at the ministry, working for the infamous Lucius Malfoy. You’re scared after only having heard horrible things about the man, but will your opinion change. (Take a lucky guess)

Warnings: NSFW! 16+, vaginal sex, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, mention of cum, soft dom! Lucius, slight implication of older man/younger woman, slight sir kink, intern reader. As always lmk if I missed anything.

Fixing and smoothing out your skirt, you took one last look in the mirror before releasing a long nervous sigh and headed out the door. Your internship at the ministry was starting today and you could feel the bubbles of anxiety in your stomach churning, your hands slightly clammy at the thought of who you were interning with - none other than the infamous Lucius Malfoy.

You had almost cried when you received the owl carrying the letter to inform you who you’d be interning with, having only heard horrible things about the man.

You’d heard that he was rude, mean, and had absolutely no patience, especially not with interns such as yourself, his last three interns having quit within the first week of working for him.

——

Your body was trembling slightly, your heart beating out of your chest as you stepped off the elevator and into the long hallway.

The doors were tall and dark, emphasizing that behind them sat important wizards, more important than you would ever be.

You walked past three doors before you were met with one with bold gold lettering spelling out ‘Lucius Malfoy’.

You took a deep breath, lifting your hand slowly before knocking on the door loud enough for it to be heard on the other side.

“Enter,” a dark voice announced from the opposite side of the door.

You took another breath before opening the large door with shaky hands; you almost toppled over from the weight of the door, but you managed to enter the office without embarrassing yourself.

The office was bigger than you could’ve ever imagined, the interior decorated with a black, green, and silver color scheme - the owner had obviously been a Slytherin during their time at Hogwarts.

Your eyes looked all around the room taking in all of the expensive detail such as a black marble fireplace and a reading area the size of a small library, lastly, your attention fell on the grand black wooden desk placed in front of the large window. Your breath hitched when your eyes finally landed on the man seated behind the desk; his long blond hair falling to rest upon his black coat, his figure proud and tall even in his seated form. His icy eyes burned into you, looking you over and raising an eyebrow.

“Are you done looking around, girl?” his unimpressed tone pulled you out of your trance, your heart pounding once more.

“Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy,” you apologized, your fingers fiddling behind your back to keep away the anxiety.

“Hmm, and who might you be?” Even though he was the one asking the question, his slow bored tone made him seem less interested than if he’d kept quiet.

“My name is y/n… I’m an intern… I’m supposed to be taught by you, I got an owl explaining everything… maybe there’s been a mis-“ your rambling was cut off by a raise of Lucius’ hand, your mouth instantly clamping shut.

“I am well aware of the… internship program,” he said with disgust, “well get over here and make yourself useful.”

With a few quick steps, you were standing in front of his desk, looking at him and waiting for instructions.

“What you would you have me do, sir?”

He pointed at the chair beside you, then at a stack of paper on your side of the desk, “I’ll only be explaining how to do this once… I will not be disturbed when I am working, you will keep your mouth shut and do your work, and then maybe you’ll be able to get through the month.”

You nodded quickly and listened to him explain how to do your work; he explained slow and simple as if you were a child, his voice still unimpressed.

“Now, get on with it,” he dismissed you, your head quickly dipping to focus on the paperwork in front of you as he went back to his own work, silence soon filling the large office.

——

You were afraid to make even the tiniest of sounds, but you found that the silence was a comfortable one - Lucius wasn’t as scary in silence.

The silence was interrupted by a loud knock on the door, your head shooting up to look at the door, but Lucius’ focus was still on his work.

“What?” he grumbled, loud enough for the person on the other side to hear.

The door opened slowly, a young nervous-looking man, holding a cup, entered the office.

“Mr. Malfoy, s-sir, I’ve got your c-coffee,” he stuttered, his hands trembling as he reached the desk, giving you a glance and a sympathetic smile, before placing down the coffee.

Lucius didn’t say a word, only stopping his writing to grab the cup and bringing it to his lips as he took a small sip. You found yourself oddly mesmerized as you looked at him; you couldn’t deny that he was awfully attractive, but you quickly shook your head burying that thought deep down.

