#so even though i love him i barely speak of him

[slater-baby]

Money Shot

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Tags - Squirting, voyeurism, toys, mentions of breeding

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“Simon?” Price calls from the head of the boardroom, arms crossed in deep contemplation, “What do you think? Is it feasible?”

“Feasible? Sure,” He glances at the tactical plan with a minute shake of his head, “Advisable? Not so much. I mean, that structure is...what? Three, four meters? Unless the drop point is on the fuckin' roof, there’s no way the cunts won’t see us coming.”

“Hm,” Price grunts, running a hand through his beard. Around the boardroom, various members of the congregation shift in their seats.

“What about…” Gaz begins, and then, Simon hears it.

BZZ.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers beneath his breath, leaning forward in his chair to pull his phone out of his pocket. Just recently, he’d installed a set of cameras about the house and porch.

‘Just for extra security, love,’ he’d told you. Since you moved in with him—and what with your name now written into his will—his time away on deployment and in the office had become…a liability, to say the least. 

On a good day, Simon didn’t like to leave you by yourself. But for extended periods of time? When he couldn’t so much as pick up the phone to send you a text?

His fried nerves had all but demanded it. The cameras were his only failsafe. His only means of connecting with you, even when you were oblivious to it. In his mind, when he was deployed to some desolate war zone, slumming it in drafty safehouses, sustaining himself on MREs and cigarettes, then just seeing you quiet and content in your usual place on the sofa, flipping through a book or doing a face mask, would be enough to tide him over. 

Though, he’d failed to consider just how goddamn annoying the notifications would soon become.

Hurriedly, he glances at his phone under the table, halfheartedly listening to the meeting.

‘MASTER BEDROOM - MOVEMENT DETECTED,’ his phone so helpfully supplies him.

He scowls.

Movement detected. Yeah, right. Just like the other twenty times it’d told him that in the past hour alone. He digs his index finger into the ringer switch, but just at that moment, another notification comes.

And with it, another…And another…And another….

‘MOVEMENT DETECTED’

‘MOVEMENT DETECTED’

‘MOVEMENT DETECTED,’ it says to him yet again, as if he were an idiot too dull to even read.

“MOVEMENT DETECTED!! INTRUDER ALERT!!!” It seems to screech, “GRAB YOUR GUN, SOLDIER, THE DAY ISN’T OVER YET!!’

Annoyance climbing by the minute, Simon hurriedly flicks through his apps, all too eager to return to the meeting at hand. Within seconds, he’s staring at the grey display of your sparsely lit living room.

If anything, it’s a bit messy, but hardly remarkable. The TV is on, some soapy romance show still rolling in the background. There’s a pillow on the floor. The cat is lounging in a flickering patch of dying sunlight. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

He switches to the kitchen. Nothing but the hum of the old fridge greets him. And in the dining room, it’s a similar story. So, attention wavering with every word that Kyle speaks, he angrily flicks through the porch cameras and straight to the master bedroom. 

And that’s when he hears it.

The smallest, weakest little voice…

“God, Simon…”

At the sound—barely audible over the noise of Price’s lecture—his heart rate spikes.

Physically, he can feel his blood rushing, nerves shredding themselves to pieces as he hurriedly presses the rotate button on screen. Slowly—almost as if to taunt him—the janky camera begins to turn. And with every second longer he has to wait, darker possibilities begin to flood his synapses.

You’d fainted.

You’d fallen.

You’d broken a bone.

Or, perhaps the very worst, he’d find someone else standing over you.The exact reason he’d installed the cameras in the first place.

He waits with bated breath, practically unblinking, until he finds the source of the movement. The blankets atop the bed jostle, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees your familiar form swathed in pillows and fluff. Safe, warm, and most importantly, alone.

“Simon…” you say again—voice strained. Almost as if you were…crying?

Again, he glances at Price. The man is distracted, going on about the MTC once more. Surreptitiously, Simon looks back down at his phone, confused.

Were you sick? Laid up in bed with a fever?

No, somehow that didn’t feel like the right description. Last month, when you’d caught the flu, you could hardly stand to sit still. Simon practically had to chain you to the bed just to force you to get some decent rest.

Then, what could it be?

Did you miss him, perhaps?

At the thought, his chest warms. In all his years of service, Simon never had someone to miss him. He had his friends, sure, but they were his home away from home, the family he’d never known he’d find. Off service, however, before he’d met you, home wasn’t warmth. It wasn’t happiness. It wasn’t dear to his heart. Hell, it was little more than a house, with a sofa and television. 

But when you came along….

You, with your shining eyes, witty jokes, and unending support…

He’d never known that the most precious gift a man could receive is someone to come home to at night and to miss him when he leaves in the morning.

Fondly, he looks at his phone screen, hardly listening to the meeting at hand.

Within your cradle of old blankets and sheets, you shift, a whimper escaping your mouth. It echoes in the grainy speakers of his phone, and he hardly even thinks to lower the volume…

That is, until you move again, and the blankets fall down.

One of your arms pushes the blankets down, and suddenly, Simon has an eyeful of your bare tits. Naked, shining with sweat, and nipples raw from being tweaked.

Instantly, his eyes go wide, and he jolts forward to hide his phone in the shadow of the conference table. 

Not crying. Definitely not crying, his brain rambles, watching as the curve of your breasts squish into the mattress as you twist beneath the sheets. The flimsy fabric, threadbare after so many long nights together, wraps around your legs like a vice. 

And that is exactly when he sees it.

Your back arches way from the mattress and your entire body thrums with electricity, hips moving fast and hard, every roll just as desperate and jagged as when you slide into his lap during movie nights, unbuckling his belt before he can even think to open his mouth.

“Fuck!” You nearly scream—and Simon literally flinches, hurriedly whipping his head around to look at the other men.

“Simon?” Price suddenly questions, “You alright? Was that your phone again?”

“Um,” he begins tactfully, clearing his throat, “Yeah—just m’girlfriend walkin’ in front o’ the camera again.”

“Oh,” Price nods, “She doing alright? Haven’t seen ‘er recently.”

“Yeah—she’s…” he huffs, blindly rapidly down at his phone where you writhe against the sheets, fingers thrusting between your thighs.

“She’s doing…great,” he manages, swallowing thickly when you reach a hand up to squeeze your bouncing tits.

“Well, give ‘er my regards next time you talk to to ‘er.”

“‘Course, sir.”

“Now, back to what I was saying about the perimeter…”

With that, Simon holds his breath for a few torturous minutes. However, when the other men continue on as if nothing had ever happened, he surreptitiously leans back in his chair…and looks down at the phone again.

His hearing fades to nothing but a distant buzz, pulse racing in his chest, like his heart might explode at any moment. And even though he’s muted the volume, he swears he can hear your moans ringing in his ears, vibrating in his very bones.

In the black and white video, you throw your head back against the pillows, hips jumping so hard the flimsy sheet falls down to your ankles. And soon enough, he can see every part of you. The softness of your heaving stomach, the sweat against your cheeks, the delicate shine of slick between your sweet folds…

Your entire body tenses, and undoubtedly you cry out again. He already knows what you’re saying, even if it’s all but silent in his hands.

His name.

You’re there, needy and alone, a wet spot between your legs on the sheets, shouting his name like there was any hope of him actually hearing it—as if there was any hope of him finding you,  filling you up, and giving you what you truly need. 

At that thought, pride wells up in his veins, hot and bubbling. And before he knows it, his blood is rushing south at an alarming rate.

“Please,” he can imagine you begging him, “Please….Please, Simon, just a little. Just the tip…”

You’d say it with heat in your cheeks and a pout on your lips, wrapping a shaky hand around his hip so that he couldn’t pull back, so that he couldn’t tease you any longer. You’d whine and whimper, tears gathering in your eyes, as you weakly pulled him forward, just enough to wrap one of those precious hands around his leaking cock.

You’d guide him forward like that—in a way he couldn’t deny—and you’d sit there, batting your eyelashes, sliding your wet cunt over the tip of his condom-covered dick, like that might tempt him just enough to take it off…to fuck you full and hard, until he was leaking out of your fluttering pussy and into your ruined panties.

He bites his lip.

You’d begged him before. On your knees, kissing the head of his cock. On your stomach, pushing your ass up against his hips. With your face buried in the pillows, nearly sobbing for it.

“Just once, Simon. Please—I promise. Just a little bit. Just the tip,” you said every time—as if those words made the act any better.

And, god, Simon wanted it. He wanted it so, so badly. To feel the warmth of your body, the heat of your bare skin against his own…to feel your pulse thumping between your legs as he fucked his cum right into the seat of your very womb.

So far, you hadn’t manage to take him raw just yet. If not because he had the patience of a Saint, then for the fact that your doctor kept rescheduling your birth control appointment.

Yet, looking at you now…

He breathes in low and deep, watching as your legs shake, toes curling.

The sheets fall off the bed.

And with another cry, you pull the dripping dildo from between your legs, curling your thighs together in absolute ecstasy.

Jaded, he looks at the damned toy. A cheap replica of his own cock. You’d given him a mould on Valentine’s Day—mostly as a joke…until next deployment came around, and you all but begged him to do it.

He still remembers how ridiculous it felt, looking down at your satisfied smile while you licked him clean afterwards, merely as a ‘thank you’ for all his hard work.

Beneath the shadow of your dangling calves, he can see the promise of your dripping cunt tucked between your sweet thighs. Desperate, wet, and wanting…

He scowls.

Pills, doctors, and implants be damned. If Simon had it his way, you’d be filled and sated, womb swollen with his seed, evidence of all the love he had yet to give you. It’s a tempting thought—one that nearly drags him into his mind once and for all.

However, a sudden movement on the camera catches his attention.

The toy is still in your hand. Strings of slick drip off of it and onto the flat of your thigh. With your other hand, you spread your abused folds, barely able to pull them back with how wet you’ve become. Impatiently, slide two of your trembling fingers into yourself, head tossing against the pillows.

“Please,” he swears he can hear it, “Please, please, please—”

You thrust into yourself ruthlessly, flecks of slick flying just at the movement. God, the sound of it must be nothing short of obscene. He can only imagine.

Your offhand tightens around the shaft of the dildo, and this time, when you tense up, the movement is so utterly enrapturing he swears he can see drops of saliva spill over your lips. You yank your hand out of yourself. Your stomach flexes. You yell into the bare room.

And that—that is when he sees it.

Suddenly, a rush of slick squirts out of your cunt and onto the bed, hips flinching as you soak through the sheets beneath your ass. Fuck, even through the horrible quality of the film, he swears he can see the walls of your pussy clenching, opening up around every wash of rushing liquid.

It splatters over your thighs, makes your toes curl into the sheets. The fabric sticks to your skin as you continue to ride out the waves of your orgasm, and when you reach a hand down to rub over your swollen clit, little spurts of it squirt over your naked body in time with every press of your fingers.

Before he even knows it—before he can feel ashamed for it—he’s rock hard against the fly of his jeans, cock pulsing beneath the fabric as he watches you lay panting and flushed in a puddle of your own cum. 

“Yes,” he sees your mouth move, cunt still dribbling onto the bedsheets, “God, yes…”

Hands positively shaking, you lift the toy again, clumsily rubbing your ruined pussy over its shining length.

And, god, he’s helpless to imagine himself in its place. Helpless but to imagine himself between your legs, covered down to his knees in your shining spend. Fuck, it’s intoxicating, and it hits him harder than any drug he possibly could have taken.

