#you also have to consider his environment at the time

[absurdthirst]

Amantes Unitum {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Lucilla}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.4k

Warnings: Vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), promise of marriage, Roman politics, heart ache, infidelity (technically), public baths, mentions of orgies, flirting, wlw, threesome activities, fingering, breast play, face sitting, cock riding, development of feelings, treachery, imprisonment, death, grieving, arranged marriage

Comments: You have anticipated marrying Marcus Acacius since he was a young officer. The needs of Rome come before your own and you find yourself in a unique situation where your lover is married to the Empress of Rome to keep her safe from the madness of the Twin Emperors, Geta and Caracalla.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

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

“Marcus.” You moan, tilting your head as your lover moves above you. He’s pushing deep enough to shift you up the bed and you caress his back. “Amor.” He groans, kissing your exposed neck and he wants to spend every night in your bed. He plans to now that he has returned from war. He plans to ask your father for your hand. His amor. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs against your skin, breathing you in.

“I missed you.” You whimper softly. “The months apart are too much. Take me with you.” It is a ridiculous request, but you would follow Marcus to the front line, into battle, if you could be with him every day. Your love for the quickly advancing in the ranks soldier, Marcus Acacius, might be considered foolish to some. As the daughter of a senator, you could have anyone, but you wanted him. You know he will be a general, but his status doesn’t matter to you. Just how wonderful he is.

"It's too dangerous, amor." Marcus shakes his head, not wanting you to be in that environment. He would love to have you with him every night in his tent but the mere thought of you being hurt is enough to make him shudder as he moves above you. "Your father would never forgive me if anything happened to you." He murmurs, kissing up to your jaw.

“Then when I am your wife.” You clench down around him as he rocks into you again. “We will spend every day you are home in bed. All day.” You promise. “I love you.”

Marcus groans at the confession, his heart pounding, and he knows he has to return to Rome in glory. That is the only way he can be with you, the only way you can be his. He shifts onto his elbow, his free hand sliding down your body to rub your clit. He wants you to fall apart for him. He wants to hear you cry out his name.

Being lovers for so long has given Marcus a very intimate knowledge of your body. Knowing exactly how to make you cry out in pleasure as he touches you. “Acacius!” You cry out as pleasure washes over you a few moments later.

Marcus loves the way you fall apart beneath him, his hand pulling away from your clit to cup your cheek. He presses his lips to yours with a low groan and rocks into you a little harder, faster as he seeks his own pleasure. "Fuck." He curses against your lips, his forehead pressing into yours as he thrusts one, two, three more times before he rips himself free from your cunt, his cock twitching as his hot seed spurts over your belly and the thatch of curls between your thighs.

You bite your lip, wishing that he could stay inside you, but you can’t risk a child. You already have to make sure that you drink your tea tonight, given to you by one of your servants to make sure you do not have a child before you are ready. “The great Marcus Acacius looks so wrecked when he cums.” You tease, caressing his cheek. “Amor.”

He tries to catch his breath, chuckling breathlessly as his orgasm rattles through his system. “One day you’ll be my wife. We will be together. I just need time to be worthy of you.” He murmurs, shifting to lay down beside you and he pulls you into his chest.

“You’re worthy now.” You insist, curling against his chest. “You will be promoted any day now and most of the men under your command already have families.”

Marcus sighs, "you know your father won't let me marry you. He wants you to be with a senator or someone with status. I am nobody. A boy who was brought to Rome to fight. To earn my freedom and climb the ranks in the army. I am doing that but I have no family coin. I have no property other than my home. I am nothing and I need to be something to have you." He murmurs and you shake your head, "you already have me." You promise but Marcus shifts to kiss your forehead, "I want all of you. I want you to be my wife. To have our children. To die knowing I spent my life loving you."

You hum softly, smiling as soon as you think about having his babies. Carrying them under your heart as you wait for him to return from another successful campaign. “That is what will happen.” You tell him, completely sure of your future together. “The gods will see it so.”

Marcus sighs, hoping you are right but the gods can be cruel. He closes his eyes and prays he doesn’t have to die without you being his wife. 

**** 

“Acacius.” You gasp when Marcus pushes into your home, your father is in the Senate but the servants will report your lover’s presence to him. Your brow furrows when you see how tense your lover is, his shoulders bunched. “I am to go to war again, my love. I- they have made me a General. The Emperors are young but they have been advised to give me this status. We can marry. As soon as I return.” He announces but he is worried he is being played a fool by the powers that be.

“Oh Marcus.” You reach up and caress his cheek. The unrest since the death of Commodus and Marcus’s former General, Maximus Meridius in the colosseum has set everyone one edge. Rumors were swirling that Lucilla had sent her son, Lucius away after power had been seized by the twins. No one had seen the boy in months. “I will wait for you and make plans.” You promise, leaning in to press your lips to his firmly despite the disapproving audience of your father’s servants.

He pulls you close, needing to feel you before he leaves. His men are packing their things and they are preparing to leave to conquer more land for Rome. “I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, “and I need you. Please, amor. One more time before I leave.” He pleads, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass through your robes.

You turn your head towards the servants. “Leave us.” You command, knowing that they will have no choice but to obey you. Bowing their heads, they disappear and you grab Marcus’s hand to drag him towards the courtyard. It is cooler there and you want to make sure that you send your General off right.

Marcus lets you escort him through the villa until you are in the courtyard and he groans when you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close to press your lips to his. He responds immediately, sliding his tongue into your mouth, wanting to dominate you before he leaves you for gods know how long.

Moaning softly, you feel the determination in Marcus, knowing what he wants. Reaching up, you unpin the laurels that hold up your dress. Pushing back slightly to let the garment fall to the floor to leave you in your slippers.

His eyes trail along your form, darkening as he tries to memorize every detail to carry him through the long lonely nights of war. He is tenting his tunic but he steps closer to you and sinks down onto his knees, grabbing your thighs to drag you towards him. He wastes no time surging forward to press his nose between your thighs, breathing in your scent until his tongue slides through your folds.

“Acacius,” your gasp is quickly turned into a moan from the flick of his tongue across your clit. Marcus has never been shy about providing you pleasure and this is the last time you can be together before he leaves. Your fingers card through his hair, grinding your hips forward to give him more access to your cunt. “You are better than the women at the baths.” You praise breathlessly.

He doesn’t deny you pleasure in the baths. He loves that you are satisfied during his absence and he trusts that he has your heart. However, he is competitive and he wants to outshine those women. His tongue flicks until he sucks your clit into his mouth, loving how you moan loud enough for the servants to hear. Possessing you in the only way he can at this time.

You whimper his name, looking down and watching as a Roman general kneels down in front of you and feasts on your cunt. “Gods.” You moan loudly. “I wish to see this for the rest of my life.”

He groans in agreement against your cunt, sliding his tongue through your folds and his hand trails up your leg, lifting it up onto his shoulder so he can lap at more of your flesh.

Marcus devours your cunt, his tongue flicking over your clit and through your folds, Moving down to push inside your cunt while he holds onto your hips like he is afraid you would push away. You never would. "Maritus." you whimper, knowing that he will be your husband as soon as he comes back a victor in war.

His body shudders beneath you at the title, desperately wanting it and for you to be his uxor. He wants you to be his forever. His fingers dig into your flesh as he laps at you, his jaw aching as he widens it but he wants you to fall apart above him.

Your leg shakes and your knee threatens to buckle. Only kept upright by the broadness of Marcus's body and his strong frame keeping you fixed in place. "I- It's so good." you whine, rocking your hips forward again and your stomach lurches before you cry out in pleasure.

He loves how you shake above him when you cum, falling apart for him. He’s desperate as he works you through your high. His fingers squeeze your ass and he kisses your clit when it becomes too much for you. He watches you, resting his glistening chin on your belly and his hand slides down to your thigh.

​​“Take me.” You beg breathlessly, sinking down to your knees and reaching under his tunic to wrap your fingers around his cock. “Show me that I’m yours. Give me the strength to carry on in your absence.”

Marcus grabs your ass, lifting you to hover you over his cock. “Put me inside your cunt, amor.” He orders, your thighs on either side of his hips. “Take what you want. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

You shift slightly, reaching down and grasping his cock again to press against your entrance. “I love you.” You promise, pressing your lips to his as you feel him pull you down on his length.

He moans into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours as you sink down onto his cock. You feel incredible and he wishes he could legally call you his. His hands squeeze your ass and he helps to rock you on top of his cock.

You are riding his cock on the ground of your courtyard and you don't care. The water from the fountain trickles nearby but it is not nearly loud enough to cover your moans. "Marcus." Your fingers push into his hair. "May the Gods keep you safe and return you to me."

He’s desperate as he ruts up into you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he takes you. He prays that it won’t be the last time but he doesn’t know when it comes to war. He could easily be struck down and left to rot on the battlefield. For now, he’s going to be greedy and have as much of you as possible. “I’ll fight with every breath I have to return to you.” He vows, kissing your neck.

“Yes.” You moan softly, holding him as close as you can get. “My general. My warrior, fighting for me.” You know that he could be lost and you would spend your entire life waiting for him to return. “Just you, never will I marry anyone but you.” You vow.

Marcus groans, knowing that might be an impossible promise but his heart pounds at hearing it. “Mine.” He growls, his cock twitching inside you as he scrapes his knees while thrusting up into you, his grip on your ass helping you rock on top of him.

Your coupling is fierce and passionate, both of you taking and giving all of yourselves to the other. Your gasps breathed into his mouth and you don’t care if the servants tell your father. You are Marcus’s and you will remain that way. “I love you.” Your strangled cry comes as your world shatters, body drowning in waves of pleasure as your cunt clamps down around him. “Stay inside.” You manage.

“Fuck. Are you sure?” Marcus grunts, not wanting to leave you with child while he is gone fighting. “Yes. Yes. It’s safe. I just bled.” You promise and he groans, his hips aching as he thrusts into you, his knees scratched up but he doesn’t care as he thrusts until he stills, his cock twitching as he paints your walls for the first time.

It feels perfect. The heat of his seed flooding your womb has you whimpering and for a moment; you wish that the gods will let you have his child even though you know it’s not possible. Not before you are married to him. Your father would be furious.

Marcus kisses you, wanting to possess all of you, but it’s not possible. He has to earn you. He has to become good enough for you. Even if it’s not you putting those perimeters in. “Amor.” He murmurs, caressing your back, “you must take the tea.”

“I will.” You promise, cupping both of his cheeks and kissing him softly on the lips. “Our children will never question their parentage.” You murmur. “I will carry your children as your uxor.” You kiss him again. “May the gods keep you safe.” You pull away and you take the ring on your index finger off and reach for his hand. “My love travels with you. This ring was given to me by Maximus when he was general of the Southern Legions, now it will be yours as you command your men.” You promise and put the ring on his pinkie. 

He looks down at the ring and his heart pounds. He wishes he could stay with you. Be your Maritus and spend his life with you but he can’t. He has duties, he has to earn you. He kisses you again, desperate and knowing this. Hold on the last time. He murmurs your name and holds you close until you hear footsteps and you scramble off of him, his cum dripping down your thigh but concealed by your robes.

Quickly flipping your top back up, you clip it into place with the pin and stand next to Marcus as your father comes out into the courtyard. “Acacius.” He hums. “It seems you are always in my home.”

Marcus stands straight, praying nothing is out of place and he nods to your father. “Senator.” He greets him and he hums, glancing between you and Acacius. “Shouldn’t you be preparing to leave for war.” He tilts his head and he nods, “yes, I came here to say goodbye to your daughter.” Your father nods, “very well. Say goodbye and be on your way. We are due to the palace to see the Emperors for a feast.” He raises his eyebrows at you and steps out the room, allowing you to say goodbye to Marcus.

“I would rather be going with you than feast with the emperors.” You promise him, reaching up to caress his cheek once more before you kiss him. “Fight hard and come home to me, General.”

Marcus nudges his nose against yours, “be good, amor, and I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll be yours. And you’ll be mine and nothing…no one will part us.” He vows, turning his head to kiss your palm before he lowers it from his face. He stares at you, wanting to commit your features to memory, knowing that’s what will carry him through the tough journey ahead. He nods and steps back, knowing that he has to leave or he never will. He bows his head, “I’ll be seeing you, uxor.” He promises and leaves your home, his stomach twisting with the desire to earn your hand.

**** 

Marcus is home. Your father had announced that the General would be honored in a series of games and feasts, making your heart pound in anticipation. He was coming home a hero. Finally worthy of your hand by his own imagined standards. It has been years since he was home for more than a week. Never enough time to marry or do more than spend a few hours wrapped up in one another. The twin emperors constantly sent him off to war in the name of Rome. Time has passed and still you have refused your father’s suggestions of finding a husband. There is only one man you want. You dress carefully and make sure that your father brings you to the parade to watch your future uxor receive his honors from the emperors.

Marcus waves to the crowd who scream and cheer, throwing tokens and flowers towards him, but he feels numb. War is brutal. War is vicious and he feels like a fraud for returning home in glory when so many men's beds are empty. The chariot stops and he waves to the crowd before he makes his way up the steps. The crowd cheers and he sees the emperors standing there waiting for him. He bows his head once he's there and he clasps his hands together while the golden laurel is placed on his head.

You watch, standing beside your father from the group of senators that have gathered. Pride bursting in your chest as the men whisper about Marcus’s accomplishments and his victories in the name of Rome.

The Emperors grin, clapping their hands, "now we feast!" They declare and Geta spins to face the group of senators. Marcus follows his gaze, his eyes widening at the sight of you standing there. You look as gorgeous as the day he left you standing in your courtyard. He murmurs your name, his eyes drifting to your father who bows his head to the accomplished general.

You smile, beaming as your father shows Marcus respect. “Father-“ you start and he sighs softly. “We will discuss your future later.” He reminds you. “Now is not the time. There is a feast planned and the emperors will be sorely upset if attention is not paid properly.”

Marcus is escorted to the feast without being able to approach you but he knows he will have an opportunity when the feast is in full swing. He will leave before the emperors begin their favored orgy. “To General Acacius!” Geta toasts and everyone raises their cups. You are a few seats down from Marcus who has been seated next to Lucilla. “To your safe return.” She adds and clinks her cup with Marcus’s.

You raise your cup in toast to honor Marcus, watching him with a yearning that makes your entire body ache. As soon as you can, you will whisk him away for a proper reunion. Lucilla leans in and murmurs to Marcus, but his eyes flicker towards you, making you nod slightly at him and smile.

Lucilla leans closer to Marcus and he stiffens a little at her proximity. “I need to speak with you, General.” She murmurs and Marcus frowns, his gaze trailing over to you as you sit beside your father looking even more beautiful than the day he left you to go to war. “Very well. We can speak.” He murmurs, “what do you wish to discuss, my lady?”

Lucilla takes a deep breath, her eyes darting towards the emperors before looking back at the brave and daring General. She had heard of his conquests for Rome and how fiercely loyal the men were becoming to him. It was good now that Maximus was gone and her life was in turmoil. “I fear that I am in grave danger, General.” She murmurs quietly, leaning in and laying her hand on his arm. “I need your help. I need you to marry me.”

Marcus frowns, glancing down at her hand before his eyes flick back up to hers. He is shocked at her request and he glances across the table to where you are seated next to your father. “I cannot. I am to marry another woman.” He murmurs, his dark eyes on her as her hand trembles. “The emperors wish to have me killed.” She whispers, “I need to take a husband. One who has power.” She confesses and Marcus nods, “let us speak in private. Later.”

You are curious to know what Lucilla is talking about with Marcus to put that frown on his face. His brows pinched together in concern. You take a sip of your wine and your attention is captured by the senator sitting next to you. “Your general must be eager to marry you.” Senator Graccus hums with a smirk on his face.

The feast is in full swing and soon the whores are being brought in for the emperors and their guests. “Escort me home, General.” Lucilla orders and Marcus glances at you before he nods, standing up and offering his arm. He can feel eyes on him as he escorts her through the crowd and soon he’s standing outside her courtyard. “What is this about, my lady?” He demands, his stomach twisting.

“Caracalla and Geta are suspicious of my influence over the senate.” She explains. “They are not satisfied by Lucius’ disappearance and have decided that I should be dealt with.” She shudders delicately. “The fact that they are my younger brothers does not mean much, and I need the protection of your rank.”

Marcus knows that Lucilla is the reason why the emperors haven’t taken out the senate to be dictators. They know she would tell the people of Rome about their crimes if the senate was removed. “I understand your dilemma, my lady, but I am to marry the woman I have promised my life to. She has waited years for my return. We were lovers before I left for war. I am hers, body and soul, and I cannot betray her.”

Lucilla sighs and walks towards the gate of her villa. The large, palatial home that seems more of a prison than a respite. “Then I am doomed.” She murmurs softly. “There is nothing I can offer you? Everything I have will be yours. My influence yours, my lands and coins, servants. I would willingly give them to you for the protection of your name.”

Marcus sighs, his heart torn and he thinks of you. “My mother was your tutor. I knew your father, I knew Maximus. You have been a constant in my life and I prayed to the gods for your son to be our next emperor. A fair and honest leader. That is not our fate. We must save Rome from the emperors. I fear their lust for power and hunger for land will never be satiated. I do not wish to see you dead.” He says, his shoulders slumping slightly as he knows what he must do, even if it’s against his heart.

There is a glimmer of hope as Lucilla turns towards you. “Yes?” She asks softly. “I know that I am asking much of you.” She murmurs your name, “has been awaiting your return to Rome with the eagerness of a new bride. I would not ask if it did not possibly mean the future of our people.” She turns towards the city, swallowing slightly. “Tell me what you are thinking, Acacius.” She begs. “Once my father and Maximus trusted you, and I trust you now. If there is something else that would save me, let me know.”

Marcus frowns, torn on what to do. He promised you that he’d marry you as soon as he returned from war. Yet he must protect Lucilla if he has to prevent Rome from suffering at the hands of the twins. “I- I will marry you, but I need her. I cannot live without her.”

Lucilla nods. “I understand, I would not wish to keep you apart.” She is somewhat resigned to the fact that she will never have a husband who loves her, but to have a man admit that he needs someone else stings her vanity slightly. “I will ask that she join my household, perhaps a companion?”

Marcus knows that you will not be satisfied with the arrangement and if you do not wish to follow him to her household, he will understand. It will kill him to let you go but he is being selfish by marrying Lucilla to save the Roman Empire. It’s a noble calling but one that breaks his heart because he cannot marry the woman he loves.

“Then you will do it?” Lucilla asks softly, wanting to make sure that they both understand. “I will.” Marcus agrees and she steps towards him and leans in, turning her head when he pulls back slightly to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.” She murmurs softly. “I would not ask if the situation was not dire and I will make sure that your lover knows that she is welcomed in your bed more than I.”

Marcus takes her hands in his hand, shakes his head. “I am doing this for Rome. Please accept my apologies, my lady, you are a beautiful woman but I will not be sharing your bed. I will only share my bed with the woman I love. She has waited many moons for my return and I owe her my body and my soul. You can have my name and my title, but the rest of me belongs to her.”

“You are an honorable man.” Her smile is slightly bittersweet and she squeezes his hands before she pulls away. “My wish is that the emperors will curb their excess and gluttony to become the leaders that Rome needs, but I do not see that happening. I hope that you know that I serve the people of Rome and sacrifice much for her.”

Marcus nods, “the Emperor’s are sick with both disease and greed for power. We must serve Rome for strength and honour“ Lucilla agrees and Marcus kisses the back of her hand before he bowels his head and leaves her villa. You must have returned from the feast by now so he makes his way through the city until he approaches your villa. Your father is likely still deep in his cups, but he slips to your room and knocks on your window, hoping you are still awake.

It had disturbed you when Marcus left the feast without a word to you, but you had been sent home by your father before the orgy began. Knowing that despite the knowledge you are not pure, you still have a reputation to maintain. You had been reading some scrolls to distract yourself, drinking a cup of wine when you hear someone outside your window. Making you smile as you stand and move to the curtains. “The conquering hero returns.” You murmur softly, smiling as he smirks. “Have you come to finally claim your prize?”

Marcus smiles up at you through your window and gestures for you to open it so he can climb into your room. Reminded of the times he would do that before he left to go to war. “What is my prize?” He teases, knowing he has to tell you the news but for a moment, he wants to pretend he’s returning to you.

You reach out and caress the decorative armor that covers his chest. “Me.” You hum. “However you want me.” You bite your lip and flutter your lashes up at him. “My father will have no problem accepting the lauded general as the man who marries his daughter.”

Marcus sighs, reaching for you to drag you into his armored chest. “Amor. I would marry you this second if we had a priest but I- I have a duty to Rome. You own me. Body and soul. Yet I find myself unable to give you my name.” You frown and he presses his forehead against yours so he doesn’t have to see your face when he says “Lucilla has asked me to be her husband.”

“What?” You frown and try to pull away but Marcus tightens his hold on you. “Why you? Why now?” You demand, starting to choke up as tears fill your eyes. Your love, your soulmate is going to marry Lucilla? After all the plans and working towards the future that you had both done? “Do you- you don’t want me to be your wife?”

Marcus shakes his head and your eyes widen, "no. No. I want you to be my wife more than anything. You know it's been my cause. What I have fought so hard for. But Amor, there is more than us. The Empire...she cannot be led into destruction by the emperors. Lucilla...we must find her son. The rightful heir. We must restore fairness and strength and honor to Rome. To do that, Lucilla must live and she is threatened by the emperors. She has no protector. She needs a husband and my status will protect her. If we are to be wed, if we want children...there has to be a Rome for them to grow up in. Otherwise, we are signing their death before they are even born."

“Children?” You choke out and pull away from him to rush back to your cup of wine. “You would have children with Lucilla, not me. She will be your wife, not me.” You chuckle unhappily and take a large gulp of your drink, wishing you had stayed at the feast.

Marcus shakes his head, cupping your cheeks, “I want to have children with you. I want you to be my wife but I can’t do that without protecting Rome from the emperors. We have no future if they are unrestrained.”

His words chill you, making you sigh as you pull away. “I understand.” You murmur, hating that your dreams are being crushed under the sandals of fate.

“I spoke to Lucilla about you. She said you can come live with us. As her companion but you’ll spend every night in my bed. I know I am asking you to love me from the shadows, to essentially be my whore, but I’ll make sure you are cared for. That you never want for anything.”

“Your whore.” You close your eyes and bite your lip. You had dreamed of being his wife, carrying his children and his name proudly. Now, you would be his whore. You had once told him that you would take him however you could have him. “My father would not be happy. He knows that we have been together, that I am not pure.”

“I will let you go. If you do not wish to accompany me in this journey but we have come so far. I love you. My heart is yours. Will always be yours. I need to do this. For Rome. For our future. It won’t be forever. Lucilla has promised a divorce once Lucius is found and the twins are defeated.”

You frown, hating the idea of being apart from him after so long. You step closer to him and reach up. His dark eyes are focused on you and you can tell that if you were to strike him, he would let you. Instead, you caress his cheek. “I have always been yours.” You remind him. “I played your whore since the first time I let you between my thighs and if that is how I have to keep you? Then I will be her companion.”

“You’ve never been my whore. You’re been my lover. My goddess. The one who owns every ounce of my form. I am yours, amor. In every way but name. And one day, my name will be yours too. I love you.” He vows, leaning in to kiss you softly. “I shall speak with your father. If he doesn’t allow it then I will understand. He wants what is best for you and you deserve a life where you are the lady of the house. Not a life spent in the shadows with me. I wish I could proclaim to Rome that you are mine and I am yours but I must serve the empire. I will marry Lucilla and, pray to gods, you will be by our side until we can be one.”