His naturally displeased face turned into one of disgust, his lips turned down in a scowl.

“Are you that incompetent that you cannot remember a simple order? Once again it is wrong,” his tone was laced with distaste, his right hand grabbing his cane before loudly banging it against the floor causing both you and the young assistant to jump.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t bother coming into work tomorrow or ever again,” he said calmly, but still with his naturally disgusted tone.

With another bang to the floor, he raised his voice, almost to a yell, “now… get out!”

The young man bowed, almost comically, before practically running out of the office, shutting the door behind him.

Lucius let out a displeased ‘humph’ before letting his focus go back to the work in front of him, his finger tapping gently on the wooden desk.

Your eyes were still trained on his face, not sure what to think, but knowing to not cross him.

“I’d advise you to get back to work and quit your staring, girl… unless you want to also not come back tomorrow,” Lucius said without even looking up at you.

You were slightly embarrassed to have been caught staring, but quickly went back to your work as to not agitate him further, mumbling an almost silent, “I’m sorry, sir.”

As your focus went back to your work, you missed the small smirk that played at Lucius’ lips.

——

A week had passed and already you felt much more comfortable in the presence of the tall intimidating man, the silence that filled the office every day comforting to you as you did your work.

Throughout the week you had dared to ask him for help a couple of times; the first time he had helped you with a displeased frown, but each time he helped he seemed less hostile and more willing. One of the times there had been a problem you were too inexperienced to fix by yourself and Lucius had made you move your chair to the opposite side of his desk to sit beside him, to look over you and help. You were surprised that when you went to move your chair back he stopped you with a raised hand, “you might need more help with this problem and I do not want to listen to the scraping of the chair again.”

You were even more surprised when you had moved the chair back, only to find it beside his chair the next morning, a small space cleared out for you on his desk, giving you enough room to work beside him.

——

More days passed and you found yourself in quiet conversation with the man, small fleeting smiles shared, much to your surprise and pleasure.

He was much more pleasant the more you conversed, the more time you spent with him in that office.

One day, you left the office with him to deliver some of your paperwork and grab some more for you, you having worked faster than anticipated and finished the prescribed paperwork before your deadline.

Stepping off of the full elevator you had to maneuver yourself between numerous amount of people, the ministry bustling with hard-working wizards.

Lucius had placed a large hand, the one not holding his cane, on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. You looked up at him in surprise, but his gaze was set forward, his icy composure never leaving him outside of the office, yet you felt the warmth from his hand and warmth on your cheeks from the blush.

You made your way through the ministry, successfully dropping off and gathering new paperwork.

On your way back to the office you ran into a pair of Lucius’ more respectable colleagues - respectable in the sense that it was the colleagues he respected enough to converse with.

You stood silently beside Lucius as he spoke with the two men about Merlin knows what, that was until one of the men acknowledged you.

“So is this a new one?”

Your head snapped up, confusion written on your face, having no idea what he meant. Lucius placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a subtle squeeze only noticeable to you.

“Yes, but this one has at least lasted longer than a week,- not as incompetent as the last ones,” he grumbled and you understood that they were talking about the previous interns, feeling a little dumb for the quick feeling of jealousy that had passed through you.

You nodded slowly and smiled at the men before yourself and Lucius trudged the rest of the way back to his office.

You entered the office with Lucius close behind you, closing the door softly.

You made your way over to his desk to set down the paper, placing them gently down with your back to Lucius, not hearing as his steps came closer to you.

“What was that back there?” Lucius questioned, his tone as gentle as it could be.

You were about to answer, but your breath caught in your throat when you turned around and you were staring directly into the chest of Lucius Malfoy, your neck craning to look at his face.

“I-I… what do you mean?” You stuttered, trying to compose yourself and not focus on the closeness of his being.

“Don’t play dumb now, little one,” he smirked, “I know jealousy when I see it.”

He pressed you against his desk, cupping your cheek with one hand before leaning down to be level with your face.

“Why were you jealous, my girl?” he whispered, the smirk still evident on his much too smug face.