Listlessly, he looks at your beautiful face through the film grain…

“Simon,” you whisper to yourself, lazily rubbing your cunt against head of that stupid toy, “Simon…”

Easily, he gets lost in it. 

Lost in the sound of your voice saying his name.

Lost in the heat of your expression.

Lost in the need he feels welling up inside of himself…

Lost in the feeling of his hand palming over himself, hidden by the shadows of the looming conference table.

“Simon?”

The sound of his name—and in the voice of a man no less—makes him jump in his seat. On reflex, he closes his phone.

“What?” He answers cluelessly, slapping his hands down on the surface of the table, like he hadn’t just been thrusting into his own hand mere seconds before.

“I asked you what you thought about it,” Price jammers on, oblivious.

“About what?” he says.

At that, Price raises an eyebrow.

“About the risk assessment results. Y’know…what we’ve been talking about for the last five minutes.”

“Risk assessment,” he uselessly repeats, “Yeah. Well, I…”

Price scrunches his face, glancing between his asinine powerpoint and Simon’s covered face.

“Have you been listening?” He huffs, sounding bored.

“Of course,” he clears his throat, hurriedly absorbing the information on screen, “It’s just—I had a question about that. Must’ve left me for a second there…”

“Uh-uh,” Price glances at his wrist watch.

Simon swallows, cock pulsing rapidly in his pants. He scoots his chair in closer to the table.

“If we go in via the rear entrance, then—then I think would should recruit at least one more person for overwatch. Y’know…At the height of the lower wall, I think it might be possible to put a man on the roof. As—as contingency.”

“Sounds fine to me. You think they’d have a decent shot?”

“Well…” he blinks emptily, “At that angle, I think that...”

The clock continues to tick.

Soap yawns at the other side of the table.

Price looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else than here.

And Simon…

God, his mind is still stuttering, heart racing with adrenaline.

Distracted, he’s stuck on where his phone lies innocently atop the table…and what he knows is happening just beneath the cover of its black screen.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

jealous? who, me?

theodore nott x reader where you meet his friends for the first time and daphne is definitely not in your good books

↬ word count : 931 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : secondhand embarrassment (for daphne) ⭑.ᐟ

↬ author's note : i loved this too much (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

navigation┆theodore nott masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

You weren’t supposed to be feeling this way. This was Theodore’s night—his friends, his circle, his world. You’d come to the party with the intention of being supportive and charming, maybe even making a good impression.

Until Daphne Greengrass entered the picture.

She was pretty. Too pretty. Effortlessly gorgeous with her sleek blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and a laugh that danced through the room like wind chimes. And the worst part? She knew Theodore—knew him well.

You stood beside Theodore, nursing your wine glass and trying to maintain a polite smile as Daphne monopolized the conversation. Her hand brushed his arm—again—and she tossed her hair back with an almost rehearsed air of effortlessness.

Theodore, ever the gentleman, leaned in slightly to hear her better, his lips twitching at something she said. You weren’t entirely sure what was so funny, but you were sure it wasn’t that funny.

“Oh, that’s funny,” you muttered under your breath, your voice laced with dry amusement.

Theodore’s brow quirked, but before he could speak, Daphne excused herself. “Excuse me for a second, I need to grab a drink,” she said, flashing you a quick glance, one you could only describe as calculating.

Theodore turned to you as soon as she was out of earshot, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “What’s funny?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You smiled sweetly, far too sweetly. “Nothing, Tesoro. Just enjoying the show.”

One brow arched as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Amore mio,” he murmured, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “Should I be worried?”

You took a deliberate sip of your wine, eyes flickering toward the direction Daphne had gone. “Not at all. I think you’re the one being thoroughly entertained.”

Theodore’s lips twitched again, this time with a barely concealed laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you shot back, your smile sharp enough to cut.

His brow quirked, but before he could say something, Daphne made her way over, holding two glasses of champagne. She handed one to Theodore, completely ignoring you.

“Thought you might need a refill,” she said, her tone light and lilting. “We wouldn’t want you getting parched, would we?”

You raised your own glass slightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Daphne. I’m keeping him hydrated just fine.”

Daphne’s smile faltered for half a second before she recovered. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Isn’t it?” you replied, tilting your head with faux innocence. “I like to take care of my things.”

Theodore’s grip on your waist tightened, and you could feel the low rumble of a laugh in his chest, though he didn’t let it escape. Instead, he pressed his lips to your temple in what was meant to be a calming gesture but only fueled your sass.

“So,” Daphne began, clearly trying to redirect. “Theo was just telling me about the time we went to Monaco together. What a trip, right?”

“Monaco?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “How quaint. Theo and I were just talking about planning something grander. Italy, maybe. You know, somewhere with a bit more... romance.”

Daphne blinked, clearly thrown off. “Italy’s nice. I’ve been to Tuscany a few times.”

“Of course you have,” you replied, swirling your wine lazily. “So cultured of you.”

Theodore cleared his throat, his grip on your waist now firmly grounding. “Amore mio,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “Play nice.”

“I am playing nice,” you whispered back, your tone dripping with faux sweetness. “She started it.”

“I heard that,” Daphne said, smiling tightly.

“Oh, good,” you said, flashing her a grin. “I’d hate for you to feel left out.”

Theodore’s shoulders shook slightly as he tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh. “Daphne, why don’t you tell me about that new project you mentioned earlier?” he asked, his voice steady despite his amusement.

“Oh, yes!” Daphne launched into an explanation about some fashion venture she was working on, her hands gesturing animatedly. You nodded along, your expression politely disinterested, until she said something you couldn’t resist.

“It’s been such a challenge finding the right balance between trendy and timeless, you know?” Daphne said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” you replied airily. “I just wear whatever Theo likes to take off.”

Daphne’s cheeks turned a shade of pink that clashed horribly with her dress, and Theodore’s hand on your waist flexed as he pulled you even closer.

“Cara mia,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with warning. “Behave.”

“I’m behaving,” you said innocently, glancing up at him with wide eyes. “Aren’t I, Daphne?”

Daphne set her champagne down on a nearby table, her smile now more brittle than bright. “Well, it’s been lovely catching up, Theo,” she said, barely sparing you a glance. “I’ll see you around.”

As soon as she walked away, Theodore let out a quiet laugh, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“She’s impossible,” you shot back.

“She’s harmless.”

“She’s obnoxious.”

He straightened, his dark eyes gleaming as he looked at you. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

“You are,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Fine,” you admitted, crossing your arms. “Maybe I didn’t love the way she looked at you.”

“Amore mio,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “She could look at me all she wants. I’m still going home with you.”

You huffed, but the way his hand slid up your back and the warmth in his eyes softened your irritation.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered.

“And you’re lucky I find you endlessly entertaining,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you.

[vivaciouscynner]

"Over here honey!" She, the sorceress, gave a little wave to her. She tried not to wince. The cage had no floor; just the narrow bars to barely get a foothold and it was getting far less comfortable to stay in that position. But hey, she and her adventuring friends with her weren't bathing in acid. Instead, they bathed in the heated glow of her wife's rage. The fires swirled around her. Only in the short flickers around her shoulders could the party make out her face.

Scorn was only a word before. It was She that gave it true meaning.

She stared at the wizard after acknowledging her wife with a slow nod. Her eyes glowed a brilliant white and she howled like a banshee. A scream of terror that it jolted everyone in the cage. The wizard threw up a barrier just before getting hit but it couldn't hold and he was knocked to the floor.

"Is- Is your wife some kind of god?!" asked the terror stricken rogue.

The sorceress smiled, almost dreamily. "Something like that. She's a Djinni."

The fighter spoke after soiling himself, "What? Did you wish to marry her as one of your wishes?"

"I'm a little offended. You think I'm so unworthy? I'm just as powerful as her."

The wizard got up, took his staff, and stamped it hard onto the stone floor. He summoned golems. Large, heavy, stone golems rose from the floor. It was only two, but they towered over the ten foot Djinni.

The fighter scoffed, "Oh really? As powerful as her you say? Aren't you here stuck in this cage with us lot? Or are you just a figment of my imagination?"

The rogue said, "Is this really the time, you two?"

The sorceress tsk'd and shook her head, "Now he's done it. All the intelligence and none of the wisdom it seems. Doesn't he realize my wife just burst through the stone walls of this castle? What does he think stone golems are gonna do?" She turned to the rogue, "Did you have somewhere to be?" Then the fighter, "You know well I can't use my spells inside the castle. Area of effect, heard of it? What, you want me to evoke meteor swarm, right here? Want to see how well that turns out for the two of you?"

The Djinni expanded her swirling fire around one golem and the rage did the rest. The stone quickly glowed a fiery red, crusted in black, and turned to powder. She then simply leapt through the other one, tearing a hole the size of herself through its torso.

The sorceress bit her lip at the sight of it all. The fighter asked, "You couldn't use a lesser spell?" It sounded more sincere and less cocky than his previous questions. So she answered just as sincerely, "Nah. Well I do, but the wizard's pretty powerful too. Nothing lesser would have hit. Or if it did, not much would have been done to him. Little shit. He's about to get what's comin' to him though."

The wizard trembled, just for a moment. He eyed the levers in the floor by the wall just a little ways from. The very same levers that would release the cage into the vat of acid. He scowled, "Ensure my safety or in the acid they go to die! You hear me wench! Don't you dare come closer! Even a breadth closer and you ensure their demise! Now back off!"

The sorceress said, "Now..., now you guys may want to look away. This. Won't. Be. Pretty." And then under her breath she said, "Now I almost pity him. She covered her ears and closed her eyes. Tight.

The sounds of his agony could still be heard through her hands. He wasn't screaming. It was more like wailing. And the bones. The sorceress only knew she was allowed to remove her hands and open her eyes again when she felt the cage descend, slowly and carefully, away from the acid pools. And the faces of her companions was evident that they did not heed her warning.

The iron bars pulled away like they were wet noodles and her Djinni scooped her up in embrace. She swung her in her big arms and peppered her in gentle kisses. "What were you thinking? How did you even get into this mess? You?"

The sorceress tried to speak, but she was still being peppered with love and could not answer. She eventually said, "I'm sorry baby, I beat the fool at his own game, he got angry, I made friends and they were with me, I couldn't attack without hurting them. I weighed my options and risked getting trapped and called you. You understand don't you? I did the right thing didn't I? I hope I wasn't too much of a burden. I'm sorry."

The djinni's eyes eventually drifted to the terror stricken friends, "It seems your friends watched. Did you not tell them to look away?"

"I did, I swear! They just didn't believe me." She turned to them, "Come on, it's not that bad. He's generally in the same area at least. I've seen worse. Bits of them in one area, others in... others."

They kept saying over and over in their disbelief, "He did it to himself? Why would he have done that to himself?"

The djinni answered, "Oh that? I just showed him a vision of what I'd do if he didn't." She smiled plainly and let her wife down, but did not refrain from hugging her from behind. The sorceress kissed her biceps as if she had a silly habit of doing so every time her wife hugged her this way.

"You guys are good right? Let's grab his loot and go!"

An adventuring party is in a cage suspended over acid the wizard clears his throat "I just sent a message to my wife she should be here to save us soon." "Wait your married?" Said the rouge "more importantly what is she gonna." The paladin is interrupted by a massive explosion.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluff

Summary → Peter ate all your cookies and now you're giving him the silent treatment.

(gif not mine)

Peter sat on your bed, fidgeting nervously with the sleeves of his hoodie, watching as you ignored him, flipping through your book without even sparing him a glance. His curly hair was a mess, and his puppy dog eyes—usually your weakness—were locked on you, filled with guilt. You had to stay strong this time.