“I will do whatever I must to stay beside you.” You murmur softly, pressing into him and leaning closer to kiss his lips. “Now, take your spoils, General.”

Marcus feels wrong taking you without giving you his ring but he desperately needs you. Imagined this exact moment so many times when he was fighting to survive, aching after taking the lives of too many men to count. He surges forward to kiss you, groaning into your mouth as he slides his hands down to squeeze your ass.

This is the Marcus you have been eager to have back. The passionate one, the one that is desperate for you. Your own fingers start to tear at the ties to his armor, wanting it off of his frame so you can touch the man underneath the solid image. There has been a statue of Marcus placed close to your bathhouse and you often think of how much it looks like him but does not feel like him. He is soft and strong, not unyielding like the marble image of him.

He lets his armor drop and grabs it to set it on the floor, letting you work on removing his sandals, untying them and his wrappings until you are reaching for the hem of his tunic. “I am scarred. More than before.” He warns you, not wanting you to be upset by the injuries that are haunting his body.

“More of you to kiss.” You promise, believing that every scar on his body was proof that he fought to come home to you. “My general.” You slowly lift his tunic off his body and groan in arousal at the sight of him. Strong and soft, his cock is jutting out from his body, already hard and you tenderly caress the scar in his side. “Be more careful, amor.” You whisper, leaning down to kiss it gently. “You need to come home to me.”

Marcus wishes more than anything that he could claim you as his wife in this very second, but he has always struggled with his desire to do the right thing over his own desires. He must marry Lucilla to protect Rome otherwise his own selfishness or ultimately lead to the demise of everyone within the empire.“I have come home to you, my love. No matter what happens, remember that every part of me is yours. I carried your ring with me into battle and that is why I am still here today.”

You know that Marcus had visited the baths before the feast so you don’t hesitate to sink to your knees in front of him. The ring is still on his finger and you smirk as you reach out to grasp his cock and roll the foreskin back to reveal the leaking and neglected tip. “Then let me give you your reward for coming home to me.” You coo before you lean forward and wrap your lips around him.

His chest heaves when you take him into your mouth. Marcus has not been with a woman since he was in your bed. He has taken himself in hand and ensured his celibacy and dedication to you, imagining how sweet the feel of you will be after so long and he was right. “Fuck.” He pants, his chin resting on his chest as he watches you take what you want from him.

You hum in agreement, enjoying the salty, musky taste of him, the oils that had perfumed his bath mixing with his natural scent and you hollow your cheeks to take him deeper. Wanting him to unravel for you, to release all the tension and frustrations from your time apart on you. Reaching up, you grasp his ass and rock him forward into your mouth as you look up at him.

“Fuck. Your mouth. I’ve missed it more than anything. I’ve missed you, amor. Gods, you are my deity. I worship you.” He promises and moans your name, caressing your cheek.

You giggle slightly but you don’t pull away. Pressing deeper until your nose is buried in the wiry hair at the base of his cock. Swallowing around him again just to hear him groan your name before you slowly start to bob your head.

You’ve always been so damn good at this. Especially since you’ve only ever touched him. You know exactly what he wants because he was the one to show you. He watches you with dark eyes, groaning your name as you let him push down your throat with every thrust.

It’s sloppy, tears leaking out of your eyes and saliva running down your chin, but you don’t pull away. You want him to fuck your throat, to use you like he needs. He will make sure that you are pleasured, you have no doubt about that. He never leaves you unsatisfied.

He grunts, his cock twitching in your mouth as you sloppily take him into your mouth. It’s messy and he fucking loves it. Grabbing the back of your head, he keeps you still so he can rock into your mouth, your eyes on him and he groans your name. It doesn’t take long until he starts to spill down your throat.

The first time Marcus cums after returning from war, it seems like he never will stop. Rope after salty rope spills down your throat and pushes out of your mouth when you can’t swallow fast enough, making your cunt ache with anticipation as you drink him down.

He feels wrecked as you take all he can give. His eyes squeezed shut while your name tumbles from his lips. “Fuck. Amor, I need - come here.” He growls, grabbing your arms to pull you up from the floor after you release his cock and he presses his lips to yours, fingers searching for the pin that keeps your dress on your body.

You groan into the kiss, hands stroking his body as he unclips your dress and lets it fall to the floor. “Marcus.” You moan softly. “Take me to bed.”

He nods, his hands grabbing you to pull you close as he walks you backwards towards your bed. “I’ve missed you so much.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder as he lowers you down onto the bed. Kneeling between your thighs, he presses kisses everywhere he can reach until he kisses down your chest to take your nipple into his mouth.

Your gasp is loud, fingers tangling into his hair and you arch up into his mouth. Offering yourself to him like you have every time you have been with him. “Acacius.” You whine, loving how he bites down and then soothes the pain with his tongue.

Marcus groans, kissing along your skin until he’s taking your other nipple into his mouth, biting down. He kisses down your stomach, pushing your thighs apart with his shoulders until he is settled between your thighs. “Gods I’ve missed this.” He confesses, inhaling your scent.

You moan softly. “I’ve missed your tongue between my thighs as well.” You tease, looking down at his eyes as his lashes flutter slightly. “Your cock, inside me.”

Marcus groans, loving how you press his cheeks between your thighs. He wastes no time sliding his tongue through your folds. He loves your taste, your tang as he samples the arousal he’s missed for so long. “Fuck, taste so good, amor.” He murmurs, diving back in to slide his tongue through your cunt.

Your own moan is loud and lusty, approving of the way the dives into you. Your lashes flutter but you want to watch him as he pleasures you. The women in the baths can’t compare to the eagerness of your lover as he devours your cunt. You had not been going for the past months, wanting to wait until your Marcus was home to cum again, so every swipe of his tongue quickly works you up.

Marcus’s fingers dig into your flesh as he laps at you. He groans as he pushes his tongue into your cunt. He loves how you moan his name and he’s dreamed of this so many times. He loves it. He loves you. He wants to do this for the rest of his life.

He laps at you and you feel the familiar knot starting to curl in your stomach. “Marcus.” You pant softly, reaching down and tugging his hair slightly to pull him back up to your clit. “I’m so close, amor.”

​​He needs you to fall apart for him. He wants to spend hours between your thighs, ruining you and claiming you after he’s been gone for so long. He moans into your flesh, his lips wrapping around your clit to push you over the edge.

The strong sucks to your sensitive flesh tips you over the edge and you feel your body lurch up as you cry out. Your cunt clenches around the two fingers he quickly pushed inside you and you soak them while you shatter.

When you cry out, he groans, his cock hardening against your bed as you soak his face. He works you through it, his hands caressing your hips, and he loves your sounds, your taste. So many memories brought back after so long away from you.

Marcus doesn’t pull away until you are shuddering and sobbing as you squeeze your thighs closed. “So good.” You urge him up to press your lips to his. “I love you, amor.”

He slides up your body, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours. You don't care about the tang of your cum on his tongue as it slides into your mouth and his cock is hard, pressing against your thigh.

“Insatiable.” You grin against his mouth and reach between you to cup his cock. “I want you inside me.” You moan. “I just finished my bleed so I want you to fill me up. I’ll drink the tea, but I need you to claim me.”

Marcus knows he should say no. He shouldn’t risk you especially when he cannot take your hand like he desires but he also can’t deny you. He groans and takes himself in hand, shifting up until he notches himself at your entrance.

The first push of him inside you is always the best feeling in the world. “Oh Marcus.” You lift your legs onto his hips and wrap them around his waist. “Amor, I have missed this. Missed you everyday.”

He breathes you in, “I love you. I will always love you. I’m yours.” He vows, “thought of you every moment I was away. When I went on the battlefield, I fought to come back to you.”

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, wanting his whole weight on you. “I will always be here for you. I want to be here for you. Your sanctuary.”

He loves how you feel under him as he rocks into you. “You will always be by my side.” He promises, “I love you.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck and he sighs, feeling like he’s returned home.

Every thrust is a proclamation of his love for you. You know Marcus is torn between his duty to Rome and his love for you. You cannot make him choose. “Amor.” You whisper, stroking his back as he moves over you. “My love. I am always yours. This life and the next.”

“I’ll give you all of me when Rome is free.” He vows, “and I’ll love you until the day I die.” He promises, his cock twitching inside you as he makes love to you. “I’d die for you.” He breathes into your mouth as he kisses you.

“Never have to die for me.” You know he would, though. He would do anything for you, just like you would do anything for him. You are, you are giving up your vision of the future because you know he needs to do this. Rocking your hips up to meet his thrusts, you kiss him back fiercely, moaning into his mouth.

He wants to feel you cum around his cock again and his hand slides down your side until he’s gripping your thigh. He loves how you moan when he adjusts your leg so he sinks deeper into you.

“Acacius.” You gasp when he presses against something inside you. “There, just like that.” You beg, your nails starting to dig into his shoulders. If you leave half moons embedded into his skin, you will be proud to see the marks on him.

He would wear your mark everywhere, show all of Rome that he is yours, but he has a duty to fulfil. He groans and thrusts into you a little faster, wanting to hear you cry out his name. He focuses on that spot, rocking into you. “Cum for me, amor. I want to feel it.”

You whine his name, your body reacting to his demand. Eyes closing as he rocks you closer until you are sobbing out his name and your cunt clenches around his cock.

“Fuck.” He curses at the way you soak him, squeezing his cock like a goddamn vice. He shifts his knees, grabbing your other thigh to push it back and he lifts your calves over his shoulders. Sinking deeper into you, his jaw is clenched and he wants you to fall apart one more time before he cums.

All you can do is take him. He has you pinned down as his hips start to drive harshly forward. Hammering into you at the perfect angle to have your toes curl as you squeal.

His eyes are focused on you, the way you throw your head back, and he growls, wanting to possess you. He thrusts into you over and over, your cunt squelching as you take what he gives you. “That’s it, amor. Fuck, you feel so good.”

You can’t even talk, just moan as he drives into your body. Rocketing you higher as you cling to him. He’s determine to see you cum again, not stopping until you are seizing up underneath him again and screaming. “Marcus!”

You cum for him again, your juices hitting his stomach as you convulse beneath him. He grunts, nostrils flaring as he rocks into you, and it only takes a few thrusts for him to bury himself deep. Your cunt is squelching as he paints your walls with his seed, uncaring if it takes. You belong to him.

**** 

“You want me to be present?” You frown slightly and look past Marcus to see Lucilla watching, her hands twisted together and her eyes showing how worried she is. Marcus had insisted you come with him to the estate but you had imagined they would speak their vows in private with other witnesses beside his lover.

“I need you to be there.” He pleads, his hands finding yours to squeeze them. Lucilla understands that you are the woman he loves and she doesn’t need Marcus’s love, she just needs his status and protection. You bite your lip, knowing it will not be easy to stand by and watch your lover marry another woman after you’ve dreamed of being his uxor. You nod, “okay” you murmur reluctantly and Marcus brings your hand up to kiss it. “Thank you, amor.”

You can tell that Lucilla is uncomfortable, several senators gathered to watch Marcus and the former emperor’s daughter marry. You nod respectfully to the general and move over to where your father is standing, looking less than pleased but resolute. He had initially disagreed with the idea of you becoming Lucilla’s companion, but you had reminded your father that you would simply do as you wished without his permission if needed. In the end, he had begrudgingly given his approval, though you know he is unhappy.

Marcus takes Lucilla's hands in his, his palms a little sweaty but she doesn't seem to care. She offers him a soft smile and he relaxes a little. The priest begins to speak but Marcus keeps his gaze fixed on his new wife, knowing that he wants to look at you. He manages to speak his vows while Lucilla squeezes his hands and soon, the priest declares them maritus and uxor. Marcus leans in to press a soft kiss to Lucilla's lips for the crowd and he lowers his hands from hers, his stomach twisting with the uncertainty of the future.

You manage to not cry during the ceremony, keeping your head held high and an almost pleased expression on your face even as your heart breaks. You know why he is doing this, but it is still hard to watch your lover marry another woman.

The feast begins soon after the marriage contract is signed and Marcus wants to find you, pull you close and reassure you that this is just the beginning. He can't though, he has to put up with the pretense and he is seated beside Lucilla, sipping his cup when the music stops. "Ah, General. Lucilla. Congratulations are in order." Geta grins and claps as he strides into the room unannounced, followed by Caracalla who has his monkey on his shoulder.

You frown at the appearance of the emperors, hiding your disgruntled expression behind your cup. They are the reason that you are unable to be married to Marcus now. Why this feast is for him and Lucilla.

Caracalla grins, gesturing for a cup of wine which is promptly placed in his hand. He steps towards Marcus and Lucilla. "Congratulations to the happy couple. Such a sudden wedding but my brother and I love romance and you two...well, two of the powerful figures in the empire. Apart from me and my brother of course." Geta grins, raising his glass, "to the happy couple. May their marriage be without complications." The emperor's eyes flick over to you.

You look away from the emperor, aware that the rumors of your relationship with Marcus have been often whispered about since the announcement that he would marry. You lift your cup. “To the happy couple.” You parrot softly, turning back to meet his gaze steadily.

“Senator Brutus,” Geta smirks at you before cutting his eyes over to your father. “Does this mean that your daughter is finally willing to consider a marriage match?” He asks before tilting his head towards Marcus. “The senator’s daughter was most stubborn about not marrying yet.” He explains, like everyone in the room isn’t aware of the reasons why you had waited.

Your father clears his throat, “perhaps but she has been asked to be a companion for the lovely bride.” Your father gestures to Lucilla. “She will remain in this home until she finds her match. She is my only daughter and I want her to marry for love.” He says and Caracalla scoffs, aware that the General is getting to have his cake and eat it.

You act like you are not being discussed and take a sip of your wine, leaning over to whisper to Graccus. “The senate is convening soon, I hope?” You murmur.

Your father nods, “yes. We have spoken to everyone we trust.” He whispers as the emperors walk over to Marcus and Lucilla to offer their congratulations. Marcus offers them a stiff smile and bows his head, “emperors. Thank you for gracing our marriage with your divine presence.” He says stiffly and Lucilla places her hand on his arm, “it is an honor. We thank you and you are welcome to whatever you want from our table.”

Geta hums, arching a brow and smirks at Marcus. “I seriously doubt that the General would appreciate what I would wish to have from this table.” He jokes.

Marcus clenches his jaw but offers a stiff smile while Lucilla squeezes his bicep. “And what do you wish to have from this table, Caesar?” Marcus inquires despite knowing he won’t like the answer.

Turning towards you, he points dramatically. “Her.” The room goes completely silent until the emperor starts to giggle like he’s said something hilarious. Others around the room start to chuckle quietly so they don’t offend the temperamental ruler.

Marcus inhales deeply, trying to refrain from standing up and wrapping his hands around the throat of the impertinent ruler. Instead, he chuckles, and tilts his head, “she is her own person. She can decide who she wants but I think you’ll find that she is unsuited to someone of your stature. You should have a princess or an empress.”

You hum in agreement. “You would find that I am boring, Caesar.” You admit. “I often sleep early in the evening and rise before the sun breaks over the horizon.” You know that the emperors prefer to keep late hours and are never awake before noon.

Caracalla smirks, “my brother needs someone who will force him to keep a more reasonable schedule. Perhaps having an early bird as his partner would make him a better Caesar.” Marcus’s eyes flick between you and the emperors, his heart beating and Lucilla squeezes his bicep again to keep him quiet.

You say nothing, just smile blandly at the emperors until Geta begins to laugh again. “I am teasing!” He cackles, clapping his hands together once before he snatches a cup of wine off the table, not caring whose it is. “You are far too mature to be my partner.” He snorts. “Or perhaps I am too merry?”

Marcus exhales shakily while Lucilla giggles, squeezing him to remind him to laugh, and he offers the emperors a stiff smile. Your father chuckles awkwardly and you giggle, pretending to be amused. “You are far too good for a woman like me.” You promise and Marcus wants to scoff but the stiff smile remains on his face.

“That I am.” Geta agrees haughtily and then decides that he is done amusing himself with your situation and drifts off. You breathe a sigh of relief and glance over at Marcus for a moment and look away guiltily when you find Lucilla watching you.

Marcus wants to go to you but he knows he can't. He looks at Lucilla whose eyes flick to him and she reaches for her cup of wine to take a sip. Marcus sighs, knowing that he has to fulfill his duty but he truly wishes you were sat beside him as his wife. "Let us celebrate the happy couple!" Geta cries, slapping his hand on the table and the gathering becomes rowdier.

You watch the scene, heart aching and yet you do not leave. You do not wish to give anyone a reason to gossip. You sip your wine and watch as the emperors get drunk and start to plot when you can politely leave.

Marcus is unsure about the wedding night, hoping Lucilla doesn’t want him to bed her. He sips his wine, trying to not get drunk and feel sorry for himself even though he put himself in this position. He sees you stand, making your way out into the courtyard and he can’t stop himself from standing up and following you.

Walking out into the gardens calms you, taking in the lush scenery and fresh air. The emperors have demanded that excess wine be brought in and essentially an orgy has begun.

Marcus approaches you once you are outside and he fiddles with the ring on his pinky. Your ring that you gave him before he left for war. “Amor.” He murmurs, “are you okay?”

You turn to see Marcus coming towards you, his expression cautious and you give him a small smile. “I will be.” You don’t brush aside his concern. “It has been an interesting day.”

Marcus sighs, “you’re not wrong there.” He steps closer to you, reaching out to caress the back of your arm. “I’m sorry you’ve had to watch this. Be present for this.” He murmurs, knowing he would have a hard time watching you marry another man.

“I know you are doing this for Rome.” You murmur, looking into his eyes. “I am jealous that she has your name.” You admit quietly. “The honor of being General Marcus Acacius’s wife, but I know that she doesn’t have your heart, your love.”

Marcus shakes his head, uncaring as he steps closer to cup your cheek. “She will only have my name. She will never have my soul, my heart, my body. That belongs to you. Always.” He vows, wishing he could give you more than that. “I wish it was you.”

“Are you sleeping with her tonight?” You ask softly, unsure if you want to hear the answer. “No.” You twist your head to find Lucilla standing on the edge of the courtyard. “He will be in your bed, your rooms have been set up. There is a secret passage that connects them so even the servants will not know.”

Marcus feels guilty for not being a true husband to Lucilla but he is doing this for her, to save her life. Not because he loves her. He nods, “I wish to have her in my bed tonight.” He says, gesturing to you.

You doubt Marcus sees it, but there is a flash of disappointment on Lucilla’s face before she smiles and nods. “Of course, maritus.” She hums softly. “Perhaps you are ready to leave the celebration? It is starting to become an orgy.”

Marcus nods, knowing you will not want to be present for that. “Yes, shall we retire?” He asks Lucilla, “we can tell people we wish to consummate our marriage in private.” He says, holding his arm out for her, “and my amor can retreat to her room.”

You fall back behind the couple, admiring your lover’s strong back and you understand completely why Lucilla Euler chose Marcus as her protector. You follow them back into the hall and yawn discreetly to give the impression that you are tired.

Marcus winces at the sight of the whores being brought in, your father and the other senators missing from the crowd now that the debauchery is beginning. Marcus strides over to the emperors with Lucilla on his arm, a forced smile on his face, “we are retiring. I have waited all day for my uxor.” The emperors turn their faces from the men and women kissing them to look at the general. “Of course. Of course. I hope you know you will struggle to fill her womb. She is old.” Geta says cruelly and Caracalla laughs, “yes. Good luck, Acacius.” Marcus clenches his jaw, hating how cruel the brothers are, but he doesn’t react, knowing that nothing good can come of it. “Come on, uxor. Let us retire.” He says, guiding her through the hall.

“You could still bear a child if you wish.” You murmur to your lover’s wife as he guides her away from the revelry behind you. “Perhaps you should find yourself a lover?”

Lucilla shakes her head, “I do not wish to be with child. They would only be a target for the emperors. I simply wish to find my son. Marcus can help me with that.” She says and you look at your lover who nods, “we will find him. He is the true emperor.” He whispers, knowing even breathing those words means treason.

Lucilla’s villa is larger than your father’s, her position and wealth unable to be undermined by the emperors - for now. You know that one of the reasons she has sought a marriage with Marcus was to be able to keep the things her father had given her. You seem to walk across the ends of the earth before you come to a set of doors. Lucilla pauses and turns back towards you. “This is to be your room.” She opens the door to reveal a luxuriously appointed room. “Come I will show you the passage.”

Marcus watches you as you enter the room, eyes wide at the luxury of the gold and garnet. He wanted you to be comfortable here, requesting Lucilla give you a beautiful space since you are sacrificing your security and your love for her protection. "It is gorgeous." You exhale and Marcus hums in agreement but he's not thinking about the room. Lucilla sees his gaze and smiles sadly, knowing she is the reason why tonight is not a celebration for you and Marcus. "I shall leave you." She says, making her way to the secret passage to go into the room next door.

You watch as the door slides shut with fascination but then you are distracted by Marcus coming behind you and wrapping his hands around your waist. “Amor.” He hums against your neck, making you shiver. “I love you, Acacius.”

He presses a soft kiss to your pulse, wishing tonight he could claim you as his wife, put his seed in you and watch you grow his child. He cannot. He will not make you his whore. "I love you." He whispers, breathing you in. "I will never be able to repay your selflessness. I would have never been able to watch you marry another."

You tilt your head and lean back against his broad chest. “It was difficult, but I am in your arms right now.” You point out, turning and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Now, I want you to make love to me. Show me how you feel.”

He leans in to nudge his nose against yours, his lips soon meeting yours as he walks you backwards to the bed. Lucilla lays in bed as she listens to your moan echoing down the passageway between the rooms and she wipes away the tear from her eye. She wants to be loved, to be protected, but she has married a man who wants another and she has to live with that. At least she will live.

**** 

Steam rises from the perfumed water as you sit and relax. Last night Marcus was vigorous and had pushed you beyond the normal bouts of sex. You ache deliciously and hum as you lean back and close your eyes. “More wine?” The question makes you open your eyes again, finding Lucilla standing on the edge of the baths, her dress out of place, but her hair is unadorned, like she had been coming to bathe herself. She nods to the cup on the ledge. “You seem to have drunk all yours.” She had been polite, kind even, but you have noticed that she seems sad and lonely. “Only if you pour yourself a cup and join me.” You offer, sitting up to make room for her in the deep water.

She smiles, appreciating you inviting her when you have been keeping to your room with Marcus every night for the past few months. She cannot lie. She has been lonely despite gaining a husband on paper. She reaches for the jug of wine, pouring you another cup and taking one for herself. She looks to her handmaid who comes forward to unclip her dress, helping it fall from her body so she can step into the bath.

Lucilla is gorgeous. You don’t look away, appreciating her form as she steps into the bath and groans at the heat. She is holding the cups and you reach out to steady her waist so she doesn’t slip as she joins you. “This is such a luxury.” You hum. “Normally I have to go to the public baths for conversation, but you and I can get better acquainted.”

Lucilla smiles, “I know. I am pleased that we can get to know each other more in private. I would like to know why my husband is so in love with you.” She offers you a wink, wanting you to know she’s being playful and not resentful. She hands you the cup and you take it while her handmaid leaves the baths to prepare the linens for Lucilla.