You shivered at the nickname, “I-I wasn’t,” your face was red, your voice was low almost a whisper.

“Hmm, don’t lie to me,” Lucius spoke, his tone reminding you of his superiority as he rested his cane against the desk and used his now free hand to squeeze your hip.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you broke your eye contact, feeling slightly embarrassed, cheeks burning under his intense gaze.

“Look at me, little one, no need to feel embarrassed,” he stroked your cheek softly.

You hesitated a moment before meeting his gaze once more, his eyes soft as he looked down upon you.

You swallowed down your nerves, your mind not fully being able to comprehend that this was happening, but you tried to ground yourself slightly by reaching your hands up to rest upon his shoulders.

“Lucius, please,” you whimpered, earning yourself another smug smirk from the man in front of you, but your whine was the only confirmation he needed before he leaned down to connect your lips.

The kiss was anything but slow, your mouths working hungrily against one another as your bodies melded together. Your arms were holding him close around his neck, your hands grabbing onto the black fabric of his jacket. His hands were placed firmly on your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh; he used the grip on you to lift you onto the desk, your legs instantly spreading for him to get in between.

Your whine broke the kiss, your hips bucking involuntarily into his for friction. He chuckled, both of you breathless, his grip on your hip tightening to keep you in place.

“So desperate, little one,” he taunted, lightly grinding his hips into yours, a gasping moan ripped from your throat.

He picked at the hem of your skirt, “you’ve been driving me mad with all these small skirts of yours,” he said as he slowly started hiking your skirt up enough for your soaked panties to be visible for him.

“Is this okay,” he asked, pecking your lips a couple of times, waiting for your consent to continue with what he had planned.

“Yes, more than okay, Lucius,” you nodded quickly, leaning in to reconnect your lips in another heated kiss.

Your hands ran through his hair, feeling the silky blond strands between your fingers as he snuck his tongue into your mouth to work against yours.

Lucius broke the kiss, too soon in your opinion, which you made clear with a whine.

“Patience, my sweet girl,” he said with a grin; you tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear as you stared into his eyes, waiting for him to continue.

Slowly he got down on his knees before you, hiking your skirt up with a lift of your hips, your heart was beating fast with anticipation.

He placed a thumb right on the center of your panties before releasing a pleased hum, “look at that, all wet for me.”

You let out a small whimper, “Lucius, please.”

“What do you want? Use your words, little one,” he smirked.

Your cheeks burned, ��please, want you to… taste me.”

His smile was wide as he dragged your panties down your legs, “good girl, such good manners,” he praised.

Lucius wasted no time, leaning in to place a kiss on your aching clit, pulling the nub between his teeth gently sucking before using his tongue to put pressure on it.

Your breath caught in your throat at the actions and multiple moans could be heard throughout the large office, your hands gripping his hair while also keeping him in place. His arms reached under your thighs, holding you to his face, his hands squeezing at the smooth flesh.

“Oh, my gods, Lucius,” you moaned, head tipping back as his tongue went in circles around your clit occasionally stopping to put pressure on it or to softly kiss the nub.

Shutters ran up your spine as you grew closer to the familiar feeling of an orgasm, your eyes fluttering slightly at the effort of keeping them open. Your right hand had moved from his hair to grab onto the top of his hand on your thigh; his hand loosened its grip on you, letting you place your hand under his, holding onto it for comfort.

“Lucius, I’m gonna cum,” you announced through moans, but it only made Lucius pull away from your drenched, pulsing cunt, prompting a disapproving whine to leave your mouth.

“Remember to use your manners, little one, that’s not how we ask for the things we want,” he scolded lightly, leaning into kitten lick at your clit to keep you right on edge.

“I’m sorry… please, may I cum, sir?”

Lucius smirked and hummed in content, “go ahead love,” he gave his approval before he dove back in, suckling at your clit till you were shaking in pleasure.

The pressure snapped, a loud moan torn from your throat as you came all over Lucius’ tongue, which he used to lick up everything you produced for him. Your hand gripped his tighter as he worked you through your orgasm, your vision blurred and your cunt pulsing around the air.