“I didn’t mean to eat all of them,” Peter mumbled, his voice soft and pleading. "I thought I’d just have one or two, but they were so good... I’m sorry, babe. Please don’t be mad."

You continued to act as if he wasn’t there, even though it was taking all your strength to ignore how adorable he looked, especially when he was in full puppy mode.

"Y/n/n..." he whined, dragging your name out, leaning forward on your shared bed like a sad puppy who’d been denied a treat. “You know how much I love your mom’s cookies! They’re like...the best thing ever! But I didn’t mean to finish them all. I just—got carried away…”

You shot him a glare but still didn’t speak. Peter dramatically flopped onto the bed, laying on his stomach as he stretched his arm toward you, fingertips barely grazing your knee.

“Please,” he whispered dramatically. “Forgive me. I’ll do anything. I’ll...buy more cookies. I’ll even bake some myself! They won’t be as good, but I’ll try. You love me, right? You can't stay mad at me forever!”

You turned the page of your book, deliberately keeping your expression neutral, though the corner of your lips twitched upward. Peter noticed and immediately perked up, crawling closer to you on the bed.

“Aha! I saw that smile! You can’t resist me!” He said, grinning now, as if he had won some sort of victory. “C’mon, baby. You don’t wanna be mad at your adorable, superhero boyfriend, right?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to hide your smile. “You ate all of them, Peter.”

“I know! I know! But I can make it up to you,” he said, moving to sit cross-legged in front of you, holding your hand gently. “I’ll do whatever you want. Seriously. Cookies, foot rubs, swinging you around the city...name it, and it’s yours.”

He pouted, his eyes wide and glistening. “Please, Y/n. I hate when you’re mad at me.”

You finally sighed, shutting your textbook and crossing your arms, trying to keep a stern face. “You really ate every single one.”

Peter nodded guiltily. “Every. Single. One.”

“...And you didn’t even save me one.”

“I—yeah, I know,” Peter winced. “But...I’ll never do it again! I promise! Just...please don’t give me the silent treatment. It’s torture.”

After a long, dramatic pause, you let out a breath. “Fine. But only because you promised. And next time? You better save me at least one.”

Peter immediately grinned, wrapping his arms around you. “Deal! I promise, I’ll never steal your cookies again. You’re the best!”

As he hugged you tightly, you couldn’t help but laugh, finally giving in to his relentless charm.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[archivequinn]

Can you please do an eddie angst? I love your fluff. I'm in the mood to read angst.

I've never tried angst before, but I hope you like it!

Summary: You and Eddie are breaking up.

On a cold winter evening, the wind was fiercely rattling the window frames, the city was shrouded in darkness, but inside the house, it was warm and filled with excitement for Eddie’s arrival. You read the postcard he had sent once more: “I’ll be there tomorrow night, princess. Wait for me. I miss you so much.” The words, written in Eddie’s messy handwriting, made you feel as though you could hear his voice. You had been apart for a month; such a long separation was unusual for you, and tonight would be a reunion where everything would fall back into place.

Finally, you heard the sound of an engine outside the door. Your heart began to race, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It felt as though your feet weren’t touching the ground. You ran to the door, your hands trembling slightly.

Eddie was there. His face looked tired, but the sparkle in his eyes and the scent of the wind clinging to him spoke volumes. He seemed like a man who had let go of all his burdens and was now overflowing with you. Smiling, he took a step toward you. “I’ve missed you so much…” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. Then he opened his arms and hugged you tightly.

His breath brushed past the side of your neck, warming you like a gentle breeze, and the rhythm of his heartbeat mingled with yours. The hug lasted so long that it felt as if all the troubles in the world had disappeared in that embrace. Tears welled up in your eyes; his warmth, his scent, his presence enveloped you completely. “Eddie…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He whispered back, “I know…”

You went inside. Eddie’s eyes wandered around the room, as if he was trying to recall a memory from a long time ago. “I even missed the smell of this house,” he said with a slight smile. Hats and scarves piled in a corner, the small details seemed to remind him of your shared story. He took you in his arms again, pressed his lips to your forehead, and closed his eyes. In that moment, time truly seemed to stand still. It was just the two of you; the noise, chaos, and confusion of the world were nothing more than a distant echo.

Finally, Eddie pulled back slightly, though his hands still rested on your waist. Looking at your face, he began to speak excitedly. “I have so much to tell you!” he said, his eyes gleaming. He talked about his adventures on the road, the places he had seen, the excitement on stage. “One time, a light bulb burst in the middle of a performance, and the whole set almost fell apart, but I shouted so much that people thought it was part of the show!” His laughter lit up the room, but a growing unease was building inside you.

During dinner, you noticed that Eddie kept glancing at the clock. At first, it seemed insignificant—maybe he was tired, or something was on his mind. But the peace of the evening gradually turned into tension. Finally, Eddie leaned slightly toward you, taking a deep breath. He put his fork down and placed his hands over yours.

“Listen,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. In his eyes, there was both happiness and deep indecision. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He paused for a moment, biting his lip as if weighing his words. Then, taking a deep breath, he continued. “I’ve received a new offer. A big tour… but I need to start immediately. I have to leave in a few hours.”

He looked at you, and you tried to understand the turmoil in his eyes. “This has been my dream. You know that, don’t you? You’re proud of me, right?” he said, his voice fragile like shattered glass.

“Of course, Eddie,” you replied, forcing a smile.

Eddie’s words trailed off, and there was an intensity behind his gaze. You looked into his eyes, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled with the weight of your emotions. “How long is the tour?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie took a deep breath, placing his hands on the edge of the table, his eyes cast downward. “A year,” he said. His voice wavered, and the strong, energetic man you knew now seemed like a boy struggling to find the right words. “We’ll be apart for a year.”

Those words felt like they had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. You felt a heaviness in your chest, struggling to breathe. When you looked into Eddie’s eyes, you saw both determination and fear. “Eddie…” you began, but couldn’t continue. The words collided in your mind, replaced by the sorrow you felt.

“Eddie, how can we handle such a long separation? A month was already so hard; a year… it feels impossible,” you said, your eyes filling with tears. You hadn’t expected them to come so quickly, but you couldn’t hold them back in front of Eddie.

Eddie reached out and held your hands. “I know. But I have to do this; I’m doing this for us. You’ve always been with me in this dream. I can’t do it without you,” he said, his voice cracking. In his eyes, there was both a plea and a deep guilt.

“Eddie, you say you’re doing this for us, but how meaningful can it be without us?” you asked. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you forced yourself to keep speaking. “You’re everything to me. But to not see you, to miss you, to think of you every day for a whole year… it will destroy me.”

A look of pain appeared on Eddie’s face, as if you had taken a piece of his heart and placed it in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, lowering his head. “I can’t do this without you,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible. But then he raised his eyes to meet yours, a flicker of hope dancing within them. “But maybe we can figure it out together. I want you to come with me. Let’s go on this tour together. I want to live my dreams with you by my side. Please, think about it.”

The moment you heard his proposal, your heart clenched with both joy and sorrow. The thought of being with Eddie, waking up every morning to his smile, warmed you for a brief moment. But then reality reminded you of itself. “Eddie, no… I can’t do that,” you said, your voice cracking. “I have a life here. A job, a routine. Leaving everything behind to be with you sounds like a beautiful dream, but… that’s not how things work in real life.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, as if your words had deeply wounded him. “Don’t I mean anything to you?” he asked, his voice fragile and desperate. “I don’t want to live this dream without you. But if you’re not with me, living while missing you this much will tear me apart.”

“Eddie…” you said, your voice choking amidst sobs. “You mean everything to me. But sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes the realities of life overshadow our dreams.”

Eddie remained silent for a moment, as though your words echoed in his mind. Tears streamed down his face, completely breaking the strong mask he usually wore. He reached out for you, but you stayed where you were, your eyes locked on his. “I love you,” he said, his voice cracking like shattered glass. “But how can we make this work? We have to find a way… I can’t do this without you.”

You brought your hands to your face, wiping away tears that only returned immediately. “I know you’ll never stop loving me,” you said, your voice trembling. “And I’ll always love you, too. But maybe loving each other isn’t enough to change our situation right now. And maybe… maybe this is the best we can do for now.”

Eddie took a step back, the desperation and heartbreak on his face resonating throughout the room. He closed his eyes, his lips moving silently as though searching for words but saying nothing. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he took a trembling breath and opened his eyes to look at you again. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you,” he said. “I never want to say goodbye to you.”

In that moment, time seemed to stop. As you gazed at each other in silence, everything felt both unbearably heavy and inexplicably light. Eddie wrapped his arms around you once more, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to pull you into his very being. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking with sobs. “I’ll always love you.”

In that embrace, as you felt each other’s heartbeats, you both wished this moment could last forever. But you knew; even if this wasn’t a goodbye, nothing would be the same after this.

Eddie held you for a while longer, but the embrace no longer carried warmth—it carried a weight. You both knew this was the final connection before you let go of each other. Eddie’s breath was uneven, and each time it hit your shoulder, your heart broke a little more. His hands moved gently over your back, as if trying to etch the feeling of this touch into his memory.

Finally, he pulled back slowly. His eyes were red, yet they still held a deep resolve. He cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “Princess,” he said, his voice low and trembling, “I want you to take care of yourself. Promise me, okay? Wrap your scarf if it’s cold, don’t catch a chill at night. Don’t forget to eat properly. And… please, no matter what, try to be happy.”

You could only nod. You wanted to speak, to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. The tears streaming down your face silenced you. Eddie’s eyes carried the pain of a farewell that would last a lifetime. He looked away for a moment, his gaze falling to the floor.

He reached for the chain around his neck, a guitar pick hanging from it. It was his favorite pick—the one he used on stage, the one that reminded you of him more than anything else. His hands trembled slightly as he removed the chain. He held the pick in his palm for a moment, looking at it before meeting your gaze again. “I’ve carried this with me everywhere. But now, it needs to stay with you,” he said.

He placed the chain around your neck, his fingers lingering on the pendant for a moment before pulling away gently. “Always keep this with you. If you ever feel lonely, let this necklace bring you back to me,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. Your hands instinctively reached for the necklace, and as the coolness of the pick touched your palm, the knot in your throat tightened even more.

“But Eddie,” you said, your voice muffled by sobs, “Will we ever see each other again?” The words spilled out desperately, tears streaming uncontrollably down your face.

Eddie paused for a moment, looking straight into your eyes. The depth in his gaze carried a thousand words he wanted to say, but only a few made it past his lips. “I promise you,” he said, his voice broken but resolute. “No matter where I am, I’ll always think of you. I’ll always write to you. I’ll send you a postcard from every place I visit. Even if you forget me, those postcards will remind you of me.”

Those words gave you a small sense of solace, but your heart only grew heavier. Eddie took your hands in his and held them tightly. “But no matter what, you’ll always be here for me,” he said, placing a hand over his chest. “You’ll always be with me.”

Eddie slowly released your hands and let his eyes roam over you one last time. It was as if he was trying to etch every detail of you into his memory, knowing he might never see you again. “I love you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Then he turned away. For a moment, he hesitated, as though he wanted to turn back and say something, but he kept moving forward. His steps were heavy but determined. You stood frozen in place, tears filling your eyes as you watched him go.

When Eddie reached the door, your breath caught, hoping he might turn back. But he didn’t. He opened the door and stepped outside. The air was freezing, the cold wind brushing against your face as you whispered after him, “Eddie…” But your voice was swallowed by the wind.