“We have been in love since he first became an officer.” You admit, smiling softly at the memory. “There was a feast and he found me in the courtyard because I was bored. I was reading instead of feasting.”

Lucilla chuckles, “you sound like me. I would sit in the gardens and read instead of attending the feasts my father held in honor of many people who have since died.” She sighs, her eyes full of memories and she takes a sip of wine. “I know you planned to marry Marcus. It was never my plan to take him from you but the emperors…they are wanting my blood.”

“I understand.” You bite your lip, watching as she looks down at her wine. “Are you disappointed he has not visited your bed? Even if you married him for safety?” You would understand if she was. Marcus is handsome, kind, loyal and has honor, rare traits in a Roman man these days.

“I’d be a fool to not see how handsome he is. He’s capable. He’s strong, and he’s loyal. I wouldn’t be a woman if I didn’t imagine him in my bed but he belongs to you in all ways but name. I am not the woman he desires and I would never demand it when I am taking away your Maritus for my own gain.” She confesses, glancing across the bath to avoid looking at you as she admits her deepest thoughts.

You hum, watching her for a moment and take a sip of your wine. “Have you ever had a woman as a lover?” You ask boldly, unsure because you have never seen her at an orgy or at the baths. Not that you attended many orgies.

She flusters, shaking her head, “no. Never. My brother - Commodus - he would’ve never allowed it. He was very…possessive over me.” She murmurs, knowing her brother would’ve killed anyone who touched her. “And Maximus was the love of my life. I wanted him to be my Maritus but we were not destined for each other.” She feels her chest tighten but there’s nothing else she can say.

“Amor, your maid told me you were-“ you twist your head to see Marcus stopped dead, slightly frozen as he stands completely nude. He had obviously sought to join you in the baths and is surprised by the presence of his uxor. You smile, glancing at Lucilla to find her staring at her wine intently and you bite your lip. “Amor, pour yourself a cup of wine and join us.” You beckon, sitting up so he can see your bare breasts. “We were just having the most interesting discussion.” You hum, smirking slightly.

Marcus isn't ashamed of his form but he does feel a little awkward standing naked before his uxor while his eyes take in the sight of your bare tits. He nods, reaching for a cup and filling it from the jug of wine. After taking a gulp, he steps into the water, noticing how Lucilla still doesn't look at him, and takes a seat next to you. He groans at the heat of the water on his constantly sore body.

You hum, reaching under the water to squeeze his thigh, signaling for him to listen before he reacts. “Your uxor and I were just getting better acquainted.” You inform Marcus. “Poor Lucilla, she has been twisting at the whims of the men in her life.” You shoot her a soft smile. “She hasn’t even had the pleasure of having a woman as a lover.” You take a sip of your wine and look at Marcus. “And now, we deny her the very man she is married to.”

Marcus frowns, looking over at Lucilla who averts her gaze from his chest. “She knows the arrangement. My body belongs to you, amor.” He says a little incredulously. “I know, Marcus, but Lucilla needs pleasure like everyone else. I wish to give it to her.” You explain and Marcus frowns, “do you want me to-?” He asks and you shake your head, “no. No. Not you. Me.” You declare and Lucilla’s head jerks up while Marcus’s eyes widen, “are you- are you certain?”

“I am.” You look over at Lucilla and lift a brow. “As long as your uxor doesn’t mind my touch.” You add softly, wanting her to have the power to reject your offer if she wishes. “Do you, Lucilla? Do you want to have me touch you, show you what it is like to have a woman between your thighs?”

Lucilla looks over at Marcus who stares back for a moment until he nods, giving her and you permission to do this if that is her wish. She bites her lip as her eyes flick back to you, “I want - yes. Show me.” She whispers, almost afraid to say the words out loud but she desperately wants it.

You smile, setting your cup down and leaning closer. Marcus shifts slowly, putting himself between the two of you so he can watch. “I have visited the baths many times while Marcus is away on campaign.” You explain, feeling his hand slide up your back and his large hand cup the back of your neck. Applying a little pressure to guide you forward. “He did not deny me pleasure and I know that wishes he had been able to watch.”

He has definitely imagined you while you're seeking pleasure in the baths, especially when he had his cock in his fist while he was away fighting. Lucilla licks her lips, gasping when Marcus's hand finds her neck, leaning her towards you, and his eyes darken as he watches the two women in his life come closer until their lips meet.

You reach out to hold onto Lucilla’s shoulder. “You really are beautiful.” You murmur, moving to start the kiss softly. Wanting her to relax against your lips and open up.

She inhales sharply, her stomach twisting with lust, and she surges forward to press her lips to yours. "You are both beautiful." Marcus murmurs, his cock twitching as he watches you react to her eager kiss. Your tongue playfully slides along her lower lip and she opens her mouth without hesitation.

Your cunt clenches in pleasure and your hand slides down from her shoulder to cup one breast. Enjoying the way she gasps at the feel of another’s touch, her nipple hardening against your palm while you kiss each other.

Marcus lowers his hands from the back of the women's necks to slide down, one hand on Lucilla's back, the other squeezing your ass as you lean forward. Her hands come up to grip your shoulders, enjoying your soft skin and moaning when you pinch her nipple.

You pull away from her kiss, smirking slightly as she chases your lips, but you turn your head and kiss along her jaw. “Watch your maritus.” You order her softly. “His eyes are dark, aren’t they?”

Lucilla nods as she looks at Marcus, his eyes hungry and eager. Something she only ever saw in Maximus's eyes. "My amor will take care of you. Let her show you how good she can be." He orders and Lucilla's eyes close when you kiss her neck, tilting her head to give you more access.

Your lips and teeth map her skin, loving how she gasps when you nip lightly. Moving down her chest until you are kissing the tip of her breast before pulling her nipple into your mouth while continuing to pinch the other one in your hand.

"Gods above." She moans, her hand caressing your cheek and Marcus smirks, sliding his hand up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple. You moan around her flesh and Marcus continues to harden at the beauty before him.

You know Marcus is enjoying watching. He has talked many times of visiting the baths with you, but it has never happened. Now you get to explore his uxor’s body and give her pleasure while he watches. You bite down gently and then pull sharply on it, making her whimper and her nails dig into your shoulders while you suckle.

She is lost in the touch since it's been so long since anyone touched her with this much care. You make her gasp and moan until her cunt is aching, needing more from you. Marcus caresses your back until he's cupping your neck to pull you back, still in charge. "She wants more, amor. Show her your mouth, show her how talented your tongue is." He orders, wanting to watch it.

Humming, you lick your lips in anticipation. “Sit on the edge of the bath.” You let go of her breast and guide her back to the edge. “Spread your legs wide and watch me.”

Marcus copies you, licking his lips as Lucilla nods, shifting out of the water to sit on the edge. Her cheeks flush as she spreads her thighs, exposing the thatch of curls between them while her heart thumps in anticipation.

“Very pretty.” You coo as you wade through the water to settle between her thighs. You urge her to slide to the edge and lean in to kiss her thigh.

Lucilla inhales sharply as you kiss her skin. She hasn't been touched like this in so long. Her chest heaves when you kiss higher and Marcus shifts closer, his hand caressing your back as he watches with rapture.

You hum, eyes flickering up to watch her face as you slowly lick into her folds. You have enjoyed the pleasures of other women, both giving and receiving in the baths and you want to share this with her. Marcus groans so loudly that it almost covers up Lucilla’s gasp of pleasure and you smirk slightly as you carve a path with your tongue through her sex.

Marcus watches in fascination, his dark eyes flicking between you and Lucilla as you sample her sex. His uxor tilts her head back, her eyes fluttering closed and he grunts, "keep your eyes on her. Watch her pleasure you."

His tone is commanding, Lucilla’s eyes popping open and she moans softly. You can tell she likes that Marcus had ordered her around and you know that you always enjoy it as well. Flicking your tongue over her clit makes her grab your shoulder and her hips rock forward, eager for more. You hum into her folds, obsessed with the taste of your lover’s wife.

Marcus groans, reaching down to squeeze his hard cock. You reach for his hand, dragging it away from his length and he grunts but you bring his hand to Lucilla's breast. He follows your silent order, squeezing her flesh and she moans, her back arching into his palm.

Your hands squeeze her hips, reaching back and holding her ass as you continue to devour her. Your own cunt aches with need but you ignore that. Wanting Lucilla to cry out and cum for you. Sucking her clit into your mouth, you watch your lover touch his wife for the first time.

Marcus is aching and he slides his free hand down your back, "let me fuck you, amor." He murmurs his request, needing you to experience pleasure too.

You pull away from Lucille’s clit, making her whine softly in protest. “Do you want to watch your maritus fuck me?” You ask her, not wanting her to be hurt if it is too much.

Lucilla nods, knowing she’s imagined how Marcus looks when he falls apart more times than she cares to admit. He is a handsome man and she has gotten lost in thoughts of him taking her as his wife physically. “Fuck her.” She orders Marcus who nods, groaning as he grips his cock and caresses your ass with his other hand. It doesn’t take long for him to notch himself at your entrance, pushing into you so you cry out into Lucilla’s cunt.

Marcus pushes deep inside you, throbbing already from how excited he is. He kisses along your shoulder as he grinds deep and you know he is watching you closely. “Gorgeous.” He groans, unable to believe that you are feasting on his uxor’s cunt while he fucks you. You groan in agreement, sliding your hand around to push two fingers deep into Lucilla’s cunt and are rewarded by her immediately clamping down on them.

Her cry echoes through the marbled walls, making Marcus twitch inside you. His hands reach around to squeeze your tits as you moan into Lucilla’s folds, working her through it with soft pumps of your digits. “Beautiful.” Marcus murmurs, “both of you. So fucking beautiful.”

She’s beautiful, head tilted back as she rides out her pleasure, she looks like a goddess. Lucilla has always been beautiful to you, but she’s breathtaking right now. You clench down around Marcus and make him hiss because of how tight you get. Slowly pulling away from her engorged folds and licking your lips when she gasps as the pleasure becomes too much.

Marcus watches Lucilla try to catch her breath and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “You have wrecked her, amor.” He smirks and starts to rock into you again. Lucilla watches as her legs dangle in the water.

“She is lovely to wreck.” You pant, twisting your head and looking back into your lover’s eyes. “Taste her from my lips.” You demand, reaching up to drag his mouth to yours for a passionate kiss.

Marcus groans, his tongue sliding against yours as he pauses his rocking into your cunt. You moan, cupping his cheek, and Lucilla watches in fascination. “Make her cum.” She orders Marcus with eyes wide.

You know Marcus has no issue following that particular order. His hands pull you back against his chest and he cups your tits, squeezing them as he starts to thrust into you with sharp snaps of his hips.

He grunts, jaw clenched in concentration as he rocks into you. He loves how you cry out, your cheek resting on Lucilla’s thigh and she strokes your cheek, “tell me how he feels.”

You moan softly, nuzzling into her touch. “His cock is thick. From the first time that he took my purity, he feels like he’s going to split me open.” You pant out breathlessly. “The ridges of his cock scrap my cunt perfectly, making it feel like the best and most maddening sensation in the world. It’s addictive.”

Lucilla moans, imagining how that feels. She knows she is unable to conceive a child for her Maritus. She has not bled in many years. “I want him to pleasure you. Make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

Marcus grunts. “I will.” He vows, pinching your nipples and tugging on them to make you whine his name. Lucilla strokes your cheek. “Cum for your lover.” She encourages softly.

You can’t deny her and Marcus groans your name when you clamp down on his cock. Your cry echoing like Lucilla’s in the marbled room and Marcus hisses at the way you grip his cock in your walls.

Pleasure floods your body, nearly blacking everything out but the way your cunt feels pulsing around his cock. Your fingers dig into Lucilla’s thighs and you moan. “Marcus, fuck her.” You beg softly. “Fill her up. You can’t - you can’t fill me up now but you can let her drip your seed.”

Marcus's eyes widen and he caresses your back, "are you sure?" He asks, knowing that he promised you his body would be yours. His heart is yours. You nod, "yes. Fuck her. She wants it. I want to see it." You plead and he pulls out of you, looking at Lucilla. "Are you certain, uxor?" He asks, reaching down to squeeze his cock.

She looks stunned as she bites her lip. “I- I would- I have imagined you in my bed but I do not wish to cause any more harm.” She confesses and you smile, reaching up to cup her cheek. “We will explore this new part of our lives together.” You promise before turning back to Marcus. “You know how I love you. It will not change that.”

Marcus nods, shuffling closer, and he wishes to please both you and Lucilla. He slides the head of his cock through her folds and she moans. It's been so long since a man touched her like this. He hisses as he starts to push into her, your hand caressing his back.

You watch, fascinated by the way Lucilla’s jaw drops and her head rolls back in complete bliss as Marcus fills her. Glancing down to watch his cock inch into her cunt, not feeling betrayed or jealous. You know that Marcus loves you, and it’s intoxicating to see him from this perspective. “How does he feel?” You caress her side as he bottoms out.

Lucilla's chest heaves until she lifts her head to look at you, "thick. He's stretching me out. It's been so long." She confesses and Marcus groans, reaching for you to drag your lips to his when he starts to rock into his uxor.

You groan against his lips, opening up for him to slide his tongue into your mouth. Participating in the act between husband and wife and you reach up to cup Lucilla’s breast again. You break away from Marcus’s mouth and turn to his uxor, wanting a kiss from her as well.

Lucilla presses her lips to yours, tongue sliding against yours as she moans, loving how Marcus stretches her out. “Amor.” Marcus groans, his hand sliding down to cup your cunt, his fingers finding your clit as he rocks into his uxor.

“Marcus.” You moan into Lucilla’s mouth. He can pleasure two women at the same time. You roll your hips down into his hand and cling to his uxor.

He wants to hear you moan too, his fingers working your clit like he knows how and Lucilla slides her hand to cup your breast, pinching your nipple while Marcus rubs your clit while rocking into Lucilla with precise thrusts.

“Perfect.” You gasp out, eyes slipping closed as you continue to kiss Marcus’s wife as he fucks her. “Touch her like you are touching me.” You order your lover, wanting her to cum on his cock so he can feel it.

Marcus groans, nodding as he rubs your clit while he pushes into Lucilla. He wants to see her cum. She’s sacrificed so much for the empire. She deserves some pleasure. “Fuck. I need you to cum for me.” He groans, his other hand finding her clit to rub with his thumb.

He’s talking to both of you. Marcus rocketing you both towards orgasm as he works you up on his fingers. You kiss Lucilla again, smirking against her lips. “Cum, lover.” You order softly. “Your maritus wishes to feel it.” Your stomach pulls tight and you gasp when he strokes your clit again. “Cum with me.”

Lucilla can't hold back and she cries into your mouth when she falls apart, clamping down around his cock and Marcus hisses, his fingers working your clit while his other hand keeps her shaking through her orgasm. "Cum for me, amor." He growls, needing to see you cum before he fills Lucilla up.

His gruff order is issued through clenched teeth, telling you that he is barely holding back. Both of them are so gorgeous and you cry out in pleasure as you come apart.

He watches you fall apart, leaning into Lucilla and he groans, pulling his hand away from you to grab Lucilla’s thigh, keeping her still as he pushes deep. It takes one thrust for him to fall apart, spilling inside his uxor for the first time and painting her walls with a deep groan.

You watch both of their eyes flutter shut, Lucille moaning as the heat of Marcus’s seed floods her womb. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” You hum, reaching out to caress them both as they come down from their pleasure.

Lucilla nods, feeling breathless as she watches Marcus as he pulls out of her to watch his cum drip from her cunt. He leans in to kiss you, “I love you.” He murmurs and leans in to kiss Lucilla. The two women in his life have just come together. Literally.

**** 

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” You hum around his cock, preening at his praises as he strokes your cheek. Lashes fluttering and you moan again when Lucilla commands your attention with the flick of her tongue against your clit. 

It’s been months since that day in the baths. The affection and physical attachment between the three of you growing beyond what you could ever imagine. Lucilla often joins you, the three of you sleeping together in the large bed that you had previously shared with Marcus.

Lucilla laps at you, her hands squeezing your hips, and you moan around Marcus's cock as he watches you with dark eyes. The pleasure has been more than any of you could imagine. Lucilla married Marcus for protection but she has gained more than security, she has gained lovers. "Gods, you are both so beautiful to watch." Marcus murmurs, twitching in your mouth.

Looking up at Marcus, you love the intense, lustful expression on his face as he watches the two of you. His love for you has not diminished, but his love for Lucilla has grown, as has your own. The couple have been to many events in Rome where comments have been made about their bond and you just smile and agree, the secret touches of affection between you and the other woman seen as just the relationship of companions. Your cheeks hollow and you pull back to roll your tongue over the sensitive head of his cock.

He groans, caressing your cheek again, and Lucilla feasts on you. The pleasure ping ponging from each participant as you devour and be devoured. Marcus watches in rapture, brow furrowed as his cock twitches in your mouth. “Amor. I- close.” He chokes, wanting to warn you and Lucilla pulls back from you to look up at Marcus. “Cum for her, Maritus. Cum for us.”

You pull him deeper into your mouth as he rocks his hips with a broken groan. His fingers hook around your chin and he looks down. His dark eyes flickering back and forth from your face and the sight of Lucilla settled between your thighs. “I love you both.” He grunts, right as he starts to spill down your throat.

Lucilla loves watching him fall apart and she wants to hear and feel you. Her tongue pushing into your cunt as her fingers dig into your ass, pushing it apart so she can get deeper while you swallow everything Marcus gives you.

Swallowing while you are moaning is hard but you manage. “Fuck.” Marcus pulls his softening cock out of your mouth and you moan Lucilla’s name, reaching down and tangling your fingers into her now messy hair.

Marcus shifts, coming to kneel next to where Lucilla is sliding her tongue and he slides his hand down her back to push two fingers into her dripping cunt while his other hand cups the breast until he pinches your nipple. “My beautiful girls.” He coos, loving how you moan Lucilla’s name.

“I’m so close.” You gasp out, close to shaking apart for them. “So good, you are so good, Lucilla!” You end her name with a squeal of pleasure as you start to cum.

Marcus watches you cum, his hand caressing your skin and he groans when Lucilla clenches around his fingers. “That’s it, uxor. Take your pleasure.” He orders when she pulls away from your cunt and moans his name.

You sit up, twisting your body so you can kiss Lucilla. Wanting to taste yourself from her lips and you flick your tongue against hers before moving down to wrap your lips around her nipple.

Lucilla feels surrounded by you and Marcus as you both touch her. Her capacity to experience pleasure has been brought to new heights since she started sharing your bed. “Gods.” She moans, rocking her hips back onto Marcus’s fingers.

You bite down gently on her nipple and then switch over to her other breast. Knowing how much she loves attention being paid to her breasts. “Cum for your maritus.” You order, winking at her before latching on again.

Lucilla moans, worked up from making you cum on her tongue and Marcus knows exactly how to curl his fingers to push her over the edge. It doesn’t take long when combined with your hot mouth on her nipple and she cries out. Her back arching as she clamps down on Marcus’s thick digits.

She’s gorgeous, you love seeing Lucilla cum. You love the blissed out look on her face. “Beautiful.” Marcus groans, leaning down and kissing her as she continues to shake on his fingers.

You kiss up her chest until you approach her mouth and Marcus turns his head to kiss you again, his heart pounding at how his life has changed since agreeing to marry Lucilla. He doesn’t realize how much until his servant informs him the next morning that he’s been summoned to the palace. “I must go, amor.” You cling to his tunic, “what do they have planned for you?” You whisper and Lucilla stands off to the side, her hands wrung together. “If I don’t go…well, there’s no choice.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead as he gently pushes you away. He nods at Lucilla and follows the guards to the chariot to discover his latest fate.

Watching as Marcus is escorted away, you grip Lucilla’s hand tightly. “Why do they want him?” You ask, nervous. “They have decided to use him to expand their holdings.” She knows that the twin emperors will send Marcus away, using her to weld the might of his army for Rome.

**** 

“General, ah you are alive. We thought you had drowned in cunt juices.” Geta chuckles, “between your amor and your uxor, we are certain you’ve been a busy man.” Marcus clenches his jaw at their crassness but there’s nothing he can say so he chuckles and nods, bowing his head, “emperors.” He murmurs and the twins grin, clapping their hands. “We wish for you to take Numidia.” Caracalla declares and Marcus internally sighs, knowing that their quest will result in more Roman ruin and deaths. “Of course, Caesar.” He bows his head and Geta grins, “you will leave at once.” Marcus nods again, bowing before he leaves the hall, his jaw clenched in fury but he must fight for Rome. For Lucilla. For you.

You both wait uneasily for Marcus to come home. Sitting together and having some wine as you chat about milder topics. Trying to distract yourselves from the worry. “Did you ever wish to have more children?” You ask, curious about her wants as a mother.

Lucilla smiles softly, “when I was with Maximus…I wanted to marry him, have his children, and my father would’ve given us permission to marry but my brother…he was power hungry. He wanted to be emperor at any cost and he had killed my first husband…any dreams of children and a happy marriage died with him. I prayed for Lucius and I had to let him go to keep him alive. I pray to the gods that he is safe and happy. Do you wish to have children with Marcus?” She asks softly, squeezing your hand.

“I would love to have children with Marcus.” You admit softly. “But I do not think that will happen, if I am honest.” You squeeze her hand back. “Eventually my father will want me to marry another senator or someone he wants to influence using my cunt.”

Lucilla sighs, "I took the man you love from you. You have shown me pleasure like I've never known. I do not wish to keep you and Marcus hostage forever. As soon as Rome is free, so will he be. I will request a divorce. You will be able to marry and have children. I pray that time comes sooner rather than later."

Shaking your head, you smile at the woman. “Marcus has fallen in love with you.” You have never shied away from being honest. “As have I. The words we say in bed and now have meaning to us.” You bite your lip. “Should you divorce Marcus, so that I may marry him, I hope that you will still stay with us in our current situation.”

Lucilla feels her heart pound, her free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I would be honored to remain in your household. I’d be honored to help you raise your children.” She smiles softly, “and I love you. Both of you.”

You’re relieved that she feels the same way, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. “Then when we can, we will help you restore Rome to the dream your father and your Maximus had.” Your promise. “Together.”

“Together.” She murmurs, caressing your cheek and soon you hear the servants announce that Marcus has returned. He strides through the halls until he finds you and Lucilla. “What happened?” The older woman asks and Marcus sighs, “they wish to send me to war once again.”

You bite your lip, standing and rushing over to him. “Where?” You demand. “Numidia.” You gasp, knowing that the free city will be difficult to battle. “You must not.” Marcus shakes his head. “I have to, to protect you and Lucilla.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek. “I will return to you both.”

Lucilla closes her eyes, knowing she must be strong for you as Marcus prepares to leave once more. Her hand finds your waist, “he will return to you. To us.” She promises and nods at Marcus.

“Take us,” you beg softly, reaching up and unclipping your dress. “One last time before you go.”

Marcus nods, grabbing your waist to pull you closer, his lips immediately finding yours as Lucilla reaches for his tunic, wanting to expose his body to her hungry eyes.

You don’t care that you are in the courtyard. Perhaps it is fitting since the last time he had taken you before he went to war he had taken you in the courtyard of your father’s villa. Your hands reach for Lucilla’s dress, wanting her to be just as naked as you are. This is for all of you.

Lucilla groans, caressing your side as her robes fall to the marbled floor. Marcus kisses her after pulling his face away from yours. “I’ll miss you both.” He murmurs, grabbing Lucilla so he’s holding you both.