He gave one last kiss to your clit, making you jolt before he unhooked his arms from under your thighs and stood up to tower over you once more. He used his thumb to wipe away the wetness on his chin before guiding it to your mouth prompting it to open for him, suckling your release off his finger.

“Are you ready to take my cock in that sweet little cunt of yours, my sweet?” he asked to which you nodded furiously, with his thumb still in your mouth.

“Ah ah, words, darling,” he said with a stern look, “tell me what you want.”

He removed his thumb from your mouth to let you answer him, “fuck me, please.”

He chuckled at your bluntness but chose to let it slide as he reached down to free his painfully hard cock from his trousers.

With it freed, he lifted you with his hands hooked under your arms; you immediately wrapped your legs around his hips and clung to him as he moved you over to a wall of the office. He placed you against it, wrapping an arm behind your back holding you to him, his other hand placed behind your head.

He maneuvered your body down, his cock sliding into you with ease, both of you releasing simultaneous breaths of satisfaction.

He waited a moment for you to permit him to move, but your impatient nature shone through when you started moving your hips, trying to bounce the best you could in the position you were in. Lucius chuckled but understood and started moving, bucking into you, taking over for you.

You moaned, the overstimulation running through you at every thrust of his hips to yours. The feeling of his cock sliding into you slowly to savor the moment, his arm keeping you close to him and his hand holding onto the back of your head to keep you from banging against the wall, it was all heaven.

“You’re taking me so well, little one,” Lucius grunted, his thrusts picking up speed, to bring you both closer to your release.

Your fingers gripped onto his jacket tightly as your whimpers and moans picked up the frequency, “L-Lucius.”

You fell forward, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you felt yourself grow closer after each thrust of his hips, his hand followed your head, holding onto you tightly.

The tip of his cock deliciously prodded at your g-spot, his pubic bone dragging over your clit creating mind-numbing friction and you clenched around him.

He understood and picked up his speed, leading you right to the edge.

“Lucius, please may I cum?” You pleaded between moans, wishing desperately to be tipped over the edge he had left you on.

“Go on, cum for me, my sweet girl.”

With his permission you were over the edge in seconds, your body shaking and twitching in his strong grasp; your cunt pulsed around him as he thrust you through your release, but the sounds of your moans and the feeling of your warm walls milking him prompted his release.

He gave a couple of hard thrusts before he stilled and released a long deep moan, filling you with his warm seed. You moaned at the feeling, unburying your head to be face to face with him once more, leaning in to connect your lips in a slow kiss as he worked you both through your orgasms.

After he was done filling you up, he walked you over to the desk again, pulling out and setting you down slowly on shaky legs, yet he kept his arms around you to make sure you didn’t collapse. He grabbed the cane resting against the desk to collect his wand and clean you and himself up before he tucked himself away and bent down to grab your panties that were thrown on the floor.

He helped you put them on, tapping each of your feet to get them through and up your legs; Lucius kissed your thigh before rising to his full height again to smile softly at you.

“I still have work to do,” he stated, but he regret his tone after seeing your face drop ever so slightly in your bleary headspace.

“Oh, of course… do you want me to leave?” you avoided his eyes as you asked the question, afraid that he would say yes.

Lucius let out a light chuckle and shook his head, “of course not, you’ll stay here, darling girl.”

He hooked his hands under your arms once more, lifting you up, making you wrap your limbs around him once again. He walked around the desk towards his chair, sitting down on it with you, he turned you sideways on his lap so you could watch him work if you wanted to, but also giving you the freedom to just rest on him.

You watched his face, memorizing his features, thinking back to how nervous he made you, how scary he seems to everyone else and how lucky you were to have been granted access to a whole other side of him, only for you.

Tags: @teenwolfbitches28, @emma67, @sprucewoodlover, @i-love-scott-mccall, @pottahishotasf, @mjoubertt-1, @methblinds, @maraudersbijj, @samaraaaaa,

#lucius malfoy x you #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy fluff #lucius malfoy x y/n

2K notes · View notes