The door closed slowly. You ran to the window for one last glimpse of him. Outside, as snowflakes fell, you saw Eddie’s back. He was leaving. His steps quickened, as though he was afraid that stopping would make him turn around. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, his head bowed. And you stood there behind the glass, tears streaming down your face, feeling your heart shatter.

Eddie didn’t look back. But you knew; you could feel that he was crying too.

credit for divider: @/strangergraphics taglist: @multyfangirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @t-folklore13

[norizzsainz]

🌶️ NFY : GRAND PRIX WINS AND EXPOSÉS

[ carlos sainz x singer!fem!reader ]

[ summary ] carlos' and y/n's breakup comes as a surprise to many of their friends. no one ever thought the couple would ever break up, but alas, y/n was always ready to do whatever was best for the love of her life — even if it meant breaking up with him.

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━━━━━━━ MARCH 24, 2024 : MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA

“i’d just like to point out and say that i didn't have a say in attending this party tonight.”

you grumbled under your breath as everyone took their seats in the private lounge of the club.

“i didn't either.” oscar muttered from behind you, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. “can't even make a damn decision in my hometown, jeez.”

“osc, baby, hush.” lando was buzzing with excitement already, giggling as he looked at his teammate. “for you, i shall play the best house music there is.”

oscar blinked softly, looking over at his girlfriend, lily, who gave him a sheepish smile of encouragement. “yeah, that's what i was fearing.” he quipped, his voice barely audible.

the entire group turned towards the entrance when the other partygoers hooted and cheered, joining along as the ferrari boys made their entrance.

your gaze landed on carlos, hating how he still never failed to take your breath away even when he wore a simple shirt and jeans. gods, he was a beautiful man.

“earth to y/n.” you snapped out of your daze when max called out to you, a knowing smirk on his face. “you there?”

“oh, shut up.” you muttered in embarrassment, trying to direct your attention to something else.

but alas, the universe had different plans.

even when everyone was crowding to congratulate carlos on his win, he seemed to forget everything as soon as his eyes landed on you.

he quickly excused himself, his entire surroundings fading into black as he quickly made his way towards you.

“hey.” carlos greeted you softly as he stood in front of you, barely sparing a glance to anyone else. “you came.”

“you didn't really give me a choice.” you shrugged nonchalantly, though you were feeling very chalant. “congratulations on the win, by the way, smooth operator.”

carlos' smile brightened as he heard the teasing nickname, relieved to see you were feeling somewhat comfortable in his presence unlike the other times.

he hoped things would work in his favor tonight.

as the party was teeming in full blast, carlos did his best to give you your space, but he couldn't help but be drawn towards you throughout the night.

it was always him scooting closer to you, looking like he was going to talk to you before he moved away, chickening out at the last second.

even max and yuki, who were drunk off their asses, noticed carlos' pattern, wondering what he was up to.

unable to watch the pathetic scene any longer, charles shoved carlos in your direction, giving him a look that clearly said, ‘get on with it already, you coward.’

“uh, hi again.”

carlos wasn't sure why he was a nervous mess. he was usually very confident and charming, but now as he stood before you, he was nothing but a muddle of nerves.

“carlos.” you greeted him, raising your voice slightly so he could hear you over the club music. “hi again.”

“y/n.” he spoke up, reaching out to hold your arm as if he were afraid you’d walk away from him. for the second time. “look, about what you said the last time we spoke...”

you immediately shook your head, not wanting to go down that lane. “carlos, we don’t have to talk about it. i just want to forget about it all and—”

carlos’ grip on your arm tightened, stopping you from speaking. “amor. you are doing that conflict resolution thing again. don’t do that. all i wanted to say was that i’m gonna keep my promise and i will—”

before carlos could continue any further, everyone’s attention darted to lando as he let out an unidentifiable sound, some hybrid mix between a laugh and a scream.

“oh, my fucking goodness!” lando laughed in disbelief as he stared at his phone, his eyes widening in shock as the realization settled in. “carlitos! what the fuck?!”

kika and kelly stood behind him, reading the contents of his phone over his shoulders. their eyes widened in sync, lips parting in surprise.

“guys. sky sports gossip posted.” kika stated, causing everyone to reach for their phones. “you have to check it out.”

you looked from lando to carlos, wondering what your ex-boyfriend had done to land up on the sky sports gossip page and get such a reaction from the others.

your jaw was pretty much on the floor as soon as you finished reading the article and the comments it had received, your eyes widening in surprise. you skimmed through the apology post, your heart skipping several beats as you realized that carlos was the one who was behind everything.

everyone was just as shocked by the revelations, even the drunken pair, max and yuki, sobering up after seeing the articles and the aftermath of it all.

“carlos…” you couldn’t even find the words as carlos just smiled at you softly, tilting his head as if to say, ‘i told you so’. “you are absolutely insane, you know that?”

“insane is a bit too harsh, no?” he chuckled in amusement, his eyes crinkling as his smile widened.

“i promised, didn't i, carina? that i’d make it right. and i hope i did.”

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[seitmai]

Wow I just have many thoughts...

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

Seems like the prayers worked 🤭

You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally. 

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

Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again. 

They probably share those feelings about home 🥺

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

Ahhh those shared glances 🥰

“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.” “And you?” It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”

Oh he is probably so disappointed by that 🙈

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

Everyone deserves love though 🥺🫶🏻

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

Let's find it again 😌

Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…” “I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.” “I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure. He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

I'm just in love with this little conversation 😍

He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating,  but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.

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

During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape.

That's just so cute 🥰

Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

🥹🥹🥹

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

Not the glance over the shoulder 🥺

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

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

Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

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

On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.

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

“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.” “Well, I still need to draw your bath and…” “Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied. You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?” “Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”

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

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

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

Valid reaction

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

The pleading 😮‍💨🥰

“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.” “I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

😭😭😭

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

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

“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” “You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.” “Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”

🥰🥰🥰

“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.” You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.

I'm crying this is just so good 😭🥰

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

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

“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.” He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”

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

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

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

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all. 

🥰🥰🥰

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

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

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

You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.” His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”

Ahhhh it's happening!!

He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”

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

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

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

His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”

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

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

A truly good man ❤️‍🩹🥹

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

A sight to be seen, I'm sure 🤭

He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough.

🥰🥰🥰

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

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

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

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

He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours.

I just loved this so so much 🥹🥰👏🏻

Imperator

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 6.7k words

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

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

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

– Ovid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—--------------------------

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

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

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

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

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

“What is your name?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who else have you read?”

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

“And you?”

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

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

“What about you, Dominus?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I am sure you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

—-----------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make a wish,” he said.

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

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

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

“Why not?” He whispered.

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

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

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed.

“Dominus, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all. 

—------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come closer,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lucius,” you whimpered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

[defuckingthrone-dot-com]

Haven’t been very active the last few days, I really had a shitty week, and right now I’m very hung over and I still have 6 more hours of work 🫠

But I’m bringing you this Thot so you can forgive me 🥹

Imagine your very fucking excited to see Bad Omens for the very first time, you got supper early to the venue just so you can assure you got a spot right in front of the stage.

Right as you where grabbing a hold of the barricade due to people pushing around the lights turned off for a moment and you can hear the soft rumble of the speakers around before the big intro.

the show progressed and you honestly thought that you where on cloud nine getting to expirience it live. But you also noticed how Noah kept stealing glances your way, at one point he kneeled down on the stage right in front of you and you could feel his stare burning into your skin.You thought nothing at first, maybe he was trying to connect with the general crowd around you. As the songs went on, you continue to vibe with everyone around you and have a great time, It was almost near the end of the show, and the very last song to be played is Just Pretend, you could hear the very familiar melody of the first few seconds of the song as it was one of your favorites. Noah’s voice sounded magical with new arrangement made for this live version to be played. You couldn’t stop starring him and you could of swore he was looking at you too and he might of even given you a wink.

As the song died down it was time to finally go home, before you could get out of the venue one of the security guys approached you and said someone needed to speak with you. He led you down into a hall where at the end where the green rooms at the venue. Once he reached the door desired he knocked on it and heard someone called in from within saying to come in.

As soon as you entered the room you saw him standing there just looking your way. Noah called out for? You couldn’t believe it, it was becoming all too surreal. He introduced himself as if you didn’t already know he was one of the biggest musicians in the metal scene at the moment.

You both sat on the sofa on the back end of the room, it started with just a very mild get to know me conversation but now? Now you where both moaning each other name and could barely catch a breath. Bodies covered in sweat, hot, head spiraling into the ecstasy of both your climax.

Both of you held a little secret that no else knew though; you were no strangers at all but you both loved the feeling and thrill of meeting like strangers every night. The roleplaying of rockstar and fan( maybe even a groupie) kept the flame of your relationship with Noah burning with passion and desire

A/N: here’s the little thot in my head I was talking about earlier, I hope yall enjoy xx.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 26

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: In The Hands Of Fate

Notes: 👀

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  26/47

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Lancelot sat beside the bed you were laying on, Percival had fallen asleep against it on the other side not so long ago. He spoke prayer after prayer, meant for anyone who would listen, any deity or god that would be merciful enough to help you wake.

You had reacted awfully on the medicine the healer had poured into your mouth drop by drop. It were minutes filled with your screams of fear and agony, as if you were trapped in a nightmare you could not break free from. He had to help the man restrain you to be able to administer it. Percival had wept after seeing it, though the boy had tried to hide that fact. His hands were still shaking as he prayed for your recovery. The words of the village’s healer had not stopped haunting him since they were spoken.

    ~“It is in the hands of fate now.”~

    What had happened in the woods? Were his former red brothers at fault, or was this your father’s doing? The healer had believed it to be poison at first, but after examining you for longer he determined that a plant was used on the blade that cut your arm and it was only supposed to sedate, not this… the sedative properties of the plant were too strong when in direct contact to the bloodstream. Now you slept what could possibility be an endless sleep, and he felt himself shatter inside every time your expression turned to a pained one. Was this ‘poison’ hurting you? Were you trying to break free of it’s hold?

Lancelot prayed deep into the night, even when his eyes grew heavy he refused to surrender to sleep. He was holding your hand and praying quietly. At first he wasn’t aware that you were waking up, and hearing his quiet soft mumbling.

Your teeth began to chatter as you returned from the heavy hold of a strange sleep. You were laying on your side. Mere seconds later you felt a warm blanket be draped over your body. That scent… so familiar and safe… “Lancelot…?”

He knelt down just next to the bed, putting his elbow on the mattress for support. He cupped your cheek. “You’re awake…”

It sounded like he could barely believe it, and it told you just how bad it must have been. “I-”

A coughing fit prevented you from speaking. You were handed a tankard of water that you gulped down within seconds. Shivers ran up and down your spine. He was quick to wrap the sheets around you more.

“You’re awake…” he said again, still in disbelief.

The first thing you were able to see clearly again were his eyes, and you reached out to touch his face to see if he was even really there. The last bit of anger you had felt towards him evaporated upon seeing him so disheveled and worried over your health. You touched his cheek, his eyes softened so much that you caught yourself wondering how on earth it could make him even more beautiful than he already was. He proceeded to cup your hand in his hands and pressed his lips to your wrist. Your fingers stretched out, the tips could just still touch his jaw.

He couldn’t stop looking at you. “You were unresponsive for a day, we feared you would not wake again.”

