#no more animal crossing for roman

[lockettesstage]

https://www.tumblr.com/pr3ttyf4wn/766808551685554176/i-love-pietro-omg-omg

NO WAY. I DID TOO.

+ playing animal crossing rn actually

NO WAYYYYY.

i fear my nintendo lite is dead and i cant find the charger </3

[bugsbunnydragqueen]

Sweetsheep (Dom x Zucker) propaganda

please. please they are so important to me

[schadenfreudich]

Roman is longing for the sea

[dionysianivy]

January Magic Correspondences

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January is a month of new beginnings, a time to set intentions and welcome the fresh energy of the new year. It's a time of renewal, reflection, and planning for the journey ahead. This month is about honoring the transition from the old year to the new, letting go of what no longer serves us, and focusing on the goals and desires you want to manifest in the coming months. January is also the month dedicated to Janus, the Roman god of transitions, beginnings, and endings. He stands at the threshold, looking both to the past and the future, offering guidance as we move through change and growth. As the keeper of doors and gates, Janus helps us cross into new phases of life, making this the perfect time to reflect on what we want to leave behind and what we want to invite in. I think it's a great time to take advantage of the energy of the month by setting clear intentions, practicing gratitude, and creating space for both rest and action as we prepare for the journey ahead.

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Celebrations:

New Year’s Day – January 1

Planets:

Saturn, Uranus, Neptune

Flowers:

Crocus, Snowdrops, Angelica

Herbs/Plants:

Marjoram, Thyme, Pine Cones, Holly, Thistle, Sage, Juniper

Tarot Cards:

The Fool, The World, The Hermit

Fruits:

Apples, Pomegranates, Oranges

Vegetables:

Turnips, Potatoes, Onions

Deities:

Janus, Freyja, Cailleach, Hecate, Inanna, Hera, Pax, Venus, Saturn, Hestia, the Camenae, Sarasvati, Chang’o

Colors:

White, Blue, Black, Gray, Silver, Purple

Runes:

Berkana, Eihwaz, Isa, Perthro, Sowilo, Uruz

Crystals:

Garnet, Onyx, Rose Quartz, Amethyst, Blue Lace Agate, Snow Obsidian, Moonstone, Labradorite

Animals:

Bear, Fox, Snow Owl, Wolf, Snow Goose, Blue Jay, Coyote, Pheasants, Ox

Trees:

Birch, Rowan, Pine, Cedar

Symbols:

Snowflakes, Owls, Snow, Ice, Wolf, Apples, Stars, Evergreen Wreaths, Keys

Magical Powers:

New beginnings, transitions, connection to the higher self, removing negativity, blocking negative energy, manifestation, protection, purification, rebirth of the light, shadow work, setting new goals, introspection, correcting mistakes, reflection, spiritual growth

ACTIVITIES TO DO

❄ now that the new year has started, set goals and dreams you want to accomplish this year

❄ collect snow to make snow water

❄ do yoga and meditation

❄ start learning more about different topics, especially related to witchcraft

❄ connect with nature

❄ collect pine cones and place them on your altar

❄ make puzzles

❄ start new projects

❄ perform spells for new beginnings

❄ create vision boards for what you want to attract this year

❄ connect with winter deities

❄ read the books you never finished

❄ rest and stay cozy by the fireplace

❄ drink lots of tea, cocoa, or mulled wine

❄ bake biscuits or gingerbread

❄ go ice skating

❄ spend time in the snow

❄ release what no longer serves you

❄ celebrate Handel Monday

❄ start a journal

❄ prepare for Imbolc or Candlemas

❄ burn bay leaves to make your wishes come true

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gifs from pinterest

tipjar☃️

[absurdthirst]

The Empress and the Gladiator {Gladiator!Pero x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Warnings: Fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), loss of virginity, star crossed lovers, mentions of war/death, vaginal sex, mentions of sex workers, rough sex, blood/gore, death, animal cruelty, gladiatorial games, pregnancy

Comments: Destined to become Empress of Rome, your heart has always been Pero Tovar's. When your father decides to host an gladiatorial tournament with your hand in marriage as the prize, Pero becomes the gladiator you are rooting for in the colessum.

A/N: With Gladiator 2 coming out this year, thots turned to Rome. While reader is Empress, no physicality has been described other than 'Roman'.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Pay attention.” Your tutor, Maximus, tuts as you stare out of the doorway to the courtyard. Your scrolls are messy on your table and the breeze through your hair makes you long to be outside and not studying the gods. You hear the clashing of swords and watch as Pero Tovar fights his mentor, a man named Julius, while his mother tends to your needs. His mother is your matron, taking care of your needs like your own mother would if she were still alive. After her untimely death when you were born, your father had brought in a matron while he searched for another wife. He’s had two more since your mother’s death but he claims to be cursed as both women also lost their lives during birth…and their babies. The sole child of the Emperor of Rome, you are in line to be Empress. Something that has never happened. The man you marry shall be by your side and your father had petitioned the senate to allow you to rule, for him to mold you into the perfect leader for the next generation. The senate had agreed and now, you spend your days learning about Seneca and Cicero instead of painting or strolling the gardens. You have been taught to read, you know the laws of the empire, and you have been trained in all manner of war. You are preparing to become Empress of Rome. You just need a husband. Turning your eyes away from Pero, you look back at your scrolls and continue your lesson. Little do you know that Pero is also watching you. His mother, bless her soul, was widowed by his father who fought for the empire. He lost his life in battle and the Emperor let his mother stay in the palace with her son to tend to his newborn daughter. Pero knows he will be sent to train with the army soon. He will fight as his father once did. However, he will be leaving his heart in the palace with you.

****

You walk through the gardens after your lesson, Pero long gone from the courtyard, and you are caressing a flower when you hear your name. “Why are you here alone?” Pero asks, his voice gruff and demanding, “you should not be outside without an escort.”

You huff and roll your eyes, aware of and annoyed by the fact that if you were a man no one would even question you walking alone. “I am in my own courtyard.” You turn to look at the older Spanish boy. Even if you have grown up together, he has filled out with muscle and grown taller over the past few years. “I am the future Empress and I can go and do whatever I wish.” You straighten your spine even though you know your father would not approve of being alone. Too many of his enemies would seek to use you for their own gain. You frown and look around, all the servants out of sight and no one nearby to hear you. “Why are you here, Pero?”

Pero stares at you for a moment, the moonlight reflecting on your face, and he can't help but be reminded of how beautiful you are. When your face is carved from marble and the coins are gold with your profile, he will be one of many to admire your beauty. Your moxie makes him bite his lip to smother a smile and he waits until your eyes fix on him. "I am taking a stroll. Getting some fresh air and admiring the grounds before I have to leave." He sighs, looking down at the grass beneath his feet.

“That’s right, you are leaving……” you frown at the reminder that tomorrow morning he will be leaving for the war that is being fought near Constantinople. You have spent all of your formative years around the man who you have come to view as more than a mere childhood friend. You’ve never seen him as a brother and now your heart quickens at his nearness. “Tonight is your last night in Rome,” you venture softly. “You should make the most of it. Most men would be visiting the taverns, or the whorehouses that I am supposed to pretend don’t exist.” His head shoots up, eyes wide and you smirk. “Or do you prefer the company of the men in the bathhouses?”

Pero raises his eyebrows and he offers you a wry smile, “don’t you know it all, emperatriz?” He chuckles and you snort, “I even know about Hispania.” Pero is impressed by your knowledge of the reality outside of the marble walls you wander in. It will serve you well. “To answer your question, I wish to spend my last night here since I will not be able to return. My barracks will be my new home and I will miss this palace…and you.” He confesses, his dark eyes meeting yours, “I have no need for wine or for women when what I truly want is right in front of me.”

Pero is handsome, his dark eyes seemingly even darker with the same emotion that makes your core throb and turn slick with need. You aren’t unaware of what happens between men and women, even if you are untouched. Untouched beyond your own fingers between your thighs when you lay in the dark, listening to the rustle of the wind against the curtains of your bed. “Pero….” You step closer to him, biting your lip as you inhale deeply, aware your father would have you beaten and Pero executed, but you don’t care. He could die, never to return, and you don’t want to live the rest of your life without knowing what it is like to be touched by him. “Tonight, the future empress will entertain you.” You decide, telling him boldly. “In ten minutes, climb to my balcony.”

Pero’s cock twitches under his tunic and he bows his head, “I will be in your service tonight, empress.” He murmurs, knowing he could be hung for this but it’s worth it. You are worth it. No longer the little girl who used to annoy him when he wanted to play gladiator with his friends, he wants the beautiful woman you’ve become. The oils you bathe in hit his nose and he swallows, taking a step back from you. He looks around to make sure no one saw him speaking to you alone and he strides off, knowing that you will be able to make it back to your quarters alone.

The slap of your sandals accompanies the rustle of your skirts as you hurry along the columned corridor to your quarters. Servants rush to bow, but you pay them no mind as your excitement has you eager to lock yourself into your room. Bursting through the door startles your servant, Corda. “My gods!” She huffs and you shake your head. “Fetch me a tray and wine, then you are dismissed.” You instruct her, making her jaw drop. “But-“ “No buts, Corda!” You hiss, taking a breath and smiling at her to not make her suspicious. “I know you wish to spend one last night with Gavros.” You hum, smirking slightly at her guilty expression. “Fetch my food and drink and then go enjoy yourself.” Her lover is also in the group that Pero will be accompanying to the war.

She bows her head and turns, making her way out of your quarters to fetch your tray and wine. She returns a few minutes later and sets the tray down. “Good night, my lady.” She murmurs, turning and shutting the doors behind her. The gauzy drapes are flowing onto the balcony as Pero climbs the trellis to swing his leg onto the balcony. He grunts as he stumbles but recovers to stand outside of your room. “emperatriz.” He whispers, hoping no one is in your quarters.

“Pero?” You look through the sheer fabric to see him hovering outside and push them aside to usher him in. “Come in.” You command, hoping no one saw him climb up. You don’t wish for the night to be disrupted and you know that if Corda is off gallivanting, no one should come to disturb you. Everyone is celebrating the troops leaving and you are happy that your father is busy as well. He steps inside your room and the curtain falls into place, giving you the illusion of blocking out the world. “You came.”

Pero offers you a soft smile, his hands suddenly damp. “Of course, hermosa. How could I not?” He asks you, “I am leaving tomorrow and if I don’t return, I want you to know…I want you to know that I would kneel before you as my Empress, as your loyal soldier, as your friend, and if you’ll have me, as your lover.” He murmurs, not touching you. You are pure and he could be killed for even being in your quarters.

Your body trembles at his confession, knowing that you feel the same way. He can be coarse and cross at times, but you love him. Reaching up to your shoulder, you unhook the gold leaf brooch that keeps your dress on your body. Letting it fall to the floor so you stand in front of him, completely naked. “Take off your tunic, Pero.” You command, lifting your chin. “I wish to inspect my soldier.”

His eyes widen at the beauty before him. Your body bare and his mouth is dry, his cock hardening as he takes in a sight that most mortals will never bear witness to. He kicks off his sandals and reaches for the hem of his tunic, pulling it over his head to display his naked body to your hungry eyes. He stands straight, arms by his side as he awaits your inspection.

You inhale sharply, taking in the hard planes and chiseled lines of his body. The rigorous training has taken the boy's soft body and turned it into the hard sculpture of a soldier, your warrior. He has given you the power and it emboldens you to step forward, reaching out and stroking the smooth muscle of his chest. Biting your lip when you feel it move under your hand and let it drop down to brush against the thick length that juts out proudly from his groin.

Pero groans under his breath, his eyes closing as he lets you touch him how you please. He stands still, not lifting his hands to touch you. You are in charge tonight, his soon to be Empress. You will have what you want because tomorrow, he will leave and this night will be a memory he cannot share with anyone.

“Beautiful.” You murmur quietly, looking into his eyes. “This is for me.” You don’t ask, because you know that it is. Your fingers wrap around his cock and you marvel at how hard and soft he feels in your hand. “How long have you thought of me?” You ask. “Do you think of me when you visit the whorehouses? When you sink into a woman?”

"Yes." He doesn't bother lying. After tonight, you will be betrothed to another and he will likely be killed in battle. He has tonight so he will give you everything, all he has to offer. "Every time." He confesses, knowing that he paid those women to be faceless, imagining you in their place. You jerk him and he groans, letting you touch him as you please and he prays to the gods that he holds off long enough to give you pleasure.

You moan softly, loving how he responds to your touch. His confession of thinking of you while fucking making your cunt drip. “When I slide my fingers into my cunt, I think of you.” You confess. “How you would feel, how you would taste.” You squeeze him slightly as he groans your name. “How you would touch me. You know of such things, you have touched women before. Can you make my body shake in pleasure?”

He nods, throat tightening with arousal as you squeeze him again. "I can make my Empress shake in pleasure until she can take no more." He assures you, "I have learned well from the brothels. I want to show you, emperatriz."

“I am supposed to be pure, to stay pure, until I take a husband.” You remind him. “But I will not be pure.” You let go of his cock and step back. “Because I will have given my purity to my love. The one who holds my heart.” You reveal softly.

His heart pounds in his chest and he reaches for you, grabbing your waist, and he leans in to press his lips to yours. He doesn’t want to hold back knowing he could die and never know your touch. He tilts your head to kiss you, sliding his tongue into your mouth, and he backs you towards your bed.

Now that his hands are on you, he is in complete control. You moan, reaching up and twisting your finger into the short hair at the base of his skull. You can’t do much with it, but you tug gently, wishing it was longer. “Pero…” you whimper when he breaks away from his lips to kiss down your throat. “Pero, please, make me yours for tonight.”

He grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you up to carry you onto the bed. He lays you down, the silk sheets beneath you and he hovers above you, taking you in. You’re gorgeous. Aphrodite incarnate. He leans down to kiss along your throat, his hand caressing your thigh as he settles between your legs.

You should feel exposed, vulnerable, but you feel nothing but the heat of his gaze. Again, your hands slide along his skin and you map the muscles. Knowing that tonight will be a memory that you will cherish forever, keeping it locked away in your heart. “You are so….sexy.”

Pero slides his hand along your thigh up to your breast and he tilts his head so he can dip down and take your nipple into his mouth. Your words make his cock twitch and his stomach clench, knowing you find him attractive. He loves it. He loves you. Your back arches into his mouth and he bites down on your nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Pero!” Your eyes close and your back arches up from the bed to his mouth. Every pull of his mouth shoots straight to your cunt and makes it clenches. “Oh gods.” Your leg lifts and you rub the back of your foot against his leg, enjoying the roughness of his hair.

He switches to your other breast, loving the way you cry out his name. “Shush, my love. The guards will hear you.” He warns you, pulling back from your breast and he presses kisses along your stomach, settling between your thighs. Your cunt, covered by curls, has him groaning your name. You smell like the oils you use and something tangy that has him moaning as he wastes no time surging forward to slide his tongue through your folds.

Your gasp is loud, catching your breath and making your breast shake. Your hands grip the sheets and you can’t believe that he is going this. You’ve heard about the pleasure to be had, but you’ve never thought that it would happen for you.

He flicks his tongue over your clit just as the whores had taught him. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his hands caressing your thighs and he groans at the tangy taste of your arousal. You taste like honey. He pushes your thighs further apart and slides his tongue down to push it inside of you.

“Oh fuck.” You moan, clenching your jaw before you have to lift your head and look down at him between your thighs. You had expected him to just take you, but he was surprisingly good at giving pleasure. “You should just stay and spend all day doing this to me.” You moan out the praise as your hips jerk up to meet his eager tongue.

Pero lifts his head from your cunt, his chin glistening as he smirks, “I would spend every day worshiping you if it were possible, mi emperatriz.” He assures you, sliding his tongue through your folds again and he sucks on your clit. His hand slides along your thigh until he’s pushing two fingers slowly inside of you.

His fingers are thick, so much thicker than your own. Making you whimper out his name again, drowning in the pleasure that he pulls from you as he presses them deep. “Yes.” You sigh. “I love you, Pero.”

He loves hearing you say that. His fingers stretch you out for his cock. He pumps them a little faster and leans in to take your clit into his mouth, sucking. He wants you to fall apart for him, to tell him you love him enough times to last him a lifetime because that’s what he will need.

You know that it’s wrong for you to give yourself to Pero. You should have saved it for the man who would become your husband, the man who would help you rule Rome after your father dies. You don’t care, your heart belongs to Pero and you want to give him a part of yourself you can never have back. You chant the words of love over and over as he works you up, until your entire body bucks with broken cry. Your cunt bearing down on his fingers and soaking them with your pleasure.

He loves the way you soak his fingers. Working you through it, he groans into your wet flesh. His cock is hard against the sleeping mat beneath you, and he is aching to be inside of you. He groans your name and kisses back up your body until his lips find yours and he slides his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

The taste of your cunt on his lips has you moaning, enjoying the flavors mixed tongue and you want to taste him too. “Pero-“ you whimper, making him pull away to look at you as if he wonders if you have changed your mind. “Can I do that to you? Suck your cock?” You’ve heard the servants talk about it, even watched as it happened in the shadows, but you’ve never done it.

Pero's cock twitches at the thought but he can't imagine defiling you like that. Just to touch you like this is enough for him to be killed and his soul to be damned by Pluto. "I am yours for whatever you wish, mi amor, but I must warn you that you cannot do too much otherwise this will be over far too soon." He has wanted you for so long, watched you from afar, and the thought of you touching him in that way already has his stomach clenching.

You push him onto his back as you decide to take his pleasure into your hands. “You will tell me before you find your release.” You say it like it is a forgone conclusion and lean forward to press your lips to his. Then breaking away to kiss down his chest, eager to see how he reacts to your mouth on him. If you only have tonight, you want to gorge yourself on him.

His breath catches in his chest and he watches you make your way to his cock, wrapping your fingers around it and he loves the lust in your eyes. He loves how much you want him. "Fuck." He hisses when you pump his length, the foreskin pulled down to reveal the leaking head.

You preen under his rough praise, feeling the way he twitches and pulses in your hand and against your tongue. It’s thrilling to learn that he enjoys this and you open your mouth wider to take more of his length down your throat.

You moan around him and he twitches in your mouth, loving how you feel surrounding him. You feel incredible. “Fuck, hermosa.” He grunts as you explore his cock with your mouth and tongue.

Giggling slightly, you pull off of him and decide to lick him. Making him groan again. “You must love this, all the noise you are making.” You know that he can be as loud as he wants, no one is in this wing of your home beside you. You tease him and then lick him again. “Tell me what you have imagined while a whore’s mouth is on your cock.”

Pero can’t believe how naughty you are for an innocent woman. “I imagined - imagined this. You. Your mouth wrapped around my cock. My cock inside of you. You. I wanted you while I was giving them my cock, my coin.” He confesses breathlessly as you jerk his cock.

You hum, feeling slightly jealous of them, even if you cannot have a claim in this man. He is free to do whatever he wants, with whomever. Now, you just enjoy the fact that he wants to be yours. “You have me, Spaniard.” You promise, ducking your head down to take him back into your mouth.

He loves hearing you claim he has you when both of you know you only have tonight. He groans when you take him deeper and his stomach clenches. “Hermosa. You can’t - I don’t want this to end too soon.” He chokes, not wanting to finish without making you clench down on his cock.

Reluctantly, you let go of him and kiss back up his body. “You will stay the night, yes? We can do that again after?” You know men can find pleasure more than once and you hope that he is also like those fools who like to brag about being able to rut all night.

He nods, "I will stay there night then I will go before sunrise. We cannot risk getting caught." He promises and pulls you up so he can kiss you, rolling you onto your back. "Are you certain?" He asks softly, nudging his nose with yours after he pulls back from the kiss, his cock pressing against your thigh.

“I have never been more certain of anything else.” You promise. “Not the gods or the Senate could make me change my mind.” Your hand caresses his cheek, the thin strip of a beard of his face slightly patchy with youth. “I love you, Pero. Tonight, make me a woman.”

He doesn't deny you. He can't deny you even if he tried. He reaches between you to grip his cock, pulling back his foreskin to slide the head through your folds until he is positioning his cock at your entrance. He watches you as he starts to push inside of you.

You expected pain and you expected nothing. You really didn’t know what to expect but the feeling of him filling you up is exquisite. Your mouth drops open as you moan his name again, your legs pulling back to take him deeper into your body and you know that you are forever changed.

Pero feels your innocence break and he pushes into you fully, making you his in a way no other will have you. He groans and leans in to kiss along your neck, taking a moment to let you adjust and he murmurs, "I love you."

You whine and wrap your arms around his neck. Closing your eyes and sighing softly. A piece of you is forever his and you know that your heart is his until eternity as well. You might marry for your position and have children, but your heart will be this Spaniard’s. “I love you, Pero.” You promise him. “Forever.”