“We will miss you.” You promise, kissing down the side of his neck and reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock to start pumping him.

Marcus groans at the feel of you gripping his cock and Lucilla leans in to kiss his jaw, her hand caressing his chest. Any of the servants could walk in and catch you but none of you care. You want to enjoy the General before he leaves to fight another useless war.

Lucilla kisses behind his ear and he turns towards her mouth and captures it in a passionate kiss, his free hand pulling her close to him as well. “My uxor.” He breathes quietly. “You will keep my other love safe, as well as yourself.” He orders quietly. “Do not risk yourself while I am gone.”

“I promise. We will be safe. I will not speak to Graccus until you return. We will put our plan into action then. Spread word to your men and we will make the emperors pay.” Lucilla murmurs and Marcus groans, his hands sliding up to squeeze a breast on each woman.

You hum, knowing that they have been plotting but they have not included you for now because of your father. Not sure how he would vote, you understand their reasoning. Now you squeeze his cock and smirk. “Fuck your uxor and then me.” You order. “It is safe and I want you to finish inside me again.”

“Bed. I want you both in the bed.” He grabs your hand from his cock and wraps his arm around Lucilla’s waist, dragging you both naked down the hall to the bedchamber you share. No servants cross your path but they will see the clothes left behind and hear your giggles. They are aware of the arrangement but they are all too well paid to discuss it. When you’re inside the room, Marcus lets go of the women, “on the bed. Both of you. I want to fuck both of you.”

Both you and Lucilla smirk, sitting down on the edge of the bed side by side and Marcus shakes his head. “Not like that.” He grunts, licking his lips. “I want you both closer so I can switch between your cunts.”

Lucilla frowns, “how do you want us?” She asks and you smirk, knowing what he wants. You’ve seen the drawings on the brothel walls. You shift to kneel, “get on top of me. I can take it.” You say and Lucilla bites her lip but nods, shifting to straddle you, her weight on top of yours and your legs spread to display your dripping cunt to Marcus.

Marcus groans. “Fuck, both of you are so pretty. Beautiful cunts that feel so good.” He wraps his hand around his cock. “If I had time, I would have each of you sit on my face while the other is on my cock.”

“When you return.” Lucilla promises breathlessly and leans down to kiss your neck. Marcus grips his hard cock, pumping himself as he shuffles closer until he’s pushing into Lucilla. He groans her name and slides his hand along your thigh, admiring how you are below her and your bodies almost become one.

You can feel his thrusts into Lucilla, The motion rocking you forward beneath him and your ass pushes up to press against her clit. “Grind down on me.” You order breathlessly, wanting to feel how wet she is.

Lucilla moans, grinding down onto you, and Marcus slides his hand higher until he’s pushing two thick digits into you while he fucks Lucilla. She moans and he grunts, watching both women below him until he pulls out of Lucilla and withdraws his fingers so he can push into you.

“Marcus.” You gasp out his name and squirm under Lucilla. “Too bad you do not have two cock to fuck us both at the same time.” You have seen women take more than one cock at a time so it is unfair that men cannot pleasure multiple women with a cock at the same time.

Marcus groans, wishing he could fuck both of you at the same time. He hisses when you squeeze his cock inside you and he caresses Lucilla's ass. He squeezes her flesh and she leans down to kiss your shoulder.

“He is still so thick inside me.” You pant. “No matter how many times he fucks me. Is it the same for you, Luc?” You hear your lover giggle. “It is.” She praises, looking back at Marcus over her shoulder. “It is good our General has a hearty appetite to satisfy us both.”

Marcus chuckles, "it is because I am granted the gift of two incredible cunts to fuck." He slaps Lucilla's ass and she giggles, grinding her clit onto your ass and Marcus thrusts a little harder into you until he pulls out and pushes back into Lucilla.

You miss the feeling of him inside you, but Lucilla’s moan makes up for it. You groan softly, your cunt clenching around nothing as he rocks into her above you.

Marcus groans, watching Lucilla's hole flutter and he pulls out of you, pushing into her for a moment before he pushes back into you. He continues that, thrusting into each woman one thrust then switching.

You whimper, loving how he is just spearing into both of you over and over again. “You will miss this.” You tell him breathlessly. “Cunts to fuck whenever you want.” You know Marcus will not fuck one of the whores while he is gone. He did not before his marriage to Lucilla and he would not now.

He groans, “my hand will have to suffice during my absence but I want you both to enjoy yourselves.” He demands, thrusting hard into Lucilla who cries out until he repeats the motion as he pushes into you. “Will miss you both so fucking much.”

“Love you.” You gasp and Lucilla moans in agreement. “I love you Acacius.” She hums and kisses your shoulder. “And I love you. I have been blessed by the gods with both of you.”

Marcus wants to hear both women cum. He wants to feel it before he's sent away for gods know how long. He pushes into Lucilla, making her cry out in bliss and Marcus pants, sweat beading on his brow.

“Cum for Marcus.” You beg Lucilla. “You know you want to remind him of what he fights for. He will fight to come home to your cunt. To your lips, your heart.”

Marcus pushes into his uxor, wanting to hear and feel her cum around him. Wanting to carry that memory with him into battle. His cock twitches as her walls start to flutter and his jaw is clenched as he fucks her harder, her body bouncing above yours.

You wish you were on your back, embracing Lucilla. Kissing and coaxing her to cum because you know she is on the cusp. You grind your ass up, feeling her clit rub against your skin. “Cum for your maritus.”

Lucilla takes orders well and she falls apart, her jaw dropping as she cums, shaking above you and Marcus groans at the way she clamps down on his cock. He hisses and pushes deep, his cock twitching as he fills her up with his hot seed.

You hear the groan Marcus gives and you know that he’s cum, a little disappointed that he had fallen apart so quickly but you can’t deny him his pleasure. You turn your head and watch both of them. “Beautiful.” You coo.

Marcus works Lucilla through it, his cum pushed out and a little drops onto your ass but he’s still hard. His eyebrows raise and he chuckles, “don’t worry, amor. You’ll cum on my cock too.” He promises as he pulls out of Lucilla to push his still throbbing length into your cunt.

“Oh gods.” Your head drops down between your shoulders. It’s not often that Marcus stays hard after cumming, but right now it’s perfect. A last time for each of you before he leaves to fight another war. “You want to fill up your wife and your lover, don’t you? Have us drip your cum when we go to lick each other’s cunts?”

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses, his chest heaving as he imagines you and Lucilla lapping his seed from your cunts. “Yes. Yes. Fuck. That sounds like a gorgeous sight. Something the gods would be envious of.” He confesses and twitches inside you.

You shiver. “Then you must come home so we can do this again and again.” You hum. “Perhaps when Lucilla rules, she can make us all married to each other.” You pose breathlessly.

Marcus nods, “my uxors.” He murmurs in awe at the very thought of getting to keep both of you. To belong to both of you. “Yes. Yes. I would.” Lucilla promises and caresses your cheek as she hovers above you. Marcus pushes into you, needing you to cum and you gasp when Lucilla shifts her weight onto one hand so she can slide her hand down your stomach until she’s rubbing your clit.

“Gods.” You whimper, closing your eyes and praying that Marcus is returned to you safely. You know that Lucilla will keep you company and you know that you have come to love her, but your heart will not be complete without him beside you. “Marcus, Lucilla!” You choke out a cry as your cunt clamps down around his throbbing cock.

Marcus loves how you clamp down on his cock. The woman he’s loved for so many years is below the woman he’s come to love recently. It’s more than he can handle and it only takes a few thrusts for him to cum again, pushing deep with your permission to start to paint your walls with his hot seed.

You whine in pleasure, loving how he fills you. Knowing that your cunt will be creamy with his seed and you will drip him for hours. “I love you.” You promise. “Until the gods take me.”

“I love you. Both of you.” Marcus vows, leaning down to kiss Lucilla’s shoulder. “I’ll fight to come home to you. That’s my quest. Not to get some fucking land for them. But to come home to my girls.” He smiles and grunts as he starts to soften inside you. “I need to prepare for my departure.” He sighs as he pulls out of you and shifts to lay down on the bed beside Lucilla.

Lucilla rolls off of you and over Marcus to snuggle into his side and you turn to press against him. “In a moment.” You lean in and kiss him softly. “The army will wait for their general.”

Marcus wraps his arms around you both, breathing you in, and he knows it will be painful to leave you both here with the emperors at large but there’s nothing he can do. He must fight. **** 

“We will pray for you every day.” Lucilla vows and Marcus nods, cupping her cheek while he has his arm around your waist. “Come home to us, Maritus.” You plead and he leans in to softly kiss Lucilla before he turns to kiss you. “I’ll come home to you.” He promises even though his fate is up to the gods. You and Lucilla have tears in your eyes as you hold each other close while watching Marcus prepare his horse for his departure. When he swings his leg over, he settles in and blows a kiss to you both. You watch as he rides off down the cobbled street to the gates, leaving once again for a useless war.

Marcus is gone for two months. You feel an unease like you never have before, worry manifesting in a souring of your stomach. Even Lucilla tries to keep herself busy but is often sitting in the courtyard where the three of you spent so much time.

Marcus is exhausted when he returns from war. He wants to return to the villa and collapse in bed with you and Lucilla. Yet he can’t. He must clean up and meet with the emperors. Have a feast and celebrate his victory. The word sits heavy on his tongue knowing how many were killed because of his orders. He waves to the crowd, dressing in his finery to meet the emperors and accept their false praises. He looks at the adoring crowd, hating the cheers as he makes his way up the steps to meet with Geta and Caracalla.

You stand in the crowd, wanting to see Marcus. To put eyes on him. The messenger he had sent to let you know of his return had eased your worry, but still you needed to see for yourself. Lucilla had stayed home, so you had traveled to the city to see him alone, although you could not welcome him as your husband.

Marcus bows his head as the golden laurel is placed on his head. He thanks the emperors who grin and wave at the crowds. "Now, we feast!" Caracalla cheers, stroking the monkey sitting on his shoulder and Marcus nods, "of course, Caesar." He follows them from the steps of their palace but he is eager to return home.

When Marcus disappears into the palace, you depart for home. Unable to travel fast right now due to your nerves and how racing on the back of your horse makes you feel. Taking an hour to reach the villa that you have come to think of as home instead of your father’s estate in the city.

Marcus eats and drinks a little to keep up appearances and when the orgy is getting started, he bows to the emperors and takes his leave. “Enjoy fucking your uxor and lover, General. I’m sure they have missed having a cock instead of each other’s tongues.” Geta chuckles and Marcus rocks his jaw but nods, bowing once again as he leaves the palace. His cloak flares behind him as he makes his way through the streets to ride to the villa he has come to call home. The guards let him in and he’s swinging his leg over the stallion, handing the reins to his hand and he strides into the villa. He walks through the halls until he finds Lucilla and you sitting in candlelight. “My ladies.” He greets you with a cheeky smile after he lowers the hood of his cloak.

“Acacius.” Lucilla smiles, a soft, dreamy smile as she looks towards her husband. You hum as you stand and both of you walk towards him. You recognize the look in his eye, so does Lucilla. She takes his hand. “Come.” She urges. “Let me feed you.”

Marcus sighs as he takes her hand, followed by as you make your way to the room you share with his uxor. You all enter the room and you reach up to unclip his cloak, the heavy fabric falling to the floor and Marcus sighs in relief as the weight of the war is lifted off his shoulders. He reaches for you and Lucilla, pulling you both close to breathe you in.

He has new scars. You caress his cheek gently and lean in to kiss them. Wanting him to know that it’s alright. He’s home with the two of you. Home where he belongs. “Let us take care of you.” You coo. “Be a respite from war.”

Marcus nods, unable to physically do much when he’s been so tense, using every ounce of determination and strength to ensure his return home to you both. It doesn’t take long for you to strip him down and he is already hard. It’s been too long with his own touch to satisfy when the nights became lonely. He sighs and lays down on the bed, watching as Lucilla unpins her robes.

“Your uxor has missed you.” You hum, watching his eyes light up when her tits are revealed. “Just as much as I have. And I have missed you every moment of every day.” You kneel down to help her with her sandals so she is completely nude.

Marcus watches in rapture, fascinated still by the way you have fully accepted and fallen in love with Lucilla. He smiles as his uxor comes to kneel on the bed beside him while you work on removing your clothes. He is hard and he beckons her forward, reaching up to squeeze her breast. "I want you to sit on my face or my cock, uxor. You choose between you."

“Let your lover have your cock.” She leans down and smirks as she kisses his lips. “I have missed the talent of your tongue and your nose pressed against my clit.” She hums. “The rasp of your beard on the inside of my thighs.”

He groans, watching as she kneels, straddling his chest, and his hands find her hips, dragging her closer so she is hovering over his mouth. He groans at the heady scent of her arousal, somehow already wet for him, and he slides his tongue through her folds, groaning and his fingers gripping her flesh

You have to just watch for a moment, his cock is hard against his stomach and it twitches at the first lick. His groan is muffled by her folds, but her sounds are loud enough for both of them. “So beautiful.” You praise. “I have missed this sight.” You finish peeling off your clothes and kneel on the bed, wrapping your hand around his cock and lowering your head to take him into your mouth.

Marcus groans into Lucilla’s flesh, his fingers dig into her hips and he hisses when you take him deeper into your mouth. He loves it. How you eagerly take him and he sucks on Lucilla’s clit as her hands cover his.

He has obviously visited the baths before riding into Rome in victory. The musky, earthy taste of him is clean and addictive, making you hollow your cheeks as you suck his cock. “Your mouth is amazing, but I am sure he would prefer your cunt.” Lucilla moans.

Marcus grunts into her flesh in agreement and you giggle, shifting to straddle him. You grip his cock and it’s mere seconds until you are sinking down onto his cock with a loud moan of his name. He twitches inside you, his groan smothered by Lucilla’s cunt and she moans at the vibrations.

You brace your hands on his chest. Taking a moment to grind down on him and adjust to having that thick cock inside you again. Lucilla’s fingers aren’t nearly as thick and they don’t reach where his cock manages to touch. He feels like he’s in your womb.

Marcus groans when you start to move on top of him. It’s intoxicating and Lucilla loves seeing the pleasure on your face. She leans forward to press her lips to yours, her hands squeezing your tits as she grinds down onto Marcus’s tongue.

This room has seen so much pleasure. The walls absorb it along with your latest moan into her mouth. You bounce on Marcus’s cock, determined to cum all over it as you ride.

Marcus loves how you and Lucilla shamelessly use his body for your pleasure, rocking back and forth on his tongue and his cock. He twitches inside you as he pushes his tongue deep into Lucilla, desperate to get as much of you both as possible.

You moan as you bounce on his cock, rolling your hips and leaning into the kiss. Absorbing her sounds as she rocks her hips over his tongue.

Marcus can do nothing but lay beneath you. His lover and his uxor. His hands caressing Lucilla as he tongue fucks her and she slides her tongue against yours.

You love this. You love how the three of you have come together. The thought of giving either one of them up tears you to pieces and you know that you will fight to keep them. You break away from Lucilla’s kiss on a moan. “Gonna cum.” You pant out, rocking furiously on his cock as you gallop towards pleasure.

He feels your walls flutter around his cock and Lucilla cries out when he slides his tongue up and sucks her clit between his lips. “Fuck!” She curses, her forehead pressing against your sternum as you grind down and clamp down on Marcus’s cock. “Shit, amor.” You moan, soaking his cock at the same time Lucilla falls apart, soaking his face.

He groans beneath you. His cock pulsing and he’s been so long without the feel of your cunt around his cock that he cannot hold back. Thrusting up, he prays to the gods that your fertile time is not now as he paints your womb with his seed.

Your lover pants against Lucilla’s flesh and his uxor kisses up your chest until her lips press against yours. Her tongue slides into your mouth as you both ride your orgasms and Marcus enjoys the weight of you both as he softens inside you.

Eventually, Lucilla swings her leg over Marcus’s body and you lean forward to taste her from his lips. “I love you.” You coo softly, Moving to the side so that his uxor could kiss him as well.

Marcus sighs as he relaxes into the sheets, enjoying the relaxation and the lack of awareness. When he’s away, he’s constantly on guard, even with his own men, in case they have been influenced by the emperors.

“I’ll get some wine.” You want to give Marcus and Lucilla a moment, you know they have things to discuss, so you pull off your lover’s cock and reach for a wrapper to go get some wine and snacks.

Marcus sits up, uncaring of his nudity and Lucilla settles beside him, curling into his side. “I have spoken to several senators in private. They agree with us that the emperors are ruining Rome.” She reveals and Marcus nods, caressing her side, “I have an army loyal to me. They are sailing for Rome. They will be here in ten days. We have ten days to put this plan into action.” Marcus declares and Lucilla nods, “the games begin tomorrow. We will attend and plan in the shadows.”

Bringing back a jug of wine, you are followed by a servant bringing a tray of food. “We return.” You call out loudly so they can pause any sensitive conversations so the servants do not hear. “I bring wine and sustenance for the general and his lady.” Everyone in the house knows of your dealings, but you always defer to them around the help.

Marcus shifts to sit up, a robe draped over him as Lucilla wraps her own around her waist. They both watch you enter the room with the servant trailing behind you and Marcus watches you with dark eyes. He has to save Rome. For you and for everyone in it.

After depositing the tray on the table, you dismiss the woman with a smile and nod before you pour up the cups of wine yourself. “Did you have a good chat?” You ask as you bring the wine over to your lovers. Looking over your shoulder, you make sure that there are no servants lurking. “My father will not commit until the odds are in your favor.” You admit quietly, having felt the Senator out cautiously. “But he will commit.” You hate that he plays sides, but it’s how most of the senate keeps what little power they have against the emperors.

Marcus nods in understanding, “my army rides for Rome. Men loyal to me. They will fight in my name against the emperors. They arrive in ten days.” Marcus assures you and Lucilla who takes the cup of wine, taking a nervous sip. 

**** 

“Marcus.” Lucilla gasps, reaching for his hand, “it’s Lucius. He’s - he’s fighting in the games.” Lucilla chokes after you have returned to the villa after watching the opening games.

“Your son?” Dread curdles in your stomach. You know how much Lucilla has missed Lucius, how she yearns to have him back. “Are you sure?” Marcus asks in astonishment. The man she is talking about is a slave that he had brought back from his conquest, a man who had stared at him in defiance. He hadn’t recognized the boy from so many years ago.

She nods, “I know my son.” She reaches for Marcus’s hand. “He’s in the games. I need to protect him. Acacius. Help him.” She pleads, her hands trembling and you rub her back in comfort. He brings up the fact that the army is on their way, but she is afraid he will not survive until then. Marcus swallows, knowing what he must do. He nods, bringing her hand to his to kiss the back of it.

Your heart aches because you know the danger that he will face. “I will get him out of the city.” He promises her softly, turning and pulling you into his arms. “I have to, amor.” He murmurs, wanting you to understand. “You must be careful, Acacius.” you murmur softly, knowing it will be dangerous. 

Marcus kisses your forehead, “I’ll be safe. I will make sure he lives and we will all be free.” He vows, knowing that his life is in danger now. Both because of Lucius and the emperors. Lucilla feels beside herself, knowing her son lives and he can be emperor. Fulfil the role he was destined for. Marcus and Lucilla get to work the next day, meeting with senators to prepare for the coup under the nose of the emperors

Spending the night alone for the first time in forever, you worry about your lover and his uxor, not sleeping a wink. Exhausted, you rise from the lonely bed when the sun rises and once again pray to the gods. There has been no word, but you know that can be a good thing. You try to keep up appearances, but you are nervous. You will attend the games as normal. Dressing carefully for the games and making your presence known. Wanting to assist however you can.

Lucilla looks up as you walk onto the balcony, Marcus not beside her. Her hands chained to the chair she’s sitting in. Her expression, her eyes are devastated and you inhale sharply, knowing this meant the coup failed. They were discovered. The emperors beckon you to sit next to Lucilla, and the guards come forward. Your eyes widen as they grab your wrists, chains clanking around them despite your initial struggle and tears start to sting in your eyes knowing your fate has been sealed. The announcer introduces the gladiators and then your breath leaves your body when they say his name. “General Marcus Acacius!” The crowd cheers and you whisper “no” as Marcus swings his sword, entering the arena.

“My my, your lovers have really disappointed us.” Geta tuts as he smirks at you. “How they have betrayed Rome, and more importantly - us.” You shake your head. “He wouldn’t. They wouldn’t.” You protest. “They love Rome more than anything.”

“They love Rome more than they love us and we can’t have that.” Caracalla answers with a smirk, “and we can’t have traitors in our midst.” Marcus bows his head after placing his sword on his chest, signaling his felty to Rome and he nods to the men fighting him, knowing he will have to kill them. It doesn’t take long for him to cut them down in brutal battle, blood soaking the sand as his chest heaves, knowing he won’t survive this fight but he sent word to his men, praying they arrive and fulfil his order to retake Rome from the emperors and their army.

You have watched in horror, fingers curled around the arm rest of the chair and you are near tears. Another name is announced and Lucilla gasps, making your heart sink. Lucius comes through the gates at the end of the arena, his face hard and determined. “Please don’t.” You beg the emperors. “The general is no use to you dead.”

“We can promote a general. We cannot promote a coup.” Geta replies, cup of wine in hand as Caracalla gleefully claps, watching Lucius be feral and vicious as he battles with a reluctant Marcus.

“Marcus.” You whimper, clenching your fists together and praying to the gods that some miracle prevents one of them from killing the other. “Please, do not do this.” You beg. “That is- you do not know who that is.”

Geta scoffs and ignores you as the crowd begins to cheer when Lucius steps closer to Marcus. The General reluctantly swings his sword to block the blows, trying to talk sense into his uxor’s son, but he has a fury in his eyes like he’s never seen. He wants blood. You can see Marcus talking to him but you can’t hear what’s being said over the roar of the crowd and your own pounding heart. Marcus grunts as he shoves Lucius back, continuing to talk to him, and finally, it appears his message gets through when Marcus is kneeling on the ground, his hand up and sword laying in the sand. Lucius stares at the older man, realizing who the enemy is, and he doesn’t raise his sword to kill the man who took his love, his wife. He swallows harshly and watches while the emperors scream to kill the General.

“No!” Your scream cracks your voice as you shout out, unable to stop the multiple arrows piercing Marcus’s body and you hear a howling sound as you watch his body fall to the ground, his eyes open. The sound is coming from you. Pain and anguish ripping through your body like you’ve never experienced before.

Lucilla has tears running down her cheeks as she stares at Marcus laying on the ground. Your screams echoing around the colosseum and the guards grab you, dragging you chained from the balcony but the citizens of Rome hear your anguish cries echoing through the stands.

“Murders! You murdered him! You murdered him!” You are screaming as you are being dragged out of sight, fighting to stay, needing to stay to see Marcus’s body. No one in the stands cheers the death of the general.

**** 

Lucilla kneels beside Marcus, his body laid out for his funeral, and she cries silently as she says her goodbyes to the man she’s come to love deeply. When you enter the room, she looks up and beckons you over. You’ve been inconsolable. Barely able to make it out of bed and she understands but she has to continue fighting for Lucius. She shifts as you kneel next to Marcus, tears already gathering in your eyes, “he loved you with every bone in his body.” She says softly, reaching for your hand to bring in on top of Marcus’s, sandwiching your hands together with hers.