You turned your head to look at the window, seeing Percival asleep next to the bed in the streak of moonlight. The slow circling motion of Lancelot’s thumb over the tip of yours helped to keep your mind awake.

A linen cloth was wrapped around your arm. “He cut my arm…”

It had Lancelot’s attention immediately. “Who did this to you?”

They were a dead person walking, all he needed was a description and preferably a name.

“A sellsword send by my father.” You swallowed the dryness in your throat away. “I killed him.”

He uttered something very quietly against your hand, you could have sworn it was the praise ‘good girl’ .

There and then, you didn’t mind one bit that he was holding your hand as if to stop the world from falling apart. “Was I poisoned?”

He took a deep breath and told what the healer had said to him, “The village’s healer believes that what was on the steel that cut you was only meant to sedate you, the one that attacked you just used too much.”

Great… Aldith was really sending the worst of the worst after you to do his dirty work. “By your response to seeing me awake, I assume it did not go well for me?”

He flexed his jaw, erasing the signs of discomfort. “The healer and I had to hold you down to be able to administer the medicine he gave you. You fought us as if we haunted your dreams.”

That did not sound good at all. “I don’t recall anything…”

“It is for the best.” he said with half a smile. For he did not want you to feel guilty for slapping the healer, and himself, during the struggle.

You sat up more, not bothering to pull your hand free from his, only then did you notice a change. “I am wearing another shirt…”

He was quick to put your mind at ease. “Amelia found one that fit you, she changed your shirt.”

“And my bodice, is it ruined?”

“No. I washed the stain out.”

Your brow arched high, a quiet chuckle escaped you.

The reaction made him curious. “What?”

You flashed a grin. “I am trying to envision you, the fearsome ‘Weeping Monk’, washing my bodice.”

He hid how it had made him just a bit flustered by looking down.

“The herbs, did I get them here?” you worried.

He did not expect you to be worried over that at such a time. “I placed them in a bowl. Do not concern yourself over that now, you need to heal.”

The vertigo troubled you every few seconds and you tried to fight it off by breathing calmly. “Are we even safe here? Do you think my father knows that we are here?”

He truly hoped that it was just an unfortunate coincidence. “It may have been a sellsword that just happened to see you in the woods. And by killing him you ensured that he would not share this news with others.”

You held the sheets to your chest upon feeling the stress weigh down on your body. How far was your father going to go… how much death would it bring?

He rubbed over your hand. “Do you want to rest more?”

“I’m afraid.” The confession fell out, releasing some of it’s power over you.

He rose from the ground and sat down on the edge of the bed just next to your hip. “Of him finding you?”

Admitting to it made you feel so small. “He has hurt me so much, over so little, I fear to learn what he will do to me for this.”

“He will do nothing to you.” He spoke with fervour, “He will regret the day he ever laid a hand on you.”

You drew in a deep breath, he must have felt your hand tremble in his. He moved his hand further up, to your wrist, and his fingers grazed over your lower arm inside your sleeve. The jest slipped from you, “Are you feeling my pulse?”

His eyes widened slightly, then a soft smile broke out on his face. “I am actually. Your pulse is stronger. I am glad.”

You turned your hand to take hold on his wrist as well, locking yourself to him as he was locked to you. “Yours is strong too.”

It slipped out of his thoughts, “You should have felt it when I saw you arrive here.”

Anyone could hear that the lighthearted remark carried a heavy burden underneath it. Even he could tell that you had seen right through it, through him. He let his gaze drop to the sheets and swallowed, you wished you could have read his mind in that moment. It looked like he had gone through hellish hours whilst you were unconscious. His eyes were a little red from the lack of sleep, there was little color in his face. All doubt about his sincerity towards your well-being washed away inside of you. He truly cared for you, and not because you were a weapon…

With your free hand you cupped the side of his neck and slowly leaned in to kiss his cheek, lingering just long enough to whisper into his ear, “I forgive you.”

He drew a sharp breath, as if a thorn had been pulled out of him. Before you even had the chance to sit back again, he had placed his hand on the back of your head. “Truly?”

You nodded, unable to ignore how tormented he had sounded. “I see you now. The ‘you’ you hide from the world to protect yourself. The true person that you showed me when we were together alone.”

Emotions had overrun his eyes, his fingers brushed down over the back of your head and neck before he pulled his hand away.

He felt as if his own eyes betrayed him when they let go of your gaze and fixed their interest on your mouth instead. That slight curve in your lips as that timid smile lightened up your eyes…

He blinked thrice rapidly, and his eyes darted over the room until they settled for the wall. “I will let you rest. Unless you need anything?”

“Uhm.” Your mouth felt full of useless air. “I’ll be fine.”

He turned his body to get up from the bed, one of his hands hovered just a little above the sheet where your hip was, tempted to pat the spot in an encouraging manner but he decided against it awkwardly. It oddly made you smile to see him become so clumsy in social situations that he was not used to.

“I will honor your forgiveness.” he almost whispered, whilst taking place on the floor right next to the head of the bed, letting his back rest against the wall.

By laying down, you were not far from him, if you stretched your arm you could easily touch his face if you’d want to. And you did so, just to annoy him a little, poking his jaw. He slowly swatted your hand away, and it only made you do it again.

It ended with him catching your wrist. “Is the plant causing you to do this?”

You snorted a quiet laugh at that mildly annoyed tone. “No. You just have poke-able jaws.”

That earned quite a look from him. “Get some rest.”

“Did you prefer me asleep?” you jested.

His wit was quick, “Now I do.”

You tried to tug at his shirt to scold him for it. Then decided to leave him alone. “I’ll let you sleep. You look exhausted.”

“I had little sleep.” he admitted.

You knew who was at blame for that. “I’m sorry.”

He frowned up at you. “There is no need to apologize. It was my decision to stay awake until I knew you were alright.”

Years of being considered a burden had gnawed at the edges of your mind. “I still hate being a bother-”

“No.” He shook his head, knowing what sort of fear you were trying to hide. “If you were truly bothering me, do you believe I would sit here beside your bed? Would I have prayed for your health as I have done?”

It would still take some time getting used to the fact that someone genuinely cared. You laid down your head. “It’s just hard to believe, that after all this time, I found someone who cares.”

He liked to hear that you finally believed that he did. “Hold on to that faith, for it is the truth.”

To allow having such faith… you hoped your heart could bear it if that faith was broken again. “Goodnight, Lancelot.”

He leaned his head back against the wall. “Goodnight, Little Ember.”

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The next morning, Percival was ecstatic when he saw that you were awake and walking around the room. You had been the first to wake and had gone down to the inn to fetch soup for breakfast. Amelia looked at you as if she had seen a ghost. Apparently it was her who had went to get the village’s healer by Lancelot’s request. The healer had told her that he didn’t think you would wake again, something the man must not have wanted to share with Lancelot. It did shake you a little to hear it, but you didn’t let it show. You were awake and the only thing bothering you still was the healing cut on your arm.

And let that be the reason why that morning was quite awkward to live through. The only other person in the room with a knowledge of wound care was Lancelot, and he had taken it upon himself to put a clean linen bandage to your arm. But before he could do that, he insisted on cleaning the wound and applying the ointment that the healer had made with some of the herbs you had plucked. You didn’t know where to look when he cleaned your arm with a wettened rag, and because he had to do it so carefully it took a bit of time. Weeks earlier, this would have been unthinkable for him. A monk was not to touch any woman, especially not like this. But now he didn’t seem bothered by it at all, with a concentrated frown he made certain that not a single speck of dirt was on that wound.

Percival chatted away, offering a distraction you were grateful for. The boy showed you exactly what Lancelot had taught him whilst you were fetching the herbs, and fighting for your life in the woods. He had taught the boy how to block a few attacks of a sword, and hearing the boy say “Just imagine if a paladin did this-”, and then seeing him show how he would respond was highly entertaining. The bravery of a warrior and still the imaginative mind of a young boy, at least he had not lost that yet.

Lancelot watched your face as you watched the boy perform. “I thought it best to show him how to protect himself from a blade first.”

You couldn’t stop watching Percival and quietly whispered back, “You did well. Imagine what could happen if you were to share your knowledge of the sword with the Fey… you could teach them so much.”

The words of the Green Knight returned to his mind.

    ~“You can fight, I’ve never seen anything like it. You could be our greatest warrior. Your people need you.”~

    Maybe they did need him, but they would never want him. Not after what he had done, he was known only as an executioner to them. A monster, a beast that haunted the dreams of the children who’s homes he had burned. The Hidden had often called him ‘Dark Angel’ and that was how he saw himself, he brought darkness not light. The Fey were better off without him.

“Lancelot?” You saw how he was lost in thought.

He blurted out his trail of thought, “The Fey will never accept me, rightfully so.”

Percival stopped his performance and looked right at Lancelot. “What… but you are going to come to our people, aren’t you?”

You saw Lancelot’s eyes fill with silent guilt. He did not intend to join his people, perhaps he preferred a life away from it all, to withdraw from the war completely.

“I cannot.” he calmly said to Percival and began to wrap a clean linen cloth around your arm, working faster now.

“But…” the boy approached him, “We need you!”

Lancelot did not dare to look into the eyes of the boy. “I cannot help the Fey, they will never accept my help even if I was to offer it.”

Percival blew up on him. “You’re a coward!”

“Percival!” You tried to calm him.

The boy wouldn’t hear it. “The Green Knight is gone because of you! Because he fought for us! You took him from us and now you won’t even try to make it right?!”

Lancelot was rooted to the spot, he had just finished helping you with your arm and was now at the center of the boy’s wrath. Shame overwhelmed his being, it was so much worse to hear this out of the mouth of a child.

Percival tried to get through to him. “We need people who can fight, we need you!”

Lancelot struggled to speak, for he feared shattering the boy’s spirit. Percival took it as his plea being rejected by him. He must have been convinced, that with Lancelot joining the Fey the war could have a better outcome for them. And now that that hope was shattered, Percival’s eyes got watery. He stormed out of that room, slamming the door shut behind him. Lancelot let out a disappointed sigh, he truly hated being the reason of a child’s tears. You didn’t know what to say to him, especially not after seeing how upsetting it was for him as well.

“I will go and find him.” The confidence had long since left his voice. “I’ll talk to him.”

You tried to offer some consolation. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it when he called you a coward.”

“He did.” He was certain of it. “And he was right.” He headed straight for the door and left the room.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  He found Percival by the horses. Percival was petting Goliath, offering affection in exchange for some comfort from the stallion. Slowly he approached the boy, hoping he would manage to say what he wished to say.

“The Green Knight was my friend.” Percival did not turn to look at him to hide his tear stained cheeks and snotty nose. “I don’t even know if the rest is still alive. Nimue, Pym,…”

He stopped a few feet away. “I am sorry, Percival. I will understand if you cannot forgive me for my part in the Green Knight’s fate.”

“We need you…” Percival turned to face him. “I need you. Who else is going to fight for the Fey but us?”

Lancelot’s nails were digging in his palm, causing himself physical pain to withstand the mental torment this put on him. “I would not know how. The Fey will wish to kill me on sight.”

Percival got closer, the spark of hope was returning in his eyes.“We can find my friends, I’ll tell them you’re one of us! I’ll tell them what you did and how you helped me. They can help!”

Words were failing him, how could he possibly refuse this plea? He owed the Fey a debt, he owed Percival a debt, one he could only repay with life itself. Perhaps this path would finally quieten his demons.

“Promise me you will help us.” Percival stopped right before him. “Promise it!”