Your promise makes his heart clench as he starts to move inside of you. He's in no rush. Not rutting into you like he would a whore he paid his coin to. He moves slowly, watching your face as you take him. You close your eyes as he adjusts the angle of his hips and he grunts when your walls clench around him. "Mi emperatriz hermosa." He murmurs as he kisses along your neck.

You know that he is being slow with you and it’s amazing. Making you feel every ridge and vein in his cock as they scrub along your sensitive walls. It’s love making in the purest form and you don’t want to let him go. Another soldier can go fight for the Emperor and Rome. Even if you know Pero would never agree to that, finding it to be cowardice. You have tonight. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moan his name again. “Pero.”

Pero doesn't want to leave but he has no choice. He has no future here in the palace. He must leave and forge his own path. He has to accomplish something outside of these walls. He must fight for Rome and for the Emperor and one day, he will be fighting for you. His hand finds your thigh, lifting it higher so he can sink deeper and his lips find yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

Your moan is breathed into him, encouraging him. Letting him know that he is making you feel incredible. Your nails scratch down his back, not hard enough to break skin, but you wish to leave your mark on him. “Pero, gods, you- you are amazing. I have loved you for so long. Watched you fight in the courtyard and touched myself thinking of how you would touch me.”

Your words make him twitch inside of you and he groans your name, “always pumped my cock thinking of you. Fucked whores with you on my mind. You have my heart and I shall be leaving it here with you forever.” He promises, “you’ll have it until Pluto takes me.” He slides his hand between you, wanting to hear you cum one more time.

He is talented and you are lucky that he has been taught ways to please you. Making you moan again when he starts to rub the flesh above your cunt. “You take my heart with you to war.” You promise him. “It is yours, even if my body must be someone else’s, you had me first and you hold my heart always.”

Pero groans, rubbing your clit a little faster desperate to push you over the edge before he finishes. It’s overwhelming being inside of you and knowing that he will have to leave tomorrow, he is desperate to hear you cry out his name. “I’m yours, hermosa. I need to feel you.” He begs against your jaw as he presses desperate kisses there.

His words make your entire body tremble. You know your core is wound tight and the next time he plunges deep into your body, you shatter. Crying out loudly, your walls squeeze him tight and the liquid hot pleasure washes through you.

“Fuck.” He hisses as you clench down around his cock. He groans your name and tries to fuck you through it but he has held off long enough. It doesn’t take long, only a half dozen more thrusts, until he is pushing deep inside of you and filling you with his hot seed.

You close your eyes, memorizing how it feels and for a brief moment, you wish that you could have him stay and fill you up everyday until his seed takes root. Knowing that a child from Pero would be your favorite, even if he was a bastard. “Perfection.”

Pero kisses you, unwilling to move even as he softens inside of you. He murmurs your name and kisses you softly, caressing your thigh as you keep your legs wrapped around him. His heart aches knowing that this is the only time he will have you like this.

You catch your breath in the silence that lingers between you, both of you lost in your thoughts as you continue to stroke his back. “No wonder people love to take lovers.” You manage after a long moment. “If it is half as good as this, I know why the soldiers immediately go to the whore houses.”

Pero chuckles, “it isn’t as good as this because this is love making. The whorehouse’s are for fucking. This is love between us.” He knows that any man listening would hang him by his balls for being so soft but this is you and it’s your only night together. He won’t deny you how he feels when he won’t get to say it ever again.

“Oh.” You melt at how intimate it is, how romantic. It is like one of the great stories that is sometimes performed for the people. “We will never have this again, will we?” You ask practically, knowing that you could never love someone as much as you love Pero. You reach up and run your fingers through his hair. “At least we got to have each other tonight. Tomorrow you leave to fight for the glory of Rome and her Emperor.”

“And her empress.” He adds, nudging his nose against yours. He pulls out of you, groaning as he shifts to lay beside you before he pulls you into his chest and murmurs your name, “you will always have my heart. I will fight for Rome and for your glory.” He promises. 

“Fight and live.” You urge him. “I hate the ‘die for the glory of Rome’ shit. I would rather you live. Live until you are an old man, gray in your hair.” You caress his chest and press a kiss to where his heart thumps in his chest. 

Pero smiles, knowing it's unlikely he would grow old and even less likely he would grow old with you. He sighs and kisses your hair, "get some rest, amor. We have the night to enjoy before I must leave."

True to his word, Pero had taken you, again and again during the night. Rest only coming in small spurts before one of you was reaching for the other. On and on until your entire body aches with a secret hurt when the darkest part of the night passes and the faintest pink hue starts to gather on the horizon. The wine has been drunk, the food consumed and the water that is always available for you to clean yourself is dirty. Your eyes are gritty with sorrow and exhaustion as you watch your lover’s naked body begin to be covered back up as he dons his clothes. 

Pero redresses while you watch him and he kneels on the bed when he's ready to go. He leans down to cup your cheek, leaning in to kiss you deeply. "Be happy, mi emperatriz. Don't wait for me. Find your happiness however you can." He urges, knowing he could never be with you. Your father would forbid it. "I love you. Siempre." He vows and nudges his nose against yours, kissing your forehead before he stands up straight and walks over to the doorway to leave your quarters. He looks back at you one last time before he sneaks out of your chambers, unaware that his mother is watching from the shadows.

Your eyes close on bitter tears after the door closes behind him, burying your face in the sheets you had shared with him. The scent of his body still lingers and you weep for the love that you know you will never be allowed to share with Rome.

Señora Tovar prepares your tray and carries it into your rooms, finding the silk sheets rumpled, two empty goblets and an empty food tray. There's no denying what happened here last night and she is glad she has prepared a tea. "Good morning." She declares as she walks into your room. She had dismissed Corda to prepare your tray herself.

You pull yourself out of the sheets at the sound of your lover’s mother, biting your lip to keep from crying even more. “Good morning.” You manage to mumble, your voice cracking slightly.

She comes over to you, setting your tray down on the bed. "I have prepared a tea for you, chiquita. We know you cannot afford for my son's seed to take." She speaks bluntly, "you must drink this and your secret will remain between us." She doesn't want to witness her potential grandchild be shunned by society. She wants the best for her son and her family, she needs to protect you as well.

Your mouth drops open in shock as you stare at her. “I- you- you know?” You ask, practically gasping the question and she chuckles softly as she shakes her head. “It was not hard to guess when I see my son sneaking out of your room looking like a man who has visited paradise and been banished.” She tells you. “He has been in love with you since you were children playing together and I know those feelings have never wavered.” You bite your lip, chin trembling. “I love him, too, mamá.” You have called her mama - like Pero - since you were young. She had been like a mother to you, but Pero was never your brother, even from a young age, your heart skipped a beat when he was near.

She reaches out to caress your cheek, "I know, amor. I know you do. He loves you too. You are meant to be together in another lifetime. Your souls will meet in another time. You cannot pursue him. It will mean his death. Let him go and keep last night in your memory, mija." She cups your cheek and offers you a soft smile, "now...drink the tea. It will ensure you aren't with child."

You don’t want to drink it, wanting for a moment to let his seed take root and defy everyone. Looking into her eyes, you sigh softly and pick up the tea. “I would carry his bastard proudly if he wouldn’t suffer for it.” You tell her before you take a sip. “I hope he comes home. Even if it can’t be to me.”

She sighs, watching you drink it. "I know, amor. You would both suffer. You know your father would never allow it. He would have Pero killed." She closes her eyes for a moment, "one day...you'll be married with a baby at your breast and you'll remember last night but you'll be happy and Pero...he will be shrouded in the glory of Rome." She hums, "you'll meet again and when you do, you'll be different people."

You know that you will not settle. You will have a man who makes you feel as Pero does or you will not take him as a husband. “Yes we will.” You hum sadly. “He will be a general of Rome and I will be her Empress.”

*****

"You cannot continue this juvenile resistance." Your father scoffs while you sit at the dining table, servants carrying food and wine to you but you reject the food and take the wine. "I do not wish to marry a man I do not love. Do you wish for me to be unhappy?" You hiss back and your father clenches his jaw. 

"You have been a maiden for years. You should have married years ago and I am too soft. I allowed you to take your time, let you find a husband within our circles but you refuse. In the senate today, we discussed a way to ensure that the empress will have a suitable husband by her side. A tournament. I wish to have every eligible man fight for your hand in an arena."

You snort and roll your eyes. “Noble men would rather lavish their days away in the baths than fight, father.” You remind him, taking a sip of your wine. “Rome grows weak and yet you think I should marry one of them? What will they be fighting at? Who can belch the loudest?” You have had excuse after excuse to not marry, waiting for word from Pero as he is off fighting, but the years have passed and your father’s patience has given way to pressure from the senate.

"Not noble men. You need a warrior by your side. Someone who can assist you with battle strategy. You have not fought for our empire and you do not have the experience for war. You need a man beside you who can advise. You need a gladiator. I have requested the warriors of Rome to compete for your hand." He declares, "the General is particularly interested in your hand."

You grimace slightly but your father doesn’t see that. The general spends more time in Rome carousing than he does with his men in battle. You find him to be rude and demeaning, although you can never find someone nearby when he acts out. “Warriors.” You think of the warrior you would want and then look to your father. “Will all warriors be allowed, or only those you choose and rig the tournament with?”

Your father snorts, "I want a man who is battle worn and worthy of your hand. Any man can compete but it will be in the Colosseum and they will fight to the death. The hand of the future Empress is worth a man's life. He must die if he fails and you, my dear, will have the strongest warrior to be your husband, your partner after Pluto takes me."

Your brow raises at the news that it will be a fight to the death and you hum again, sipping your wine. “Sport will be had and a maiden won.” You snort, secretly pleased that you are not the maiden you pretend to be. “The crowds will love you for this, father.”

Your father hums, a smug smile on his face, "they will, won't there? We will send word to all that the best can compete for the hand of the most beautiful woman in Rome. The future Empress. May the best man win." He smirks, picking up his goblet.

****

Rome has changed since he has last been here. Pero frowns as he shuffles off the horse and groans slightly as he stands straight. He thinks of you, just he does every day and his eyes slide towards the palace where you would still be. “We got here just in time!” His friend, Octavious, slaps him on the back. “There is a tournament that will be held.” The barracks are rife with the news, every man boasting that he will enter. “The winner becomes the husband of our future Empress!”

Pero doesn't allow himself to react but he takes the scroll from his friend and reads the details. A tournament at the Colosseum - a fight to the death for the hand of the Empress. His jaw clenches and the scroll is ripped from his hand. His mother still resides in the palace caring for you. He will go see her now that he has returned and maybe he can see you. He situates his horse and makes his way through the bustling streets until he is at the palace gates. He grunts his name and he is walking through the gates to find his mother in her rooms. "Mi amor, you're home." She cries when she sees him, rushing to wrap her arms around him and he pulls her closer, holding her tight. He hasn't seen his mother in so many years and he's changed. So has she, she has gotten older but no less beautiful. "You're home." She grins, pulling back to cup his cheeks. "Mijo." She leans in to kiss his cheeks. 

"Where is she?" He asks, "I heard about the tournament." He says and she sighs, "yes. She is not happy. This has been the talk of Rome. It will not begin for a while to allow warriors to return to Rome to fight." She reveals, "she is in her rooms." 

Pero nods, kissing his mother's forehead. "I will be back, mama." He promises, knowing he needs to see you after being gone for too long. He remembers how to sneak to your rooms without being noticed and he's soon knocking on the door, heart pounding in his chest from seeing you for the first time in so long.

You sigh to yourself, almost ignoring the knock on the door. It would be Corda, having insisted that the servant wait for permission to enter your quarters if you were present. You are older and expect some privacy, a rarity here because of who you are. Setting down the wine that you had been enjoying, your sandals slap against the hard stone floors as you move to the door and open it. Making you freeze when you see a man in front of you. He’s familiar and yet so different. Darker, older and seemingly more menacing with a large and wicked looking scar bisecting his left brow. Evidence of surviving a nasty fight. The softness of youth chiseled away to leave nothing more than a fierce warrior, a man, standing before you. “P-Pero?!” You gasp, unable to believe that he is here. You know he is alive, his mother had kept you informed when she heard from him, but you are shocked by his appearance and your heart leaps with joy.

“Hola, mi emperatriz.” Pero greets you breathlessly. You’re just as beautiful but you’ve matured and you look like a leader. He offers you a small smile after a moment when you continue to stare and he knows he’s battle worn carrying scars - some visible, most invisible. “I heard about the tournament upon my arrival.” He confesses, “your father’s idea?”

At the mention of the tournament, you realize he is still standing in the doorway of your quarters for anyone to walk by and see. You know that it’s wrong, but you don’t care as you pull him into your room and slam the door behind him. He’s here. You have him back and now, with your father’s proclamation, there is a way for you to be with him. Instead of answering him, you throw yourself at him and press your lips to his desperately.

He doesn’t push you back. He’s seen war. Men die gruesomely in battle. Women and children killed. There were times when he wasn’t sure if he’d ever make it back. His hands grip your waist and he pulls you up against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he takes a taste of forbidden fruit.

Moaning, you press impossibly closer. Feeling the joy and passion you haven’t once felt since the day he left reigniting in your belly. You’ve not let another man touch you, remaining pure to his body alone. You know that he will have had other women but you don’t care. It had been your decision and now you are grateful that you had. Your fingers reach for the thick leather belt at his waist to untie it, not caring that he is dirty from the road, you need to touch him to make sure he is real and here again.

Pero knows he should push you away. He shouldn’t claim you again. Yet seeing you, how beautiful you are, remembering how much he’s missed you…it’s like he can’t control himself. He’s not gentle as he gathers your dress in his hands, tugging it up your body so he can caress your skin. “I missed you.” He kisses against your jaw as you push his tunic from his body.

“I prayed to Mars everyday to keep you safe.” You tell him frantically, your hands mapping his scarred body and you groan when your fingers wrap around his rapidly hardening cock. “I love you.” You declare breathlessly. “You said I should not wait, but I did. I have only been yours.” You confess. “Make me yours again, Pero.”

He groans, annoyed that you waited for him because you’ve given him hope. “I love you too. Never stopped.” He vows and guides you back towards the bed. “I’m not going to be gentle.” He confesses, his fingers sliding up your thigh until he’s sliding them through your folds.

“Don’t be.” You beg, knowing that you might be sore, but you will cherish the aches. He pushes you down onto the bed and you slide your dress up to your waist and hurry to unclip the shoulders. “I want my warrior to take the spoils of his conquest.”

Your words make his cock throb and he hisses when you expose your body. Your curves made his mouth water and he surges to dip down and take your nipple into his mouth while he settles between your thighs, gripping his cock to slide it through your folds.

“Pero…” you whimper his name, fingers digging into his longer hair and you love how you can tug on it slightly. “Tell me you didn’t marry.” You beg, gulping back a sob of pleasure when he bites down. “You didn’t find a woman while you were away?”

“I would not be here if that were true.” He assures you, “I wouldn’t betray your soul like that, hermosa.” He vows against your sternum and he starts to push inside of you. “You are still the woman I love.” He promises and you moan as he stretches you out.

Your eyes close and you feel complete for the first time in years. “Fuck.” You whimper, clenching down around him and making him hiss quietly. “That is what I have been missing.” You moan. “Move Pero, take what is yours.”

He doesn’t hesitate to start moving. No longer the younger version of himself making love to you. The desperate older man wants to fuck you, to claim you when he knows that you won’t be his to claim soon. He hisses when your walls flutter around him and he pushes deep when he thrusts back into you. His hand squeezes your breast and he nips along your neck until his lips smash against yours.

You feel the desperation and the need in his kiss, responding in kind. Your fingers drag out of his hair and you scratch down his back again as you rock your hips up to meet his frantic pace. “Pero! Oh fuck, Pero, you, harder- please, harder.”

He won’t deny you when he desperately needs this. He thrusts harder, his skin slapping against yours and his breath puffs against your skin as he pants your name. “So - so fucking perfect. Mi amor. Never stopped loving you. Fuck. I- I missed you.”

“Never stopped.” You gasped, arching up and moaning loudly. Unable to imagine anyone else touching you like Pero is. “Missed you every day. Every day.” You promise. Your body responds to his harsh thrusts and you feel your core start to clench down. Your fingers slide down to his ass and you grip it. Encouraging him as he pumps into you ever harder.

He grunts as you push him deeper and he shifts onto his knees, dragging you into his lap. His strong arms grab the back of your thighs and he lifts you up and down on his cock while he thrusts up into you. “Fuck. Fuck.” He groans, leaning in to kiss your shoulder.

You moan, wrapping your arm around his neck. Pressing your lips to his jaw as he fucks you frantically. You want this always, just him. “I love you. I love you, Pero.” You groan. “You feel so good.”

“Te amo, hermosa. I thought of - of you every day. Every fucking day I’ve been away from you.” He vows, thrusting up into you and his thighs ache but he’s desperate to feel you fall apart around him.

Every thrust pushes you closer to pleasure and you help him. Rocking down when he thrusts up, each one of you groaning and whimpering in pleasure. “I love you, I’m going to- fuck!” You cry out when he pushes deep. Throwing your head back as your cunt clamps down around him.

“Mierda.” He groans when you grip his cock inside of you and soak him. You feel so fucking good. “That’s it, hermosa. Fuck.” He pants, shifting to lay down and you shake as you shift to straddle him. “I want my Empress to ride me.” He orders, smacking your ass with his hand.

You giggle slightly, clenching down around him again from the sharp slap of your skin. Leaning forward, you press your lips to his as you start to rock your hips and moan into his mouth as you push your tongue to meet his.

He caresses your skin everywhere he can reach. Moaning your name as he watches you move on top of him. You aren’t as skilled as a whore but you haven’t done this before. Even with your hips moving a little rigid, he enjoys this far more than any whore he’s given coin to. His hands find your hips, helping you find a rhythm.

He moves you more naturally, making you moan as your tits are pressed into his face. “Pero…” your eyes roll back again and you hold tight to his shoulder as you follow his rhythm and ride his cock.

His mouth finds your nipple, sucking on it as he groans against your flesh. You’re so pliable and he loves how you take him inside of you over and over. Rocking back onto him, you let him control the rhythm and he bites down on your nipple before soothing it with his tongue.

He never wants to let you go. If he could stay in this moment, he’d stay like this forever. His cock twitches inside of you, watching as you take him over and over. His hands caress your back and he kisses up to your neck, aching to suck his mark there but he can’t, no matter how much he wants to.

“I want to feel you inside me again.” You pant breathlessly. “That feeling of your seed inside me was the best feeling I ever had.” You turn and press your lips to his, needing to be close to him in all ways.

He is selfish. If his seed takes and you marry another, his bastard will be killed. They would not allow a bastard to be the future emperor of Rome. His logic knows that it’s not a good idea but his heart and his cock desperately want to fill you up. His heart wins and he rocks his hips to thrust up into you, pushing you forward onto his chest and he wraps his arms around you. “I will fill you up. You’ll be dripping me.” He promises with a growl.

You whine his name and reach down to touch yourself, your fingers brushing against his cock as he rocks up into you. Stroking your flesh quickly as he groans your name, coming apart again with a soft cry. “Pero!”

When you clench down around him, he grabs your ass and thrusts up into you harder and faster, grunts escaping his lips as he seeks his own climax and it doesn’t take long. He hisses your name and clenches his eyes shut as he cums, painting your walls with his seed for the second time.

You moan softly, holding him tight and closing your eyes as he fills you up. The warmth spreads and makes you sigh in pleasure. “That’s so good. I love it, I love you. I want you.” You promise softly. “I- I want you for my husband.”

Pero sighs, stroking his fingers along your spine. “Your father would never allow it. Unless I win the tournament. I need to fight for you, mi amor.” He murmurs, knowing he could be killed but he has to try. He has to fight for his love.

You close your eyes, sighing softly. “Please tell me that you have become a fierce warrior?” You plead. Reaching up, you caress his face and press a kiss to the bottom of his scar. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve lost you once before and now you are back.”

“I am a great warrior. I have survived many battles and it would be incredible to fight for a cause I truly believe in: you.” He murmurs, “I will fight for you. For us.” He vows, “and if I die…I will die knowing that I fought for us. For our future…even if I never get to witness it.” He whispers, knowing it’s a risk but how can he stand by and watch you marry someone else?

You don’t want him to fight, but if he wins, your father would have to accept Pero as your husband. “You will be the only warrior I will be cheering for.” You promise, kissing his cheeks and then his lips. “You will carry my love onto the sands and defeat all others for my hand.”

Pero nods, caressing your cheek, “for you, my Empress.”