“He loved you as well.” Your voice is hoarse, barely a whisper and your eyes feel heavy and gritty from your grief. “Lucilla-“ you choke up, hating how cold your lover feels. His life is gone, his warmth bled dry by the emperors. “They must die.” You hiss.

Lucilla nods, letting go of your hand and she looks down at the ring on Marcus’s hand. “Take it. It’s yours.” She says. You shake your head, “no it’s not. Take it and give it to Lucius. He is the only one that can save us now. Go to him.” Lucilla nods, sliding the ring onto her ring and she kisses Marcus’s hand once more, “we will avenge you.” She vows to him and looks at you, “we will have the Rome he wanted.”

You nod, unsure of what to tell her right now, but you know you need that future for Rome, for yourself. Lucilla rushes away and you are left with the body of your lover. “I have news.” You whisper softly, leaning down and caressing his cheeks. His eyes are now closed and he looks peaceful, although you know he is not merely sleeping. “I will tell you when everything is settled.” Leaning in, you give Marcus one last kiss. “Forever my love, that is how long I will love you.”

Lucilla watches her son as he looks down at the ring on his finger. His father’s ring. She nods and offers him a soft smile as he looks at her with determination. He will ensure that Marcus and Maximus did not die in vain. He will avenge them and secure Rome once again for everyone. For all. Forever.

You don’t know how long you sit with Marcus’s body. You lose track of time until the door opens. “Leave me.” You order without even looking to see who it is. Hands grab your arms and you cry out as you are one again dragged away from your lover. “What is the meaning of this?” You demand as the praetorian guards cart you off.

Lucilla is silently praying to the gods as she is tied to the platform, the senators surrounding her. Your father is not among them. She’s grateful you aren’t here but she hears your cry as you’re dragged into the emperor’s balcony. Caracalla giggling with his monkey on his shoulder as he watches Lucius enter the colosseum with his jaw clenched in determination.

“Lucilla!” You shout out her name as the crowd goes to thundering from the stands, but you know she hears you. “I love you!”

Lucilla has tears on her cheeks but she refuses to show she’s scared. She is tied to the platform and the senators cry and scream but she hears you. She looks up at you and mouths ‘I love you’ just as Lucius enters the arena to see his mother tied up. He fights to get to her but it’s too late and Macrinus grabs the bow, firing the arrow that pierces her heart. You sob, knowing you’ve lost the ones to love to his brutality and thirst for power. You sob and he kills Caracalla without a moment's thought while Lucius fights.

You shiver, knowing that you are next in this brutal conquest of Rome. This has been a coup that the emperors could never have imagined and you scream as Lucius seems to falter.

Macrinus turns towards you, his eyes narrowed and you tug on the chains that keep you bound but the man has bigger issues when Lucius turns his gaze on the balcony and rushes towards you and Macrinus. “Fuck.” The man curses and looks at the guard, “do not let her go.” He orders before he runs off the balcony just as Lucius climbs up. He growls at the guard who holds the key for you and he pulls the knife out to rush the guard. The man is no match and Lucius puts his blade into his chest, grabbing the key to free you. His hands are steady as he unlocks you from the shackles, “go. Go save Rome.” You order and he nods, running off to follow Macrinus.

You make your way to the sands, needing to touch Lucilla again. Sobbing as you make your way through the crowds to the display she had been tied to. You work the ropes to lay her body down and you caress her cheek. “I am so sorry, amor.”

****

Lucius pants as he defeats Macrinus, the army ready to fight alongside him to destroy those who dare to take Rome for their own. It's days later that Lucius is named Emperor. His rightful place but he places power back in the hands of the senate. "You must take a wife, Caesar. You must continue your line." Your father says to the young man, "my daughter can be your wife. She has lost so much, as have you. She will understand your pain and she will not ask for more than you are willing to give."

Lucius frowns slightly, but he doesn’t say no. “Have your daughter brought to me to talk.” He decides, unsure of who this daughter is, but the Senator in question is a powerful man.

Lucius looks up when you are brought into his chambers, your hands wringing together, and he frowns, “your father sent you. Tell me why.” He orders, twisting the ring his mother gave him as he stands.

You snort, your eyes falling to the ring that you had given Marcus. Now on this emperor’s hand. “Because my father wishes to have me married off before it is discovered that I am carrying Marcus Acacius’s child.” You admit honestly, reaching down and holding your stomach protectively.

Lucius nods in understanding, having heard you were Acacius’s lover. And his mother’s. “Then we will marry.” He declares, “I do not wish to find an uxor who simpers and wants a love story. I need a practical woman who wants protection and companionship. I need an advisor, a confidant. Can you be that for me? Your child will be protected.” He vows, “they will be our child.”

You frown slightly, surprised that he would want that kind of life. It’s a good deal for you and you’d be a fool not to take it. “I could.” You agree after a moment. “If that is what you want. I loved your mother and her maritus.” You admit that freely. “I would never be disloyal to her son, in any way.”

Lucius is aware of the relationship you shared with his mother and her Maritus. He had discovered how Marcus has protected his mother from a few senators he trusted and he wants to honor the man who kept his mother safe until his last breath. If he can do that by protecting his child, he will do so. “That’s what I want. I want to honor my mother and Acacius. I can do that by honoring you and the child in your belly.” Lucius declares and you nod, “I accept. If you wish to take me as your uxor.” Lucius slides the ring from his pinky, walking towards you to slide the ring onto your finger. “This is yours now. My empress.” Lucius offers you a sad smile that you return, nodding in understanding. 

**** 

“Marcus! Slow down!” You call out to your son. He’s seven and the image of his father but no one in Rome says a word about the truth that the emperor is not his father. Lucius has declared the boy as his heir and you are the empress. You glance down at the ring on your hand before looking towards the sky and you think of Marcus and Lucilla. You pray they are in the Elysian Fields together. “He is so much like you.” You whisper, closing your eyes as the breeze curls around you and you feel Marcus is with you. You swear you hear him say your name but the wind carries it away. “Mama!” Your son calls and you smile, walking towards him and Lucius who is holding his hand out for you. You never got your happy ending with Marcus but this will do until you see him again.

[lsunstreakerl]

the latest chapter of SH! 💛 charles going feral over the not-even-real-possibility of lewis adding max to his collection of blond WDC champions and also just thinking about charles pretty much pissing all over HIS red bull golden boy, that really hits the spot! thank you!

but also in another ask you said that max may consider the whole eye injury water under the bridge but charles not, and that made me think of the grudge you can hold onto someone over them hurting the people you love and how hard it’s to let go. In this case clearly lewis isn’t at fault but i’m wondering of how hard it has been for charles to deal with those negative thoughts in a high pressure environment. i know you mostly feel comfortable writing from max’s pov but any chance we can get a bit into charles’ mind?

Hi anon! I meant to respond to this much earlier but it got stuck in my brain and actually manifested as a little snippet, so here's a tiny peek behind the curtain! hopefully it's a little bit more insight? feel free to ask more questions if you have them :)

Charles is trying not to grit his teeth, though if the glare Silvia is sending his way is any indication, he's failing.

They're getting ready for the fan stage, and Charles keeps checking his phone, making sure he isn't missing any messages from Max.

They're in Monaco for the race, and normally it is one of Charles' favorite races, and Max was supposed to be here in the garage today, but he'd had a flare-up this morning, dry heaving and dizzy. Charles hadn't wanted to leave him, but Max had gotten decently close to biting his head off, shoving him to the doorway.

"If you want to be worried I cannot stop you, but at least be driving while you are doing it."

Now, though-

Charles isn't sure how he's meant to do this fanstage. He's been civil with Lewis, hasn't let his roiling resentment sneak into their interactions, professional or personal, but it's only a matter of time.

It's harder on days like today, where Charles has left his boyfriend sick at home, suffering from something that many very well never leave him, when Max could be- should be here, racing with them, racing with Charles.

Everyone has idolized Lewis at some point in their lives, and Charles is no different, had admittedly been excited to find out he was joining the team, but the end of last season, and this one-

It's left a sour taste on his tongue. He doesn't hold Lewis on a pedestal anymore, how can he, when he has slipped into Charles' home, driving the color that belongs to Charles, belongs to Ferrari, refuses to address his legacy with Max the same way he refuses to talk about any other rivals.

Charles can't stand it. He couldn't care less about Nico and Seb- well, maybe a little bit about Seb- but to do the same to Max. Charles' Max, the Max that fought his way onto the grid, fought his way through the hate, fought himself into a competitive car, and a team that loved him, the Max that deserves to be on the grid today-

To see Lewis instead, who has been driving since before Max and Charles were on the grid, and still is, it makes his fingers curl.

Maybe he's just having a bad day. He knows he needs to pull the nice boy face back on, but he's having trouble finding it, when the car is competitive this year, when he and Lewis are both bringing home points.

It doesn't matter, at the end of the day, what Lewis is capable of, because he is driving for Ferrari, but he is not Ferrari, doesn't have rosso corsa beating fast through his veins, doesn't have the prancing horse as a thundering heartbeat.

He's a Mercedes boy, a wolf at heart, and that will ruin him, here. Ferrari does not take wolves. Ferrari takes sacrifices, bleating lambs, brought to the alter young and innocent, and only the most devoted get to live, get to have the honor of bringing the team to glory, the privilege of representing the legacy. Only the most treasured become the shining eye of the tifosi, and to get it all at once, to be a model driver, a living breathing manifestation of the Scuderia- it only comes around once every few generations of drivers.

Seb couldn't do it, and neither could Fernando. Lewis will not be capable either.

Charles has it.

It may not have been intentional, but Max has left Charles a mantle, a legacy, one final way to etch their names together forever, intertwined in a way no media or sports magazine could ever brush past, like so much of their lives and careers, tangled together to the very end.

Charles Leclerc will not let Lewis Hamilton get his eighth title.

A hand claps down on his shoulder, gives him a friendly squeeze.

"Hey man, you ready?"

Charles checks his posture, unclenches his jaw, and smiles at Lewis, but there's nothing friendly about it. It's the most Charles will let himself have, tiny little slips in the mask, unsettling for Lewis and unnoticeable for anyone else around them.

"Of course."

[feligayzed]

On the topic of Sebastian and touch

I'm kind of projecting but when I was a kid I used to be super volatile about touching. Like blind rage kind of thing

So I was thinking about Sebastian maybe having something similar

Giving this fish the pain of hurting those he loves because he can't stand being touched

oh for sure

though i am under the impression that he has the self control not to legitimately hurt hurt the ones he's closest to (if a random tried anything he'd start swinging), he is deeply disturbed and short-fused about it. of course it's all stemming from a deep-rooted trauma but he himself kinda struggles to recognize that, instead immediately going down the "oh my god i'm a horrible person i'm everything they told me i was i'm an irredeemable monster" spiral

if he ever was to physically injure someone he loved i don't think he'd ever forgive himself (privately)

top 10 things that happen to your psyche when you've been nothing but dehumanized for more than a decade

[floralstorms]

tehe I have. An au. For The Characters

[tentacletournament]

This is very off topic but- i thought you would appreciate the fact that i'm going to write about the classic to geno to error timeline in my philosophy essay.

IM SCREAMING THEIR TIMELINE IS MY EVERYTHING I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED FOREVER AND EVER IF YOU DONT GET FULL MARKS ILL DIE

[idiaa-shroxd]

Unfortunately I don't play Genshin anymore due to storage problems BUT IM ALSO A WANDERER MAIN LMAO AND OMFG THANK YOY VERY MUCH FOR THE COMPLIMENT COMING FROM SOMEONE WHO'S ONE OF MY FAV AUTHORS AND YES FARUZAN SUPREMACY AAAAAAAAAAA ILY SM<333

I'm literally going crazy bc you replied to my crazed fan ask HAHAHAHAHA

\(//∇//)\ i am definitely not responding late!! i perceive time like a normal human would.. and that’s so crazy!! ♡

i have loved wanderer since maybe my first time hearing his existence?? i’m not a day-one-er but quite close! so glad he did not get signora’d. if you play on mobile you can try deleting the app and redownloading because the clear old files option doesn’t actually clear everything, and sometimes a redownload may be able to fit within your storage! i absolutely adore faruzan though!! peak character design even if she is genshin’s hatsune miku, not complaining though i think her glass looking dress-skirt is amazing. (*´∀`)♪

i’m happy to be able to talk and respond to people!! getting asks just talking to me or people sending things like how they think my writing style is pretty makes me super happy!! so i’m equally as fanboy-ing when you and others talk to me!! ╰(*´︶`*)╯

[reasonsforhope]

Kamala Harris just announced that her vice president will be Minnesota governor Tim Walz. Based on the coverage so far I'm really reassured by this decision.

The Washington Post did an obviously great job of making a prepared article for each option, considering how long an article they had up 7 minutes after the announcement.

((Okay technically it's not an official announcement yet it's "according to three people familiar with the pick, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss a decision that is not yet public." But listen. I am 99% sure this is a weather balloon. (Meaning: a deliberate leak to gauge reaction.) Because the sheer weakness or incompetence on the part of the Harris campaign that it would take for three people to all confirm that within a few hours hours of each other and the planned announcement it is massive.))

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

Honestly this decision, from everything I've read and can tell, looks like it's brilliant politics.

Important Context: The vice president(ial candidates)'s job in an election is not to be similar to the president. The vice president's job on the ballot is very, very much specifically to be different from the president. Why? So they can cover each others' weaknesses. Especially regionally.

(Sidenote: I feel a bit ridiculous saying this. But genuinely if you want to get a stronger understanding of how US elections really work. Go watch seasons 6 and 7 of The West Wing. Genuinely, a lot of politicians have said - especially back in its day - that that was the most accurate depiction of an election they'd ever seen. Also specifically features an entire arc about a contested Democratic primary convention, so also very good if you're interested in understanding weird nominating convention shenanigans.)

From the article:

"Harris’s choice for a running mate was among the most closely watched decisions of her fledgling campaign, as she sought to bolster the ticket’s prospects for victory in November and rapidly find someone who could be a governing partner. In picking Walz, she has selected a seasoned politician with executive governing experience and signaled the importance of Midwestern battleground states such as Wisconsin and Michigan.

Walz’s foray into politics came later in life: He spent more than two decades as a public school teacher and football coach, and as a member of the Army National Guard, before running for Congress in his 40s. In 2006, he defeated a Republican to win Minnesota’s 1st Congressional District--a rural, conservative area--and won reelection five times before leaving Congress to run for governor.

Walz was first elected governor in 2018 and handily won reelection in 2022. Though little-known outside his state, Walz emerged publicly as one of the earliest names mentioned as a possible running mate for Harris, and in the ensuing days he made the rounds on television as an outspoken surrogate for the vice president...

“These are weird people on the other side. They want to take books away, they want to be in your exam room. … They are bad on foreign policy, they are bad on the environment, they certainly have no health care plan, and they keep talking about the middle-class,” Walz told MSNBC in July. “As I said, a robber baron real estate guy and a venture capitalist trying to tell us they understand who we are? They don’t know who we are.”

Walz also has faced criticism from Republicans that his policies as governor were too liberal, including legalizing recreational marijuana for adults, protecting abortion rights, expanding LGBTQ protections, implementing tuition-free college for low-income Minnesotans and providing free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren in the state.

But many of those initiatives are broadly popular. Walz also signed an executive order removing the college-degree requirement for 75 percent of Minnesota’s state jobs, a move that garnered bipartisan support and that several other states have also adopted.

“What a monster. Kids are eating and having full bellies, so they can go learn, and women are making their own health-care decisions,” Walz said sarcastically in a July 28 interview with CNN when questioned whether such policies would be fodder for conservative attacks, later adding: “If that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the [liberal] label.”

Walz also spoke at a kickoff event in St. Paul for a Democratic canvassing effort, casting Trump as a “bully.”

“Don’t lift these guys up like they’re some kind of heroes. Everybody in this room knows--I know it as a teacher--a bully has no self-confidence. A bully has no strength. They have nothing,” Walz said at the event, sporting a camouflage hunting hat and T-shirt.

Walz has explained that he felt some Democrats’ practice of calling Trump an existential threat to democracy was giving him too much credit, which prompted his decision to denounce the GOP nominee instead as being “weird.”

“I do believe all those things are a real possibility, but it gives him way too much power," Walz said on CNN’s “State of the Union” regarding the Democrats’ rhetoric. “Listen to the guy. He’s talking about Hannibal Lecter, shocking sharks, and just whatever crazy thing pops into his mind.”

If Walz is elected vice president, under state law, Minnesota Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan (D) would assume the governorship for the rest of his term. Minnesota Senate president Bobby Joe Champion, a Democrat, would become lieutenant governor."

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

--

This guy. Sounds like. fucking Moderate swing-state/rural/Midwestern/southern/"heartland"/working class white voter catnip. He sounds like he's also a very smart politician and strong campaigner. And he's apparently genuinely a good guy with a good record, too.

He sounds like he's going to do a really good job of appealing to voters in several of the big deal swing states without being from any of them specifically. Which means it doesn't feel like pandering to one of the states involved (and thereby spurning the others), which is also great.

(Also he was the one who started "weird" @ conservatives and I think we should take that seriously as a very good political instinct/move. Judging in large part by how it has so clearly hit an actual nerve with conservatives like so little else. Also hugely relevant: that post going around about how part of why conservatives are so upset about "weird" is because in the Midwest, "weird" specifically also implies anti-social or harmful behavior.)

Officially feeling more optimistic about Trump not winning in November

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[golden-redhead]

I think there's a lot of signs pointing to Jayce actually doing the right thing ...or at least the right thing based on the information available to him at the time.

We can't know for a fact just how much Viktor was changed and what his healing was doing to the people who came to him in the long run, but considering all the hints dropped by the writers, the situation is much less clear than we think. Obviously, everyone's first instinct is to condemn Jayce and his actions, especially because Viktor is one of fan favourites, but looking at the teaser for the next Act and what little we know about what happened to Jayce, I think it might have been necessary evil.

I think this scene of Viktor temporarily 'possessing' Salo in order to talk with Jayce points to just how fucked this little community that Viktor created actually is. There's a reason why everyone's getting those 'it's a freaking cult' vibes.

This scene made me more uncomfortable than anything else this season and I think it's clear that it was meant to make feel that way. There's something so uncanny about Viktor's voice coming out of Salo's mouth, especially paired with that look on his face and how Viktor seems to be able to see and experience things through him in this moment.

And then there's also the issue of all these people dying a horrible drawn-out death as soon as Viktor himself 'dies'. Yes, they came to him on their own, they asked to be healed, but did they really know what they are getting into? Did they know this is what might happen?

Some of them were already dying, true, but Viktor healed all kinds of people, some of whom most likely had their whole lives ahead of them. He, knowingly or not, inevitably sped up this process. Not all of them were consummed by Shimmer-addiction or permanently disabled like Salo.

And then there's also the fact of all of them basically abandoning their previous lives to serve Viktor and his community. Which, okay, makes sense, there's certainly a parallel with the community that Ekko created for Zaunites to keep them safe from Piltover and Silco's plans. They made an informed choice, though, and I don't think the same can be said about Viktor's cult-like commute.

They seem peaceful, yes, but also devoid of personality and entirely dedicated to Viktor and his cause. Of course, it can be explained by gratitude towards him and desire to be kept safe in a calm and peaceful environment, but it's taken to such an extreme point that it definitely crosses the line into uncanny territory in my eyes. Their hivemind behaviour is very unsettling and even though Viktor seems to frame his recent actions as some kind of greater good, I don't think it's necessarily true.

We have yet to find out what Jayce saw and who's in the right and who's in the wrong. Either way, as usual when it comes to Arcane, it seems to me that more than ever, everyone's a victim of the circumstances and tragedy spares no one.

Considering that Viktor is set up to be 'reborn', I can't help but wonder what it means for his community and if they will also be brought to life by whatever connection they have with him. It would be a fascinating choice given how Viktor's arc has always been about autonomy and making your own choices.

Arcane, it's been a pleasure having my heart torn out of my chest by you. Can't wait for the last Act.

[togeppys]

the waiting game ;

tsukishima kei x reader

reader is childhood friends with tsukki, and has an ongoing bit where she'll ask him out periodically. she's grown used to him saying no, and doesn't expect it when he actually says yes.

You would easily consider Tsukishima Kei your closest friend. You grew up on the same street, went to the same schools, and were in the same class on multiple occasions, so your frequent proximity had forced the two of you to become very familiar with one another. Though he had a personality that others may find sour, knowing him for so long meant that you had seen every version of him, and knew that there was more to him than the reputation that he had gained. Sure, he was arrogant and standoffish a vast majority of the time, but you knew that he was also kind and considerate towards those he cared about. 

You didn't think that it was possible to gain feelings for a friend so close to you, but over the years you couldn't help but find yourself growing more and more intrigued with the idea of being in a relationship with your best friend. You cherished the friendship that the two of you had, but you couldn't help but wish that it could blossom into something more. Even as a child, you knew you wanted to make a move, but were held back by the fear that he would take it negatively, and you would lose a friend that meant the world to you. Sure, you both had other friends outside of each other, but a life without Tsukishima Kei by your side was not something you wanted to risk. 

The first time you asked him out was a joke to test the waters. The situation had been perfectly laid out for you, so you figured you might as well give it an attempt. 

At twelve years old, you, Tsukki, and your deskmates sat chatting about how White Day was approaching, with some members of the conversation more enthusiastic than others. One boy excitedly announced that he had started dating another girl in the class, and was planning on surprising her with candy on the special day. One by one, each of the boys rattled off who they wanted to give a present on the holiday, while the girls helped pitch ideas on how they could make their surprises even better. 

"Who are you getting a present for, Tsukishima?" a voice sounded next to you, a bright eyed girl addressing the one member of the circle who had not made a contribution. 

Tsukki stared blankly at her, before shaking his head, "No one, I don't have a girlfriend." 

The boy seated next to him accusingly pointed a finger in his direction. "There's gotta be someone you want to get a gift for. It's White Day, this is your chance to get one!" 

Your best friend scoffed, folding his arms in defiance. "It's a made up holiday, and a girlfriend right now would be a waste of time and money. Why would I buy chocolates for someone I don't have any interest in?" 

Sounds of protest came from everyone sitting at the table. Upon hearing his thoughts, you supposed that should have been a clear enough answer to whether or not he had an interest in anyone, but you couldn't help but think that he was only staying quiet because you were present at the table. While somewhat disappointed, you knew that this was your chance to prod him further and get a more concrete answer.

"Date me, I'm your best friend and I'll gladly take the chocolates," you half-joked, trying to play it off as cool as a twelve year old possibly could.

Your answer came quickly, not in the form of an answer, but in the ease of him brushing you off, not even considering the possibility that you could genuinely mean what you had just said. 

"I'm not getting anything for anyone, find someone else to buy your chocolates." 

Following that conversation, it had been a whole year before you took another chance at proposing the idea of a relationship, fearing that you would be shot down once again. It was a similar situation; the environment had given you the chance to casually slide the idea into the conversation, and you couldn't give up the opportunity. 

You and now-thirteen-year-old Tsukishima Kei stood in a convenience store on your way home from school, picking out snacks after you had spent a long day with your clubs at school. You were in the art club and had to take home a painting that you had done on a disproportionately large canvas. As you decided you wanted a barbecue pork bun, Tsukki picked yours up on your behalf, seeing as your hands were fully occupied with your artwork. Standing at the till, he gave the payment to the store owner, an elderly man with a strong gaze, and took the bag that was handed to him in return. 