He wasted no time to think about it further, with a nod of his head the promise was made. “I promise I will offer my aid where I can.”

For Percival that promise was enough, relief washed over his features and before the Ash Man could react the boy had embraced him, his height only allowed him to wrap his arms around Lancelot’s waist. “You will help us?”

“I will help.” he vowed, placing a hand on the back of the boy’s head.

You had come to find the missing Feys outside of the inn when you couldn’t find them inside. Upon seeing them in this heartwarming display, you let your presence be known. “Who would have thought that I would ever bear witness to this?”

Percival let go of Lancelot at hearing your teasing. He pretended like it never happened. Lancelot was still processing the first embrace he ever received from a Fey child. They both acted so timid after it, but you could see that it had sparked joy in the Ash Man.

“I would write in my journal about all of this if I still had it.” you jested.

Lancelot approached and the boy followed. “Then may I suggest that you inspect Goliath’s saddlebag?”

It couldn’t be… you went to search the bag, finding the journal inside. But under there, there was something else hidden in a piece of cloth and after discreetly touching it you could tell that it was a scourge in there. Within only a few seconds you had to decide not to speak of it and pretend you didn’t know it was there. Surely he had simply forgotten it was in there… he wouldn’t… not anymore…

When you took out the journal and locked eyes with Lancelot, there was just the briefest change in his eyes. Did he know you had seen it? It was possible he only just remembered by seeing you ruffle through the saddle bag. As you walked towards him and thanked him for keeping the journal with him, he waited to respond until Percival started to walk a little up ahead and back towards the inn.

“Thank you. " he whispered. “For not speaking of the scourge when the boy could hear.”

You quickly whispered back, “Promise me that you won’t use it anymore.” He kept quiet for a bit too long. “Lancelot?”

He gave a small nod. “I promise.”

A group of men walked out of the inn just as Percival reached the door, you did not recall seeing them in the inn earlier. Had they gone in whilst you were talking to Lancelot and Percival by the horses? As they walked out, the armed men almost walked into Percival. Had it been on purpose? Lancelot must have thought so because he moved to the boy and pulled at Percival’s jacket to make him stand a little behind him. He did not seek trouble, but he wasn’t going to risk the boy getting hurt. The men made direct eye-contact with Lancelot, a menacing grin forming on the faces of two of them. As they turned and were about to pass you, their attention landed on you next.

“Will you not join our company?” The tallest asked, making no effort to hide what ‘joining’ their company would include.

You saw Lancelot tense up from the corner of your eyes and place a hand over the pommel of his sword, but you remained calm. “No.”

This man took a step closer, going as far as to lean in, testing you. “We have a better place to sleep than a filthy inn.”

“Go inside.” Lancelot had taken hold of Percival’s jacket by the shoulder and directed him towards the door of the inn.

He could just sense the trouble radiating off of this group of men. They were too confident, a sign they were certain of their skill with those weapons they carried on them. And if those details did not make him vigilant, the sound of the Hidden letting their disapproval be known in his ears did.

To you, it was an insult they aimed at Amelia’s hard work. “This inn isn’t filthy.”

The rest of the group did not move from where they stood, they were strangely interested in how their comrade was trying to seek you out. Lancelot said nothing as he slowly walked around them, hand wrapped around the pommel of his sword, to reach your side. Under that silence was a warning, and he confirmed it by placing himself between you and this stranger. Not a word was said between them while Lancelot stared him down, he was not escalating the situation, he was warning them. It was the man who decided to step back, you did not like how the group looked at you whilst they walked away and out of sight.

Percival had been looking at what was happening from behind the door that he had left open on a gap. He opened it for Lancelot who had taken hold of your arm and was leading you inside. “What was that?”

“Trouble.” Lancelot said as he steered the two of you to and up the stairs. “We must pay attention to those around us.”

“Could they be send by my father?” you worried out loud.

He thought about it for a moment. “I am not sure. The previous ones he send were not afraid to attack in public.”

That was true, they must have been offered quite some coin. “Perhaps it was just a fool trying to find someone to spend time with.”

Lancelot opened the door for you and Percival. “I do not like either of those possibilities.”

You didn’t either. As you entered the room, moving past him, you noticed a small spot of blood on his sleeve and pointed it out to him. “You’re still bleeding. I should take a look at those wounds, see how well they are healing.”

He did not take that offer. “No. You rest. Write down what you wanted to write in your journal. I will clean the blood off myself, you did well suturing my skin back together, it makes it easier to care for my wounds.”

You wanted to protest. “But-”

Lancelot was already walking towards the small washing room. “Rest. For I believe we may soon have to travel. We cannot stay here forever.”

That was right, it was already lucky that no paladins had found the three of you so far. And after that strange encounter, you thought it best not to stick around for much longer.

Percival tried to steal the journal from your hands. “Can I see?”

“There’s nothing in there.” you lied.

“Liar.” Lancelot said.

With wide eyes you looked at him. “What-… did you look inside of it?”

He didn’t fully admit to it. “I knew you would not have written anything incriminating in case it would have been found by paladins.”

“Did. You. Read. It?” you glared at him.

He saw Percival wince, and the boy moved himself out of the crossfire and to the bed. “Was I forbidden from doing so?”

It was so clear what he was trying to do. “Don’t try to act oblivious!”

“I will not do so again.” he tried to save himself from the wrath he faced.

“You’d better not!” you said in a threatening manner, then sat down at the table, taking your mother’s journal out of the satchel and placing it next to your own.

Lancelot went into the washing room, ignoring the angry mumbling that came from you and was undoubtedly aimed at him.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  In the evening, when Percival had laid down and fallen asleep after a heavy meal, you were scribbling in your journal again after having read in your mother’s for quite some time. After Lancelot had returned from tending to his injuries, together you decided to leave the inn the next day at noon. The day was spend thinking of plans, and it was agreed upon to try and find Percival’s friends. He had made a promise to the boy and intended to keep it. It made you more than a little nervous to think of the journey and all the uncertainties that would accompany it, but you were not alone to face this path. To get rid of some of that anxiousness, you wrote down some experiences that you hoped to remember. Cassian’s betrayal and death, meeting Lancelot and Percival, meeting Amelia and all there was to think about. Lancelot walked out of the washing room again, his jerkin and cloak were hanging over the chair.

You became very aware of him looking down over your shoulder and closed the journal. “Can I help you with something?”

He smirked when hearing the annoyance in your voice. He reached down and gingerly moved the pages of your journal. Searching for something.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You kept your voice down to avoid waking Percival up.

It did not stop him. “I wish to show you what caught my interest.”

You eyed him suspiciously after hearing that teasing tone.

He put his finger down on a certain page only four pages in, sliding it to a certain passage he must have read before. “This part.”

You felt the blood run to your feet when realizing what he was pointing at.

“This. Who were you writing about?” he asked it ever so carefully.

It was just one stupid little sentence, and somehow he had taken notice of it. You remembered writing it and when, it had been not long before you had overheard him and Father Carden. And he knew damn well there were not many options about who that sentence could be about.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” you got defensive right away. You looked at that sentence one more time, then averted your gaze.

      ~“The scent of him, the sound of his voice,… I should know better than to allow myself to let it affect me.”~

He approached the topic with care. “But it once did…”

Your hands were in your lap, squeezing together to control your nerves. “Please, don’t.”

“So it was about me?” his voice never got any louder, it remained leveled and calm, in the hope that it would make you comfortable enough to speak of this.

You kept your eyes on the table, a heavy feeling had fallen on your chest. This was a reminder just how much you had grown attached to him during that time. And it was frightening to let someone get close, because it made you vulnerable, it could break your spirit and it had.

Your answer was not much more than a quiet breath, “It was.”

He nodded to himself shallowly. “Does it still-”

“Stop.” you tensed up.

He did not push further, sensing the risk of upsetting you. “Forgive me… I understand.”

You wanted to forget this ever happened. “Let’s not risk complicating matters even more. There is no need for it.”

Again he nodded, but it was clear he was holding back something he wished to say and you feared asking what it could be.

“Take the bed tonight. Ensure you are well-rested tomorrow.” he said.

You declined. “You need it more with those wounds you have.”

He knew very well what his words would cause. “This is not up for discussion.”

Your gaze slowly lifted to his face, and by the time your eyes made contact with his they were blazing fire at him. “Indeed it is not. Because I won’t take the bed.”

His eyes squinted down at you, an arrogant smirk on his face.

You rose to your feet and moved past him. “I am getting a fresh jug of water down in the inn, and you better be in that bed when I return.”

It slipped right out of his thoughts, a daring question, “What if I am not?”

You stepped right up to him, staring him down. “Do you intend to rile me up tonight?”

His gaze darted over your face like a cat watching a moth fly. “It is a grand source of entertainment in a room that lacks it.”

Was this truly something he liked? “There’s books to read.”

He let himself lean against the wall, showing every intention to get on your nerves even more. “What I am most interested in reading, is the journals in your possession.”

They were still on the table, you went to grab them and put them in your satchel to take them along and free him of the temptation. “What are you hoping to find in them?”

Lancelot let you see how he fixed his eyes on your satchel. “Answers you may be too frightened to speak to me out loud.”

That piqued your interest. “What sort of answers?”

There was caution in his tone. “I have questions, but I will not upset you by voicing them.”

“Lancelot,” you let out a small sigh, “-just ask.”

A couple of seconds passed, he looked towards Percival to make sure the boy was still asleep, then looked back to you. “If our circumstances were different.” he took another step closer, only inches away from you. “If our beginning had been of our own choosing. No trade from your brother, no arrangement, no interference from others. What would our marriage have looked like?”

It was something to be envied, how he often wore his heart on his sleeve, the sort of brave behavior you never really knew he was capable of. After Father Carden taking advantage of his heart all this time, he still was not afraid to let it feel. An admirable strength of spirit it showed…

You got very quiet. Was he truly asking how you would have viewed a marriage with him if everything had not been forced on you both? He was patiently, albeit nervously, waiting for an answer you barely dared to speak.

“I-…” words got caught in your throat.

He was trying to read the answer in your eyes, it did not help your thoughts to become coherent again. His eyes carried a veil of silent hope over them. And even though your thoughts were trying to make sense again, you knew one thing for certain. You did not want to upset him or hurt him with your answer, not now, not when he was looking at you like this and you felt like you held a spear in your hands that was aimed at his soul.

“I do not know.” you whispered apologetic.

He was appreciative of the calm and honest response. “I startled you with my question-”

“I’m afraid.” The confession fell out of your mouth and you hoped you wouldn’t regret it. “Everyone I was ever close to has betrayed me and hurt me. And even though I have started to believe that you wouldn’t do so again, the fear remains. You are not at blame for this, I’m the problem.”

“You are not a problem.” he was firm on that.

Percival stirred in his sleep and you fell silent for a few seconds, fearing the quiet conversation had woken him. A strange tension hanged between Lancelot and you, it didn’t help that he was so close you could easily hear him breathe.

Lancelot whispered to you. “I had hoped to speak to you of another matter. May I do so tomorrow?”

It was rather odd he asked. A smile curled your lips. “Are you asking for permission to speak to me?”

“Yes.” To him it was important. “It is a personal matter.”

You gave a nod, growing curious already. “Of course, you can talk to me whenever you need to.”

He was quite surprised to hear you say that and grateful. He smiled, watching you look at him whilst blindly fishing for the door handle with your hand. He dared to get closer again before you could open it.

Finally you were able to get that door open and by opening it it forced him back. “I’m getting that jug. Go and rest, I’ll be back in a moment.”