****

He lingers in your quarters for as long as possible until his mother finds him after you are dressed. “Mijo.” She smiles, “you must go before the guards see you.” She warns and he nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead and he squeezes his mother’s hand as he passes her, knowing he cannot remain in your quarters. He must prepare to fight. “I shall prepare the tea.” His mother says and you shake your head, “no tea.” Her eyes widen slightly but she won’t argue with you.

It is a risk for you, but you don’t care. Emboldened by Pero’s return, you are ready to risk everything. “Pero is fighting in the tournament.” You hope she doesn’t get upset at you for making her son risk his life again in the deadly games. “He will win and then you will longer be a servant in this house.” You promise. “You will have your own servant to attend to you.”

His mother is not surprised to hear that her son will be fighting. She’s concerned that he might not win and she will lose her son and the woman she’s come to love as a daughter. You will not survive the loss. She offers you a smile and a nod, not wanting to voice her worry.

****

“I want to win the tournament without too many issues. You know that I am the best man to marry your daughter. Your general. I am fit for war and she will not know of the issues we face on the battlefield. You have sheltered her and she will be a weak leader. She needs a man to guide her.” Atticus, the general of three Roman army explains to your father as they sip their goblets of wine. 

“She is naive but I have trained her well in all matters. It is true she needs a man to guide her in the subject of war. Perhaps you are the best candidate.” Your father hums and the general smirks, “then shall we call off the tournament and announce our betrothal?” He suggests but your father shakes his head, “no. We must show the people of Rome that the best man won her hand. You shall fight but let me make it easier for you. Let the riff raff kill each other and you shall be a late contender. You’ll have five men to kill. Maybe less. You shall be the victor.” Your father decides and the general grins, holding up his cup, “to the glory of Rome.”

****

Pero stands with his sword and his shield in hand, helmet on his head as he stands in line. There are many men here to fight for your hand and the hold beneath the colosseum is packed full of men eager to win you and the power of Rome.

The roar of the crowds fill the colosseum and you sit under the shade as warriors file out from the catacombs below to stand in the bright sunshine to bask in the adoration of the crowds. Blood will be spilt today and you wish that none would die, but the more violent the sport, the more entertained the Romans would be. Several from the senate come to greet you, but you keep your eyes on the sands, looking for Pero. He had said he would not fight with a helmet on so you can spot him. Ever since his return a month ago, he has come to your chambers every night to tangle his limbs with yours and leave you limp with pleasure and full of his seed. Your heart is twisted with worry and hope as you wait and look for your lover. Any moment now, your father will arrive to commence the games. 

Pero remembers his promise to you to survive and win, and so he sets his helmet down before he steps up onto the sands and winces as the sun hits his eyes. The warriors line up, prepared to fight to the death for the hand of the future Empress. He’d heard many men talk about taking your innocence, leaving your blood on the sheets, and he had to stop himself from killing them before the battle and from revealing the secret he holds close to his heart. He was the one to take your innocence all those years ago. His eyes dart up to the stands where you are and his heart pounds in his chest. This is his chance. His only chance to win your hand and the approval of your father. With his blessing, you could marry and Pero would be by your side until he dies. Your eyes find him in the crowd and he stands straighter, watching your father raise his hand. The crowd goes silent and your father begins to speak. “Today, you fight for Rome, for her honor, and for the honor to be by her Empress’s side as a leader to all Romans. You must earn this privilege and if you fail, you will die. May the best gladiator win.” He nods and the crowd roars back to life when the battle commences moments later.

It’s an impossible task, pretending to be uninterested in the games when your eyes are riveted to one man. You don’t blink, don’t look away for fear of missing some small thing that could be life or death for the man you love. He is amazing, his speed and skill are obvious as he moves, his sword flashing in the sun as he cuts down his rivals.

It doesn’t take long for the first round to be over. Covered in blood and surrounded by bodies, Pero takes the chance to look up at you. You are watching intently and he knows he can’t fail you now. At least two thirds of the warriors are gone. “And now…we introduce a new element…lions.” Your father gleams with maniacal joy as the lions are brought into the arena. The crowd cheers and you gasp “no.” Pero growls, “fuck” under his breath. This just got more complicated but he will kill a fucking lion if he has to.

“Something wrong?” Your father turns and looks at you with a smirk, but you shake your head. It’s already a needless slaughter of Rome’s most capable warriors, but if you show favoritism towards Pero, you are almost sure the games will be directed towards taking him out. You don’t trust the general to not cheat and he has not even stepped out into the area yet. “The tall one.” You tell him, pointing towards a giant of a man with a golden crown of hair peeking out from under his helmet. “He seems like he would be a good husband. Provide me with strong babies to further our line.” You lie, knowing that you would never accept anyone but Pero into your bed.

Your father smirks, “he is not Roman, my dear. He’s from the west. He will not provide the line you wish to have.” Your father declares and raises his hand once again, “commence.” He orders and the warriors begin to battle once more but this time, the lions are released. Pero grunts as his sword clangs with another, the roar of the lion behind him followed by a scream of a man who gets chewed up. Pero’s heart is pounding but he fights, knowing that he can’t lose. You’ll be married to someone who would treat you like a servant when you are destined to be Empress. You need a husband who will support you.

Your heart sinks, knowing now that your father will cheat to have the man he wants you married to win these games. The servants behind you fan the Emperor and you against the heat and you know it must be sweltering down on the hot sands. You gasp when the lion closest to Pero takes a swipe at him, narrowly missing his flesh with those large claws. “Gods.” You mutter, clenching your jaw as another man is dragged down by the great beasts. A splash of blood staining the sands beneath the carnage.

Pero’s chest heaves and he’s covered in sweat. Blood streaked on his body but it’s not his own. The sun is burning but he fights to stay alive, swinging his sword over and over until he’s facing a lion. The lion roars and he grounds himself, swinging his sword. The lion swipes him, making him hiss from the gash on his arm but he ignores it, focusing on killing the beast.

Your entire body tenses and you lean forward. Watching the fight between lion and man. You see the animal cut into his arm and you press your lips together to keep from crying out. You know that your father is watching the games, but he will notice you. You pray to the gods that the lion doesn’t win as you watch the beast lunge towards Pero and drive him to the ground.

Pero scrambles to protect himself with his shield while the lion snaps his teeth at him. He struggles and he sees his life flash before him in that moment and he sees the future he’s losing. A future with you and he won’t let that go so he swings his sword, driving it into the chest of the lion who roars and swipes but stumbles to the ground. Pero pants as he allows himself a moment to regain his strength while the battle continues around him until it’s him and one other man. Your father holds his hand up and the crowd goes silent. Pero’s chest heaves as he looks up at the balcony, waiting for the next announcement. If it’s a fight to the death one on one, he plans to win. “We have a late contender.” Your father declares, “General Atticus throws his hat into the ring.” He announces and the crowd cheers when the gates open to reveal the General in his gleaming armor.

“Father!” You hiss in annoyance, knowing that Pero is exhausted after fighting for hours, while Atticus has watched from the stands and is fresh. He turns to you and smiles, “he will be a good warrior beside you.” He declares and you know that Atticus will cheat. He’s a snake.

Pero rolls his shoulders, knowing that he has to wait until the other man goes for Atticus. He can regain some strength. The horn sounds and as predicted, the other man rushes towards Atticus who easily takes him down. The man was exhausted as is Pero but he won’t lose. He can’t. Atticus smirks as he withdraws his sword from the dead man and wipes it on the sand. “Give it up. You can’t win.” Atticus taunts Pero who growls, chest heaving. The two men appraise each other for several moments and Pero waits for him to make the first move.

You are on the edge of your chair, a small scream clawing up in your throat when you see Atticus attack. The lunge and slash is too close and you see that Pero is exhausted. You grip the arms of your chair as your lover spins away from the general and puts several paces between them. The general shuffles slightly, feinting a move to the left but then goes right, Pero watching and moving with him so he deflects the attack easily. “Mars protect him.” You murmur quietly.

Pero spits onto the sand, his throat dry, and his muscles aching but he refuses to yield. The general smirks at him, “you will never have her. Oh, Pero Tovar, I have heard all about you. How you have been in love with her since you were children. She isn’t yours to have. She will be mine. Rome will be mine.” He grins and surges forward. His sword slicing Pero’s shoulder and your lover cries out in pain. The general attacks again, slicing Pero’s side and he’s exhausted. He falls to his knees, his sword in his hand and his eyes turn to you as Atticus raises his sword.

You lunge to your feet, horror making you shout out the secret you have been keeping from Pero the last week. “I’m carrying your child!” You scream out, “Fight, Pero! I love you!” The entire colosseum is deathly quiet, waiting for the death blow to be delivered, so all of Rome hears your shame. You don’t care. You just want Pero to live.

Pero’s eyes widen as your scream echoes in the colosseum. You’re pregnant. With his child. His jaw clenches and Atticus stares at him in shock, momentarily distracted, and Pero jumps onto his feet, swinging his sword and within moments, Atticus’s head rolls across the bloodied sands of the arena. The crowd roars to life and your father stares in shock as the general’s body is sprawled out on the ground, his head on the sands, eyes wide in shock.

Screaming in joy, you refuse to even look towards your father, knowing that you just ruined his plans for your future rule. Tears start to stream down your face, ecstatic that your lover has won and will now have your hand in marriage per the rules your father set down. The thunderous applause of crowds are deafening, their approval meaning that there is no way your father can change the rules again. “Pero! Pero!” You shout, the crowd picking up on it and starting to chant his name through the colosseum.

Pero pants, exhaustion seeping into his bones and he wastes no time in rushing through the stands, making his way to the balcony, and when he swings his leg onto the balcony, he reaches for you and pulls you close. Pressing his lips to yours, he sighs your name and smiles against your mouth. His hand finding your stomach between you. You can be together. Finally, your father smiles and applauds but you can sense his disapproval.

The people of Rome witness your fussing over him. The frantic kisses and the happy tears they swear everyone in the stands can see. Your hands grab his face to caress and coo over him, overjoyed by the fact that he won. The sands of the colosseum are littered with bodies and blood, signifying how hard Pero fought to win. “I love you.” You promise him breathlessly. “I didn’t tell you before because I wanted to surprise you after you won.” You admit.

“Hermosa.” He murmurs, “I will protect you until my last breath.” He vows, “you and our child.” The crowd is applauding, roaring with screams of joy and your father waves to the crowd until he gestures to you and Pero who takes your hand as he approaches the edge of the balcony. Your father claps as you raise Pero’s arm and your lover grins as it sinks in that he has won. “Your future empress and her warrior. They will be wed in two days time.” Your father announces and the crowd cheers once more. 

“Come, my love, you need to wash and rest.” You coo and Pero nods, the adrenaline wearing off and he stumbles slightly as you guide him from the balcony to the chariot waiting to return you to the palace.

The ride back to the palace is quiet, neither one of you speaking, although children and dogs run beside the chariot. The children cheer and wave and the dogs bark as they race alongside the spinning wheels. You are elated that he won, but you need to keep him close until the wedding. Your father will be furious that you had slept with Pero, but hopefully your public confession will keep him safe. Once you are back at the palace, you order food and wine to be brought to the baths, intending on taking care of your lover yourself.

You guide Pero to the private baths of the emperor and yourself, the servants fetching the trays you requested, and Pero watches as you work on removing his armor. “You are going to be mine.” He murmurs, unable to quite believe it. You smile and continue removing the armor from his body, depositing it on the marble floor that surrounds the baths.

Once Pero is naked, you take a cloth and wet it in the water, washing his wounds carefully. “It will scar.” You tsk slightly, knowing that he won’t mind the additional marks on his battle riddled body. “Your victory will be the talk of the Empire for years to come.” You tell him, dropping the cloth and reaching for your own dress to disrobe. “Now you will reap your spoils.” You smirk. “An Empress, bathing you of your sweat and blood before she rides you. Sucks your cock like a common whore. Rome will be on her knees for you.”

Your words make his cock throb, already hard from the adrenaline, and his eyes take in your body. The knowledge that you are having his baby makes him inhale sharply and he groans your name, “my Empress.  You shall want for nothing. I am yours. Rome is yours.” He vows as you take his hand to help him step into the warm waters.

The warm water is soothing and you know that your lover is thirsty, so as soon as he sits down you bring him a cup of wine. “My Spaniard.” You hum, holding it up to his lips. “My love, my future warrior and the father of my children to come.” You coo as he takes a sip.

He swallows down half the goblet and after you set it down, he reaches for you so he can cup your cheek. He presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth, wanting to show you how much he loves you. He killed half of Rome for you.

You go willingly into his arms, wrapping yours around his neck and straddling his thighs in the water. Kissing him back with just as much passion as you can show him. You know that he’s both exhausted and invigorated and you reach for the cloth and soap. “Let me tend to you.” You murmur, kissing along his jaw as you pick up the goblet and press it into his hands to drink while you tend to him. “Relax and enjoy.”

Pero slides his hands along your back, enjoying the way you care for him. It’s tender and just what he needs after his body has been through hell and back. “Amor.” He murmurs, sighing when you kiss his cheek. The goblet of wine in his hand lowers slightly as his grip loosens. You start to wash him, his hair full of blood, and he watches you bite your lip in concentration.

You take your time, soothing his muscles with the heat and the wine. Knowing that the water feels good and being clean will feel even better. You might have been raised to be the Empress of Rome, but you want to take care of him. He has done so much for you. “My love. My brave and wonderful love.” You praise softly. “I was so scared for you. Even knowing you would win.”

Pero snorts, “you were that sure?” He asks, not believing you. “I know that you weren’t sure. Especially when those fucking lions came out. Your father…he’s a cruel man. Lions.” He shakes his head as you caress his chest with the cloth. “I thought I was going to fail when the lion was on top of me.” He admits softly, “but then you said you were with child and I couldn’t - I had to fight. Even if I was cut down. I had to try.”

“I’m glad you did.” You admit softly, leaning over and kissing his shoulder right above the wound he had taken from Atticus. “I would never wanted to be married to that man. He is just as cruel as my father, maybe more so. I have heard the rumors, and I’ve never liked him.” You soap up your fingers to wash his hair, knowing he will feel better when he is clean. “I missed my bleeding last week.” You explain quietly. 

Pero's cock twitches at the fact that he has gotten you pregnant but he remembers the way you screamed it. "You screamed it for all of Rome to hear, mi amor. The people...they will look at you as...impure and I do not wish to have that. We must marry as soon as possible." He murmurs, closing his eyes.

“I don’t care.” You promise him. “I would rather be known as impure and have all of Rome know I love you, than to be viewed as pure and have to marry Atticus.” You sigh softly. “I want to believe Rome would be happy for me. They cheered for you.”

Pero opens his eyes, "they cheered for you. They adore you. Their future Empress." He murmurs, "carrying their future Emperor. They would be fools to cast you aside when you simply followed your heart." He groans when you rub your fingers against his scalp.

You smile as you watch him relax, his eyes closed and enjoying the sensation of your hands in his hair. “They cheered for us, for we are the future of Rome.”

Pero smiles, knowing that it’s always been you. He’s never loved another. His hands sliding down to squeeze your ass as he starts to harden beneath you. “I can’t believe I get to have you. I never - siempre - I always imagined I’d have to watch you marry another.” He confesses, “but now…you’re mine.”

“I am yours.” You promise, picking up a clay pitcher to pour clean water over Pero’s hair. “And as soon as I finish, you are going to sit while I ride your cock and bring you pleasure.” You hum.

“Mmmm mi amor, I would love to let you use my body for your pleasure.” He murmurs, tilting his head back to let you wash the soap from his hair, the blood washing away. His cock is hard beneath you, “mi emperatriz, full of our baby.” He groans, his hands squeezing your ass.

“Full of your baby.” You whisper, pressing your lips to his. “I refused to drink your mother’s tea after you returned.” You admit, wanting him to know that you had no reservations about carrying his child. “If there had been no tournament, I would have asked you to flee Rome with me.”

Pero sighs, reaching up to cup your cheek, “I couldn’t ask that of you. You have been raised to lead. I could never ask you to abandon your empire.” He sighs, “but I would’ve followed you anywhere.”

“That is in the past.” You reach between you to wrap your fingers around his cock and line up so you can sink down on him. “You will be my right hand, the sword and shield of Rome.” You predict as you slowly start to take him into your body. “Leader of my armies and master of my heart. My gladiator.��

Pero’s breath hitches as you sink down onto him. His hands find your waist and his lips press against yours once more. His tongue sliding into your mouth, and he savors his victory. He was nearly killed but he survived, he won. He can enjoy his reward…you.

****

“The general approaches.” Your servant announces it as if you do not see the crowds parting for the large retinue of soldiers, the crests of the regiment held high and the confetti littering the streets for the celebration of your husband’s victorious return to the capital. Your hand idly rubs the large, swollen bump under your breasts where his child safely lies. Kicking at the noise and feeling your happiness at Pero’s return. In the last eight months, your life has changed. You married Pero, ignoring your father’s unhappiness at the union since it was the best thing for Rome. Your father had passed away in his sleep days later, making you the Empress of Rome and your baby its future heir. Pero had been made the top general of your armies and had been dispatched to bring peace to your lands. Successful, he is now returned to you and hopefully, the expensive wars will be no more for a long time. You smile at the crowds, but your eyes are fixed on the noble figure of your husband as his horse canters up the streets, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Gods, she has gotten big.” He murmurs to himself, riding up the steps of the palace where you are standing and he swings off of his horse as the crowds close in below you. A servant takes the reins as Pero strides over to you, his hands cupping your cheeks to kiss you deeply in front of the people of Rome. The crowd cheers and Pero caresses your bump. “I’ve missed you, emperatriz.” He murmurs, nudging your nose with his. “I missed you too, my gladiator.” You whisper and he smiles, waving at the crowds as he steps back to take your hand. “I need you now.” He demands, escorting you into the palace and you try to keep up as he guides you to your quarters.

Pero’s long strides eat up the marble flooring between the front of the palace and the quarters you had taken for yourself after your father passed. The furnishing had been replaced and the room to the side that had been used for his mistresses had been turned into a nursery for your future child. His eagerness to touch you has you giggling as you are practically dragged along the corridor. Despite your advanced pregnancy, it’s obvious that your husband desires you. “I have missed you between my thighs, husband.” You tease.

“I missed you more than you can imagine, amor.” Pero pushes the doors open, slamming them behind you when you’re inside and he wastes no time dropping to his knees on the marble floor and pushes your dress up your body. His hands caress your bump and he surges forward to bury his face in your curls, his tongue sliding through your folds.

“Pero!” You cry out in pleasure as your sensitive body reacts to his skilled tongue. You had learned so much about each other’s bodies when he had returned and you were sneaking him into your bed every night, but after your marriage, your couplings became even more blissful. Pero is an attentive and giving lover, you don’t doubt that he had been faithful to you while he was away for so many months despite knowing that others take their ease with the whores that follow the army. “Fuck, your tongue is so good. I have missed you beside me at night.”

He groans, missing your tangy taste, and he hisses as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Your bump prevents him from seeing you but he groans as you tangle your fingers in his hair. He’s dirty from the road but he doesn’t care as his hands slide along your legs, caressing your skin while he works you over with his tongue.

Pero eats your cunt eagerly, with a hunger that sometimes takes your breath away as he pushes your body towards pleasure. “Pero.” You whine, holding steady to his shoulders when he lifts one of your legs to his thigh to delve into you deeper. “Make me cry out and then I want you deep inside me, want to feel you fill me up again.”

He wants to push you over the edge. Sucking on your clit, he can feel how close you are and you tug on his hair. His cock is aching for you and he wants you to cum for him. He flicks his tongue over your clit and pushes it deep inside of you, his nose pressing against your clit.

Your stomach heaves and your fingers dig into his hair and tug when you come apart. “Pero!” You scream his name, your eyes rolling back as you soak his tongue in your pleasure. It makes your legs tremble and threaten to buckle but you know his strong arms will keep you upright.

He grips your ass, keeping you upright, and he works you through it, loving the way you moan as you come back down to earth. He caresses your skin and lowers your leg back down. “Come on, amor. I want to be inside of you.” He stands up and takes your hand to guide you over to the bed. He unclips his breast plate and sets it down, his leather tunic swaying as he works on untying it to expose his body to your eager eyes.

“My love, my gladiator.” You moan, his strong body always making you feel desperate for him. He is still strong, even if he is not as lean as he was when he had left you before when you were nearly still children. His cock is hard and jutting out proudly, making you moan. “After you have bathed, I want to be on my knees for you again. Have you sit on the side of the baths while I take you down my throat.”

Pero knows he won’t win if he argues with you that you shouldn’t do that in your condition so he doesn’t protest. “Hands and knees, mi amor.” He knows that’s the most comfortable position for you right now. He kneels on the bed as you shift onto your hands and knees, the baby bump beneath you as your toes dig into the bedding. Pero pumps his cock as he shuffles closer and he positions himself at your entrance before he starts to slowly push inside of you.