"Young man, why don't you give the food to your girlfriend and carry that massive painting for her instead?" the elderly man chimed as the two of you began to pull away from the counter. 

Both your eyes widened, and you could see that the taller boy's cheeks had gone slightly red at being criticized by the man before you, along with the realization that you had been incorrectly identified as his girlfriend. He opened his mouth in protest, but the store owner gave him a pointed look, forcing him to place the bag back on the counter and take the painting from your arms. A large grin broke out on your face as you picked up the buns and gave the man a toothy smile while the two of you gave him a small bow before exiting the store. 

"That's more like it," you heard the owner's voice carry from behind you as the doors to exit the store chimed while you walked into the evening air. 

The second you were out of earshot of the man, you broke out into laughter, immediately turning to the boy who had turned an even deeper shade of red. 

"Hear that Kei? Carry the massive painting for your girlfriend," you mocked, taking your bun out of the bag and taking a bite, ensuring to make a grand show of the amount of freedom your arms had in that moment. 

"Tsk," was the only response heard from the boy as he turned his face away from you to try and hide the red that was slowly disappearing from his cheeks. 

"I say we should start dating so that you can become my personal artwork carrier," you quipped as you skipped ahead of him along your path. 

"Never going to happen," his voice sounded from behind you, unamused. 

"Go out with me!" you called back, continuing to skip ahead of him. 

"No." 

That incident had begun the joke that ran between the two of you. You would ask him out, and he would respond with some form of deadpan denial. Your friends had grown accustomed to it, expecting you to make the joke from time to time. On the days you spent with both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, the shorter boy would even occasionally play along. 

"What in the world is that poster for?" you asked one day, noting an obnoxiously coloured poster stuck to a pole near the corner where you and Tsukishima split off from Yamaguchi on your paths home. 

"A couples dancing competition," the green haired boy read off with a laugh. 

"I wonder what the turnout would be, based on how ugly that poster is," your best friend commented, leaning forward to get a better look at the image before the three of you. 

"The two of you should sign up," Yamaguchi responded jokingly, matching the smile that was growing across your face, "It would be a sight." 

"You're so right, both of our incredibly above average dancing skills would blow the competition away," you joked, "the only thing we're missing is being an actual couple." 

"I'm not going out with you." 

"It was worth a shot." 

As you grew older, the two of you continued to remain best friends. You had shared sentiments over schoolwork, had jokes shared between each other, and you knew the ins-and-outs of each others' lives. You were closer than ever, but the fact that you two had only grown closer meant that it hurt even more that the two of you wouldn't be anything more than friends. As far as you were concerned, he only thought of you as a cherished friend, and all the times you had asked him out were nothing more than a gimmick resulting from a comfort level obtained from your level of friendship. You loved having him as a friend, but as you grew older and more mature, your feelings grew with you, and your childhood crush developed into infatuation with the boy living down the street. 

When high school came around, you both joined Karasuno together, acknowledging that it made sense for you to attend the same school once again. After the incident when you were thirteen, he had formed a habit of helping you carry your larger paintings on the walk home, and in turn you feigned some interest in the volleyball club, hearing what he and Yamaguchi had to say about their matches. 

When the boys volleyball team qualified for the finals of their tournament, you joined your school in supporting your two friends as they faced the top school in the prefecture. You were one of many loud voices cheering the boys on, though you liked to believe that amongst them all, you were cheering the loudest. When Tsukishima made the first block against the opposing ace, you felt a burning pride to see the boy you liked finally begin to show some emotion on the court, your excitement visible from the stands. 

Though you didn't understand the game well, it had you on your toes; everything that took place was crucial to the boys' success in the game. So encapsulated by the gameplay, and cheering on the series of blocks that Tsukki had done only moments before, you were confused when murmurs started to pass through the crowd and the players began to crowd around the tall blonde. It took a few seconds for you to realize that he was injured and was gripping his hand while the others spoke to him. Concerned, you left your spot amongst your classmates and approached his brother, who had a matching look of concern etched upon his face. 

"Akiteru, did you see what happened? Is Kei injured?" you questioned, standing next to the older Tsukishima brother. 

"I hope not," he muttered back, eyes carefully watching what was going on below. 

You both watched intently as your friend wrapped a towel around his hand and began to walk towards the gymnasium exit.

"C'mon, let's go see what happened," he stated, as you both left the stands along with the first-year Karasuno manager to go meet his younger brother. Walking down the steps you could feel the anxious energy radiating off of all of you, and you tried to shake it off so that the injured boy would not sense it too. The three of you met him outside the doors of the gym. 

"Kei, are you okay?" you asked, somewhat redundantly; of course he wasn't 'okay' if he was leaving the game because of an injury. 

"I'm fine," he quipped back, trying to act more nonchalant than you could tell he felt inside. You observed your friend as he had a back and forth with his brother over his physical state. He commented on how it was nice to rest after all the sets- you could tell that there was some truth to the statement, but you could also see that he had finally found his groove, and really wanted to be back in the game. As he began to walk away, you could see the frustration emanating from his stance, and you and his brother decided to follow him and the older manager to the infirmary.

You ran up to catch him, and walked alongside Tsukki, Kiyoko and Akiteru. You walked in silence, knowing that the middle blocker was busy ruminating on the events of the game, and could only think of getting back on the court, despite his efforts to pretend otherwise. As the four of you arrived at the infirmary, you sat beside him and the two others stood near the door behind you while the nurse took a look at his hand. You could tell that he was scared that the nurse would announce his hand was too severely injured and he would have to sit out the remainder of the match. 

To try and ease some of the nerves that he would be feeling, you grabbed his non-injured hand and gave it a small squeeze. 

"I'm sure it's fine and you'll be back soon," you whispered so that only he could clearly hear, "and once you get back, you'll win the game and go to nationals." 

You gave him a small encouraging smile, finally meeting his eyes, and for a few moments the boy did nothing but stare back at you. 

After a short pause he finally responded with a nod, "I hope so," before dropping his eyes as the nurse analyzed and dressed his wounds. The remainder of the visit, you four sat in silence, the volleyball player evidently deep in thought over what he would do when he returned to the match, however his eyes occasionally fluttered away, as if something were distracting him.

Soon, his finger had been wrapped and immobilized, and the nurse announced that he would be allowed to return to the game. The four of you sprung up, and began jogging back to the gym, Tsukki slightly out-pacing the rest of you. You and Akiteru stood by the doors as the other two ran to the coach to explain his condition and request that he be put back in the game. You and the other Tsukishima brother ran back up to the stands to watch upon seeing him take a seat on the bench, the substitution card in his hand. 

You watched as the remainder of the match unfolded, Tsukki back on the floor, knowing that he was still in pain though he tried to hide it. You didn't think it was possible, but you were even more captivated by the game in front of you, every movement drawing you closer and closer to the edge of your seat, more and more in awe of your best friend’s tenacity. When the final point was scored and Karasuno were announced as the winners, you jumped out of your seat, cheers and hollers all around you as your entire section cheered on the victory of your school's team. 

The victory party had begun, with Karasuno staff and students overjoyed alike, excitement filling the air. The team bowed to your cheering section, and you let out more cheers to your two friends before you. You first made eye contact with Yamaguchi, who had found you in the crowd sooner and you gave him a smile and a thumbs up to show your congratulations. Noticing his teammate's line of vision, your best friend found you as well and you beamed even more, changing your thumbs up into a heart that you made with both your hands. You could almost hear the half-laugh, half-scoff that came from the boy as he immediately turned away from your antics. You couldn't help but laugh as well when you turned away from your seat and started to join the crowd that had begun to trickle out of the stands. 

When everyone had finished mingling in the lobby, you excused yourself from your other friends to go greet the volleyball players who were dispersed outside the gym. You easily spotted the blond head of hair that stood taller and slightly apart from his teammates, the green-haired boy nowhere in sight. 

You decided that the best course of action to get his attention was to launch yourself at his back. So you did, and he let out a yelp as he caught you behind him, a small exasperated laugh being let out. You let go of him and gave him a proper hug, but from the front, despite his protests. 

"What did I say, go back soon, win the game, go to nationals," you said matter-of-factly, pointing a joking finger in his face once you had finally freed him of the hug, "I think I can see the future."

"I mean we were already so close to winning, the prediction was right in your face," the boy responded sassily, obviously trying to get back at your outrageous remark. 

"I don't know, I think I have a gift," you continued joking, "I'll show up to all of the nationals games and start predicting who's going to win, just you wait and see." 

"There are too many games going on, you'd never go to them all," the boy responded, trying to shut down your new aspirations. 

"No, I'll do it, just you wait and see. I'll go to all of yours too, up until you win it all." 

"You'd look like a stalker, the crazy fan of Karasuno who won't leave us alone." 

"Hmm... no," you responded back, "The best course of action is for us to start dating because then I would no longer be a crazed fan and instead a loyal girlfriend there to support my boyfriend." 

"Mhm okay." 

"And then if anyone asks I could just say that I... wait did you just say okay?" 

You had continued on your rambling, so focused on the dumb situation that you had thought up, that you had completely failed to notice the boy's response, or the way that he had been looking at you since the moment you had met him outside the gym. 

He now stood, smiling smugly at you, and you realized that while you had been going on and on, he had been looking down at you, a newfound admiration on his face. You couldn't say when exactly the change had been made, but you realized now that he was looking at you in a way that he had never once before, and you began to feel the butterflies in your stomach. 

"I did say okay," he stated plainly, placing a hand on the top of your head, making light of the fact that he towered over you. 

You were speechless and could do nothing but stare back at him in confusion. 

"After all this time, did you want me to say no again?" he asked, when almost a whole minute passed without a response from you. 

"NO, no not at all," you said finally, accepting that he wasn't just messing with you and actually meant it, "it just caught me off guard." 

The boy removed his hand from your head and smiled once again, less smug this time. 

"Okay, so now I'm expecting you to show up to all our games at nationals and be the supportive girlfriend cheering me on constantly." 

"Girlfriend already?" you retorted, once again taking his non-injured hand in yours, the difference being that now he held it as well, the feelings no longer one sided, "What happened to taking a girl out on a few dates before claiming that title?" 

"Did you really ask me out all those times just to not even want to be called my girlfriend?" he asked back, eyes narrowing in disbelief at the comment that you just made. 

"Nevermind, girlfriend it is." 

Bonus:

A week had passed since the volleyball team had won the game against Shiratorizawa. The boys had been busy following the win, so you finally had a moment to treat both your friends to a congratulatory dinner. The three of you walked in the direction of the restaurant on a Sunday, with you standing in between your two friends. You passed a hideous poster, identical to the one that the three of you had previously joked about. 

"Now that we've mastered volleyball, I think it's time for you two to take up dancing seriously," Yamaguchi smiled, recalling the previous joke that you had made over the poster. 

"I wholeheartedly agree," you said back, "this time we even meet the couple criteria." 

Yamaguchi stopped walking, turning to look at the two of you. You innocently looped your arm into Tsukki's, though your boyfriend stood still, no reaction evident on his face or through his body language. 

A few seconds passed before Yamaguchi unfroze and continued walking, a smile now plastered on his face. 

"Congratulations," was all he said at first, before he finished his train of thought, "but it was really about time." 

[ranoshfamily]

🚨Emergency🚨

Help Rana’s family toleave Gaza before it too late

Hello humanities 🤗🤗

Please read this as if I'm a member of your family . maybe your sister, daughter or a friend and as if my family who's under death now is yours.

"I am a computer Engineer and Mom for 3 children from Gaza , Rana Hassan Alabsi, with a strong ambition and perseverance. Over the past 10 years, I've worked tirelessly, I've dedicated myself to my family, working hard, planning, building my career. Despite facing challenges, I became a well-known professional engineer in Gaza.

 

Unfortunately, my life has been upside down since Oct ,Since that particular day, thousands of innocent lives have been lost in Gaza, many of innocent people lost their works and the only source of income like me.

Me and my childrens 1 of them, he is10 years old with downsyndrom and need a safer place and health care to still a live, left our home under the continuous bombardment and artillery strikes, on foot, without carrying with us our personal supplies, clothes, or Even our money, heading from Gaza to Deir al-Balah. There in Deir al-Balah we lived the most difficult days of our lives in a shelter with scarce resources, sleeping on the ground.

Without covers, without drinking a healthy water, then we moved to Khan Yunis after the intensification of the strikes and bombing, Then we moved to Rafah in the hope that we would find safety there or find a way out of Gaza to a safe place that we dream of for the future of our children,Let us live a happy, safe life for us and our children, and keep them away from all this pain, destruction, and siege, and spare them from the miserable future that will await them if the situation continues as it is in Gaza.

I come to you with a heavy heart and an urgent call for help. My family are currently caught in the war in Gaza, facing the harsh reality of an escalating crisis. The situation is dire, and I am reaching out for your support to facilitate their safe passage to Egypt. In this moment of desperation, I share the situation where it has taken a toll on their well-being.

This urgent plea is not only for their safety but also for the health of my son, who is facing serious conditions that demand immediate attention.

My family is trapped in an environment where access to necessary medical care is severely limited. The escalating crisis compounds the urgency, especially considering my son's health conditions. Time is of the essence, and we are in a race against it to get him the vital medication and care he desperately needs.

My loved childrens are in a situation beyond their control. The fear in their eyes and the desperation in their hearts are indescribable. I implore you to be a beacon of hope for them, to be the force that guides them to safety. To be honest, the journey to safety comes with a significant financial burden.

We need the money to cover practical costs of transportation, documentation, a place to stay and shelter in and other essentials required for a safe crossing to Egypt. And so that they can take care of other needs once they cross safely. As of late April the evacuation fee ranges between $8,000 and $10,000 per person, before processing and transport fees, and we will pay the higher end of the range since Hayde doesn't have passport. Me and my family asking for 50,000$ based on the following breakdown: an evacuation fee at the Egyptian border of $8,000 - $10,000 per person , $4500 - $5000 per children as each day there is a different price for evacuation fee at the Egyptian border, plus a processing fee of $2,000 per person, $2,000 for transportation, and a 2.9% commission fee.

Any amount raised beyond the total will be used to supplement me & my family lives as refugees in Egypt. Your donation, no matter how small, will make an impact. You will be contributing to getting my family to safety. The funds will be used transparently and every dollar will go towards securing our evacuation.

Please share this campaign widely to help us reach our goal and bring my family to safety. Your support means more than you can imagine and I am incredibly grateful for any assistance you can provide during this challenging time. Thank you for your compassion and generosity. Together, we can make change and help my family find the safety and security they need".

instagram account : @help_my2024

My sweaty home before 7th oct

After 7th Oct

Vetted by:

Thank you very much 🌸🌸

@importantt-reblogs , see the Vetted Link

[hellotailor]

armand’s costumes are such an interesting data point re: his nebulous sense of identity.

when analyzing any costume, there are always many factors to consider: the setting, the character’s personal taste and economic constraints, storytelling concerns like tone and genre, etc. with armand, we also need to remember that he’s 500 years old and violently disconnected from his human origins. everything he wears has an element of disguise, selected to blend into a new environment.

armand was enslaved as a child in 16th century delhi, and barely remembers his mortal life. unlike louis - who can return to new orleans after 80 years and reconnect with his past - armand has no home to return to. his whole backstory, even his name, is rife with traumatic subtext, leaving him with an obsessive need for structure and control. this adds an extra layer of meaning to costuming choices that initially seem like straightforward menswear. 

armand’s 1940s wardrobe is very put-together - primarily three-piece suits and coats that make him look wealthier and more formal than louis, who is purposefully dressing down. most of these outfits are tailored to bulk up armand's frame, leaning into the "maitre" persona. and like his business-casual dubai wardrobe, he always leaves his collar open. when i interviewed costume designer carol cutshall, she described this as a symbolic power move, signalling that he's an apex predator who doesn't need to protect his throat.

my personal interpretation is that while armand clearly likes to look good, he has a complicated relationship with attractiveness. he doesn't always want to draw attention. his color palette is shadowy (black, grey, brown, olive green), and he’s much less flashy than the other Théâtre vamps. however when he’s feeling confident and flirty, he becomes more of a power-dresser - for instance his hunting outfit with the big coat and sunglasses, or his habit of wearing kohl.

interestingly, most of armand's 1940s costumes set him apart from the coven. the Théâtre vampires dress like cabaret performers, embracing a lot of period-specific styles. by contrast armand is more timeless and neutral. in fact, due to the relatively minor changes in men's suits over the past 100 years, there's a lot of overlap between his wardrobe in the 1940s, '70s and 2020s:

the rest of the Théâtre squad share an unofficial uniform of boldly clashing monochrome patterns with pops of bright color. meanwhile armand has a very plain wardrobe, emphasizing the image of him as a businesslike authority figure surrounded by zany artistes. he only wears subtle stripes on a few occasions in the '40s, reflecting the recurring prison motif we see in lestat's trial suit and (most famously) the dubai penthouse bedroom:

if we ask the question, "what does this person like to wear?" there are easy answers for lestat, louis and claudia. we understand their tastes, and the motives behind them. but armand is more enigmatic. we can recognize through-lines in his wardrobe, but his "taste" is dominated by whatever role he's currently decided to embody, whether that's a parisian theater director or a real estate mogul in dubai.

the times when he appears to have the most fun with clothing are when he steals a pair of sunglasses from his human dinner (!) and when he's pretending to be rashid. in other words, when he's explicitly performing for an audience. "real armand" is still a mystery.

(i may write more about armand's dubai wardrobe later, but for now, you can find all of my iwtv costumes posts on this tag!)

[comrademango]

Hello! Please help Mona and her family!

I'm writing this post to bring attention to Mona (@monayazji) and her family's campaign. Their young family comprises of Mona, her husband Yousef (@yousefalyazjii1), and their son Alaa.

This campaign has been vetted by gazavetters (#87 in the list) and gaza-evacuation-funds (#3 in the post). As of the time of writing, their campaign currently only has kr24,289 SEK raised out of the kr200,000 goal (12% funded), with only 6 donations from the last 24 hours.

Her son currently has bad skin irritation very likely caused by their current living conditions (environment, water and sanitation, etc). He is only 1 year old, and this sort of irritation could get very distressing to such a young child, and even more so with a pretty widespread involvement such as in Alaa's case. Medications, along with everything else in Gaza, have become very expensive, add to that the also high cost of milk and diapers which he would need daily.

Please consider donating especially if your currency is strong. If you cannot, please share Mona's campaign. I have most recently donated 100 SEK (~10 USD) to their campaign (proof under the cut) but I cannot donate much so I am making this post so I can try and boost this campaign, and if you can match or go above my donation, that will be amazing.

Tagging for reach, please DM for tag removal. TY!

@thatsonehellofabird @heydreamchild @ana-bananya @dlxxv-vetted-donations @neptunerings

@phenakistoskope @pannaginip @afc-agitprop @leviathan-supersystem @gabajoofs

@moonrver @oceanmonsters @moomin279 @thesummersucks @feralparsnip

@oceanmonsters @salahattricks @pickleballhater @unrealcities @tweedfrog

@selkiesmile @mieldelsol @disinfobot @amethyinst @ilynpilled

@chexcastro @anneemay @determinate-negation @komsomolka @forevergulag

@mesetacadre @maoistyuri @batricity @brutaliakhoa @notallmensheviks

@ot3 @a-shade-of-blue @butchmagicalboi @heliopixels @lesbianmaxevans

[eveninggstar]

victory lap ⊹ ࣪ ˖

lando norris x rival!Mercedes!reader

26.08.24

୨ৎLando proposes a bet that if he gets pole and wins from pole in Zandvoort then he gets to not use a condom next time you and him have sex.

୨ৎ back one page ୨ৎ back two pages

smut

unprotected p in v sex, kinda bratty reader, lando smacks readers ass twice, sex on the floor, lando is controlling but in a good way, probs more

ngl this is prob the best smut ive ever written so far lol kinda like this one bc i love lando two wins!!! Also this is pretty long i dont know how many words

The tension between you and Lando had been building up for years. The two of you were rivals on the track, always pushing each other to the limit, but beneath that fierce competition lay something neither of you could ignore—an undeniable sexual tension that everyone seemed to notice. The paddock was rife with rumours, and even your respective teams had exchanged knowing glances whenever the two of you were around each other.

It all came to a head one balmy summer evening at Zandvoort. The Dutch Grand Prix was notorious for its challenging circuit and passionate fans, and both of you were ready to put on a show.

You were lounging in your driver room, going over your strategy for the weekend when Lando sauntered in, a cocky grin plastered on his face. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his McLaren race suit unzipped just enough to give a glimpse of his undershirt. He was clearly up to something.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice dripping with that signature mix of charm and mischief. “How confident are you feeling about this weekend?”

You looked up from your notes, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Confident enough to wipe that smug look off your face, Norris. Why do you ask?”

Lando chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking over to you. “Well, I was thinking... How about we make things a little more interesting this weekend?”

Your curiosity was piqued. “Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind?”

He leaned in close, his arms draped around your shoulder and his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Let’s make a bet. If I get pole position and win from pole, then the next time we have sex i don't wear a condom." He stayed silent for a few seconds, then leaning his face closer to your ear so his nose flattened, "Let me finish inside of you, baby."

A shiver ran down your spine at his bold proposition. You knew Lando liked to push boundaries, but this was a whole new level. Still, you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not from him.

“And what do I get if you don’t?” you asked, your voice steady despite the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“If I don’t win from pole, you get to call the shots next time,” Lando replied, his eyes darkening with the unspoken promises laced in his words.

You leaned back in your chair, pretending to consider it, even though you already knew your answer. “Alright, Norris. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Saturday came around, and the atmosphere at Zandvoort was electric. The roar of the crowd, the smell of burning rubber, and the thrill of competition all combined to create an intoxicating environment. Qualifying was intense, with both you and Lando pushing your cars to the absolute limit.

“Lando Norris takes pole position!” the announcer’s voice boomed across the circuit.

You clenched your fists, a mix of frustration and anticipation bubbling within you. Lando had done it—step one of the bet was complete. But there was still the race to come, and you were determined to give him a run for his money.

Race day dawned bright and clear, the sun shining down on the packed grandstands. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you strapped into your Mercedes, your focus narrowing down to the task at hand. The lights went out, and the race began with a flurry of motion.

Lando held his position at the front, but you were right on his tail, refusing to give him an inch. Lap after lap, you pressed him, looking for any opportunity to overtake, but he defended fiercely, his car perfectly placed at every turn. The tension between you both was palpable, each of you pushing the other to the brink.

As the race neared its conclusion, you realized that Lando was going to pull it off. He had driven impeccably, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t find a way past him. At this point you were nowhere near him. He had a 20 second lead and had lapped over half the grid.

Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Lando had won the bet. As you pulled into the pit lane, you saw him celebrating with his team, his face lit up with triumph. But when he caught your eye, his smile turned into something more—something darker, filled with desire.

Later that evening, after all the interviews and celebrations, you found yourself in Lando’s motorhome. The air between you crackled with anticipation as he closed the door behind him, shutting out the world.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed winning a race this much.”

You swallowed hard, your body already responding to the heat in his gaze. “You got lucky, Norris.”

He smirked, stepping closer until you were backed up against the wall. “I think we both know it wasn’t just luck, Y/N. Now, are you ready to pay up?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed his body against yours, his hands sliding up your sides. You could feel his heart pounding in time with your own, the intensity between you both reaching a fever pitch.