He let out a quiet sigh, sensing that he would not win this disagreement on who was to sleep in the bed for the last night. “Alright then.”

You heard him chuckle lightly when you knocked the edge of the door into him whilst making your way outside. If he had moved it wouldn’t have happened.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Amelia was putting a small piece of wood on the fire in the hearth, cussing under her breath until she saw you. “This stupid fire, some of the wood got wet and now it won’t burn properly.”

“I can go and see if I can find some dry wood for it.” you offered the help. “I know we had promised to help.”

She nodded gratefully, “There is a stack of it behind the inn, if you can help me look for a dry log I’ll be glad.”

You gave a nod and followed her out of the inn, through the kitchen and into her quarters, where another door led to outside. Behind the inn laid the woods, the inn stood somewhat solitary from other homes and structures in the village and was at the edge of it. The difference between the view at the front of the inn and the back was day and night. A large stack of logs where once placed against the stone wall, some of it was still covered from the rain by the roof but the stack had collapsed and rolled all over the place. After spending quite some time picking everything up in the dark, you were able to stack them together again. Amelia and you had found a few dry logs to burn and were carrying them inside, she went out to get another batch whilst you placed some of them in the fire to strengthen the flames again. It was an easy task to place the logs deep into the fire, considering you could not burn.

“Amelia?” you called out for her when she had not returned with the batch yet. And when no response came, you went out to see if she needed a hand. Confused you stood beside the stack of logs outside the back of the inn, she was nowhere to be seen. Had she gotten past you somehow whilst you were busy with the fire? As you turned to head back inside, a coppery scent struck your nostrils. She was out there, into the dark void of the woods, you just knew it. And that scent… it ran a chill over your spine. You followed the scent and before you even reached the first set of trees you could hear her, a quiet call for help that you could have easily missed if you had breathed louder. Amelia laid on the ground, fallen leaves stuck to the blood that covered her dress. Two deep puncture wounds were in the midst of her stomach. By the time you knelt next to her, the life had already left her eyes, and when you took her hand in yours the life left her body as well. Who had done this, and why? Amelia did not seem to be the sort of person to have enemies. It felt surreal, being cloaked in the darkness with a lifeless Amelia in your arms. You needed to get back to the inn and warn others before the culprit could get away with this. Apologizing to her lifeless form, you gently put her down on the grass again. Blinking through the tears you drew your sword for protection, it must have been the incentive for what happened next. Your arm was grabbed and a rag was pressed over your mouth and nose from behind you. A strange scent filled your lungs, your nose too sensitive for the strength of it.

“Grab her!” A familiar voice called out to someone. That voice… the man who had propositioned you earlier that day.

And your suspicion proved correct when you managed to pull yourself free from his grasp, seeing his face and the faces of the rest of the group you had seen earlier. They must not have expected you to fight back, especially not after using that rag on you. Whatever they had put on the rag, it had made you terribly drowsy and tired. Had it been what that sellsword had used that send you into the dangerous sleep? It must be, the feeling was the same. They had murdered Amelia, luring you into the woods. They were here for you. In a split second you had to decide what you would do, fighting them would be difficult under the influence of what they had used on that rag, but running would not get you far for long. They were prepared, that was clear, you saw a blurry shape that resembled a carriage behind the trees. You chose to run to the inn, planning to lock them out if you could make it inside. It was a blur, your vision threatened to darken on the sides as you ran. Your feet reached the inn’s doorway, an arm came across your body and grabbed hold. One of them had been quick enough to grab you and tossed you to the hard ground. Your sword was smacked out of your hand by the fall, but you kicked a metal bucket near your feet in his direction when he tried to get closer. The one who had spoken to you before grabbed you by the throat when you tried to get up and pinned you to the ground. The rag was pressed over your nose and mouth again, and as his hold on your throat tightened you were forced to breathe into the rag. Your desperate scratching at his hand and face stopped when you fell under the sedation of the plant’s sap on the rag.

He finally moved the rag away. “Arne, Crispin, get her in the carriage! We’re getting our coin.” He stood up from the ground, gesturing to the broadest of the four. “Torsten, See if you can bring the carriage closer.”

“What about the Weeping Monk, Kazamir?” Crispin asked.

Kazamir turned to him. “Do as I say. Aldith’s daughter first. Once we have our coin, we will see what Aldith offers for the Monk.”

Torsten went to bring the carriage closer so they would not need to drag you much. They made haste to get you into that carriage. Arne was on one side of the carriage, Crispin on the other and he closed the small door once his help on that side was no longer needed. When Arne turned, the glistening steel of Lancelot’s sword cut through his throat and send him stumbling backwards, blood rained down onto the grass.

“Shit!” Torsten, who sat on the seat at the front of the carriage, had noticed something was off and alerted the others. “It’s the Monk! He’s killing Arne!”

Percival, who was hidden around the corner of the inn, saw the fight escalate. He and Lancelot had heard you call out for Amelia and considered it worth investigating. They never thought that they would see your unconscious body be put into a carriage by the group who they had encountered earlier that day. Lancelot had to move fast when Torsten jumped down to the ground and attacked him, the man was broad and taller than him. Torsten swung his axe, Lancelot moved just in time and saw the axe hit the carriage with brute force by accident.

He prayed you were nowhere near the place of impact. The wood had shattered and splintered all over.

Crispin came to Torsten’s aid, and received Lancelot’s steel to the shoulder as he spun away from them. “Shit! Kill the bastard!”

Torsten managed to hit Lancelot’s jaw with his fist, who then barely avoided the axe that threatened to take his arm.

The taste of blood was on his tongue, his inner cheek was cut into by his teeth by the blow to his jaw. He could see Percival’s eyes and shook his head when they made contact with his, the boy was not to interfere or make himself known to them.

Torsten raised the axe to swing again, Lancelot turned on his feet in an upward motion and his sword cut through flesh and bone, the axe was still in the severed hand that landed on the ground. Torsten screamed in agony and tried to stop the bleeding by holding his arm into his shirt. Lancelot’s attention went to Crispin, who did not look too keen on seeing this fight through to the end.

“LET GO OF ME!” Percival shouted.

Lancelot’s eyes snapped to the boy, who was being dragged out of his hiding place by Kazamir, a sword was placed against Percival’s throat carelessly.

“Drop your sword, or I’ll gut him.” Kazamir shouted to Lancelot. To put pressure on the threat, he let the sword puncture Percival’s skin just enough to draw some blood. Only then did Percival stop trying to fight back.

Lancelot was trying to assess the dire situation, his sword fell to the ground once he feared that the bastard would run out of patience and hurt Percival even worse. Crispin pushed him hard to the ground, holding the tip of his sword in front of Lancelot’s nose.

“We are taking the Lady of Ravenwick with us, and rest assured that we will cut this boy to pieces if you follow us.” Kazamir moved to the carriage that Torsten had managed to climb unto again. “To keep you occupied we will leave him for you to find in the next village we encounter, if you do not try to follow us that is. Otherwise you will have to search the woods for every piece of him.”

“Why should I believe you?” Lancelot spat out.

Kazamir climbed into the carriage with Percival, mocking him, “Have you lost your faith so quickly?”

Crispin picked up Lancelot’s sword and tossed it far out of reach. He left for the carriage with a threat, “We will hear if you are worth as much coin as she is from the Lord of Ravenwick. And you better pray he gives us the coin we were promised, or we will seek another form of payment from her.”

As Crispin walked away and climbed unto the carriage to sit next to Torsten, a dagger landed in his back. Lancelot had not even moved to stand, he didn’t need to to aim and kill the bastard. They proved to be quite disloyal to their wounded and dying comrades, as the carriage began to move and made Crispin fall off of it.

Only then did Lancelot get up from the ground, walked over to Crispin and set his boot down on the sellsword’s hand to break it. “You will reunite with your comrades in the fire, I swear it.”

He took Crispin’s own sword from the man’s broken hand and rejected all the pleas from the bastard as he slowly sank the sword into the heart of the vile monster, leaving it there.

Not even his worst nightmares could summon up this scenario. The child he had sworn to protect, and the woman he could not bear to lose, taken by a group of murdering sellswords. No, this went beyond the fears his own mind could concoct.

He found your sword on the way to Goliath, and he found Amelia too. There was no time to waste, the sellswords would rid themselves of Percival soon, they were not paid to look after a child. There was no doubt in his mind that the Lord of Ravenwick was behind this and there was not much time before he risked losing track of you forever. He mounted Goliath and went to do what he had done for so long, track the enemy down.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten ​​  @the-great-adventures-of-me   @linkpk88   @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks ​​  @slytherlight   @beananacake ​​     @crystallizedtime ​​ @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart   @5am-cigarette   @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream  

 @coloursforyourportrait   @koressecretidentity   @nike90   @n1ghtlux ​​  @rachlovesactors ​​  @luckyzipperscissorsbat   @morena-doing-stuff   @the-fangirl-diaries ​​  @gipsydanger17   @heavenly1927 ​​ @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies     @stclairesplace   @​​katjusja @isla-bell-blog   @beebeerockknot   @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

[wabatle]

Would you be able to do a Lucifer from Obey Me request for some comfort for an MC who’s had a tough day? Just too many things happened all at once with no breaks in between the madness and they’re completely wiped out emotionally and emotionally charged from all the stupid things happening around their day? I’d love some comfort character for a rainy day which I feel like will be happening sooner rather than later.

𓆩⚝𓆪 — After a long day

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Warnings: touching but very fluffy, reader feels sick and just genuinely had a terrible day

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Contains: fluff, comfort ~0.8k wc

𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: I had a great time writing this ty for the request!! sorry it took so long omg this req was from october 😭

It’s been such a long day. You’re tired, utterly exhausted. You’re not even aware of how to explain why you feel like this, other than you, “just woke up on the wrong side of bed.” So many things have happened today. You had five tests today, still had to keep up promises you had made the day before, had constantly been smothered and overwhelmed by whichever brothers were around you at the time, and not only that, you’ve also felt sick the entire day since you’ve barely had enough time to eat or drink. You feel awful.

You finally arrived back at the HoL, but you didn't really feel like doing anything, let alone the stacks and stacks of homework you were sent home with.

You went straight to your room, throwing your things on the table and crashing down onto your bed. You rubbed your face with your hands.

You spent the next few minutes mindlessly doomscrolling on your D.D.D, until you were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“___? Are you in there?” It was Lucifer.

“Mhm,” you quietly breathed out.

“I’m coming in.” He replied, pushing the door open.

Without a word, he laid down beside you, your bed creaking as he did so. “What’s going on?” He asked you, gently grazing your cheek with his fingers.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“That’s alright, just… let me know if you want to talk, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Is there anything I can do to try to distract you?” He asked.

“Um… Not really.”

“Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Stay. Please.”

“Of course.” He opened his arms, allowing you to relax comfortably in them. He gently stroked your head.

A few minutes passed, with nothing but tranquil silence until you spoke.

“It’s just… been a really long day.”

He waited until you were ready to speak again.

“Y’know, the five tests started it. And then your brothers were overwhelming me.”

He sighed heavily.

“And since I had to study during lunch, I didn't get to eat or drink. I feel really sick. And I'm on dinner duty tonight.”

“Mm.” He breathed, kissing your head. “I'll gladly help you with your homework,” he paused, kissing you once more, “and I'll make one of my brothers take over dinner duty for you. Since it's for you, I'm sure there won't be any complaints.”

You sighed. “Thank you.”