Your eyes close, cunt squeezing him tight as you moan his name. You’ve never had another lover but you know that no one else would be as good as your husband. He twitches inside you, making you whimper. “I want it hard, Pero.” You beg. “It won’t hurt me and I crave the ache.”

His hands caress your back down to your ass, pushing your dress higher to expose more of you and he groans when your walls flutter around him. “I love you. Mi emperatriz.” He vows, “I am yours. I serve only you.” He promises and he rocks into you a little harder like you want.

You moan quietly, loving how he adores you. Anyone else would have been hungry for what power you could provide to him, but Pero doesn’t care about that. You are his priority. “I love you.” You gasp out. “You are my Emperor. I give everything to you.”

Pero groans, leaning over you to press his lips to your neck. “I love you. You are everything.” He never wanted to be Emperor. He never wanted the power. He only wanted to be with you, to have you. Even if it meant running from Rome. You’re his life. “My Empress.” He murmurs, rocking into you a little faster, his hand sliding down your bump until he’s pressing his digits against your clit.

You moan his name again, frantic to cum around his cock after so long without him. Pleasure rockets through you and you push back against his thrusts eagerly. “Pero- Pero, I’m going to cum!” You cry out, seconds before stars burst behind your eyes and you clamp down around his length.

He grits his teeth when your walls grip him. He fucking loves it. He’s missed you so much. This is why he could never fuck a whore. No one has ever made him feel like this. He pants against your back as he rocks into you, “fuck. I- I’m gonna fill you up.” He grunts, pushing into you a half dozen more times until he cums, painting your walls with his hot seed. “Te amo.” He pants, breathing you in.

“I love you too.” You slowly roll to your side, Pero still buried inside you so he can stroke your belly and both of you can relax. “You are home now. No more wars until our second child is at least five.” You hum, knowing the people of Rome are tired of costly wars.

“Your empire is secure. Your people love you. We shall be legendary. Our family, our children will be remembered forever.” He murmurs, caressing your belly and he kisses your forehead. “You are my Empress. I would die for you. I would kill for you.” He vows and you stroke his cheek. He already killed for you. Your gladiator. You and Pero were always meant to be and the history books will write of your epic love story. The Empress and her Gladiator.

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Six

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 9k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Ivy hadn’t realized how much space Roman took up in her life until she pulled away. A week of zero contact felt like forever, especially after they’d been practically inseparable before. Where his texts and calls once lit up her phone all day and made her smile, the same texts and calls…well, voicemails…were now grating, each one pleading and importunate and doing nothing to quell her current stance. She wasn’t sure if the distance was for his sake or hers, but after what she’d witnessed that day, it was absolutely necessary.

Every time she thought about Roman yelling at Zaia, the venom laced in his voice, it sent a chill up her spine. Sure, he had apologized—and was damn near begging since then—but the memory lingered like a bad taste. She couldn’t get past the fear she’d seen in her daughter’s eyes.

Zaia, funny enough, seemed to have already moved on. It helped that Roman was pretty much bombarding her with presents, the latest being a Little Mermaid (Halle) coloring set and a handwritten note that Ivy found in Zaia’s new Hello Kitty backpack:

“For the best little DJ I know.” Zaia had beamed when she read it, proudly showing Ivy the small charm bracelet he’d tucked into the package as part of his peace offering.

But Ivy wasn’t a six-year-old. Roman’s charm, his gifts, his apologies—they didn’t erase the cracks forming in her trust. She couldn’t shake the memory of his sharp tone, his anger. And, as much as she hated to admit it, there was something else. Something deeper, a gnawing unease she couldn’t quite name.

Saturday Afternoon

She was folding laundry in the living room when the doorbell rang. Duchess barked sharply, scampering to the door as Ivy set down Zaia’s unicorn-printed pajamas and sighed. She knew exactly who it was. Roman had texted her earlier, saying he wanted to stop by.

When she opened the door, there he stood, impossibly handsome in a fitted black T-shirt that clung to his broad chest and sweats that hung just right on his hips. His tribal tattoos spread from beneath his right sleeve, a tantalizing display of inked skin. In one hand, he held a large gift bag, and in the other, a bouquet of deep red roses.

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice a smooth rumble as he flashed a tentative, almost nervous grin. “I come bearing gifts.”

Ivy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “More, huh? You trying to bribe me?”

Roman chuckled. “Is it working?”

Rolling her eyes, she stepped aside for him. “Not yet.”

He grinned, closing the door behind him before following Ivy into the foyer. Duchess sniffed at his boots, her tail wagging, while Roman set the bag and flowers on the counter. “This is for Zaia,” he said, pulling a small stuffed dolphin from the bag. “She mentioned how much she loved that sea animals documentary the other day. Thought she’d like this.”

Ivy softened slightly, her arms uncrossing. “At this point, you’re spoiling her,” she said.

Roman shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I do owe her. And these,” he held up the roses, “are for you. Not cuz I messed up—though I know I did—but because…I miss you. I miss us.”

His words hit a nerve. Ivy wanted to stay mad, to keep him at arm’s length, but the longing in his dark eyes tugged at her heart. She took the roses from him, inhaling their sweet scent.

“You ain't making this easy, you know,” she said quietly, setting the flowers in a vase.

“I don’t want it to be easy. I want it to be right.” Roman insisted, reaching into the gift bag before turning to her. “I got you one more thing…” He held a small box out to her, wrapped in elegant gold paper. 

Ivy frowned but accepted it, unwrapping it carefully. Her eyes widened at the Tiffany & Co. packaging. She glanced up at him, gauging his hopeful expression, and then opened the box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a small heart pendant. It sparkled in the light, simple yet stunning.

“Roman…” she started, her voice trailing off.

“I hate this distance between us,” he implored, stepping closer. “I miss you, Ivy. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I miss your touch. Your hugs…your kisses.”

She swallowed hard, her emotions warring inside her. “Roman, I…I don’t know…”

“I understand why you’ve been staying away,” he said quickly. “I fucked up, baby, and I’ll spend as long as I need to, making it up to you. But I can’t stand being away from you like this. It’s killing me.”

He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple shifting and his hand running over his mouth and gray beard. He then, reached for her hand, his touch warm and familiar. “Baby, I’m not perfect, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. I swear to you. You and me—we’re amazing together. I need you, Ivy.”

Her resolve faltered. Damn him and his way with words. The sincerity in his tone, the way his thumb stroked her knuckles—it all chipped away at her defenses.

“I don’t know, Ro…” she started, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Come here,” he murmured, settling down in one of the foyer chairs and pulling her gently onto his lap. “Sit with me.”

“Roman,” she protested weakly, though she didn’t resist.

“Just for a minute,” he said, his arms circling around her slender waist as he looked up at her. “I've missed holding my baby. Let me hold you. Please.”

Ivy sighed, her body betraying her as she melted into him, growing even more traitorous as she absorbed the feel of his lips brushing her neck, then her jaw, and finally her mouth. The kiss was slow and consuming, pulling her under like a riptide. Her hands found the sides of his neck, gripping tightly as she kissed him back. His lips were soft yet insistent, his hands firm as they slid up her back to keep her close. She hated how good he felt, how easily he unraveled her. There was something about his kisses. They made her forget the world, made her forget him—the man who scared her, the man she doubted. In these moments, he was just Roman, the man who made her feel alive. 

At last, they broke apart, but only just. Roman's big hands caressed her face, holding her as if he was afraid she’d disappear. “Tell me, Ivy,” he whispered, “Tell me you’ve missed me too.”

Her resolve wavered as she looked into his eyes. Damn it, she had. Despite everything, despite her doubts, he drew her in like a moth to a flame. Every damn time he touched her, kissed her, all her defenses crumbled. It was dangerous, but fuck did it feel good.

“I missed you too,” she admitted breathlessly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

His smile was slow, almost predatory. “I knew you did.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, kissing him one more time before resting her head on his shoulder. For a moment, it felt like old times, like they hadn’t spent the last week avoiding each other. But then the doubts crept back in, nagging at the edges of her mind.

As if sensing her hesitation, Roman kissed her forehead and shifted the mood. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone lighter. “We need to get away. You, me, and Zaia. Somewhere warm and sunny. How about Hawaii?”

Ivy sat up straight, blinking, caught off guard. “Hawaii?”

“Yeah,” he said, his enthusiasm growing. “You’ve been working so hard at the hospital lately, and I see how much you do for Zaia. You deserve a break. Both of you.” He trailed off as he rubbed her hip, his touch firm and persuasive. “Plus, we can really focus on us. No distractions. Just paradise.”

Ivy smiled faintly, but something about the way he was speaking—so eager, almost insistent—made her uneasy. “That does sound amazing,” she admitted, glancing over at Duchess, who was now laying in her kennel. “But it’s not that simple. Zaia’s school just started back up, and I have shifts scheduled. Plus, traveling with a six-year-old isn’t exactly relaxing.”

Roman waved her concerns away, his expression unwavering. “All of that can be worked out. I’ll take care of the arrangements. You deserve this, Ivy.” His voice lowered, more intimate now. “You’ve given so much to everyone else—Zaia, your patients—you need to give yourself a little grace.”

Ivy hesitated, torn between the allure of his words and the knot of unease tightening in her chest. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get away—God knew she could use the break—but Roman’s urgency felt…off. Too perfect, too rehearsed.

She settled with a forced smile. “Let me think about it, okay?”

Roman’s expression flickered for a brief moment, a shadow in his eyes. But before he could respond, Zaia came bounding down the stairs, her eyes lighting up when she saw the big man in the foyer.

“Roman!” she squealed, running over to hug him.

He grinned, lifting her onto his lap alongside Ivy. “Hey, little lady. Look what I brought you.”

As Zaia tore into the gift bag, Ivy watched Roman out of the corner of her eye. He was attentive, affectionate, the perfect picture of a doting boyfriend and even a possible stepfather.

But deep down, Ivy couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something about Roman wasn’t adding up anymore. And until she figured out what it was, she couldn’t let her guard down—not completely.

Sunday Afternoon

Her bedroom was dim, save for the slivers of sunlight that slipped through the blinds, casting long streaks across the walls. A faint hint of lavender clung to the air from the candle Ivy had lit earlier, now reduced to a hardened pool of wax on the nightstand. The room was warm, and would have been quiet had it not been for the bed rocking beneath the moving bodies, heavy breaths mixing in the silence. The rhythmic creak of the bed, their moans and gasps, filled the space, escalating until she collapsed on top of him, their bodies trembling from the intensity of it all. 

It had started innocently enough—a nice Sunday lunch on her day off, opting to extend an invitation to Roman to ensure he wasn’t alone…or so she told herself. There had been the familiar, easy chatter between her and Roman, Zaia’s laughter echoing as they set the table together, their bodies just inches away from each other, close but not too close as they sat side by side. But as time ticked by, the tension began to shift. By the time she tucked Zaia in for her afternoon nap, it was sizzling. Roman’s gaze had deepened, his touch lingered a little longer, and before she knew it, he was in her bed again. 

A blur of sensations—long fingers, warm skin, the heat of his body overwhelming hers. Roman had been tender but forceful, his touch demanding in a way that sent electric currents surging through her veins. The feeling of him inside her had been comforting, intoxicating, and sorely missed, and when she had begged him—moaned for him—it was as if she had lost control completely, her body responding to him in ways she couldn’t explain.

An hour later, her bare body pressed against his solid, warm frame. His muscled arm draped lazily over her, his fingers tracing absent patterns on her butt cheek. The steady beat of his heart was a reminder that, for now, they were both here, tangled in the aftermath of what had just happened.

“I’ve been thinking,” Roman said suddenly, his baritone voice breaking the stillness.

Ivy turned her head, her curls brushing against his chest. She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Thinking? That sounds dangerous. About what?”

He huffed a soft laugh, his fingers pausing their motion before resuming. “About us. About you…and Zaia.” His tone softened, dipping into something vulnerable. “You two are the best thing that’s happened to me since I moved here.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in them catching her off guard. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she stayed silent, her fingers sliding idly along his tattooed forearm, encouraging him to continue.

His dark eyes gleamed in the low light, his expression open yet serious. “You know I don’t have any kids of my own. Elesha and I never got to…” he trailed off, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Being around you and Zaia…it’s made me realize how much I want that again. Marriage. A family, a real one. With you.”

Ivy’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as her eyes searched his. “Ro…”

“I mean it,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. “Watching you with Zaia always warms my heart. You’re an amazing mom, baby. And I can’t stop thinking about how incredible it would be to give her a little brother or sister. To give us that.”

His words landed with the weight of a tidal wave, equal parts intoxicating and overwhelming. For a moment, Ivy could almost see the life he described: the happy, chaotic mornings, the sound of children’s laughter filling the house, Roman’s strong arms wrapping around her as they watched their family grow.

But then reality crashed back in. The nagging memory came rushing in again; of Roman’s voice raised in anger at Zaia, the way he’d lost control, even if just for a moment. He’d been trying to be much better since then, but Ivy couldn’t help wondering—what if it happened again? What if this perfect vision cracked under the pressure of another child?

Her gaze dropped, her stomach twisting. “Roman, that’s…that’s a lot to think about,” she said carefully, her tone hesitant. “I mean, I love what we have, but I don’t know if I’m ready for another child. Zaia’s still young, and—”

He cut her off gently, his fingers tilting her chin back toward him. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a soothing whisper. “I’m not saying it has to happen tomorrow. I just…I want you to know how serious I am about us. About you.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, torn between the warmth of his words and the unease curling at the edges of her mind. She was in love with him—she knew she was—but something inside her held back, a quiet voice whispering caution.

“I get it, baby. But let’s…let’s take things a little slower,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay? We still have time.”

Roman’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but he recovered quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “Fair enough,” he said, though his tone carried an undercurrent she couldn’t quite place.

Ivy tried to lighten the mood, needing to shake the weight of the conversation. “So,” she said, running her fingers along his forearm, “have you thought about having a housewarming party?”

Roman tensed slightly, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes so quick she almost missed it. “A housewarming party?”

“Yeah,” she said casually, though her curiosity was piqued by his reaction. “You’ve met more people since Gemini’s party. It might be nice to invite them to yours. I remember how fun it was when mine happened. You’ve made some friends, right?”

He shrugged, his hand resuming its idle strokes on her hip. “I don’t know, Ivy. I’m not really comfortable with people coming over just yet.”

“For real?” she pressed, her tone light but probing. “I haven’t even met your work colleagues yet. Or seen your office, come to think of it.”

Roman stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Nah, not happening,” he said, his voice sharper than intended, but quickly added, “I mean, the office is a mess—renovations, chaos everywhere. Besides,” he said, his tone softening as he ran a hand down her back, “I like keeping my personal space… personal.”

The words landed heavily, and Ivy blinked, her hand freezing mid-stroke along his chest. Confusion flickered across her face before it hardened into something sharper. “Wow,” she said slowly, her voice laced with quiet frustration. She rolled off him, sat up and crossed her arms. “So, what? You don’t want me in your space? After everything I’ve shared with you?”

Roman hesitated, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not that,” he said, his tone smooth but guarded. “It’s just…I like things a certain way. My space is where I clear my head. You get that, right?”

“No, Roman,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with hurt. “I don’t get it. It feels like you’re shutting me out.”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into the sheet beneath them. “It’s not about you, Ivy,” he said softly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his frustration. “It’s just…I need to keep some things separate. Trust me, okay?”

Ivy let out a bitter laugh, pulling away from him slightly. “Trust you,” she repeated, her voice cold. “Funny how that’s getting harder to do.”

Roman sat up slightly, the tension in his broad shoulders undeniable. “Baby, wait,” he said, his voice softening. When she didn’t respond, he reached out, his hand brushing hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Right.”

He sighed, running a hand through his long, loose hair. “I’m just…tired. Work’s been a lot lately. Stress piling up. You know how it is, Miss Assistant Head Nurse.”

Ivy studied his face, searching for answers he clearly wasn’t willing to give. She’d learned that despite his openness, Roman was a man of walls—carefully constructed barriers that he rarely let her peek behind. The storage room in his basement came to mind, a fitting example of his tendency to shut things away. When she’d asked about it, he’d claimed it was just filled with his late wife’s belongings. The curt manner in which he’d also dismissed the topic had made it clear there was no room for discussion. It saddened her that he wasn’t opening up to her as much as she was to him.

Still, she knew when to back off. She wasn’t the type to push too hard—at least not with such a fresh wound, pun intended. Despite the faint unease curling in her chest, she let the subject drop. There were battles to be fought another day.

“I get it,” she said softly, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Work can be crazy sometimes. Just…don’t let it get to you too much, okay? Stress has a way of eating people alive if you let it. It got both my parents. I don’t want the same to happen to you.” Her hand found its way to his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm grounding her. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut at her touch, his shoulders easing just slightly, the weight of her presence momentarily lightening his burden, it seemed. 

“I…I want you to know you can talk to me, Roman,” she whispered now, as though she feared scaring him off. “About anything. Alright?”

Roman’s eyes opened, but they weren’t clear—they were shadowed, distant, as if he were looking somewhere she couldn’t see. Something lurked behind them, an emotion she couldn’t quite name. For a long, silent moment, he just stared at her, his full lips pressing into a thin line.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and heavy. “I’ll try.”

The words felt like a fragile bridge, half-built but still offering the promise of something more. Ivy patted his chest gently, nodding, even though her heart ached with the knowledge that there were still so many walls he wasn’t ready to let down.

As she started to pull away, his arms tightened around her, the hold both firm and tender. His gaze softened, filled with a yearning that sent her pulse racing. Then, his lips met hers, and the kiss wasn’t just passionate—it was a silent apology, a plea for her forgiveness. She allowed it, savoring the moment for what felt like an eternity. By the time he pulled back, just slightly, she was breathless, her anger reduced to embers.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a great kisser?” he teased, his voice low, his eyes burning with intent. 

Ivy’s lips twitched despite herself, the teasing jab disarming her slightly. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this,” she warned, though her tone was less icy now.

“Charm’s all I’ve got,” he said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 

Ivy exhaled shakily, her eyes searching his, the tension between them dissolving in the heat of the moment. She sighed, rolling her eyes but not pulling away. “You make it hard to stay mad at your ass, you know that?”

Roman smirked, brushing his nose against hers. “That’s the idea.”

Ivy giggled. “You’re exhausting.”

“In bed? Hell yeah,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

Ivy shook her head, smiling faintly despite herself. “You’re lucky you can fuck, Reigns.”

Roman grinned evilly, tugging her back on top of him as he crushed his lips to hers, sealing the moment with a deep, hungry kiss that spoke volumes more than his words ever could.

Ivy paced her living room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as her thoughts spiraled out of control. It had been two weeks since she’d last heard from Gemini. Two long, agonizing weeks of silence. Even when they fought, they never went this long without talking. But now? There was nothing—no calls, no texts, not even a passive-aggressive email. The memory of their last argument kept replaying in Ivy’s mind like a broken record: Gemini’s sharp words, the tension overwhelmingly thick, and their meeting after that, with Ivy storming out of Gemini’s office without looking back. It was petty, childish even, but neither of them had made a move to fix it. And it didn’t sit right with her. 

The pit in Ivy’s stomach grew heavier by the hour, the silence suffocating. She tried to distract herself—organizing Zaia’s schoolwork, tidying up her kitchen, even re-watching an old favorite movie. But nothing worked. The nagging thoughts wouldn’t let up.

So, she grabbed her keys. She couldn’t ignore the gnawing worry any longer. Sliding into her Kia Carnival, she drove through the quiet streets of their neighborhood, the familiar route to Gemini’s house offering little comfort. 

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she pulled up to the Beaufort mansion. The porch light was off, and the curtains were drawn, giving the place a hollow, almost abandoned feel.

Ivy stepped onto the porch, her breath hitching as she reached for the potted fern by the door. She found the spare key exactly where Gemini had always kept it, hidden under the dark green leaves. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The house was eerily still, the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of Ivy’s neck stand up. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, but there was something else, too—a faint metallic tang she couldn’t quite place.

“Gem?” Ivy called out, her voice breaking the silence. It sounded small, fragile, like she was afraid of what might answer.

There was no response.

Ivy moved cautiously through the house, her eyes scanning every detail. The living room was untouched, the pillows perfectly arranged on the couch. The kitchen was eerily spotless, the countertops gleaming as if freshly wiped down. A wave of unease rolled over her. Gemini was a lawyer, but even she was never this meticulous, not unless she was trying to make an impression.

Heart pounding, Ivy made her way upstairs, her footsteps muffled on the carpeted stairs. When she pushed open the door to Gemini’s bedroom, her breath caught. The unmade bed was the first thing that stood out, the sheets tangled in a way that was so unlike Gemini, who prided herself on a pristine home. A faint breeze fluttered the curtains, but the windows were shut, amplifying the strange stillness.