“You won fair and square,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Lando’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It was fierce, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been simmering between you for so long. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Lando didn't waste anytime before he urged you backwards towards the sofa. Your mouths slotted together and his hands groped and explored your body, going from your chest to your thighs. His hands manoeuvred the remains of your race suit to the floor, only leaving you in your fireproofs. With the reduced barrier, he could easily press against you causing you to let out many gasps and a few tugs to his hair.

Pulling away slightly, you mumbled into his mouth, “Lan, hurry up.”

He paused, eyes scattering over your features. His face was no longer the happy winner everyone outside saw. He was now drunk with a lust filled haze. He lifted himself up off of you slightly, bringing a hand to your face and caressing it with the utmost care. His breath felt warm against your face, causing your eyes to flutter shut. The calmness you were experiencing was cut short by the strong grip Lando had on your face, squeezing your cheeks and puckering your lips.

"You're the one needing to be faster." He practically growled, looking deep into your eyes. "Remind me who came first." He paused, awaiting your answer. "Who won the bet?" His voice sent shivers down your spine.

"You," you mumbled, then began to smile as his hand drifted to your neck. He returned the smile and slowly moved his face to the underside on your jaw. He kissed it sweetly, then tightened his grip.

"Louder, baby." He commanded, his words dark but mixed with the feather light kisses sent your head into another dimension.

"You!" You spoke up, earning a nip to your neck. He then came back to your face to then deepen the kiss you had earlier.

He moved your lower body so he could fit more comfortably between your legs. Your hands desperately gripped at his damp hair, needing to hold anything to ground yourself.

You felt the hand around your neck slowly trail down the length of your body before settling at your groin. Your legs attempted to close shut, although his waist was preventing you from doing that. He began to work at your clothed clit, his thumb easily circling over the smooth fabric.

"Uh-" your voice cut off as he pressed on the dampening fabric harder.

"There you go, you're speeding up. Getting wet so quickly," He spoke condescendingly as he nuzzled his nose in your cheek. "Why cant you be like this on track?" He began to mouth at your neck, causing you to let out a breathy moan. As much as you hated Lando's cockiness, god was it hot.

“Shush.” You moaned, an audible show of your composure.

You could barely speak, Lando's thumb never faltering on your soaking clit. His body was overwhelming you, and you started to squirm. However, that same thumb stopped giving pleasure. Before you could protest, he was hastily ripping your fireproofs off. This left you bare and flushed below him. Your chest heaving up and down as his eyes scanned over our body.

He leaned up to nip at your ear, surely leaving a mark this time, as you expelled a breath of pleasure as his fingers worked their way into your slit.

Your words were lost on you, wanting to ask when he was going to get to the real reason of your bet. But in all honestly, you didn't care if he would carry on pleasuring you. However, you did want his fingers to enter you, to leave you wanting more of a stretch for days after.

His fingers left your aching cunt, leaving it to pulsate rhythmically. You reached out to hold his hand, an iron bruising grip you're sure of it. His race suit clad crotch bumped against your bare one, giving a shock of unexpected pleasure.

"Lan!" you practically yelled, your squeal bouncing off of the surrounding walls.

He shushed you, then ordered you to not touch yourself. He slowly slinked up off of the sofa, eyes solely focused of your slightly twitching body. The rest of his race suit joined yours on the floor, in addition to his fireproofs.

His cock sprung free, the tip beat red and dripping at the sight of you. Lando stood proud for what felt like forever. His left thumb was stroking his lip as he shook his head in the opposite direction. That's when he uttered-

"Get on the floor."

You submissive sex haze briefly broke, thinking you heard him wrong.

"The floor?" You pushed your body up, looking at him like he just asked you to get on the floor like an animal. Oh wait-

"I won the bet, baby." He smirked, eyes still raking over your nude body. "Floor, there's not enough space on the sofa for us."

With a sigh and a reluctant nod, you melted your way off of the sofa. You knew the position he wanted you in, he rarely fucked you when not in it. You laid on the floor for a few seconds, collecting yourself. Lando saw you laying there, not having you be a pillow princess he ordered you to-

"Flip around, ass up. I know!" You rolled your eyes, then did it. What you didn't expect was a harsh smack to your ass. You let out a mixture of a moan and a sound on pain.

"Enough of the bratty attitude," He smacked your ass lighter this time then gripping the plump, reddening flesh.

Finally, you thought, the head of his cock began to notch at your entrance. His fingers had intertwined with the nodded strands of your hair and he pulled up as his dick pushed into your cunt in a swift motion.

You both let out a groan of pleasure. Lando held himself there, letting you and himself adjust to the jaw dropping pleasure. This was the first time the pair of you were having sex without a condom, and god did it already feel a million times better. The pair of you had to focus to not cum straight away.

No words were needed between the four walls of you sex filled haven, as Lando thrusted into you. His palms splayed on your hips controlled your movements as his relentlessly bullied his cock further and further into you. You hands struggled to hold onto something, eventually finding solace in Lando's fireproofs.

His name was chanted like a prayer from you, in return you got delicious sounding moans and groans from behind you. You were sure his face didn't look all that different to yours in the moment. Pleasure filled, and only focused on the other.

His repetitive ruts and the bruising grip on your hips rendered you speechless. You wanted to say keep going, feels so good. But that was the problem, since the pleasure was that unbelievable you couldn't say. The loud sounds of sex echoed as your skin slapped in a fast tempo, each smack more pleasureful than the last.

Lando leaned closer to you, chest flat of you back. At every thrust you could feel the tense of his abs and the perspiration drip onto your equally sweaty skin. He began to mouth at your neck, settling for small thrusts whilst he was buried at the hilt. One on his hands slithered away from your hips and found solace on your breast.

His hot breath spread across your neck and down your spine as you shivered. His moans had turned to grunts and pants.

"Like it when you can feel me this good?" He grinned into your hair, leaving small kisses in his wake. "Like it when your this full?"

You wanted to nod, only giving a weak, stuttered head movement. The remaining hand on your hip drifted to your swollen clit. He helped ease you to completion.

"Aren't you glad I got pole." He teased you. "That I won. You wouldn't feel this good if I didn't."

You whimpered at his words, too turned on to be annoyed that he won and you didn't. But yeah, you were happy he won. He doesn't have to know that though.

You wanted to tease him, give him payback to what you were feeling, what you always felt with him, however none of that would be happening. He knew you like he knew the tracks the pair of you frequented, and knew that you were actual putty in his hands this very moment.

He picked up his pace, resulting you to let out loud moans and sexual noises of the like. The speed of his thrusts felt as if his dick was going to come out, luckily it didn't and you got the full pleasure.

His fingers at your clit sped up, he sensed how close you were solely on how your body tensed up.

"Come on, you can cum for me. I know you can-"

His hand came up as fast as his reflexes allowed, as you came. He slowly reduced the pleasure he was giving to your clit and eventually reached his own high. Your neck vibrated at the animalistic groan he let out into it.

Needless to say, the pair of you would be having more bets like this.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

taglist: (comment if you wanna be added)

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part two

returning to Everett Lynch's case, you try to redefine normalcy with Spencer and JJ, but Grace Lynch has other plans for you

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst, hurt/comfort content warnings: gun violence, spoilers/references to: 9x6 "in the blood", 9x14 "200", 9x23 "angels", 9x24 "demons", 13x22 "believer", 14x1 "300", 14x15 "truth or dare". rewrite of 15x1 "under the skin", 15x2 "awakenings". a lot of dialogue is pulled directly from the show. hospitals/medical information. diana's alzheimers. marriage talk. roslyn's suicide. the parentification of jennifer jareau. mommy AND daddy issues. fear of drowning. word count: 7.48k a/n: it's two days late, but it's three times longer than part one. welcome to the abyss of my brain. it's scary in here.

Your name was being called. First, it felt far away, slowly coming closer and closer, lifting you to the surface as if you were being pulled. The sound was muffled until you broke through the barrier, a female voice clearly called your name, prompting your eyes to fly open, and there you were, sitting up on Penelope’s velvet couch, cocooned in a crocheted blanket with what was sure to be a remarkable bedhead.

Lifting your hand and placing it over your racing heart, you looked up at Penelope, the blue streak that you had redone for her last night prominent against her blonde hair. “Hey,” you said, widening your eyes and letting the blanket fall from your shoulders.

She crooked a brow at you suspiciously. For someone who wasn’t a profiler, she did have a knack for reading people, but you supposed it came with the territory. “My darling girl, you are always more than welcome to sleep on my couch, it’s a wonderful couch, I have spent my fair share of nights sleeping on it,” she rambled, sitting down next to you and taking your hands in hers. “You’re hiding,” she told you softly, “What are you hiding from?”

Penelope reached out to you, sweeping a messy strand of hair behind your ear as her big, brown eyes looked at you sympathetically. The gesture and the way she was speaking to you nearly approached being sisterly. At the idea of developing a supplemental sororal relationship with the technical analyst, you pulled away from her. You shook your head, “I’m not hiding,” you told her simply, leaving her with a half-truth as you stood up and began folding the blanket that had kept you warm overnight.

Nodding incredulously, she looked up at you, “If your Luddite boyfriend is blowing up my phone, then something has to be going on.” Her tone was urgent, but she stayed seated, giving you an advantage.

“Nothing’s wrong, Pen,” you reassured her, shaking your head and shrugging simultaneously.

Her face filled with doubt, glancing over at your cellphone as it buzzed on the coffee table, Spencer’s contact flashing on the touchscreen as you ignored the call. “Why didn’t you tell him you were staying with me last night?”

Pressing your lips in a thin white line, you briefly considered coming clean. You envisioned the truth coming out of you in puddles, everything you had been holding close to your chest for the last month pouring out like alphabet soup, but Penelope didn’t deserve that burden. “I just forgot,” you told her, watching the screen go dark.

Spencer was a worrier by the influence of his environment. Adamantly against getting a new phone, he couldn’t see your location at any given moment. His first course of action was usually calling your sister before resorting to Penelope, who not only has your location on her phone but also has access to your location in the bureau database. It wasn’t a fault of his, members of the BAU did have a tendency to disappear in the dead of the night.

She urged you to call him back as her phone started going off, her shoulders slumping forward, a tell-tale sign that the BAU was being pulled in on a case. If you were lucky, you would be able to slip through the cracks, claiming to put all of your focus into the case so that you didn’t need to have an in-depth conversation with your boyfriend. Or your sister, for that matter.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, rolling up your sleeves and crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

Penelope frowned at the tiny screen in front of her, “Baltimore,” she said hesitantly, “Uh, we gotta go. I’ll drive? You can call Spencer on the way,” she suggested before bolting into the bathroom.

You ended up avoiding the call to Spencer yet again, claiming you’d see him at the office anyway, and instead opening yourself up to a barrage of questions.

Was there cheating? Are you pregnant? Were you pregnant? Did he propose? Did you say no? Did you say yes?

The two of you parted as she went to prepare files and you waltzed into the bullpen, clocking the vase of flowers on your desk immediately. They, of course, weren’t just flowers, but a carefully calculated decision made to try and get into your good graces. This was the fifth vase that had been delivered in the last month.

First, there were honeysuckles, a symbol of devoted affection. Red carnations told you that his heart ached for you. A bouquet of daisies because he truly loved you. Last week, white lilies were left on your desk, a symbol of pure love.

Now, a bunch of apple blossoms sat on your desk, telling you that he preferred you before anyone else. How poignant.

Your eyes burned as you looked around the bullpen, hoping he was around so you could return the flowers to him, but the only people you saw were Emily and Rossi, sequestered in her office in the middle of what seemed to be a tense discussion. Choosing to ignore the flowers, you walked over to your desk, tucking your go-bag underneath and starting to power up your computer.

“Hey, Y/N?” Emily called from her office, “Can you head to the file room and pull everything from the Lynch case?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before closing the door again.

Concerned, you turned around and started making your way to the file room. If Everett Lynch was back, that would explain the worried look on Penelope’s face when the case came in. Even more, that would explain why Emily and Rossi were hidden in her office. Every member of the team wanted to see Lynch locked up for what he’s done, but for Dave it was personal.

Opening the file room, you pulled open the drawer of active cases from the past three months, starting to strip the drawer of anything even remotely related to Everett Lynch. The revelation that Grace was his daughter took everyone by surprise, but Spencer still felt responsible for Luke getting knifed. You should talk to him about it, you thought to yourself, if he didn’t talk about it, he’d just continue to internalize it.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice said suddenly from behind you, jolting you away from your train of thought. Spinning on your heel, you looked at Spencer.

Alarmed, you huffed, “You scared me,” you informed him, clutching the files close to your chest as you studied his stature. He looked fine, his hair was a bit of a mess, but he was wearing the red cardigan that you had gotten him for Christmas last year. You didn’t even want to begin to consider the implications of his outfit choice.

He furrowed his brows at you, “I scared you? You disappeared last night without a word, and I scared you?” There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his voice, instead, his words dripped in sweet melancholy, and you couldn’t look away from him.

You thought about your sister, snatched from the nation’s capital in the middle of the night as vengeance for her work with the CIA. Spencer and Penelope, both taken from what should have been a secure FBI building by a cult that bore a decade-long grudge against the BAU. You had frightened him, probably tripping his overactive mind into believing you were destined to meet a similar fate – dying in a warehouse somewhere. Blinking absently, you shook your head at him, “I’m sorry,” you told him, and you meant it.

“You’re punishing me,” he accused, crossing his arms in front of his chest before quickly dropping them, being hypervigilant about his body language.

Skimming your tongue over the backs of your teeth nervously, you hesitantly met his gaze. He seemed to be convinced that you were punishing him for the events that had taken place last month, but you were inclined to believe that you were punishing yourself, he was caught in your crossfire. “It’s not a punishment, Spence,” you whispered, watching how his brown eyes shone under the fluorescent lights.

His shoulders dropped, disappointment plain on his face, “I missed you at the baby shower,” he confessed.

“Sprinkle,” you corrected.

“Semantics,” he retorted, and it almost brought a smile to your face.

You looked down at the files in your arms, not even realizing that you had been white-knuckling the classified information, “I was there,” you disputed. “I saw you. I brought the gift and put both of our names on it. What more could I have done?”

Rolling his eyes, he gave you a tilted look, “Standing together in the group photo would’ve been nice.”

In response, you straightened up your back, “Ah, you were too busy standing with my sister,” you quipped, bringing the conversation back to the root of the conflict.

“Will you come home tonight? Stay with me?” Your heart clenched at his question.

Hesitantly, you nodded, “I’ll be there,” you assured him, securing the last of the files before sneaking around him, skillfully avoiding the remainder of your team as you made your way to the roundtable room.

“I’m worried about Dave,” you whispered, looking at the other end of the couch at your boyfriend, the two of you dressed in pajamas, your old Georgetown sweatshirt frayed at the cuffs, but it remained your favorite.

The orange print of his Caltech t-shirt was peeling up on the edges, sometimes, at night, you’d pick at the emblem – it drove Spencer crazy, especially when he woke up in a pile of picked vinyl. His mug was carefully resting in his hands as the two of you had a nighttime cup of tea, something you used to do when you had just started dating, and that you decided to try to bring back – chamomile for you, lavender for him. “I talked to him tonight,” he told you, turning to face you, “He’s.. he’ll be fine. He has Krystall.”

And I have you, you thought to yourself, lifting your mug to your lips and taking a sip. Sometimes you felt special for getting this side of Spencer, the ratty college t-shirt and flannel pajama pants that he wore while lounging on the worn leather couch.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asked when you didn’t respond, leaning forward and setting his mug on the coffee table.

Shaking your head, you followed suit, setting your mug on a coaster next to his before crawling closer to him on the couch, taking him by surprise. “Not yet,” you whispered, sitting down next to him, relieved when he responded by putting an arm around you. “I’m not mad at you,” you told him, “I just needed time.”

His arm was warm and familiar over your shoulders, having the same effect as a weighted blanket, calming you down with a simple touch. “To think,” he said, “you keep saying that. Are you… do you need more time?”

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, “I don’t think so, but I’m,” you faltered, frowning, “I’m having a hard time talking to my sister.” It wasn’t a secret that there had been some sort of falling out between the Jareau sisters, but the reasoning behind the rift remained a mystery to most people.

“I am too,” he admitted, skimming his fingertips up and down your arm. “I keep recalling everything that happened, and I don’t fully understand how everything got so messed up.

Raising your eyebrows, you remained in the crook of his arm, “People say a lot of things with a gun to their head.”

What you hadn’t considered was that following her admission, your sister would avoid Spencer. When you decided to avoid both of them, you had no idea what you were taking from him. “What would your truth have been?”

“I’m afraid that everything surrounding me is destined to fall apart,” you admitted. “I was brought into my family in an attempt to rescue my parents’ marriage, but it didn’t work.” Your sister slit her wrists open when you were only four years old, but somehow your father had put her death on your shoulders. JJ left home as soon as she could, leaving you at twelve years old with your grief-stricken mother, who had spent the last several decades waiting for the day her daughters would all be reunited.

Spencer was quiet for a while before responding to you, “We should go to bed.”

He was probably right, the team was expected to be in early tomorrow morning. After leaving well past dark, the last thing you wanted to think about was going back in before the sun had a chance to rise. “Wait,” you said, “What’s your truth?”

Briefly, his eyes flickered, looking down the length of your body, “My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep,” he told you, herding you toward your shared bedroom.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, walking through the bedroom and into the ensuite, grabbing your toothbrush off the counter.

Nodding, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll be there.”

Maybe you should’ve taken it as a sign that you were unphased by the revelation of a crazy doctor with a fetish for skinning people. The world had strange ways of telling you that you needed to take a step back, for every sign you had been given, you took a step forward. That was how you ended up in the backseat of an SUV with your sister at the wheel and Spencer in the passenger seat.

Everett Lynch had invaded the BAU’s territory, coming in like an infestation in the district, and he was trying to break his daughter Grace out of jail. You heard through the phone that they were scrambling tactics, using the walkie-talkies in the U.S. Attorney building to prevent their own capture.

The car came to a screeching halt, and the three of you piled out, “There’s no time,” your sister said, looking around, “We’ll cover this one,” she informed Spencer, looking back at you as you adjusted the strap of your Kevlar.

“I’ll take the garage on Piedmont and 10th,” Spencer responded dutifully, nodding at the both of you before turning around and running to the parking garage two blocks over.

You and your sister started to make your way into the larger of the two parking garages, both of you pulling your firearms and pointing them down, keeping yourselves aware of your surroundings. There was movement in front of you, two bodies moving toward a white van with federal plates – the Lynch’s. “Everett Lynch,” you called out, “Drop your weapon and put your hands up, now!”

The man in front of you – the so-called Chameleon – scoffed in disbelief, “Take it easy. There’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl, right?” You kept your Glock aimed at him, watching intently as he carefully set his gun on the ground. Sirens started going off in your head, a premonition of things to come.

“Alright,” JJ shouted, “Kick it over. Grace, you too. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on, now!”

Putting her hands up, Grace let her backpack fall to the ground in a heap of fabric, you kept your gun trained on them as JJ lunged to the side, reaching over to pick up Everett’s gun from the ground. “Grace!” You shouted, watching the girl bring her hands down as she reached for something, “Put your hands back up!”

It was a split-second decision, but you watched as Grace lifted that gun in her hands, and you jumped. You knocked your sister over as three shots rang through the air, the first one grazed her arm. The next two lodged themselves in your side as the two of you fell to the ground, your body rolling along the ground as the father-daughter duo loaded themselves in the van before driving off.

JJ grabbed her weapon and shot after them, hoping to blow out one of their tires or at the very least slow them down, but with only one good arm, her aim was off. She scrambled to her feet, “Come on, Y/N,” she huffed, not checking behind her before running out of the parking garage.

You wanted nothing more than to follow her. Being angry wasn’t worth it anymore, you couldn’t freeze out your older sister anymore. You tried to breathe, you tried to call after her, but when you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out was blood.

For your entire life, you had followed her. When asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you’d tell them you wanted to be like your big sister. You wanted to follow her, but you couldn’t move.

You followed her from East Allegheny to Washington D.C. You had followed her into this very parking garage. Now, all you could think about was following Roslyn, bleeding out on the cold hard floor, alone.

“Y/N, what’s your location?” Spencer’s voice rang through your radio.

You had never been shot before. You had always thought it would be cold to be shot, but instead, your whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“Y/N, do you copy?”

The wetness of the blood should have made it cold.

“Y/N?”

Your fire was slowly fading, the blaze that had gone up so quickly began to ebb as you stopped feeling anything at all. The tapping of shoes echoed through the parking garage as you lay on the cement.

“No,” that all too familiar voice said, “Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now,” Spencer called into the radio, he was out of breath as he looked down at you.

He studied your appearance, clocking the entry wounds on your side and moving his fingers in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. An odd, choked noise escaped your throat as the pressure on your side stoked the fire.

Spencer’s fingers trembled even as he maintained pressure on your side, “I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He took a deep breath, “here, turn- turn your head,” he instructed gently, using his free hand to coax your face to the side. You choked and came to the horrifying realization that he was trying to stop you from aspirating on your own blood. “Get it all out, baby,” he cajoled as blood spurted from your mouth, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That would have to be enough. It wasn’t enough for you to hope anymore. You had spent so long with the Anger and Resentment from your Pandora’s Box that you completely failed to notice how Hope had slipped through the cracks, lost in a sea of emotions.

“Do you hear that? That’s the ambulance,” he told you, an unspoken plea in his voice.

But you couldn’t hear the sirens, pretty soon, you couldn’t hear anything at all.

The EMTs had all kinds of things to say, none of them were even remotely comforting. The bullets had entered through the thin opening of your Kevlar, a sort of Achilles heel where you couldn’t be protected. He should have double-checked, he should have paused to adjust the straps before running to the other parking garage.

He watched the doctors shock you in the emergency room, looking on in horror as your heart stopped beating. “Are you her husband?” One of the nurses had asked.

Spencer’s mouth had gone completely dry, “I’m- almost,” he answered, earning a sympathetic look from the nurse as she proceeded to ask him questions about next of kin and extraordinary measures. One of the bullets had pierced your lungs, causing catastrophic bleeding.

The nurse guided him to a surgical waiting room, but no one came out to him with updates, leaving him to sit. Someone brought his go-bag by, letting him change into clothes that weren’t blood-soaked.

He sat in a pile of limbs on the hospital’s couch, picking at the crusted blood that he hadn’t quite managed to wash off, and he wondered if he could ask one of the nurses for a surgical scrub brush, wondering if that would get the last flecks of blood from the ridges of his fingernails.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, rushing through the hallway, Will trailing close behind her.

Her arm was wrapped with gauze, probably stitched up before someone told her what had happened to her little sister. “Hey,” Spencer said, standing up as they approached, wiping his clammy hands on his slacks.

JJ held her hands out, “What have you heard? Anything?”

“It’s gonna be a while,” he said, repeating the only words that he had been told. They had taken you to the OR an hour ago, and all they had to do was wait it out.

The clinical white walls of the hospital were enough to make Spencer stir crazy, when Will offered to get him a cup of coffee, he was almost aggressive in his rejection. The sunlight reflected off the drywall as your surgery continued to test his patience.

Eventually, your mother called JJ back, and your sister walked away in order to explain the situation under the guise of privacy, leaving Spencer alone. “Dr. Reid?” Someone said, maintaining the reverent tones of the hospital that were beginning to make him want to pull his hair out.

“Yes,” he said, standing up in front of the nurse.

The nurse gave him a gentle smile, and he braced himself for the worst. “Ms. Jareau is out of surgery,” she informed him.