“If you want me to, I can speak with my brothers about their constant affection.”

“No, it's not necessary, it just… was a bad time, I guess.”

“That's understandable. That's happened to everyone once or twice before. Everything seems to fall on the wrong day.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed once more, rubbing your face with your hands. “I'm tired, Luci.”

“I know,” he caressed your face. “I know. But you need to eat something, and make sure to drink some water.”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

He sighed, gently pulling you in for a chaste kiss. His hands remained on your cheeks. “___, please don't be afraid to ask for help.”

“I… I know. And I should've. I'm sorry.” You averted eye contact.

“Why are you apologizing to me? You should be apologizing to yourself.”

“Sorry, me,” you said sarcastically.

“Be serious.” He kissed you once more. “Make sure you go to bed early tonight. Just this once, take something from Belphegor. Though don't be like him every day.”

“I know.” You kissed his jaw, right under his ear. “Maybe you're right.”

“You know I am.”

You paused. “Um, Luci?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Could you, um… stay with me tonight?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t ever leave you alone, should you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“No need.” He smiled.

You smiled back, though it was soft and tired.

He sat up. “Shall we get something for you to drink?”

“I can still make dinner if you want.” You said, changing the subject.

“No, if you feel unwell, you should rest.”

“I know, but… I just feel obligated to.”

“Hm. Well, at least let me help you.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

After dinner, Lucifer helped you do your homework, and also tried (keyword tried) to talk with his brothers about their smothering. He offered you medicine to help your sick feeling, and did everything he could to make you feel as comfortable as possible before joining you in bed.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you, laying on his side to face you.

“Better.” You replied.

“Good. I’m glad. Is there anything, anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Uh, no. I think I’m okay. Thank you, Lucifer.” “You’re welcome. I can’t deny I like to see you depending on me for something.”

You smiled gingerly. “That’s cute.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied sarcastically.

“Just know, you can always rely on me. I promise if anything ever goes wrong, I’ll do whatever I can to make it better. I love you, ___.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

𓆩⚝𓆪 — thank you for reading!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — taglist (ask 2 be added): none

𓆩⚝𓆪 — obey me masterlist

[notlongtolove]

And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong I'm right where you left me

this work is part of the burnt norton series and a continuation of part 3! spoilers ahead!

“Okay.”

Your heart beats painfully in your throat. As soon as you say it, the air shifts—just the slightest change, but it feels like everything has rearranged itself. It feels soft, almost fragile, whispered like your confession all those nights ago. But it's different now. You say it with a certainty you never had before. The kind of certainty that comes with time, pain, and of knowing what you want, even if you’re still fucking terrified.

“Okay?” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning your face like he’s bracing himself for the moment you’ll take it all back.

“Okay,” you say again, a little firmer this time, though your voice still wavers slightly.

“Okay, okay,” he says again, his words coming in a rush as he exhales shakily, like he’s trying to steady himself. “I mean it. Everything I said—I meant all of it. We’ll do this right this time. One more chance. I’ll do anything—everything—to show you I mean it. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I promise.”

You look up at him and see the way his eyes soften, how his hand trembles as he reaches up to wipe the tears you hadn’t realised were still falling. His fingers brush your face as he cradles your cheek, and it feels like he’s touching something fragile. 

"I love you," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word. 

You want to laugh and cry at the same time. You want to shout, to scream at the injustice of it all. Why did he leave? Why did he make himself a martyr, walking away when he knew how much it hurt? Why now? After everything, why is this the moment he finally says it?

But all of that—every question, every emotion, every unanswered why—fades as you look at him, his vulnerability laid bare. You could yell, you could throw all your pain and anger at him, but you don’t. Instead, you smile. It’s not a perfect smile, no doubt made questionable by the tears still subsiding—But it’s real. It’s messy, complicated, and raw. 

“I love you too.”

It’s not a confession anymore—It’s a statement of truth, a fact, clear and simple.

And then, Spencer is leaning in to kiss you with a fervour so intense you didn’t know it was possible. His lips crash against yours with a desperate kind of longing, urgent, as though he’s afraid if he pulls away even for a moment, he just might lose you again. Between kisses, he whispers it again. I love you. I love you. I love you. He says it over and over until it begins to sound less like a sentence and more like a prayer or a plea. You’re not entirely sure which, but you feel the weight of both.

It’s a desperation that speaks to the very essence of our existence—the way the tide always returns to shore, no matter how many times it’s pushed away, or how a flower blooms, fully aware it will wither. We love, we fall, we keep going—whether it's with our heads held high or with knees scraped and bloody, we continue on and we love once more.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[minnlahzz]

Silver Relationship Headcanons.

requested.

yo! this is apart of a very biiig request that I've procrastinated with for a long time. I think this is the time I can write, since it's my break. trying to get the hang of things is hard, please bare with me! I don't have ANY of my old themes aside from the divider and pictures, sooooo it may look unaesthetic/horrifying until I decide to fix something. even if they didn't request this, this is also gift to @amethiosspouse !!

— NOTE LOWERCASE INTENDED.

silver is… complicated. some people might think he’s cold and distant, but he’s really just guarded and doesn’t know how to express himself. he’s not the type to be overly affectionate, but his loyalty runs deep. if he’s with you, he means it. silver wouldn't just date anybody because of hersays or looks, he'd have to KNOW and like somebody forrealsies.

he'd most likely be with a person who is patient, but not a pushover. silver respects strength and independence, but he doesn’t want someone who’ll bulldoze over his opinions either. he values emotional maturity—he needs someone who can handle his quiet moments without taking them personally. sometimes he just needs some peace and quiet.

silver's love language is quality time, he has a soft spot for quiet moments together. just sitting in silence, watching the stars or listening to the sounds of the forest, is his idea of quality time.

sneasel is always around. it’s like glue. like its trainer sneasel doesn’t trust people easily, so earning its approval is a big deal. once you do, though, it’ll start bringing you random “gifts” (like berries or shiny rocks).

but just because you're dating him doesn't mean it's all sunshine and rainbows, like I said silver is complicated. be patient with him, and understand him for who he is! there are many pros and cons when dating this tomato.

there are many pros he has, silver is mature and that's what makes him a good partner.

he’s fiercely protective. silver might not always say the right thing, but his actions speak volumes. if you’re in trouble, he’ll be there, no questions asked. you've got your own batman.

he’s surprisingly thoughtful. he remembers little details about you, like your favorite food or your favorite ice cream flavor. it’s his way of showing he cares. silver is attentive, he listens to people even when it looks like he isn't. he'd listen to your complaints and responds to it with clear answers.

silver will always help you, if you're a trainer he'll tell you tips you've never heard of. if you wanna battle, you've got yourself one!

there's never a perfect character, silver has alot of cons and things to consider. he's still his own person, and sometimes there are things you can't control.

silver struggles with vulnerability. it’s hard for him to open up, and sometimes it feels like he’s keeping you at arm’s length. no matter how close you guys are, there will always be something he will keep private.

it takes him a long time to truly trust someone, and even when he does, there’s a part of him that’s always prepared for betrayal. this can lead to moments where he questions your intentions, even if you’ve done nothing wrong.

when things get tough, silver’s instinct is to deal with it alone. he doesn’t mean to shut you out, but it can leave you feeling like you’re not part of his life during the moments that matter most.

his intensity can be intimidating. he doesn’t mean to come off as harsh, but he’s not great at softening his words.

-

over all 7/10 he’s loyal, protective, and will stick by you through thick and thin, but his emotional unavailability and trust issues make the relationship a lot of work. if you’re patient and willing to deal with this, he’s worth it—but don’t expect a fairy-tale romance. expect a cynthia champion battle difficulty romance... do you get it? (probably not)

[alkalinc]

his head nodded because elijah knew they would get through it together. their time apart was incredibly rough on the both of them and they couldn't get through anything. that's how it felt for him and he knew how she felt, too, because he knew her better than anyone else. when they were together, they could get through anything and that mattered more than anything else. "we'll be there together," he spoke with a small smile. "and us going away together has never sounded more perfect. we'll meet her, see how she is with our own eyes, and we'll get away for a while." honestly, the thought of it really did sound perfect to him.

biting down on his lower lip, elijah shook his head and sighed. "you know that was never it, baby. i wanted to talk to you. i wanted you back in my life. i just... didn't know how." the two of them had fallen so far apart that even speaking seemed impossible. no matter how much he missed her and wanted avery back in his life, elijah couldn't find a way to make it happen. unfortunately, they needed to go through more apart before they could find themselves together again.

elijah kissed her back, breathing into her mouth before he nipped at her lower lip. "i love you," he whispered. lips trailed down her cheek and along her jaw. "and you say i'm dramatic." a low chuckle escaped him before he pulled back enough to offer her a small and sad smile. "i know exactly what you mean, though. i almost lost myself losing you." he sighed before a hand trailed up and cupped the side of her face, then he leaned closer to barely brush his lips against hers. "i'm not ever letting that happen again. i won't lose you."

both of his arms were quickly wrapped around her waist again, pulling avery's tiny frame flush against his much larger body. their lips were slotted together in a slow, deep and passionate kiss as he held her close. "i love you so much," he whispered against her lips. pushing himself to stand, he kept her in his arms and walked them towards his bedroom. laying her back against the bed, elijah rested his frame down against hers. "i don't want stir fry right now." a bit of laughter was pressed against her skin as his trailed down, peppering kisses along the curve of her neck.

she snorted when he explained what route this was. her hands cupped his face for a few moments before they were talking about their daughter. she returned the kiss and nodded, "let's go meet her." her smile widened and she pressed another kiss to his lips. "that sounds perfect, baby." her cheeks were pink and she was so happy they were going to be doing this together. she watched him sip from his drink and she looked over at him as he got comfortable again. "it is going to be a lot, but like you said, we'll get through it together."

avery climbed into his lap once more and cupped his face between her hands again. "this is the start of something great. something we've never dealt with before and i think it's going to be a wonderful experience, elijah. this time last year, i didn't even know if you ever wanted to speak to me again let alone go see our daughter with me in a different country." she bit into her lower lip and she wrinkled up her nose.

a hum escaped her and she slotted their lips together once more. her arms wrapped around his neck and she deepened the kiss between them. her fingers ran through his hair and she breathed him in. "i love you so much. so much more than you could ever imagine. being so split from you...half of me was missing. i know that sounds cliche as hell, but it's true." she shrugged her shoulders and nudged her nose against his before she's kissing him once more. the room was getting warmer, but she needed to be close to him.

[shadowqueenjude]

Do you ever have characters where you're like...I totally love this character...but the fandom loves them too and they have a group of vehement supporters so you don't feel the need to discuss them at all? And you root for these marginalized characters that somehow get loads of hate and you become more fond of them because somehow so few others are?

[cabeswaterdrowned]

so 😕 about how Tessa has all these moments in internal monologue about how deep down she’s always known Aunt Harriet making excuses for Nate wasn’t right and that he didn’t deserve all they both did to coddle him and that she always compartmentalized to see him as a good older brother, and how that’s all come to the surface now she knows he was willing to sell her out (though not the full scope of that) but then when Mortmain comes she still instinctively doesn’t tell Nate and goes instead ‘to protect him’ ugh. Like it feels so real as a depiction of a woman internalizing societal norms even though part of her is aware…

[soft-serve-soymilk]

More random head children musings (aside from the really sad one because that deserves better than a throwaway post):

Honestly I think it’s very fortunate that Dism’s team isn’t *entirely* comprised of lucid dreamers.