And then she saw it: a piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly, waiting.

Ivy froze, dread tightening in her chest. Her feet felt like lead as she crossed the room and reached for the note. It was typed, the words precise and cold. Her eyes darted to the signature at the bottom—it was Gemini’s, unmistakable. But as she read the letter, the words felt alien.

I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry to everyone I’ve hurt. I just want the pain to stop.

To my dear Ivy,

I’m sorry I pushed you away. I will miss you the most.

“What the fuck!” Ivy whispered. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, no, no…”

The sobs came hard and fast, her chest heaving as she clutched the letter like it might disappear. She couldn’t bring herself to read all of it because it didn’t feel real. Gemini had always been the strong one, the vibrant one. She was the one who dragged Ivy out of her darkest moments, who never let her give up no matter how hard life got. And now? Now she was gone.

But something didn’t add up. The thought clawed its way through Ivy’s grief. If Gemini had written this note, where was she? The house was empty, devoid of any sign of her presence. There were no personal items packed, no indication of where she might have gone. It was as if she had simply vanished.

“Where are you, Gem?” Ivy whispered, staring at the bed as if it might hold the answers. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. Was Gemini even alive?

The weight of that question bore down on her, suffocating her as she sat in the silence of her best friend’s room, the unanswered questions echoing louder than any scream.

She hadn’t even realized she’d driven to Roman’s house until she was there, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the quiet sounds of the neighborhood. Ivy stood trembling on his doorstep, clutching Gemini’s note in one hand and Duchess in the other. The puppy whined softly, nuzzling against Ivy’s neck as though trying to absorb her pain. Thank goodness Zaia was at her friend's house and unable to see her mother's distraught state.

When Roman opened the door, his concerned expression immediately softened into something more tender at the sight of her tear-streaked face. But before he could speak, Ivy blurted, “I need your help. I need to find her!”

Roman’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer. “Baby, what’s going on? Who are we looking for?”

“Gemini,” she stammered, her voice breaking as her body trembled. “She’s gone, Roman. I went to her place…She left this note but she’s not there and I don’t know where she is. I have to find her!”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his features hardening for a split second before he schooled his face into a mask of calm. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands. “Baby, slow down. You’re shaking. Come here.”

Ivy allowed herself to be pulled into his arms, Duchess squirming slightly between them. Roman’s embrace was warm and steady, but Ivy could feel the weight of his silence pressing down on her. She clung to him for a moment, trying to gather her spiraling thoughts, before pulling back to look up at him.

“She’s out there somewhere,” she said, her voice shaking. “She sounded so lost in the note, but this don’t feel right. Roman, I need you to help me find her. Please.”

Roman sighed, his hands sliding to her shoulders. “Baby, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe she just needed some space. People do that sometimes.”

“No!” Ivy insisted, shaking her head. “Not Gem. She wouldn’t leave like this, not without saying goodbye properly. And the note—it doesn’t make sense.” Her grip on Duchess tightened as tears welled in her eyes again. “I feel like something’s wrong, Roman. Please, we have to go look for her.”

Roman stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. He led her into the house and shut the door. “Baby girl,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm, “you’ve been through a lot. You’re exhausted, and I think that’s making this feel worse than it is. Let’s take a minute, sit down, and go over everything together.”

Ivy shook her head, stepping back from him. “We don’t have time to sit around, Roman! She could be in trouble. She could be—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

Roman reached for her again, his large hands cradling her shoulders. “Baby, listen to me. I get that you’re worried, but running out into the night without a plan isn’t going to help. Let me take care of you first, okay? You need to breathe.”

“I don’t need to breathe!” Ivy snapped, her desperation boiling over. “I need to find my friend! Are you gonna help me or not?”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his grip on her tightening briefly before he let out a measured breath. “Of course I’ll help you, baby,” he said, his tone soft but deliberate. “I’d do anything for you. But we need to think this through. Let me make you some tea, and we’ll figure out the best way to look for her.”

Ivy hesitated, her tears streaking her face as she searched his expression for reassurance. “You promise?” she whispered, her voice small.

Roman leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I promise, baby girl. I’m here for you. Always.” He stepped back, his hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” he said gently, guiding her toward the kitchen. “You need to sit down. Let’s figure this out together.”

Ivy followed him numbly, her legs moving on autopilot as her thoughts churned. She clutched Duchess tightly, the dog’s soft whimpers a faint reminder of her reality. When they reached the kitchen, Roman pulled out a chair for her, the scrape of wood against tile sounding too loud in the stillness.

“Sit,” he urged, his voice steady but insistent.

She sank into the chair, her hands trembling as she smoothed Duchess’s fur. The note burned in her mind, its shaky words etched into her memory. It was so unlike Gemini—strong, vibrant Gemini—to write something so hopeless.

Roman leaned against the counter, his dark eyes studying her intently. His arms crossed over his chest, and the stark black of his tattoos seemed even more pronounced under the harsh kitchen light.

“What did the note say?” he asked, his tone calm but probing.

Ivy swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper as she replied, “She said she couldn’t take it anymore. That she felt lost and alone. And…she said she was sorry for pushing me away.” Her throat tightened, and fresh tears spilled over.

Roman held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

She handed him the crumpled note, watching his face closely as he read it. His expression darkened subtly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he looked up. “And you found this where?”

“On her nightstand,” Ivy said, her voice shaky. “But she’s not there, Roman. Her car’s gone, and she’s just… vanished. It doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t leave me like this.”

Roman frowned, his jaw tightening for a brief moment before his face softened again. “Maybe she…didn’t want to do it at home,” he suggested cautiously. “She might’ve gone somewhere private.”

“No!” Ivy’s voice rose, her frustration spilling over. “That’s not her! She wouldn’t just leave a note like that and disappear. Something’s wrong, Roman. I can feel it.”

Roman sighed heavily and stood in front of her, his large hands resting on her thighs. His dark eyes met hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

“Ivy,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve been through so much lately—Angelo, Zaia, work—and now this. You’re overwhelmed, baby. Your mind is running in circles, and it’s making you see things that aren’t there. Let me take care of you tonight. You need to rest.”

Ivy blinked, her resolve faltering under his steady gaze. Was she overreacting? Was her grief clouding her judgment?

“But—” she began, only to have him interrupt.

“No ‘buts,’” Roman said firmly. His hands squeezed her thighs gently before he stepped back. “We’ll figure it out, but you need to trust me. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

The reassurance in his tone eased some of the tension in her chest, though unease still lingered at the edges. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Roman’s lips curved into a faint smile. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead. “Good girl. I’ll make us some tea,” he said, turning toward the stove.

Ivy watched him move, her mind still racing despite his calming words. Something about the way he had responded—too measured, too controlled—didn’t sit right. She wanted to shake the thought away, and blame her exhaustion and grief. But she couldn’t.

Something was not right. No matter what Roman said, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Gemini’s disappearance than the note suggested. And deep down, a tiny voice whispered a warning that she wasn’t ready to hear it.

Her gaze drifted aimlessly around the kitchen, desperate for a distraction from her spiraling thoughts. That’s when she saw it, tucked into a shadowy corner near the pantry: a vibrant tan-colored Prada tote bag. 

Her breath caught in her throat. 

It was Gemini’s—her favorite bag, the one she saved for special occasions and treated like it was made of gold. Ivy’s pulse quickened, her fingers freezing mid-stroke on Duchess’s fur. Why was it here? Gemini never let that bag out of her sight. Panic surged through Ivy’s chest, an icy flood that made her stomach churn.

Setting her puppy gently on the floor, Ivy’s feet moved almost on their own, carrying her to the bag. Her fingers hovered over it for a moment before grasping the worn leather strap. She turned it over in her hands, her heart sinking as her eyes landed on the unmistakable ‘G’ charm dangling from the zipper—Gemini’s signature touch. There was no doubt now. This was her best friend’s bag, here in Roman’s kitchen.

“What are you doing?” 

His deep voice startled her, sharp and sudden, cutting through the tense air. Ivy jumped, clutching the bag tighter as she spun to face him. His towering frame loomed in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable. 

“This is Gemini’s bag. Why do you have it? Why is it here?” she demanded, her voice shaking. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto his, searching for an explanation, but the dark, unreadable look that flickered across his face sent a chill down her spine.

The mask of charm finally slipped. “Ivy…listen to me...”

But Ivy wasn’t listening. Her hands shook as she unzipped the bag and rifled through it, pulling out the contents one by one. There were several printouts of news articles of missing persons, Rhea and Bianca among them. One particular photo made her stomach drop into the void as she laid eyes on it.

Roman’s mugshot. 

“What the hell is this?” Ivy’s voice cracked as she held it up, the other documents in her other hand.

Roman took a step toward her. “Ivy, calm down.”

She ignored him, her hands trembling as she stared at one of the headlines:

Mateo Hobbs Wanted in Connection with Multiple Murders in Florida.

The image was unmistakable—Roman, though his hair was shorter, and his beard less full. Ivy’s stomach turned, the bile threatening climbing up her throat.

“What is this?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Who the hell are you?”

Roman’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as though he were physically restraining himself from reacting. “Baby,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I can explain—”

“Explain?!” Ivy’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with betrayal. 

“Ivy—”

She threw the papers at him. “Tell me that’s not you! Tell me that’s not your face! You can’t, can you?”

Roman took a deliberate step toward her, his large frame cutting an imposing figure in the dim kitchen light. His large hands were raised in what he probably thought was a placating gesture, but to Ivy, it was nothing more than a threat. She backed away, her movements jerky and panicked. Duchess, standing protectively at her feet, growled low and steady, the sound vibrating through the tense air.

“Baby,” Roman said, his voice soft yet firm, as if he were speaking to a child on the verge of a tantrum. “Calm down. Let’s talk about this.”

“I let you into my house! You held my child!” she yelled, her chest heaving as her mind raced to comprehend the horrifying truth. Her voice cracked under the weight of her disbelief. “Oh my god…you and me, we…” Hot tears welled in her eyes, sick to her stomach.

“Ivy,” Roman repeated, more hostile now. “You don’t understand. Come here and let’s talk—”

“No!” Her scream was shrill, laced with fear and fury. Her hands fumbled blindly behind her as she searched for something—anything—to defend herself. Her fingers brushed against cold steel, and she wrapped them around the handle of a kitchen knife, holding it out in front of her with shaking hands.

��Stay away from me!” she yelled, the blade trembling as she brandished it. Duchess barked furiously now, the sound filling the space as she bared her teeth at Roman.

Roman’s expression flickered with anger, frustration, perhaps—but he didn’t stop. Instead, he took another step forward, his gaze fixed on Ivy.

“Put the knife down,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. “You don’t wanna do this, Ivy. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll stab you!” she shrieked, her grip tightening on the knife even as her hands shook violently. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts. “I mean it, I’ll-”

Roman lunged.

The world blurred into chaos as she swung the knife wildly, her instincts overtaking her terror. Their bodies collided, and the knife clattered to the floor with a metallic clang. Roman’s strength was overwhelming, his grip on her arms like iron as he wrestled her to the ground.

With a loud bark, Duchess launched herself at Roman, her teeth snapping dangerously close to his leg, but he kicked her away with brutal precision. The yelp that came from the dog sent a fresh wave of panic through Ivy’s chest.

“Duchess!” she screamed, her voice breaking as she thrashed against Roman’s hold.

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, his voice no longer calm or coaxing but sharp and commanding.

Ivy’s nails clawed at his arms, her legs kicking wildly as she tried to free herself, but Roman was too strong. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as her screams echoed through the kitchen.

“Let me go!” she cried, tears streaming down her face as she bucked beneath him, her energy rapidly depleting.

Roman’s face was inches from hers now, his breath hot against her skin. His eyes were dark, swirling with a mix of frustration and something far more dangerous.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ivy!” he said through gritted teeth, but the menace in his tone betrayed the words.

Ivy let out one last desperate scream, thrashing with so much force that her head struck the floor hard. Pain blossomed at the back of her skull, sharp and blinding, her vision tunneling before the world around her faded to black.

Roman sat back on his knees, breathing heavily as he stared down at her limp form. His jaw twitched, and he ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he said, his words low and tinged with frustration. He stood, lifting Ivy’s unconscious body effortlessly into his arms. Duchess growled weakly from where she lay near the corner, her movements sluggish. Roman didn’t spare the dog another glance as he carried Ivy toward the basement door, disappearing into the shadows below.

When Ivy woke, her head throbbed viciously and her vision swam with disjointed shapes. The cold concrete floor beneath her sent a chill through her body, seeping into her bones. She blinked, trying to piece together where she was and how she’d gotten there. The dim, artificial light cast long, eerie shadows across the space, and the faint, sharp scent of bleach stung her nose. But there was something else—something foul, sour, and unmistakably metallic.

Blood.

Her stomach lurched as she inhaled sharply, the nauseating scent overwhelming her senses. Ivy’s pulse raced as fragments of her memory returned. 

Roman. 

His shift in tone. The confrontation. And then… darkness.

Her heart pounded harder as she pushed herself onto shaky feet, her legs wobbling beneath her. She instinctively reached for the back of her head, feeling the tender knot where she must’ve been struck.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling and barely audible over the oppressive silence.

The room came into focus slowly—a basement, cold and sterile, with pristine white walls that somehow felt wrong in this suffocating space. A basement that didn’t belong to her.

Roman’s.

The realization hit her like a jolt of electricity, and her breath hitched. She spun toward the only door, but it was locked. Of course, it was locked. She pressed her ear to it and froze as she heard faint, deliberate footsteps above her. He was there.

Ivy backed away from the door, her movements frantic. Her chest heaved as panic clawed at her throat. She scanned the room for any means of escape. But nothing. The basement was immaculate, eerily so, with nothing out of place except for a large barrel in the corner. No ropes. No gags. No tools. Nothing that looked like it belonged to his wife, as he’d claimed. Just her, the empty space, and the deafening sound of her own breathing.

And then she saw it.

A trapdoor, set inconspicuously into the concrete floor.

Her stomach twisted, a war raging inside her between dread and desperate hope. Could it be a way out? Or was it something worse—something she didn’t want to face?

Ivy hesitated, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Roman could hear it from upstairs. She had to move. Had to act. The door wasn’t an option, and she couldn’t stay here waiting for him to come back.

Swallowing her fear, she crept toward the trapdoor, her breath shallow and ragged. Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the wood, the rough surface digging into her palms. She hesitated, every instinct in her body screaming at her to stop, to leave it closed. But her desperation overpowered her fear.

The wood creaked as she lifted it.

The smell hit her first, a nauseating wave of decay so strong it made her gag. She stumbled back, one hand covering her mouth and nose as her eyes watered. The pit below was dark, but her gaze caught something—a shape, pale and unmoving.

And then the shape became clear. Familiar.

Gemini.

A scream tore through Ivy’s throat, raw and guttural, reverberating in the empty space around her. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no!” she cried, her voice breaking, each word more desperate than the last. Tears slipped from her eyes as they locked on her best friend’s lifeless face, barely recognizable beneath the bruises and caved-in features. A long, open gash sliced through her throat, like a knife had been taken to it. 

Her stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat as she tried to process the horrific sight. Her breathing was ragged, each inhale feeling sharper, heavier, as though the very act of drawing breath into her lungs was a betrayal of what she was seeing. That somehow her mind was playing tricks on her. But the light above the trapdoor cast cruel shadows on Gemini’s body, highlighting the sheer violence of what had been done to her.

What Roman had done.

“Gemini!” Ivy’s body convulsed as she collapsed beside the pit, clutching at the edge and reaching in as though this act could somehow pull her best friend back into the world of the living. Her shaking hands closed around the cold, stiff fingers that no longer curled into playful fists or reached out for hugs. Ivy’s entire frame shook with the force of her loud, hysterical cries as she clutched at Gemini’s hand, willing it to warm, to move, to hold hers back. 

“Oh my god…Gem…” Her voice cracked, her words barely audible over the torrent of anguish pouring from her. “Oh god, Gemini, no, no, please, please wake up—”

The words caught in her throat, strangled by guilt and despair. She couldn’t finish. There was no point. No plea could bring Gemini back. The realization hit her like a physical blow, making her chest ache as if her heart were shattering into shards inside her ribcage.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’m so sorry,” Ivy wailed, fat teardrops splashing onto Gemini’s lifeless hand. The stark, unyielding coldness of her skin was wrong—everything about this was wrong.

Her sobs increased, her chest heaving as she cried out, “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this!” Her voice echoed in the space, bitter and broken.

Ivy rocked back and forth, her eyes squeezing shut as if it could stop the memories from flooding in—memories of Gemini’s laugh, her hugging Zaia and tickling Duchess, her fierce loyalty, her way of making Ivy feel like everything would be okay even when it wasn’t. All of it was gone now. Snuffed out by Roman’s brutality.

And she had let him in.

The realization was like a knife to her gut, twisting and unrelenting. Her fault. All her fault. She’d seen the signs. Felt the unease in her gut. Gemini had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. She’d ignored the warnings, chosen to believe in him when she should’ve been running far, far away.

“I’m s-sorry,” Ivy wept, the words spilling out over and over like a mantra as she gripped Gemini’s hand with both of hers. “F-Forgive me, Gem. Please forgive me…”

The weight of her grief was unbearable. Slumping in a heap next to the pit, her shoulders heaved from crying. Somewhere above her, the faint creak of footsteps reached her ears, a reminder that this horrible nightmare wasn’t over. But Ivy couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave Gemini here—not like this, not alone.

She pressed her forehead to the ground, her tears soaking the cold floor. “I’ll fix this,” she sniffled, her voice hoarse and trembling. “I swear to God, Gem. I’ll make this right. I’ll—” Her voice broke, the words dissolving into another gut-wrenching cry.

The silence in the room was deafening now, save for her choked sobs. The world felt darker, heavier, like it had shifted irreparably. Because it had. Gemini was gone. And Ivy wasn’t sure she could survive the hole that had just been carved into her soul.

The sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs snapped Ivy out of her daze. Her heart raced as she released Gemini’s hand and scrambled to her feet, backing away from the trapdoor. Her body trembled, cold terror coursing through her veins.

Roman appeared, carrying a large, barrel-like tank similar to the one that sat in the corner of the basement. His broad frame filled the space, and the calm expression on his face made Ivy’s stomach twist in revulsion.

“I see you've found her,” he said casually, as if discussing something mundane, his tone unsettlingly smooth.

Ivy’s breath hitched, and her voice came out in a trembling shriek. “What did you do?!” she screamed, her hysteria bubbling over. “What did you do, you monster!”

Roman’s dark eyes flicked to her, and for a moment, something like disappointment crossed his face. But he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his attention to the trapdoor, kneeling down and pulling it open fully.

“What are you doing?!” Ivy cried, her voice breaking. “Roman, stop! Please! Don’t—don’t touch her!” She stumbled forward instinctively, her hand outstretched, afraid to get close.

Roman didn’t stop. He bent down with deliberate precision and gripped Gemini’s body, hauling her up with a disturbing amount of strength and lack of hesitation. Ivy gagged, her knees threatening to give out as he moved the corpse with chilling efficiency.

“Stop it! Don’t do this!” Ivy cried, tears streaming down her face. “Please, Roman, I’m begging you! Leave her alone! Stop!” Her voice cracked, raw and desperate, but he didn’t even glance her way.

Instead, he began forcing Gemini’s limp form into the tank. The sound of bones snapping and joints dislocating filled the air, each crack a horrific reminder of his strength—and his cruelty. Ivy pressed her hands over her ears, crying uncontrollably as she backed against the wall. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to. Every fiber of her being screamed to run, to fight, to do something, but her legs wouldn’t obey.

Roman worked methodically, his movements almost clinical, as though this was just another chore to complete. He didn’t speak, didn’t react to Ivy’s pleas. It was as if she wasn’t even there. Her sobs filled the silence, broken only by the grotesque sounds of his work. And all she could do was watch as the man she once thought she loved continued to unveil the monster he truly was.

“Why?” she begged, “Why are you doing this?”

Roman twisted the lid of the barrel closed and turned to face her. “They didn’t understand me like you do,” he explained, his voice almost tender as he glanced at her. “I didn’t want to kill them, hell, I ain’t even plan to…but Angelo was in the way, and Gemini…she just wouldn’t stop digging…”

For a moment, Ivy couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened, her vision blurred, and the room spun. She blinked rapidly, hoping—praying—that she’d misheard him. But the look on his face, calm and unrepentant, told her otherwise.

“You…what do you mean you killed Angelo?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Roman tilted his head slightly, as if her disbelief confused him. “He was holding you back, baby,” he said simply, his tone almost matter-of-fact. “Every time I saw him with you, I knew he’d never let us be happy. And Zaia deserves a father who loves her, who loves you.”