You had been in there for nearly six hours. “She…” he faltered, “Can I see her?” He asked, looking past the nurse as if he could see all the way into your recovery room from where he stood.

Nodding, the nurse continued to smile at him, “I can take you to her now if you’d like. She’s still under sedation,” she advised, gesturing for Spencer to follow her through the winding hallways of the hospital.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked, checking to make sure he had his phone in his pocket so he could text JJ if he needed to.

The nurse’s smile tightened, “We won’t be able to know if she’s sustained any neurological damage until she wakes up.”

He frowned slightly, bracing himself for an answer that he wouldn’t like, “Could she hear me if I talk to her?” He asked, stopping in his tracks as the nurse stopped outside of a room – your room.

“It’s unlikely,” the nurse answered.

That made sense to him, there weren’t any studies that could prove that people could hear external stimuli while comatose. At least, there wasn’t enough for the medical community to reach a consensus. “Thank you,” Spencer said, nodding at the nurse as she turned away, letting him know that the doctor would be by to talk to him soon.

Your skin was pallid, a sickly sheen covering your skin as tubes and wires worked together to monitor you and keep your body going. Spencer set your patient bag in the corner of the room before dragging a chair over to your bedside, cringing at the sound the chair made against the linoleum before taking a seat next to you.

The steady beeping of your heart monitor quickly became the only thing preventing him from falling apart entirely. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his voice down so that no one else would hear him. “I keep going over it in my head and I don’t know how I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” he spoke to your silent body, chest rising and falling with even breaths. “I’m so sorry,” he echoed, “You should’ve… you should’ve been my priority. Before Grace. Before Lynch. Before any of it.”

He inhaled shakily, glancing over at your vital monitor, taking comfort in the consistency of the numbers, “I should’ve put you first and now I- I can’t take it back,” he said, eyes burning with emotion. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately… ever since the pawn shop, I mean. I just,” he paused for a moment, giving himself grace, “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know if she meant it and if she did, what does that mean? When you didn’t bring it up after the wedding I didn’t either because I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Somewhere along the way, the two of you had gotten lost. In the midst of not talking about the pawn shop, you had stopped talking altogether. “Now, all of a sudden, none of it even matters. All that matters is that I need you to wake up because I need to have more time with you,” he sniffled, the first hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he whispered.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, thinking of all of those nights the two of you had stayed up talking about the future. Your dream wedding. Your children’s names. He needed it. More of it. More of you.

Mindful of you, he laid his arms on the armrest of your hospital bed, lowering his head and watching the consistent rise and fall of your chest, listening to the whistling of your nostrils as he waited for the doctor to come.

The doctor seemed confident that you would wake up, it was just a question of when. He sent JJ, who had gone home to change into fresh clothing, an update once the doctor left.

Every once in a while, your nose would twitch or your finger would tap on the hospital bedding, and he would allow himself to get his hopes up. It never lasted long, once the fluke ended, he went back to thinking about the situation realistically. You were still having blood transfused, there was a tube in your chest depositing fluids into a bag at your bedside, and even if you did wake up, there was a long road to recovery with an injury like this.

He was terrified that you’d wake up alone and in excruciating pain, so he refused to move, having any paperwork brought directly to him in your room. Nearly every fifteen minutes, he smoothed out the blanket that rested on top of you, careful when putting his hands near your body, even though you couldn’t tell whether or not your blanket was wrinkled. Spencer thought of it as tucking you in, keeping you safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too little too late.

You didn’t make it to the beach as often as you’d like. Spencer hated the beach, and you weren’t interested in swimming in the ocean so much as you wanted to go and people-watch. Families on vacation. Marriage proposals.

The first time you had ever gone to the ocean, you were three years old. JJ and Roslyn hadn’t been in years, but it was all new to you. JJ wanted to bring you to the water, and Roslyn hadn’t even wanted to go on the trip. The water hadn’t scared you then, the endless abyss of blue had seemed more inviting than anything you had ever seen before.

Now, you lay on the sand, all of it cold beneath your skin, the rest of the beach seemingly abandoned. Try as you might, you couldn’t move anything. You wanted to lift your arm to brush hair out of your face. You wanted to sit up. You wanted to go home.

You couldn’t even see the water from where you lay, you opened your mouth, hoping to call for help, but were surprised when the only thing that came out of your mouth was a dark, black sludge. It spurted from your mouth as it ran down your cheeks, staining the white sand of the beach beneath you. You were drowning on dry land, and there was nothing you could do.

Nothing but open your eyes.

The ominous white sky of the beach turned into white walls, as you fluttered your eyes open, the ocean made way for you, parting so that you could return to yourself. Laid in a hospital bed, trying to remember how to breathe, and meeting Spencer’s stare.

“Hi love,” he whispered, gently placing one hand on top of yours, drawing circles on the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, careful not to knock your pulse oximeter off.

Your brows pinched together as you looked over at him, he looked tired, waiting for you to say something. Your chest felt tight as you looked at him, hundreds of thoughts bubbling to the surface, but only one bubble popped, “I had a nightmare.”

Spencer nodded slowly, messy curls falling over his forehead, “It’s okay, angel. You’re awake now. It can’t hurt you.”

It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.

You watched as Spencer reached over and pushed the call button on your bed. Each moment you spent awake became increasingly painful, signified by the slow rise of your heart rate, the pain only exacerbated when your breathing quickened. Alarm grew, “Shh, hey,” Spencer consoled you, reaching his hand out and smoothing your hair back, looking to the door and hoping someone would come in and help you.

They did, pushing pain medications through your IV and watching your heart rate stabilize before giving you something to help you calm down. Spencer probably knew what they all were, making mental notes to keep track of everything as he kept his hand in yours. Your pain level dwindled from a nine to a six, leveling out in the middle ground.

You settled back into the pillows, cringing as a nurse moved your bed so that you were sitting up slightly, nodding softly at the things that she told you about rest. She checked your vitals, before leaving the two of you alone, silence swirling around the two of you as you constructed a bubble to keep yourselves warm.

“I should’ve found you sooner,” he whispered, looking over at you, a distressed look in his eyes.

Moving at a turtle’s pace, you shook your head, “You saved my life.”

It’s okay. I’ve got you, he had told you in the parking garage, and he did. He still had you, even now. If they had let him, Spencer might’ve waited for you outside the operating room, just to be in the vicinity of you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” you murmured, eyes opening and closing slowly. Your eyelids felt sticky like there was still tape residue on them from your operation, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t dare agitate any wound on your body. “Is JJ okay?” You asked, your voice tight. Checking in on your sister took all of your strength.

Spencer kept his hand in yours, moving his free hand to wipe at tears that had spilled over your lower lashline. “She’s fine, just a graze,” he reassured you, “I’ll call her when you go back to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if you were allowed to have any water, “I missed you,” you breathed, fighting to keep your eyes open. “I wanna talk to you,” you sniffled.

“You should sleep, my sweet girl,” he answered, not wanting you to get into a hefty conversation in your condition. “We have all the time in the world to talk when you wake up.”

Except you didn’t. You had thought there was time for you to be angry, but then you had been shot. As much as you hated the idea of being someone who had a near-death experience and suddenly let bygones be bygones, alienating those close to you seemed exhausting. You took a deep breath, thankful for the nasal cannula on your face, “I’ve been so distant,” you admitted.

Spencer hesitated, not sure if you needed to get into this while so vulnerable, “I don’t know if she meant it,” he breathed.

“I don’t need to know,” you told him, surprising yourself as much as him with your admission. “JJ is… She’s one of the most important people in my life, but so are you. Maybe even more so.”

He frowned, “You can’t possibly mean that.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, “JJ’s my sister, we share the same family, but I chose you, Spence. I will continue to do so,” you told him, deciding against adding until the day that I die. Watching him as he looked at you with tear-filled eyes, “Oh,” you sighed, “please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Waving off your concern, he wiped at his eyes before taking one of your hands in both of his, “I love you so much, but I don’t want you to forget your anger.”

“Huh?” You hummed groggily.

“You’ve been mad for months,” he whispered, the strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand putting you to sleep. “It doesn’t need to fade away in the blink of an eye.”

You let your eyes slip shut once again, “I’ll still give you a hard time.”

He laughed slightly at that, “Good.”

“Spence?” You breathed.

“Yeah, baby?”

Humming, you settled back into the bed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make our tea date tonight.”

When you woke up again, a familiar blonde was sitting at the foot of your bed, hunched in a plastic hospital chair while Spencer remained at your bedside, hands still intertwined, but sweaty now. “Jennifer,” he said, getting the attention of your sister.

She jumped up from the chair and sat on the edge of your bed, in your periphery, you saw Spencer retreat, ambling into the hallway to talk to Emily. Letting him go, you turned your attention to your sister, “Hey, Jayg,” you greeted, words coming easier now than they did before, the swelling of your throat had gone down.

Her finely chiseled eyebrows pinched together on her face, “I thought you were right behind me,” she admitted miserably, looking at your torso.

“It’s alright now, though,” you tried to reassure her. You had lost half of your blood volume, much of it on the parking garage floor, but you were here now, that had to mean something.

She shook her head in abject self-disappointment, “I should have protected you,” she insisted, scrunching up her nose as she fought back tears.

You were too tired to fight emotions, water falling from your tear ducts as the two of you tried to mend what had previously been torn apart. “You don’t need to protect me,” you insisted. The decision to take the hit had been entirely your own, driven by a need to protect her.

“I always have though,” she reminded you, “When Roz died, dad left, and mom checked out, I took care of you.”

When you were a child, you thought that having your pre-teen sister do everything for you was the way things worked. It didn’t last long, things unraveled from there, but you always had JJ. “I’m all grown up now,” you reminded her. You didn’t need her protection in your early thirties in the same way you needed them as a child.

JJ took a shaky breath, cupping your cheek with her hand affectionately, the way a mother would to their child, “You’re always going to be my little sister.”

You looked at her, seven years your senior, and you sighed, “Do you know why I did it?” You asked her, studying the sad look in her eyes.

She smoothed your hair back, grabbed a cup of water from your bedside, and brought the straw to your lips, “Why, Ducky?”

The childhood nickname chimed in your ears, one of the only things that you retained from your eldest sister. You smiled at her, “Your boys.” The answer came easily to you, “You have Will and your tiny people, and I just thought… I couldn’t let you leave them.”

“But I almost lost you,” she countered, it wasn’t aggressive, it was almost like she was trying to make you see the value in your own life. The people in your life didn’t make you valuable, you had value as an individual.

Shrugging, you looked at her sympathetically, “Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, “You’re stuck with me.”

She gave you a sisterly, knowing look, “Your heart stopped. Twice.”

You concurred, “Yeah, because you’re just that stuck with me.” You insisted, watching as Spencer answered a phone call in the hallway. “Did you call them?” You asked her, giving her a quick glance as you craned your neck to keep an eye on your boyfriend.

“Mom’s on a flight in tomorrow morning, but dad hasn’t responded to my voicemail,” she informed you, she didn’t look surprised, and you didn’t feel it.

Where your father was concerned, some things were better left unsaid, but you wouldn’t necessarily mind if he never responded to your sister’s calls. There was no reason to drag him and his new wife from their cushy life in Florida. Spencer reentered the room as JJ’s phone started ringing – Will – and the two of them traded off, amicably splitting time with you.

Greeting him with a content smile on your face, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline, “I have to go,” he told you reluctantly.

You tried not to let any disappointment show on your face, “Why? What’s wrong?” You asked, studying his face for any sign of what his phone call had been about.

“That was Brookfield on the phone,” Spencer said, checking all of the monitors that surrounded you.

The grim look on his face made sense to you. Moving his mother into Brookfield had been the right choice for everyone, but her condition was never going to get better. Last time he had gone to visit, Diana hadn’t even recognized him, and you spent the rest of the day holding him, letting him know it was alright. “You have to go,” you echoed his earlier sentiment, nodding reassuringly.

He hesitated to leave you, sitting on the edge of your bed that had been previously occupied by your sister, “But you- you’re…”

You shook your head in dismissal, “Sometimes everything happens all at once, but you have to go.” If Brookfield was telling him to get down there, then he needed to go.

The next several hours passed slowly, Emily gave you an update on the case – the reader’s digest version, avoiding any gnarly details in an attempt to protect you. Will brought you and JJ dinner, eating the meal with them and your nephews, you were grateful to not have to eat the hospital cafeteria food. Slowly, the day came to an end, you sent JJ home when visiting hours ended, letting her know that you didn’t need to be protected while you were in a hospital.

You fell asleep not long after one of your nurses lowered the volume on your vital monitor, the dark peace of the hospital lulling you into a sense of safety. There hadn’t been word from Spencer, and you worried about him and his mother.

A tapping sound dragged you from what was thankfully a dreamless sleep, you recognized the sound of the footsteps, those shoes made a similar sound on the hardwood floor of your apartment, “You’re noisy when you wear your fancy shoes,” you mumbled drowsily, opening your tired eyes and tilting your head in the direction of the sound.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “Go back to sleep,” he told you gently, slowly making his way around your hospital bed and to the fold-out chair next to your bed.

You hummed, following him with your eyes as they adjusted in the dark, “No, you woke me up. Now you have to talk to me,” you told him, reaching over to switch on a lamp, cringing at the way the light burned your eyes.

Unprompted, he inspected your vital monitor before reaching out to adjust your nasal cannula, “Where’s JJ?” He asked, cupping your cheek affectionately before taking his seat.

Reaching out for your cup of water, you smiled to yourself when Spencer moved it closer to you, “I made her go home. Our mom will be here in the morning, and she’ll need all the rest she can get.” There was also the fact that Michael had been freaked out by seeing you in a hospital, so he needed some extra love from his parents tonight. “Wait,” you said, “How did you get in here? Visiting hours are over.”

“I might have told a small lie about you needing security,” he admitted sheepishly, but beneath it, he was smug. You didn’t fault him on it, you probably wanted him here just as much as he wanted to be here, if not more.

Smiling in the dim lamplight, you inclined your head toward him, “Did you misrepresent the bureau?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d do it again if it meant I get to spend the night with you.” Helping you put your water cup back on your tray, Spencer took your hand in his, “How are you doing?”

You were exhausted, not in the sense that you wanted to sleep, although that probably couldn’t hurt, but in the sense that your entire body ached. There was a pinch in your side that wouldn’t ease up, and you didn’t feel comfortable with asking for more pain medication. Part of you was afraid that in the process of being shot, you developed a fear of drowning. You almost died today. Huge strides had been made in an attempt to repair your relationship with Spencer and with your sister. None of these thoughts escaped your lips, you just looked at him sympathetically, “How’s your mom?”

All he gave you was a tight smile, squeezing your hand tightly, “She’s ah… she’s alright,” he told you, your chest tightening at the emotion in his voice. “They’re calling it an awakening,” he continued, sounding unsure of himself.

“Terminal lucidity,” you breathed, a term you had only read about briefly when Diana was first diagnosed. The two of you had made many cross-country calls, trading information while Spencer stayed with her in Las Vegas.

He nodded, “Yeah… they don’t know how long it…”

How long she had left. How long she would remain lucid. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he answered quickly, too quickly for your liking.

You wiggled your fingers in his hand, getting his attention, “I want you to go back tomorrow,” you ordered him. It wasn’t something you were willing to budge on, insisting that he go back to Brookfield tomorrow to spend more time with his mother.

“She asked about you,” he admitted, leaning back in the chair, keeping your hands intertwined, “She wondered why we never got married. I told her it was never the right time. Do you know what she said to that?”

Watching intently as he shared the story with you, you shook your head, “What did she say?”

He chuckled lightly, “She said that might’ve been the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard me say.”

You smiled as he recounted the story for you, mimicking the hand gestures that you were sure his mother had used. “Obviously she’s never seen your Dirty Harry impression,” you reminded him, trying not to giggle at the memory.

“The right time will never come if we keep waiting around for it,” he told you, reciting the words of wisdom that his mother had imparted upon him.

Your breathing hitched in the dark of the night, “Spence?”

He nodded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” You asked him hesitantly, wondering if that was what he was getting at.

Spencer shook his head, “Not tonight, angel.” He looked around the hospital room, cards and balloons and flowers had made their way in through the afternoon and evening. Penelope had even brought your apple blossoms from your desk. His flower language seemed so inconsequential now. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Will you tell me a story?” You whispered, settling yourself back into the flat hospital pillows, resigning yourself to the end of the marriage conversation.

He hummed, dimming the lamplight, “Which one?” There were a few stories that he had memorized specifically for you. When work or life or nightmares got to be too much, he would recall them for you.

“Can we do Portrait of a Lady again?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling impishly.

He rolled his eyes sardonically, “Your love for Henry James should be studied in a lab.”

You waved him off, “Okay, and? It’s story time.”

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🧚🏽Astrology Notes🧚🏽

🎸If Jupiter is in the first, fourth, seventh, tenth house, it should protect the person from major accidents. Jupiter in the 11th house means many friends. Jupiter in the 9th house means long journeys, usually paid for by someone else. Jupiter in the 4th house means that the person has a very religious family and that he will not live where he was born.

If Saturn is in the falling house (third, sixth, ninth, twelfth), circumstances may arise during that period, but you only become aware of them a few years later. If Saturn is in an angular house (fourth, seventh, tenth) at the time of birth, it sets a pattern that a person will follow throughout his life.

Saturn in the first, second or third house can indicate a burden on a person already in his early life. This is often because of the father. Saturn in the 4th house means that the individual will build a larger valuable property.

If the Sun is in a corner house (first, fourth, seventh, tenth), this means that the exercise of individuality will be visible to others. It makes the power that can bring you fame.

If the Sun is in one of the following houses (second, fifth, eighth, eleventh), this tends to give up publicity and the individual must progress on his own. If it is accepted by the public, it is not based on a personal initiative, as the main position of the sun sign would suggest. Follow-up houses often lead y dealing with other people's lives and/or their property.

If the Sun is in the falling houses (third, sixth, ninth, twelfth), this indicates that the individual thrives best behind the scenes. It makes an individual who serves. The beauty and strength of this individual are visible only to those closest to him in close contact with him.

Uranus is the planet that shows the clairvoyance of a person and the premonitions that a person has. But it is also a planet associated with astrology.

Mercury and Uranus: each aspect helps the person to communicate well. A person writes a horoscope.

Sun and Uranus: this is one of the more important aspects. No matter how aspected it brings a person great success in the field of astrology. And people will accept him as an expert and trust that person. You will become an authority figure, so you can make sure that you are honest.

Pluto rules kidnappings and gangsters. And many people do not know that pluto is also the co-ruler of Aries. So people who have a lot of Aries and act mysteriously is also part of it.

Cancer rising people are very sensitive when someone is rude to them. They take it to heart when someone is rude to them, especially authority figures. They are very used to home and family and it is difficult for them to be with people who are not their family for a long time. Let's say: if someone takes them to a doctor, they will always want it to be a person who is related to them.

Capricorn rising people are basically unaffected by things. And they are used to people being harsher towards them. are basically unaffected by things. And they are used to people being harsher towards them. They have tough skin and are generally not that personal as a sign. They look at things from a different perspective.

Aquarius Sun tend to want more friendly relationships than romantic ones. They don't like you controlling them or telling them what to do. But they are prone to long engagements. They also say that Aquarians do not like flashy and provocative clothes, jewelry and make-up. Although it all depends on what other signs a person has.

Venus:

Venus in Aries- are often selfish in love and will always put themselves first. And it is considered unstable venus.

Venus in Taurus- are very frugal with money. In love, however, they are loyal, deep and lasting.

Venus in Gemini- in love, they tend to flirt or have several relationships at the same time.

Venus in Cancer- are emotional and tend towards the domestic environment. They can be better parents than partners. This position is not always favorable for marriage.

Venus in Leo- love to spend, especially on people they love. They like attention. They are frank, honest and sometimes too kind-hearted.

Venus in Virgo-Venus falls here. They are artistic, but they are also emotionally closed. They tend to be critical. Once they commit, they don't let up.They are often disappointed in relationships and have several.

Venus in Libra- are young at heart, often indecisive. They are determined hosts. They often marry early.

Venus in Scorpio- are passionate, intense, mysterious, jealous. They strongly desire to know the hidden motives of others. He is quick to rate people. They can have a hard time forming relationships.

Venus in Sagittarius- are positive, sincere, passionate, irresistible. They are very idealistic, philosophical. They are intuitive, loyal and love a mystical way of life. They have many friends.

Venus in Capricorn- usually not open, they are calculating, serious, careful. They are often disappointed in love, so they are afraid of relationships. They can get married for the sake of society. They marry a person who can be quite different.

Venus in Aquarius - aloof in love, quickly establish contacts with strangers. They are usually more friendly than romantic. They tend to have multiple relationships.

Venus in Pisces- often fantasize about their love life. They are sensitive and also depressed. Music has a good effect on them.

The first house covers areas of life such as: early life impression, causes of financial losses, long journeys of children and their religious inclinations, friends of brothers and sisters.

The third house covers areas of life such as: incidental sciences, willpower, speech and hearing, reasons for moving away from home, long journeys of a spouse.

The fifth house covers areas of life such as: spouse's friends, grandchildren's long journeys, person's passions, ways of relaxation, cause of bankruptcy.

The seven house covers areas of life such as: the description and characteristics of a marriage partner, friends in other countries, rivalries, quarrels and fights, enemies and rivals, things that are the most difficult for a person to achieve, the outcome of diseases, the mentality of children, the later life conditions of the father in the female chart, later life conditions of the mother in the male chart.

The eighth house covers areas of life such as: natural death of a person, business friends, transition to the astral world, gateway to the spiritual world, acquisitions due to partnership, acquisitions due to marriage, investigation of lawsuits, short trips to work.

The second house covers areas of life such as: inner emotions and feelings, financial visions, the propriety of borrowing money, a person's ingenuity, the ability to be comfortable, what you give is what you get, family friends, time and reputation of children, inheritances and inheritances by marriage partner, cause of death partner.

The fourth house covers areas of life such as: family traditions, situations in later life, kitchen, causes of sadness due to love relationships, inheritances from other countries.

The sixth house covers areas of life such as: favors, small animals, attitude to diet, restrictions due to marriage, restrictions due to partner, working conditions, food, clothing.

The ninth house covers areas of life such as: rites and ceremonies, types of church, gains from spiritual experiences, gains from psychic experiences, the person's consciousness, the hygienic conditions of the person's home, the care or neglect of property, the mentality of the spouse, the health of the parent of the opposite sex, the end of the life of uncles, restrictions or losses in business, situations of children's romantic relationships.

The tenth house covers areas of life such as: the house of pride, reward karma, grief and loss of friends, long journeys due to money matters, children's health, the cause of death of loved ones, the end of the life of a spouse, money that you can earn from traveling.

The eleventh house covers areas of life such as: societies and organizations to which one belongs, punishments, fines that a person has to pay, the way money is spent, agreements in foreign countries, attitude towards entertainment of the spouse, potential cause of loss of property, health of uncles and aunt on your mother's side.

The twelfth house covers areas of life such as: a symbol of the most difficult battles, a symbol of the most difficult tasks, a symbol of accidents, losses, fate, enemies, hospitals, asylums, the house of spies, the cause of the end of romantic relationships, residence in a foreign country, how someone sleeps and relaxes, house hindsight, self-analysis, friends' finances, friends' acquisitions, closest point of contact with a person's soul.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🧚🏽🪐🎸