Ivy stumbled back, pressing herself against the cold concrete wall. “Oh god. Oh god, oh fuck…” The words tumbled out of her in a broken chant, her hands clutching at her chest as if trying to hold her heart together.

Roman took a step closer, his hands spread in a placating gesture. “Ivy, listen to me. I did it for us. For our future. Don’t you see?”

But she couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring in her ears. Memories of Angelo flooded her mind—the way he used to playfully lift Zaia onto his shoulders, how his laugh would echo through the house during family dinners. Yes, he had his faults. He was stubborn, controlling at times, and their relationship had ended messily. But he was Zaia’s father. He was her child’s father!

“I can’t believe this!” she cried, her voice rising in hysteria. She sank to her knees, clutching her head as tears poured down her face. “Angelo stressed me out, but I never wanted him dead! He was Zaia’s father! How could you—how could you take him away from her?!”

“Ivy,” he said, his tone low and coaxing, as though she were a frightened animal. “I know this is hard to hear, but Angelo was a piece of shit. He wasn’t good for you. He didn’t treat you the way you deserved. And Zaia? She’s better off without a man like him in her life.”

“Fuck you!” Ivy screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her anguish. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to play God with our lives!”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening for a split second before softening again. “Baby girl,” he said, his voice almost soothing. “I’m protecting you. I’m protecting Zaia. You both deserve so much more than he could ever give. What’s a measly fucking house and some necklace when I can give you ten houses? A hundred necklaces? He was the bare minimum and you deserve more.”

“You’re sick,” Ivy hissed, her voice shaking with raw emotion. “You’re fucking insane!”

Her words seemed to pierce through Roman’s calm façade. For a moment, his face hardened, his jaw clenching as he stared at her. Then, just as quickly, his expression shifted back to one of calculated composure.

“I know you’re upset,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But one day, you’ll understand. You’ll see that everything I’ve done was for you—for us.” He swallowed hard, emotion clouding his features, “Because I love you, Ivy. I love you so much.”

Ivy let out another guttural sob, her body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to block out the sight of him, the sound of his voice. The man she had trusted, the man she had thought she was in love with, had taken Gemini and Angelo from her.

From Zaia.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Her baby would grow up without her father—not because of a tragic accident, but because Roman had stolen him away. And he had the fucking nerve to stand there, calm and unbothered, as though he’d done her a favor as opposed to destroying her and her daughter’s life.

Roman crouched down in front of her, his large frame blocking out the dim light. He reached out as if to comfort her, but Ivy recoiled, her entire body rattling with fury and grief. “Don’t touch me!” she choked out, her voice raw and trembling. “Get away from me!”

He hesitated, his hand hovering in the air before slowly retracting. He stood, his towering figure casting a long shadow over her trembling form.

“You may hate me right now,” he said softly, “But deep down, you know I’m right. I’ll give you time to see that.”

Ivy didn’t respond. She couldn’t. All she could do was curl into herself, her sobs echoing through the cold, sterile basement as the horrifying truths engulfed her like a vulture swooping in on its prey.

Thanks for all your support last year! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Please keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

Roman gif by @dejameflorecer

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[speaknow-sw]

•| ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ |•

Content : rough sex, degradation, anakin isn’t nice, PiV, mentions of slavery and whipping, swearing, pure filth. I’m not responsible for your own media consumption.

A/N : Here’s chapter two and it’s pure filth, reader’s a bit egoistical but who wouldn’t want to be close to their lover after centuries of not seeing them ? Anakin is not nice but he’s trying guys 😅 (no). Anyway enjoy. domina = my lady

• | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ : ᴀ ꜱʟᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ |•

THE CHAMBER WAS DIMLY LIT, the flickering glow of torches casting long shadows over damp stone walls. The scent of blood and sweat clung to the air, thick and inescapable, but you moved through it untouched, a vision in silk and gold. Your presence here was unnatural—an intruder in the depths of the Colosseum, where men were caged like animals, their only purpose to fight, bleed, and die for the pleasure of Rome.

But you had not come for their spectacle. You had come for him. You moved untouched, veiled in silk, adorned in gold, your presence commanding obedience with nothing more than a glance.

A dominus had power in Rome, and tonight, you played the part of one. The lanista, a balding, thickset man with a face like a bloated corpse, counted the coins in his palm before giving you a wary glance. His reluctance was almost amusing. He did not know what you were, only that you were not like the other Roman nobles who sought gladiators for their amusement.

“He’s dangerous,” the lanista muttered, as if that would dissuade you.

Your gaze flickered to the heavy wooden door behind him, the iron bolts securing the beast within. “That is precisely why I chose him.”

The lanista exhaled sharply through his nose but said nothing more. The metal groaned as he dragged the bolts free, stepping aside as the door swung open.

And then—

Anakin Skywalker emerged from the darkness.

He was shirtless, his body slick with sweat and streaked with blood, muscles taut beneath the dim torchlight. His wrists were bound in iron, the heavy chains rattling as he moved, but he carried them as if they weighed nothing. Fresh wounds striped his back from the lash he had taken earlier that day, punishment for his disobedience in the arena. The marks stood out like crimson sigils against his tanned skin, yet he bore them without flinching.

But it was his eyes that truly held you still—cold, sharp blue, a striking contrast to the golden curls that fell damp over his brow. He was bruised, bleeding, and yet he stood tall, utterly unbowed.

The lanista shoved him forward. “Kneel, slave.”

Anakin barely spared the man a glance. Instead, he looked at you.

And smirked.

You arched a brow.

“No?” the lanista snapped, stepping toward him, whip coiled at his hip.

“I do not kneel for Romans,” Anakin said, voice like gravel, rough from battle and pain. His gaze remained locked on yours, unreadable but heavy with something dark. “Especially not for their women.”

The lanista moved to strike him, but you lifted a hand, stopping him.

“Leave us.”

The lanista hesitated. “But, domina—”

“I said leave.”

A flicker of something—perhaps fear, perhaps confusion—crossed the man’s face before he reluctantly stepped away, muttering curses under his breath. The heavy door groaned shut behind him, and then, at last, you were alone with Anakin.

Silence stretched between you.

Anakin rolled his shoulders, the motion slow, deliberate. “So,” he drawled, glancing at you with something dangerously close to amusement. “Another Roman noble come to inspect her latest plaything ?”

Your lips curved. “I see the whip did not teach you humility.”

He tilted his head, eyes dragging over you in a way that might have been insolent—if not for the fact that you allowed it. His gaze lingered on the silk of your robes, the gold at your throat, the faint scent of perfume that clung to your skin. When his eyes met yours again, they burned with something unreadable.

“I’ve learned that Romans enjoy a man who suffers prettily for them,” he murmured, a mocking edge to his voice. “Did you pay for a closer look at my cock ?”

You hummed, stepping closer. “I paid for your time, gladiator. What I do with it is my choosing.”

His smirk widened. “Then I pity you.”

Your brow arched. “Oh?”

“You must be terribly bored.”

Your fingers ghosted over the rim of your goblet, the wine inside untouched. “On the contrary. I find you fascinating.”

He let out a low, dark laugh. “A dangerous word.”

You took another step forward, closing the distance between you. The scent of steel and sweat mixed with the faint perfume of myrrh and spices, a contrast of brutality and divinity. The chains clinked as he moved, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath their weight. He was raw power caged in iron, a lion behind bars, and yet—he did not feel like prey.

“Why do you fight ?” you asked, tilting your head. “You do not strike me as a man who enjoys entertaining Rome.”

His expression flickered, just for a moment. “Perhaps I don’t.”

“Then why ?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as if the question amused him. “What does it matter ? We are all slaves to something.”

Something inside you twisted. The weight of centuries pressed against your ribs, the knowledge that he was right. He was bound in iron, and you—goddess though you were—were bound by fate.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them. Then, slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer, the chains rattling between you.

“Tell me, domina,” he murmured, voice dropping to something dark, intimate. “Why are you really here?”

The silence between you thickened, heavy with something unspoken, something neither of you acknowledged but both understood. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his eyes traced the delicate goldwork of your jewelry, the fine embroidery of your silk robes, the way your presence itself seemed an insult in this place of sweat, blood, and iron.

Anakin stood before you, chained and bruised, a man made for war, for killing. And yet, even as a slave, he was untamed. He had not yet been broken.

But everyone had a breaking point.

You stepped closer, deliberately, your sandals whispering against the cold stone floor. He did not move, but you saw the subtle shift in his posture—the flex of his shoulders, the tightening of his jaw. A man prepared to endure, to resist.

You smiled.

“I own this time,” you said softly. “I own you for as long as I please.”

His smirk was slow, amused. “Do you?”

You lifted a hand. Not to touch him—yet—but to trace the air just above his skin, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the heat of a body honed for battle.

His breath hitched, barely perceptible.

“I paid well for you, gladiator,” you continued, tilting your head as your fingers ghosted over his arm, lingering just above the bruises left by the iron shackles. “Tell me… do you think your master would care if I took liberties with what I own?”

His eyes darkened, the smirk sharpening. “I think you enjoy pretending that you own things that can’t be owned.”

You traced your fingers up, featherlight, skimming over the curve of his collarbone. He was scarred, his skin marked by battles fought and won, each one a testament to survival. But beneath the wounds, there was beauty—undeniable, infuriating beauty. His body was carved by struggle, but his face… his face was a god’s mistake, too beautiful for a man meant to die in the arena.

He was looking at you the way a lion looked at the fool who dared step into its cage.

Your smile did not falter. “And you enjoy pretending you have a choice.”

The chain between his wrists rattled as he shifted. His head dipped slightly, his breath warm against your cheek, too close, too bold.

“I always have a choice,” he murmured.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Do you?”

Your fingers trailed lower, down his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. He was still, but not passive. This was a man who would let you touch fire just to see if you would burn yourself.

You could.

You should.

You wouldn't.

Instead, you leaned in, close enough that he would feel the brush of your lips without ever truly touching. A phantom promise. A whisper of power.

"You belong to me tonight," you murmured against his skin. "Fight it if you want. But you will lose."

For the first time, his smirk faded.

And then, slowly, dangerously, he smiled again.

"You paid for my time, domina," he said, voice low, rough, almost mocking. "I wonder… what will you do with it ?"

"You know what I want, gladiator…so give it to me." You returned his smirk. 

Anakin's eyes flashed at your bold words, a flicker of surprise giving way to a slow, wicked grin. He leaned in closer, until you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips, the scent of steel and sweat and something darker, more primal.

"Careful what you wish for," he murmured, voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. "A man like me... I might just give you more than you can handle."

His gaze dragged over you, intense and hungry, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips beneath the silk of your robes. When his eyes met yours again, they burned with a feral light.

"Tell me, domina," he breathed, "do you want me to worship you like a goddess... or ruin you like the wanton creature I suspect you are beneath this fine silk and gold?"

He reached out, fingers grazing the delicate embroidery at your throat, a stark contrast to the rough, calloused skin of a warrior. His touch was fleeting, a whisper against your skin, but it left a trail of heat in its wake.

"Choose carefully," he whispered, a dark promise in his voice. "Because once I start... I don't think I'll be able to stop."

The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of his words hanging heavy. You could feel the power shift, the balance teetering on a knife's edge. He was a gladiator, a slave, but in this moment, he held the reins. He owned you with his eyes, his touch, his voice. And God help you, but you wanted him to claim you utterly.

You wanted him to take you.

To take you apart.

To put you back together again.

To make you feel alive again.

You trembled slightly under his intense gaze. "Tell me, do you see all your women like this ?"

Anakin's gaze sharpened, a flicker of something dark and dangerous passing through his eyes. He leaned back slightly, just enough to look down at you with a smirk that was equal parts cruel and amused.

"Women?" he repeated, a low, rough laugh escaping his lips. "You think you're like the others?"

He reached out, fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, a rough caress that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

"No," he murmured, voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "You're not like the others. They don't have your... hunger."

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "They don't look at me like they want to devour me alive. Like they want to take everything I have to give and beg for more."

He leaned in closer, until you could feel the brush of his lips against yours. "You're not here to be worshipped, domina. You're here to be fucked. Hard. Until you forget your own name and remember only mine."

His other hand slid down your back, coming to rest at the small of your back. He pulled you against him, the hard planes of his body molding to the soft curves of yours. You could feel every inch of him, the thick length of his cock pressing insistently against your stomach, the coiled strength in his thighs, the unyielding power of his chest.

"You're not like the others," he breathed against your lips. "You're a woman who knows what she wants. And what you want... is me."

He claimed your mouth in a brutal kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that stole your breath. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, demanding your surrender. And God help you, but you gave it to him. You melted against him, your body softening, your lips parting in a silent cry of pleasure as he plundered your mouth.

He kissed you until you were breathless, until your head was spinning and your body was aching for his touch. He kissed you until you forgot where you were, until all that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the heat of his skin, the strength of his arms around you.

And when he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, his expression fierce. "So tell me, domina," he breathed against your ear, his voice a low, rough rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. "What do you want from me tonight? And don't say you want to be fucked. I can give you so much more than that."

His hand slid lower, cupping the curve of your ass, squeezing the supple flesh. He pulled you harder against him, grinding his hips into yours, letting you feel the thick, hard length of him through the thin silk of your robes.

"I can make you scream until your throat is raw," he promised darkly. "I can fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll feel me for days. I can worship every inch of your body with my mouth and hands until you're trembling and begging for more."

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "I can bind you to my bed and tease you until you're sobbing, until you're so desperate for release that you'll do anything I ask. Anything."

His other hand slid up your side, cupping the weight of your breast, his thumb brushing over the peak of your nipple through the silk. "I can make you come so hard that you'll forget where you are, who you are, until all that exists is the pleasure I give you."

He leaned back, his eyes burning into yours. "So tell me, domina," he breathed, a wicked, dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "What do you want from me tonight? And choose your words carefully, because I intend to give it to you. All of it. Every single, filthy, delicious inch."

"All of it, I want all of it. You hate me, I can feel it. So pour your hate in your thrusts. Hate Rome through me." You whispered breathlessly.

Anakin's eyes flashed with a fierce, feral light at your whispered words. A dark, cruel smile curved his lips as he stared down at you, his grip on your ass tightening possessively. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke in a low, rough growl.

"Hate you? No, domina. I don't hate you. I despise you. I loathe every inch of your Roman arrogance, your entitled cruelty. I detest the way you think you can own a man like me, that you can buy and sell me like a piece of flesh."

His other hand slid up to wrap around your throat, his fingers curling around your delicate neck. He didn't squeeze, not yet, but the threat was there. The promise of domination, of control.

"But you're right about one thing. I will pour every ounce of my hatred into you. I will fuck you with all the rage and fury I feel for your kind. I will make you feel the wrath of a man who has been enslaved, beaten, and degraded for the entertainment of people like you."

He spun you around and bent you over the table, sweeping the contents to the floor with a clatter. The cold marble pressed against your skin through the thin silk of your robes as he pushed your skirt up over your hips, exposing your bare ass to the cool air.

"Keep this up, domina. Beg for it. Beg for me to hate-fuck you like the Roman whore you are. Beg for me to ruin your tight little cunt with my big, hard cock. Beg for me to make you scream and cry and plead for mercy."

He undid his belt with a swift, rough motion, the leather straps hitting the floor. His cock sprang free, thick and hard and already leaking with arousal. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise as he rubbed the swollen head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your juices.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name. I'll make you scream until your throat is raw and your voice is gone. I'll make you come on my cock again and again until you're sobbing and begging me to stop. And when I'm done, when I've filled your greedy little cunt with my seed, I'll make you lick it off the cold marble floor, I'll make you taste the hatred I have for your kind. I'll make you choke on it, swallow it down until you gag and sputter, until you can't breathe for the taste of my contempt."

Anakin drove into you with a brutal, punishing thrust, his thick cock splitting you open, stretching you wide around his invading length. A guttural groan tore from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt inside your tight, clenching heat. He didn't pause, didn't give you a moment to adjust, but immediately set a hard, relentless pace, pounding into you with all the fury and hatred he harbored for your kind.

His hips slapped against your ass with each savage thrust, the lewd sound echoing obscenely in the chamber. One hand gripped your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, while the other hand tightened around your throat, his calloused fingers digging into your delicate skin. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as he cut off your air supply, making your head swim and your heart race.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Anakin snarled, his voice rough and ragged with lust and rage. "Such a perfect little Roman cunt, squeezing my cock like you never want to let it go. But I'll ruin you, domina. I'll fuck you until you're nothing but a sloppy, dripping mess, until the only thing your greedy hole knows is the feel of my cock pounding into it."

He hammered into you harder, the force of his thrusts shaking the table beneath you, the marble biting into your hips. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock as it dragged along your sensitive walls, bullying your poor, unprepared cunt with its relentless assault.

"Scream for me," Anakin demanded, his voice a dark, cruel command. "Let all of Rome hear you being claimed by their enemy. Let them hear how a slave is ruining their precious noblewoman, how I'm using your body to unleash all the hatred I've stored up for people like you."

He tightened his grip on your throat, making your vision blur and your lungs burn for air. Your body clenched around him, the lack of oxygen heightening every sensation, every brutal thrust, every cruel twist of his hips as he ground against your cervix.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me," Anakin groaned, his breath hot against your ear. "You love this, don't you? Being used like a cheap whore ?"

"Gladiator…harder." You moaned loudly and arched your back, offering your chest to him.

Anakin growled in response to your wanton moan, a feral sound of pure, unbridled lust and rage. His hips surged forward with renewed vigor, slamming into you with enough force to rock the sturdy wooden table beneath you. The rough, calloused skin of his thighs slapped against the backs of yours as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

"Harder? You want it harder, you Roman slut?" Anakin snarled, his voice dripping with disdain and dark promise. "I'll give you harder."

He tightened his grip on your throat even more, cutting off your air supply completely as he redoubled his brutal assault on your cunt. The lack of oxygen made your head swim and your vision blur, but you could still feel every excruciating detail of his violation. The thick, pulsing heat of his cock plunging into your core over and over, the rough drag of his pelvis against your sensitive clit, the obscene squelch of your juices easing the way for his relentless thrusts.

Anakin leaned over you, his muscular chest pressing against your back, his breath ragged and hot against your ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you pass out," he promised darkly. "Until your mind goes blank and all you know is the feel of my cock splitting you open, claiming you, ruining you for all other men."

He punctuated his words with a particularly vicious thrust, slamming into you so hard the table shook and creaked beneath you. One hand gripped your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave vivid bruises, while the other hand slid up to wrap around your breast, squeezing the supple mound roughly. He pinched and rolled your nipple between his fingers, sending jolts of painful pleasure straight to your core.

"I can feel you shaking, domina," Anakin taunted, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "I can feel your greedy little cunt squeezing my cock, trying to hold onto it like it never wants to let it go. You don't want this to end, do you? You want me to keep fucking you, to ruin you, to make you forget everything but the feel of my cock splitting you open again and again."

He licked a stripe up your neck, his tongue rough and hot against your sweat-slicked skin. "I could fuck you forever, domina. I could keep you chained to my bed, keep your legs spread wide, and fuck you until you're nothing but a mindless, drooling mess. I could make you my personal fucktoy, my own Roman cocksleeve, ready and eager for me to use whenever I please."

Stars exploded in front of your vision and you climaxed harder than ever, your nails raking on his shoulders, accidentally scratching one of his wounds.

Anakin snarled in pain and rage as your nails raked down his back, your sharp nails digging into the fresh wounds from the arena. Hot, stinging pain lanced through him and he reacted on pure instinct, his hips slamming forward with a brutal, punishing thrust. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh as he ground his pelvis against yours, his cock buried to the hilt inside your spasming, clenching heat.

"Fuck, you little bitch!" Anakin roared, his voice echoing off the chamber walls. "Did I say you could scratch me? Did I give you permission to mark my skin like the filthy whore you are?"

He punctuated his furious words with a series of rapid, brutal thrusts, each one harder and more punishing than the last. The table shook and creaked beneath you, the marble biting into your hips as he fucked you with all the rage and hatred he felt for your kind, for your careless, cruel touch.

"Punishment is in order," Anakin growled, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "I'll make you regret ever daring to mark me without my consent."

He pulled out of you abruptly, his cock slick with your juices, and flipped you over onto your back. Before you could catch your breath, he had your wrists pinned above your head, his much larger hand easily encircling them. He loomed over you, his muscular chest heaving, his eyes blazing with fury and lust.

"Apologize," he demanded, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Apologize for daring to mark me like a cheap harlot. Apologize for forgetting your place, for thinking you had any right to touch me without my express permission."

He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Apologize, domina," he hissed. "Or I'll make you regret it in ways you never imagined."

Anakin's eyes flashed with a cruel, triumphant light as he watched you gasp and shudder through the aftershocks of your intense climax. He could feel your body still trembling beneath his, your cunt clenching and fluttering around his cock, trying in vain to hold onto him, to keep him buried deep inside your greedy heat.

"Look at you, domina," he purred, his voice a low, mocking rasp. "Coming undone on my cock like the desperate slut you are. I've barely touched you and you're already falling apart, already forgetting yourself in the throes of your pathetic pleasure."

Anakin stared down at your tear-streaked face, a look of utter disgust etched onto his handsome features. He pulled out of you abruptly, leaving your cunt empty and aching, your juices dripping down onto the cold marble table. With a rough, jerky motion, he tucked his still-hard cock back into his breeches and stepped back, putting some distance between your naked, wanton body and his own.

"Damn Roman whore," he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with contempt. "All the same. Thinking with your greedy cunt instead of your brain. Just like the rest of your kind."

He shook his head in disgust, his dark blonde hair falling into his eyes. "You think you can buy a man's loyalty, his devotion, his very soul? You think you can own a warrior like me with your gold and your pretty words?"

Anakin's lip curled in a sneer as he looked down at you, his blue eyes hard and accusing. "You're no better than the rest of them. No better than the crowds in the arena, baying for blood and spectacle. You just want to use me for your own twisted pleasure, to sate your base, animalistic urges."

He turned away from you, his broad shoulders rigid with tension, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Get dressed, domina," he ordered coldly. "Cover up your shameful display. And then get out. I have no more use for you tonight."

With that, Anakin strode towards the door, leaving you naked and alone on the table, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your intense climax. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at you over his shoulder, his expression hard and unforgiving.

"And don't think this is over," he warned darkly. "Your kind always comes crawling back for more, like the addicted sluts you are. But I won't be so easy to seduce next time. I know your true nature now."

"The gods will punish you…" You whispered, sitting up.

Anakin laughed, low and sharp, the sound cutting through the dimly lit chamber like a blade. “The gods,” he scoffed, rolling his shoulders despite the weight of his chains. “Tell me, domina, what use do men like me have for gods?”

You tilted your head, your expression unreadable. “You do not believe in them?”

“Oh, I believe in them.” His smirk was bitter. “I believe in their cruelty. In their silence. The gods watch men like me suffer and do nothing.” His blue eyes locked onto yours, sharp as the edge of a dagger. “I do not pray to them. And if they are watching me, then let them know I spit on their names.”

Your fingers traced the rim of your goblet, the wine within dark as spilled blood. “And yet, perhaps the gods have not forgotten you.”

Anakin's expression hardened. “I have no patience for riddles, domina.”

You leaned forward, your voice dropping to something softer, something almost intimate. “Tell me, do you ever dream of things you do not remember? Faces you have never seen? A life that is not your own?”

His smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second—so brief, so fleeting that another might have missed it. But you did not.

Anakin shifted against the chains, his wrists flexing against the iron shackles, the muscles in his arms taut. “You ask strange questions for a noblewoman.”

“You give strange answers for a gladiator.”

The tension between you thickened, something unspoken coiling in the air. You watched the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists as if bracing against something unknown.

You were playing a dangerous game. But then again, you always had.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and incense as Anakin’s lanista—his owner—sprawled lazily on his cushioned seat, swirling his wine with idle amusement. “He is strong, domina,” the man drawled, gesturing toward Anakin. “Undefeated. A rare breed.”

You kept your gaze on Anakin, who stood beside the lanista, arms bound, his skin marred with fresh welts from his earlier punishment. He looked at you with nothing but disdain, but beneath it, you could feel something deeper—an unspoken challenge, a warning.

“I could buy him,” you said simply.

The lanista chuckled. “A fine choice, my lady. He would make a strong bodyguard, or perhaps something… more.” His eyes gleamed with lewd suggestion. “For the right price, he is yours.”

Before you could respond, Anakin snarled, the sound raw and full of venom.

“I belong to no one.”

His voice rang through the chamber like a war drum. Even bound, even kneeling in the presence of those who claimed ownership over him, there was no submission in him. Only defiance. Only fire.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

Foolish man.

Foolish, beautiful man.

The lanista scowled, yanking Anakin’s chains so hard his head snapped back. “You will belong to whomever I sell you to, slave.”

Anakin’s eyes found yours then, burning with fury. “Kill me if you want,” he said, voice low, unwavering. “But I will never bow.”

The room fell into a heavy silence.

And yet, as the lanista barked orders to have him dragged away, you could not stop watching him.

Anakin did not plead. He did not beg.

Even as he was pulled from the room, his head was held high, his gaze never leaving yours.

That night, Anakin slept on the cold stone of his cell, his body aching from the lashes, from the fights, from the weight of another day in chains. But when he closed his eyes, he did not dream of the Colosseum.

He dreamed of green fields, of wildflowers swaying in the wind. He dreamed of soft laughter, of hands weaving a crown of herbs, of sunlight on golden hair.

He dreamed of a woman.

He could not see her face, but he felt her presence—familiar, distant, like a name on the tip of his tongue.

When he woke, his breath was unsteady, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

And for the first time in years, he was afraid.

Even in chains, a lion does not forget the taste of freedom. Even in death, a man does not forget the echo of love.

[taegimood]

ummm woah what’s that! points in the opposite direction as i scramble behind my open for business sign as if i didn’t disappear without a trace for months and have totally been here the whole time oh guess it was nothing anyway hi guys

i wouldn’t be me without eternal soobin brainrot so naturally i’ve emerged to throw this old now-finished draft at you for my first post back 🫡

so the best friends to fwb to lovers pipeline is my mf roman empire i’m so serious. like bestfriend!soobin always sitting next to you with his hand casually resting on your leg at all times, not even in a suggestive way, he just gravitates towards touching you 🥺 his safe place !! imagining his huge self slumped practically in half to rest his head on your shoulder, or him just mindlessly playing with your little fingers in his big hands glitches as he sits observing the room w that soft pout and big boba eyes combo yeah you know the one- clutches chest

so then later turned fwb!soobin who’s so used to showering w his friends iykyk lmao that now that he’s fucking you, in his mind you’ve crossed over that threshold of friendship where he expects to be able to join you for your showers even when it’s nothing sexual.. is genuinely confused if you tell him no 😭

“soobin i just need some me-time”

“….you can’t have your me-time with me?” *displeased pout*

like a needy puppy fr

but like you guys having such an interesting dynamic cuz you’re just still straight-up best friends (who are actually in love with each other but neither of you realize that even tho everyone else does cue yeonjun rolling his eyes into the camera like the office) so even tho the boys are all waiting for you both to wake up from your one joint braincell’s loop of stupidity and realize the truth, (beomgyu’s words), no one actually suspects that you’re out here skipping steps and FUCKING each other, because you guys just act so normal and chill together otherwise — the same way you’ve always been.

until later when the feelings start coming to the surface and you suddenly don’t know how to act around each other but that’s a whole other can of worms 🫡

so, when you’ve joined them for a short weekend schedule in japan, no one questions it when soobin meanders over to your hotel room after everyone is all settled in and getting ready for bed. eh, he’s just gonna go veg out there for a bit cuz he’s bored while she rambles about random stuff. classic soobin and y/n. they are wrong

you had just settled into bed when soobin slips into your room with the spare key card you had tucked into his pocket earlier, and you’re shuffling around and getting comfy when you hear the door open and close. you two hadn’t made a plan to mess around tonight, but you aren’t surprised, as it isn’t unusual for soobin to still seek you out for cuddles while he talks about his day.

you don’t even have to say anything as he slides into bed behind you, instantly wrapping an arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck with a sigh.

“needed a break from beomgyu’s pororo impressions,” he mumbles, and you snort at the thought. “how does he still have so much energy right now…?” you murmur back, sleep lacing the edges of your voice.

“i still think i’m right about him being an animatronic bot who reaches peak terror at night.”

the two of you giggle at soobin’s joke before falling into a comfortable silence, broken intermittently by comments about your day, about their schedule tomorrow, about the anime-themed shopping center you guys plan to sneak off to with kai afterwards.

with another sigh from soobin, this one more of contentment than exhaustion, he’s soon nestling further into you, your eyes slipping shut in sleepy bliss at the warmth of his body pressed to yours.

that is, until you begin to feel small kisses being placed softly along your shoulder.

“soobin,” you warn half-heartedly.

“‘m not doing anything,” he complains back quietly in an equally half-hearted mumble, as he continues clearly doing something.

you’re so tired, but you can’t deny the tingles that run through your body whenever soobin touches you, and tonight is no exception as you wordlessly turn your head to look over your shoulder at him, his features coming into focus in the near-darkness of the room as he pauses to gaze at you in turn.

his blonde hair all tousled from the pillows, the sharp line of his jaw, his soft shining eyes — and his lips that you can never seem to resist for very long.

case in point. it’s only a few passing moments before those lips are on yours in a deep kiss, languid and slow, his hand gently holding your chin that’s still angled back towards him, your own hand reaching behind to caress the back of his neck — and then he’s shifting backwards to turn you over fully, your back now against the sheets as he positions himself half over you, his tongue moving lazily with yours, warm and wet and tasting of him as he comfortably rests his weight on you.

you make out like that for a while, his wandering right hand leisurely squeezing and kneading your tits beneath your shirt, his lips occasionally finding themselves trailing down your neck, but always coming back up to find yours.

i can picture how needy he’d start to get, subtle at first in the way he’d shift his hips, in the way his breath would quicken — and then it would be obvious from the moans that escape him as his kisses grow heavier, more insistent.

“need you..” he’d groan breathlessly through his kisses, attempting to shove his sweatpants down with his free hand as his lips stay latched onto yours, too desperate and impatient to sit up properly and use both hands.

“someone might come looking for you,” but you’re tugging his pants and boxers down his hips for him anyway and his lips are on your neck as he pushes your panties aside.

“let them look.”

soobin wasting no time rocking into you with deep, needy strokes, his face buried in your neck while your arms wrap around his shoulders, clutching onto him as his hips press you further into the mattress the more desperate he gets.

his hands are all over you, squeezing and caressing anywhere they can touch, and closer just isn’t enough as he holds you against him with breathy moans and grinding hips until you’re both cumming, his stuttered groan the giveaway before his final thrust is filling you up and your own climax washes over you like a wave. you can feel each other’s hearts beating as he stays there rested on top of your chest.

your best friend eventually lifting himself to hover over you in the dark, his warm breath fanning over your lips as you push the damp hair from his forehead, hand sliding down to caress his cheek, his jaw, thumb ghosting across his parted lips as he twitches inside of you — you bite back a smile.

this time, when he kisses you.. you don’t know it yet, but this time, it’s different.

soobin isn’t exactly sure why he can feel heat rising to his cheeks or a little somersault in his chest, but he’s glad that it’s too dark for you to notice the redness in his face when he asks,

“can i stay here tonight?”

[misguidedasgardian]

GLADIATORS / A HotD Au

SUMMARY

The Andals came from Essos and conquered five of the seven kingdoms, and founded The Great Republic of the Andals and has them under its yolk, they took every tribe, culture and town that oppose them and subdued it, they took their men, and their women, and slaved them, only the greatest, strongest, better men, became gladiators under the sun of the mighty Republic

Pairings: Slave/Gladiator!Cregan Stark x Domina!Reader, Gladiator!Harwin x Domina!Reader, Slave/Gladiator!Aemond x Slave!Reader, Slave/Gladiator!Aegon x Patrician!Reader, Gladiator Trainer!Daemon x Empress!Reader. 

Warnings: Ancient Rome AU, Cursing, slavery (and everything that comes with it, technically rape, forced labour, punishments), blood, guts, gladiator battles, lude language, nudity, sex and evrything related is no biggie here, we’re a ‘sex positive’ Republic, mentions of sex, same sex couples, orgies, and more. Assassinations, assassinations attempts, pagan rituals, slaughter of animals for ritualistic purposes, crimes of war, more might be added by chapter.

The trilogy, Smut, Angst & Fluff (some) 

Since it's heavily inspired by “Spartacus”, “Domina” and “Gladiator”, you can expect similar events to be depicted here. If you are an Historian, you are clearly going to want to kick my ass, since I’m not, expect inaccuracies in rituals, cultures descriptions and religions. 

Notes: Alright… of course I’ll be adapting the ancient Roman empire to the Westerosi world… so here are some guidelines

“Romans” will be referred as “Andals”, and after those they are two other types of natives of Westeros, the “Northmen” or rather The first men, and the Rhoynar from the South. 

I’ll be using ancient roman terms that due to context should be easy to decipher jeje, and I’ll be using much of their rituals and customs. 

This will be considered “short”, as each gladiator will have three chapters. All the stories happen at the same time, though they won't cross much against each other, you can read them either the I's of each and then the II's and III's or read the characters separately, the ones that interest you.

Please remember, I am not an historian, just relax and have fun! that's what we are here for.

EVERY READER IS DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHER! each character has a different reader! and they do not meet each other!

CHAPTERS SOON

CREGAN: CHAPTER I.

Cregan is a man that got enslaved when the Andals conquered the wild tribes of the North, he ends up being trained as a gladiator in the villa of a prominent family; a respectable man, and his daughter who is impressionable, and young, and as a young woman, she starts hearing tales of her friends about men, about their own gladiators and stories of orgies and sex… and she gets curious when she sees this beautiful man, a slave no less, training in his father’s villa.

HARWIN: CHAPTER I.

Reader and Robin knew that they were never going to find better than each other, best friends since childhood, so they got married. Robin prefers the company of men, he and reader have an agreement.

They came to the capital to get out of the scrutiny of the Vale, they want an heir, and embark in the politics of the capital. The answer to both their desired might be incarnated in the champion of the Arena Robin just purchased

AEGON:

It was not uncommon for patrician families to… copulate… with their slaves and gladiators specially, a particular group of women decided to bed specially gladiators because of their strength and physiques. Domina Alys starts to sell one of her gladiators in particular to her best friend. 

Aegon takes a liking to this, rather than fights, specially with reader, who only wants to escape her old husband Borros

AEMOND:

Aemond is a gladiator in the same villa as his brother Aegon. He dreams about victories in the arena, and it's focused on his training and bringing honor to his Ludus.

His determination and skill makes him the favorite of his domina, Alys, who had inherited the Ludus from her father, the only problem they are both going to face is you, a young sweet slave, purchase to tend and serve your domina, who does not take kindly that you are “stealing” away her favorite gladiator

DAEMON:

Daemon is a legendary gladiator, but his days of glory are past him, now he trains his own Ludus in the outskirts of King’s Landing, finally he has recovered some of the power he once had, now a free man. 

But the emperor is frail and weak, he’s got no heirs but a girl, in the dangerous political climate, he has been hired to protect you, next in line to the throne and the first woman to ever ascent as empress of the republic

[esoteric-chaos]

Imbolc - Spoonie Witch Friendly

Imbolc is usually celebrated between February 1st & 2nd, in the Northern Hemisphere (In Southern hemisphere around August 1).

Imbolc is a fire festival celebrating the home, hearth, and the halfway point between Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox.

Is is the celebration of the return of the light and sun. A great time to honour the coldest days and the arrival of spring.

Imbolc Correspondences

Colours

White

Gold

Silver

Pastel Colors

Herbal

Rosemary

Basil

Bay leaves

Cinnamon

Myrrh

Hay

Chamomile

Angelica

Lavender

Daffodil

Blackberry

Willow 

Edibles

Blackberry

Root vegetables

Dried fruits

Stews

Mead

Fermented foods

Grains

Dairy (specifically ewe's milk)

Cider

Herbal tea

Canned foods

Oats

Animals

Deer

Cow

Sheep

Lark

Swan

Bear

Wolves

Groundhog

All burrowing and hibernating animals

Crystals

Gold

Silver

Brass

Amethyst

Moonstone

Garnet

Ruby

Symbols

Candle flame

Seeds

Besom/broom

Brigid’s cross

Serpent

Sheep (due to Imbolc’s association with ewe’s milk)

White flowers

Snowflakes

Flowing water and springs

Sunwheel

Star

Evergreens

Spiritual meanings

Creativity

Awakenings

Introspection

Fresh beginnings

Perseverance

Patience

Renewal

Revision

Healing

Frugality

Self-care

Youth

Scents

Cinnamon

Rosemary

Basil

Cedar

Mint

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Brigid (Celtic)

Aphrodite (Greek)

Bast (Egyptian)

Ceres (Roman)

Cerridwen (Celtic)

Gaia

Hestia (Greek)

Vesta (Roman)

Venus (Roman)

Athena (Greek)

Demeter (Greek)

Persephone (Greek)

Aenghus Og (Irish)

Eros (Greek)

Faunus (Roman)

Pan (Greek)

Cernunnos (Celtic)

Osiris (Egyptian)

Asmodeus (Demon, personal UPG)

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I got you covered.

High energy celebrations and ritual

Astral projection/travel

Divinations

Cord cuttings

Create a Brigid’s Cross

Gardening (best time to start to plant seeds)

Make resolution(s) and goal(s) for the year ahead (I'll fight to the DEATH about my personal opinion that this is a better time for resolutions than New Years itself. Best time for renewal and goal setting)

Ritual to say farewell to winter

Make bread

Spring clean! It’s the best time for it

Low energy celebrations 

Starting a manifestation journal

Burning a bay leaf with manifestation on it

Planning in your planner

Lighting a candle in honour

Make a cup of tea

Practice self care

No spoon celebrations 

Prayer

Putting on sun lamp

Greet the sun at sunrise

Rest

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

Also please note some stuff is UPG. A great book is Year of the Witch by Temperance Alden for honouring the celebrations and if you wanted to work more seasonally. It's not wiccan based and has plenty of resources for every witch.

[blindmagdalena]

I love the idea of you having a cat and she loves Homelander more than you. So she trots up to him, does belly flops next to his feet and always sits on him. You're like, "you TRAITOR!" and he is smug.

"Traitor," you accuse sullenly. There's nothing to be done about it, though. All you can do is watch your cat—your once loyal and beloved pet—purr and roll every which way, bumping between Homelander's boots.

Homelander's brows furrow, but he doesn't move. He's planted firmly on the couch watching the rolling animal. "What's wrong with it?"

You exhale an incredulous laugh. "What do you mean? She wants you to pet her."

His gaze flickers up to meet yours, those ocean eyes contemplative. There are times when Homelander is strange in ways that are difficult to articulate. He becomes lost in mundane moments that you take for granted.

Sometimes he's like an alien. A perfect approximation of a human assembled by an entity that knows of them only through film and the pop culture zeitgeist.

"Never pet a cat before?" You ask.

"No," he answers, surprising you. Oh.

"Well, just... stroke," you encourage, miming the gesture. "Head to tail, never backwards. Go with the fur."

He moves to do as instructed, but your cat startles at the touch and lets go a harmless hiss, sniffing at the leather of his gloves.

"Oh, what?" He asks the cat derisively, visibly offended by the unpleasant reaction. He always hates to learn he's done something wrong. "You instigated."

You stifle a laugh behind your hand. "You spooked her. Take off your glove."

A little reluctantly, he does as he's told, popping loose each finger of his glove before he slides it off, setting it to the side.

"Let her smell your hand first," you say, crossing your arms.

He shoots you a withering look, clearly unimpressed with the ritual of it all, given that he was the one initially accosted, but nevertheless he places his long, outstretched fingers in front of the cats face.

You watch, your jealousy dissolving in the wake of the revelation that this is his first time experiencing the favor of such a fickle little beast.

A few sniffs, and then your cat pushes into his finger, dragging her cheek down the length of it. He strokes down her back in turn, and the tentative mutter of her purr revs back up into a full on rumble.

Something shifts in him at her unspoken acceptance. The square line of his shoulders softens, as does his expression. He pets her a few times before letting her sniff again, the corner of his mouth twitching with the force she pushes her head up into his palm.

Another flop onto her back, belly wide open, paws primed. The trap is set.

"She wants you to rub her belly," you say, hiding the deviousness of your smile.

Homelander doesn't question it. He reaches out to ruffle the fur on her stomach, and her claws close on him with all the tenacity of a fuzzy little beartrap, snagging his hand with teeth and claws alike, her hind paws kicking wildly at his wrist.

His expression flattens. "You really are a traitor."

You laugh, closing the distance to sit next to him on the couch. Anyone else would have recoiled, but Homelander dispassionately endures your cats valiant efforts to mangle his invulnerable skin.

"Tis the season, I suppose," you say, leaning against him. "Happy Ides of March."

His lip twitches. No one appreciates a good Roman empire reference quite the way Homelander does. He untangles his fingers from her snare and scratches at her head, splaying his fingers when she ducks away, tail flicking, still purring ardently.

He leans back against the couch, putting his arm around you. You rest your head against his chest, and he turns to plant a kiss atop your head.

Your cat jumps up onto the couch, not content to be abandoned, and starts making her way onto Homelander's lap. She immediately makes herself at home, kneading into the soft padded thigh of his suit. His brows crease at the sound of her claws catching on the fabric, but he doesn't shoo her.

She settles on his lap for the first—but certainly not the last—time. He pets her from her head to the tip of her tail, the remaining bit of tension in him bleeding away as she purrs. Her persistent nuzzling even brings a faint easy smile to his lips.

You never thought that something as mundane as petting a cat would feel like a milestone, but in your time with Homelander, you've learned that he's missing an awful lot of those. Some more significant than others, but none that you would trade away.

Maybe sharing your cat's love isn't quite so bad.

[the-rat-child]

Would y'all fuck with a jalim streamer au

Modern au where Zain goes off to college and gifts his father a switch with a few games for two reasons

1. He knows his father is always perpetually stressed and he thinks some games like that might help

2. They can play Animal Crossing together while he is away in London

Salim is very confused but is a little excited to be able to do something with his son while he is away

He decides to watch some gameplay to get a feel for the game (this man has never touched a console in his life) and decides to find someone playing it

He finds this channel with three viewers and feels a little bad for him (unbestknown to him it's due to timezone difference)

He's expecting a quiet, calm thing but as it pops up an American man is beating a cat with a bug net and screaming that he hates him

Salim finds himself weirdly enthralled by the guy and continues watching, even daring so much as to ask a question

Jason sees his question and is like "new player omg" and actually starts talking to Salim, asking what got him into it and directing him on how to do stuff

It eventually becomes a habit for Salim, watching these streams and chatting with this random American man about anything and everything 😭

On the other side of the world, Jason thinks this guy is really funny, and he thinks it's sweet that Salim plays it so him and his son can connect while he's gone

This voiceless, faceless man soon enough becomes like his roman empire just through learning about him in chat

Some nights it will just be them and Jason totally gives him items and stuff, not because he thinks Salim is cool or anything but because he wants his son to be impressed, totally just that

At one point their chats breach the streams and turns to dms (probably on discord... cringe /j) and Jason is like starting to fall for this guy

Salim only now realizes that Jason is semi-popular and very well-known in the cozy community bc he only ever catches late night streams

In the daytime he plays tons of other games (all in the same vein of cozy games) and even collabs with Nick, a fitness blogger and one of his best friends

Things happen (yeah idk filler n shit) and Jason is like begging this man to voice chat with him or stream with him sometime

Jason goes insane when it happens bc this man is lowkey consuming his thoughts and is much more than just a fan for him but he won't say that

Salim ends up being 10x more charming when he's speaking and Jason starts falling for this guy

It would just be so funny 😭😭

Also ideas for where everyone else fits into the au:

- Rachel being a horror content connoisseur

- Eric does a bunch of techy review stuff and shows off his own inventions (also probably works with those charities that 3D print and make prosthetic limbs)

- Joey, Clarice, and Merwin are all fans of Jason too

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 26 Harpy

In Greek and Roman mythology, a harpy is a half-human, half-bird creature that is often associated with storm winds. 

(Mentions of a dead animal as warning.)

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @shadyd3ar @cherrysuzaku

@nousija @mspurpl3

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

They say that motherhood is supposed to be the highlight of being a woman.

The greatest achievement a woman could do ever was becoming a mother.

....Yeah. screw that logic.

You hated the very idea of society telling you that you HAD to be a mother. That you have to get married to some man, any man and be his perfect stay at home wife being at his neck and call (life long servant was more like it-) and do nothing but do all the housework as he went out to do whatever he wanted to as you slaves away keeping HIM happy and giving him as many kids as HE wants without any expectations for him to lift a finger to do anything at all to raise them. Leaving you to go through all the sleepless nights and raising and dealing with fights and tantrums and no more free time-

....

As soon as you found out your parents were planning on engaging you to the laziest boy in town just because his father was town leader, you ran away. Packed up everything in the middle of the night and skedaddled as fast as your legs could carry you. There was absolutely, definitely, positively NO WAY IN HELL you were going to be wed off and suffer the same fate as lots of other miserable women in your village. Nope! You'd rather die alone with a hundred cats than allow yourself to be trapped in an endless unhappy marriage for the rest of your life.

But traveling around wasn't that bad.

You often had to find shelter or stay in one place to work for a long time through the cold months but you didn't mind. You got to see lots of cool places and many different kids of people. Humans, dwarf blacksmiths, an elf or two, and once even a traveling merman salesman traveling up a river you were crossing but stopped by to look through his wares. In the end trading him some pieces of silver for a small kit of bandages. Never knew when that might come in handy.

"Where might a young lady like you be heading off to all by yourself?," he asked repacking his things into his bag with the sounds of water sloshing around him.

"I'm on my way to a village past Mount Vermillion." You pointed a hand across the bridge and towards the large mountain in the distance which made the merman pause. "I heard there's plenty of job opportunities there."

He looked at you with a furrowed brow. "Mount Vermillion? Why go past through the Harpy  territory?"

You blinked confused. "Harpy?"

He nodded. "They're bird folks. Live up in and around the mountains there, and they aren't really too kind to strangers encroaching on their territory. Least that's what I heard. You sure you're going through there?"

Harpies? You've never heard of them before but in any case it's not like you were going to be intruding on anyone's property. You were going to strictly stay on the roads and just walk on through. So they shouldn't bother you.

"I'll be alright. Besides it's the fastest way to get to the city."

"Well it's your decision, but heed my warning and be careful. Places like that aren't always pleasant."

He left after gathering up his things and disappearing back into the water before you proceeded on across the bridge and towards your destination again. Bird beings huh? Never encountered any of them before but they shouldn't bother you as long as you don't bother them. So you continued on your way. Through the day, setting up for the night, before walking again. It'd take you an entire day and night to cross the mountain by foot so you figured you'd just walk all the way through and sleep in the day after you passed by the harpies' territory. 

At first it seemed fine. The path became steeper because of the mountain making it so you had to take a break every so often hindering the tine it took to get past the mountain. But that wasn't the only thing you've noticed.

The feathers.

There was feathers everywhere. It started out with just a few feathers here and there in a random tree branch of on a bush but as you got farther and farther inside, they became more and more numerous. And more and more BIGGER. To the point that they literally covered everything from the spaces between the trees to the smallest blade of grass. The only thing that wasn't covered in feathers was the road that you continued to travel upon. You had to admit IT WAS pretty scary but you didn't see any harpies. Perhaps they were all too busy with what they were doing or asleep? Either way you just kept on walking.

Just stay on the path. Keep walking. Don't bother them. Get through. You'll be fine.

And you were as the day passed and slowly turned to night. The night was mored scary. The moonlight shined making the night shine with an eerie glow, and you shivered continuing to walk through the dark.

Until a scream shattered the night silence.

You stumbled a few steps before you completely froze. Above you crows fled into the air, their wing beats and caws echoing out the scream as all the sounds slowly fizzled out into the darkness. And then silence resumed. ..WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! The scream sounded like that of a woman...But it was over now. Maybe it was just a mountain lion? You didn't get a chance to think-

Another scream tore out into the air and you stumbled back, falling on her behind before scrambling back until you turned to quickly crawl on hands and knees until you safely were hidden inside a bush. There you hunkered down panting and looking around the dark sky and tree tops for the noises. You didn't have to wait long because a sudden gust of wind over you made you yell and duck down as two more figures suddenly flew over you. You stayed ducked down as there was some thudding and flapping sounds. You only opened your eyes once.

And was shocked to realize what you saw.

There was HARPIES!! REAL HARPIES!! About three of them in total. Two were obviously male. One was big and VERY pale. He almost looked like a snowy owl with his the white wings splayed out from his back and the clawed feet that held a second smaller male to the ground. The second one had a darker complexion and dark brown wings and that flapped against the ground uselessly. He gave some kind of turkey squawk sounds as his head was pinned to the dirt road you were walking on previously. The third harpy was a strange one. It was obviously a woman, with a cloth tied around her upper chest, and blue and green feathers that ended in a long peacock tail. You even had to admit she was very pretty. She stood there looking bored and impatiently chewing on something that must've been an animal at some point.

Eventually after another minute the larger male got off him, and you watched the smaller one immediately scrambling away from him and two his feet. The two males hissed at each other  before turning away. The larger one nodded at the female who didn't stop eating but both turned to walk away into the brush. The smaller male watched them go with a scowl before turning, spreading his own wings, and with a loud WOOSH sound took off the ground. You watched as he flew through the air before just landing on a nearby tree branch. With a distant sounding grunt, he pulled one of his wings around and began preening it...At least you thought he was preening it. It was hard to tell in the dark. You stood there watching him before silently turning to peek through the bush at where the other two disappeared.

You wanted to get out of there.

But you were afraid of those bird people attacking you. 

You stayed there in your hiding place for what felt like twenty minutes or so. The couple didn't come back but the other male was still there already switching to rub his hands through his other wing. You couldn't just sit here like a sitting duck no pun intended. ...He seemed distracted. You could probably sneak past if you were quiet enough. Sucking in a deep breath, you slowly approached the outside of the bush and peeked out. The man was turned with his back towards you so he didn't notice you silently and slowly crawling your way out of the bush and slowly making your way down the path. Ok. It curved and the rest of it was blocked from sight by tall bushes. All you had to do was make it to the curve and you'd be free to walk away quickly. You just had to-

S N A P-!!

You froze. ... Before you slowly looked at your hand. 

And saw that a twig you didn't see in the dark had snapped under it. 

You remained frozen where you were. Before slowly looking behind you. And COMPLETELY FREEZING. Yellow eyes stared down at you from the tall branch. In the moonlight you could make out his confused face. However that confusion turned into surprise and then slowly a wide, hopeful smile spread across his face. You just felt your eyes go small in fear. Ok. Don't panic. When faced with a predator back away slowly and make yourself as nonthreatening as possible. Slowly you stood up still making eye contact with the Harpy, before slowly turning and began to walk away stiffly.

Pleasedontdoanythingpleasedontdoanythingpleasedont-

FLAP!

You froze as a large flapping noise filled the air-

THUD!!

And you shrieked out as a massive just dropped down in front of you. You took a few massive leaps back and stared in fear at the creature in front of you. The Harpy while smaller than the first make was still a good foot and a half to two feet taller than yourself. He shook out his wild head of hair before fixing you with a rather large grin that had you frozen like a mouse in front of a cat. Neither of you moved. Until he did making you flinch back more. 

He didn't move far from you just lean forward as you leaned back, looking at your form up and down... before quickly going towards your left just off the road.

You terrified just only watched him. He was a little bit aways from you... pulling up...grass?? And... jumping?? You blinked and just stood there watching him shuffle about one specific area jumping up and down, stomping in certain areas, and grabbing large handfuls and talonfulls of grasses and nearby small bushes and twisting his head this way and that before stomping again and placing the grass and bush parts and flowers down.

 But he didn't look at you just continued to do what he was already doing. It made you raise a brow totally lost and confused... Maybe he was digging? Or dropped something and was trying to find it? After a moment he stopped and stepped back as you looked down.  And blinked at what you saw. It was an almost perfect circle of grass stomped down flat and around the edges of said circle of stomped down grass was a pile of bush branches, leaves, grasses, wild flowers, and whatever else Urogi grabbed. Wow...He was fast. He did all of this in such a short amount of time too. You blinked as he hopped out of the circle and you just....stared at the thing before you..What the heck was this? Was this some kind of weird symbol in harpy language or something?

Coo.

Your attention was drawn back to the demon as he finally looked at you. But you could've SWORN that you heard a dove cooing. As soon as you look at him the demon puffed out his chest and his wings splayed out poofing out his feathers and looking proudly.

You just blankly stared at him .....And slowly just looked around before back to him.

CHIRP!!

You jumped hearing such a loud sparrow like tweet and snapped around only to see him..Hopping?? You blinked as he again puffed out his just and poofed his feathers up before taking quick bird hops. Three hops to the left and then three hops back to the right. His head tilted in question at you similar to an owl-

CHIRP?

You blinked again as an honest to gods bird chirp left his throat but it sounded more...questioning before he made his feathers ruffle again and hopped twice backwards, twice back forwards, and cooed like a dove. You just ... stared at him.

"Um...Nice dance??" That was literally the only thing you could think of to say. What else WERE you supposed to say?? 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say because immediately he let out a happy almost dove like trill and began to make small hops around you in a giant circle. You could only watch in a mixture of fear and complete confusion as he circled you three times before stopping in front of you and looking expectantly.

"Uuuuhh..Riiight." You slowly side stepped far around him and began shuffling away as he intently watched you. "Thank you for the...dance but it's getting late so... we'd both better get home and sleep. Y'know?"

He lit up immediately. "You want to go home?! Of course! I made a huge nest!"

"Uh huh. G-Good for you- AH!!"

You shrieked out as he charged forward at you. Suddenly wrapping you up in strong birdlike talons, and feeling a rush of air as you were lifted off the ground. He laughed like a giddy child in a toy store hearing you screaming and flapping his wings.

"Don't worry! You'll love the nest I made! I've prepared it in advance for when I finally got my own mate."

[livmightlive]

okay I apologize to any Christians, I hope this isn’t offensive but I can’t stop thinking about it 😭

so you know how Christianity is semi-canon in the downfall timeline? Yeah- how would that work???

Christianity exists on Earth because of a long and complicated collision of history and pagan stories and then the death and resurrection of Jesus, a Jewish middle eastern man who was trying to defend his people against Roman oppressors. i know reasonably that Nintendo might’ve not expected that the Zelda series would take off so much so they probably put in some Christian iconology bc the Catholic aesthetic is kind of popular in Japan. It shows up a lot in anime too.

but now there’s a canon religion the series follows with a couple of goddess 😭

my only reasoning is that the Hyrule Christians believe that God is all powerful and that maybe Hylia, Din, Farore, Nayru are either angels or saints? More Catholic I guess

and maybe the hero of Time would be a Jesus figure?? His birth COULD be immaculate, we don’t know his parents. maybe Christianity comes from Calatia? Hylia I think only focuses on Hyrule??

in the Linked Universe I don’t personally head canon Hyrule or Legend to be catholic BUT. I think it would be really funny if they were

Legend calling Hylia a false prophet 😭

Hyrule holding up his cross like: “I prayed to God and now I can see moas”

If Time is downfall Jesus I think they would both probably have a spiritual crisis depending on how devout they both are 😭

also Legend just REALLY gives me Catholic guilt vibes.

When I was a kid my grandmother would have me recite the “Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep” prayer which terrified me as a kid 😮‍💨 I feel like Hyrule would recite it every night and it would kind of just unsettle the chain.

PLEASE. Please tell me if anybody has thought the same or has thoughts on how it would work. This has been plaguing my mind

I’m sorry Christians

[literaryvein-reblogs]

can i request any words/ phrases/ themes linking to the word ‘relic’?

Writing Notes: Relic

Relic - an object esteemed and venerated because of association with a saint or martyr; souvenir, memento

Relics - remains, corpse; a survivor or remnant left after decay, disintegration, or disappearance; a trace of some past or outmoded practice, custom, or belief

Reliquaries - the containers that store and display relics

Where the bones of martyrs are buried, devils flee as from fire and unbearable torture. —St John Chrysostom

Etymology

Middle English relik, from Anglo-French relike, from Medieval Latin reliquia, from Late Latin reliquiae, plural, "remains of a martyr", from Latin, "remains", from relinquere "to leave behind"

Related Words

Afterimage - a lasting memory or mental image of something

Artifact - an object remaining from a particular period

Corpus - the body of a human or animal especially when dead

Decedent - a person who is no longer living; a deceased person

Memento - souvenir

Oddment - something left over; remnant

Oeuvre - a substantial body of work constituting the lifework of a writer, an artist, or a composer

Remnant - a usually small part, member, or trace remaining

Souvenir - something kept as a reminder (as of a place one has visited)

Vestige - a trace, mark, or visible sign left by something (such as an ancient city or a condition or practice) vanished or lost

Martin Luther complained about the profusion of relics and the absurd claims being made for them: "What lies there are about relics! One claims to have a feather from the wing of the angel Gabriel, and the bishop of Mainz has a flame from Moses’ burning bush. And how does it happen that eighteen apostles are buried in Germany when Christ had only twelve?"

Examples

ANCIENT GREEK RELICS. At Athens the supposed remains of Oedipus and Theseus enjoyed an honor that is very difficult to distinguish from a religious cult.

BUDDHIST RELICS. Relics of the Buddha and various saints were (and still are) venerated. Following the Buddha's death, his bones and teeth were divided for the purpose of being used as relics in order to illustrate his teaching of impermanence (anitya). These relics were so valued that they caused armed conflict between factions for possession of them. Afterward, these relics were taken throughout Asia with the gradual spread of Buddhism.

CHRISTIAN RELICS. Since the dawn of Christianity, relics have been an important part of Christian devotionalism. During the Middle Ages, the selling of relics became a lucrative business. The concept of physical proximity to the “holy” was considered extremely important. A pilgrim's possession and veneration of a relic was seen as a means to become closer to God. Instead of having to travel hundreds of miles to become near to a venerated saint, a Christian could enjoy closeness with him/her through their relic at home.

MUSLIM RELICS. Although certain sects of Islam strongly discourage (or outwardly prohibit) the veneration of relics, a very large collection of Muslim relics is preserved in the Sacred Trusts, located in Istanbul, which contains more than 600 treasured pieces in the Topkapi Palace Museum.

The Roman Catholic Church makes a distinction between veneration and worship of relics and icons.

3 Categories of Relics According to the Vatican

First-Class Relics: Items directly associated with the events of Christ's life (manger, cross, etc.), or the physical remains of a saint (a bone, a hair, a limb, etc.).

Second-Class Relics: An item that the saint wore (e.g., sock, shirt, glove). Also included are items that the saint owned or frequently used (e.g., a crucifix, book). An item more important in the saint's life is considered a more important relic.

Third-Class Relics: Anything that has touched a first- or second-class relic of a saint.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

Hope this helps! Do tag me or send me a link to your writing if it does. I'd love to read your work.

[angelr-fish]

NPMD characters if they were in percy jackson cabins?

I do this thing where I always end up crossing over my hyperfixations so I NEEDED to do this.

Peter Spankoffski - Child of Athena

Peter is quite obviously a nerd, and while he doesn't come up with many strategies, he does have a some qualities in common with other children of Athena. (he is also the only one to notice that the building was not structurally sound)

Ruth Fleming - Child of Dionysus

Ruth loves theater, so much so that she'll do anything to be around it even though she cant be on stage. he is also the god of fertility which kinda fits yeah

Richard Lipschitz - Child of Hecate

now this one is kind of a stretch, I had a very hard time placing Richie somewhere. I landed on this one because Hecate is the goddess of "magic, witchcraft, the moon, graves, ghosts, necromancy, and sorcery." now while that is a mouthful most of those is what led me to this in the first place. magic and sorcery? that is some anime shit and Richie loves anime shit. now graves, ghosts, and necromancy that one was more of a stretch for me, I mostly chose it because he dies first. yes very big leap. in this little universe I've created for myself there could be a tie to this as to why Richie is the one who interacts with max first idk I'm rambling here.

Stephanie Lauter - Child of Jupiter

we are bringing in the roman gods now. Steph is a child of Jupiter because there is no way she isn't a child of the Big 3. I chose Jupiter specifically because she is often seen leading the group and if i were to chose a character she was similar to it would probably be Thalia. as for the roman thing well its just another way for max to forbid Pete from liking her cause of the camp rivalry. This is quite ironic in the same way it is in the show because....

Grace Chasity - Child of Janus (Huntress of Artemis)

yep grace is also a roman kid, kind of like how she's the exception of being a nerd in the show. I chose Janus specifically because he's the god of "beginnings, gates, transitions, duality, doorways, passages, and endings." Grace is the catalyst to the entire show, she unintentionally causes a lot of the issues that happen so I thought that slightly fit the doorways and passages part cause she kind of leads them through this maze. Grace has A LOT of duality to her. she is a nerdy prude through and through and yet, she does so many things like touching herself and lying to the police! next, she causes the ending of Max Jagerman's life as well as the end of his afterlife so that part fits. as for gates, she just talks about the gates of hell so much and I thought it was kind of funny. being a huntress is kind of self-explanatory though. I mean being abstinent and immortal? sign this girl up!

Max Jagerman - Child of Ares

I really don't even think I need to explain this one. 1. Competitive, its in a Ares kids blood to be competitive, lets be so real right now. 2. Daddy Issues, Every Ares kid has them, I mean why wouldn't they? they are all constantly competing with there siblings for just an ounce of his attention or approval and it just fits in my eyes 3. Bloodlust? have you seen this guy? he killed like 4 people! 4. Fuck Clivesdale

okay that's all I have of the main characters, but I might work on some of the others. or maybe even just Hatchetfield characters in general