Where reader helps their best friend Frank ask Gerard out to the dance.
Wc ~ 500
Lmk if i should make this into a series!!! Comments are very much appreciated hihi
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
"God Frank, you look rough." you say as you carelessly sit yourself down next to the rather stressed out black haired boy. The two of you usually met behind the bleachers to smoke, and you just so happened to both have a free period.
"Don't even." Your bestfriend answers unamused as he ruffles his tousled hair.
You knew exactly what was troubing him. After all, you were the only one who knew about his not-so-secret secret. "Let me guess-" you started before Frank suddenly cut you off.
"Yes." He said quickly, and unamused.
"I just don't see why you can't just... You know. Ask him out???" The school's end of year dance was coming up, and although you and 4 particular friends of yours usually dont attend fancy school things like this, you decided you'd go just this once. But only because it was free and it was the last dance of the last year.
"Because!!!" Frank cried out. "He's like my friend, you know. Well, I'm his friend. It'd be weird if he said no. Besides. I don't think he could ever see me like that... He's so -"
"Ughhhh Frank, please!" You groaned in disgust to cut off your friend from talking about how perfect and passionate and blah blah blah ur other friend is.
You snatched his lighter to light ur own cigarette. "You think too much. You know what I do? I observe. And you know what I obs-"
"Get to the point dude."
You offered him a quick sideglance before clearing your throat.
"Okay. Last week in history. When you stuck up for him after that blonde guy picked on him? He was totally all heart eyes for you for the rest of the day. Or the other day when we were playing dnd at Ray's. Mikey even commented on it later! And he definitely knows things we don't. It was genuinely disgusting as to how much you two were flirting and-"
"That wasn't even- we weren't flirting! That's just the way he is."
"Yeah with you!" You exlaim as you give him a 'duhh' look as you watch him play with his lip piercing.
"Okay fine. But how and when do I even ask him." He asks.
You let out a loud sigh as you scold him for forgetting all of your idea's you've already contributed over the last week. "Dude just ask him and claim that u meant as friends if he says no. Simple as."
Frank took one last drag of his cigarette before he kicked it out and stood up.
"Alright. I'll do it."
You gave him a quick fistbump as he walked away.
As you finished the rest of your cigarette, you couldn't help but wonder if Frank was really going to ask Gerard out to the dance this time.
I hear the requests for dulce et decorum pt 3 and im planning on writing it i promise, i fear im just suffering from writers block rn (i thought that was fake but i can literally only stare at a blank doc)
So i will post soon!!! Im just sort of lost as to where the plot should go, so suggestions are more than welcome xx
being an x reader writer and trying to be inclusive of all readers makes me overthink so much like should i write about you having smth with milk in it? no no what if the reader is lactose-intolerant. about the reader being the big spoon? noo what if they wanna be cuddled like a little spoon. about fingers through your hair? noooo what if the person reading it is bald
I feel that it's my mission as a history nerd and someone who's been reading Gladiator II fics since the movie release to inform writers that there's evidence of gladiatrices — female gladiators — in ancient Rome.
The knowledge of these women warriors is gleaned from only two visual representations and a handful of references from Roman historians, but their existence is undeniable!
So, I'm just throwing the idea out there for anyone who wants some ideas and spice for their Gladiator fics 👀
Ask: Mitch Rapp x reader during Christmas (from my absolute n1 inspiration @star--stilinski xx)
Warnings: allusion to sex, not proofread.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
You're still wrapped in who-knows-how-many soft blankets when you feel yourself waking up.
Your eyes slowly open, adjusting to the sudden brightness.
Why the hell is it this bright anyway?
One by one, you drag all of the layers off of you asif you were a Christmas gift yourself and you walk over to the window.
Oh my god. It's snowing. IT'S SNOWING ON CHRISTMAS?
It being Christmas was one, but there being a thick layer of icy cold snow on the ground outside made you about 10x more excited. You hadn't experienced this since you were maybe 6 years old.
You adored Christmas. Your boyfriend didn't.
You're not even sure why. Partly you're convinced it's just one big lie or something, because you know your boyfriend and you SWEAR he enjoyed helping you decorate the house.
Anyhow, Christmas makes you happy, and you being happy makes Mitch happy even when he's not happy about the cause. It was all a bit paradoxical.
This was also your first Christmas actually together. Laat year, Hurley dragged him out on some mission.
It didn't really matter as he hadn't been your boyfriend for long at the time, and you were more than happy to spend Christmas with your sister.
In any case, you skipped back over to your bed, planning to wake up your sleeping boyfriend.
You kissed his shoulder a few times before calling his name in a sing-song voice. "Miiiiitch?"
He stirred at the noise and the contact. "What?" He asked confusedly.
"Wake up! It's Christmas morning."
In return, he groaned and went back to sleep. Or so you thought.
You climbed on top of him, trying to press all of your weight on him, asif that would've made him wake up. "Nononono come on, Mitch, let's go."
He quickly rolled you both over so you were now laying under him, except he held himself up instead of crushing you.
He peppered a bunch of kisses on your jaw, neck, cheek and collarbones, making you giggle. "Good morning to you too." He said in between kisses.
You pressed a soft kiss to his lips before looking at him. "Merry Christmas, babe."
He pretended to roll his eyes and climed off of you.
You both put on some warmer clothes over your pyjamas, you sneaking one of his jumpers on before he noticed, and headed downstairs.
You turned on all of the pretty Christmas lights as he lit the fire. You lived in a quite secluded house, which was quite in the middle of nowhere, for obvious reasons, so the fire was necessary.
You were so so excited to give him your presents. He wasn't too keen on Christmas, you know that, so you just got him a few small things he might like. He'd be much happier just enjoying the food you'll make later anyway.
You turned on the radio for some Christmas music. "I'll be so glad when the radio goes back to normal." Mitch commented, referring to the repetitive choice of music on the radio.
To be honest, this is the one thing you could kind of agree on. "Yeah yeah yeah stop it. I reckon sven Scrooge found more joy in Christmas."
At this, he let out an amused huff and hugged you from behind as you made 2 hot drinks.
"I got you a gift." He whispered as his head lay on your shoulder.
You looked to your side in a surprised and excited manner.
"You wanna open it?" He questioned as you fully turned around. "Sure do." You ansered suspiciously. You definitely hadn't expencted this.
So, he took your hand and led to the living room where he sat you down on the couch.
The room bathed in soft fireplace lighting, and it smelt like the fragrant needles that belonged to your Christmas tree.
"Let me go and get it." He quickly murmered to himself as he made his way upstairs to collect your present.
Meamwhile, you yourself also grabbed the wrapped items you'd bought for your boyfriend.
When he god back, he rounded the corner with a slight smirk on his face and sat down next next to you as he draped an arm across the back of the couch.
You were a bit scared. Why on earth was he smirking like that.
"Merry Christmas, baby." He said smugly as you gave him yet another questioning look.
You looked down at the neatly wrapped box in front of you and started tugging at the ribbon that formed a bow.
It was no secret that Mitch wasn't too keen on Christmas. However, if it made you so happy and if he had to endure it, then he might aswel make it enjoyable for himself, no?
He'd been looking forward to giving you this.
As you finished tearing the paper off of the box, you carefully lifted its top.
There, you found a set of perfectly placed whitw, lacey lingerie.
You gasped as you realised what that smirk was for.
This might have technically been more of a present to himself than to you, but you loved it all the same.
It was indeed your size, and it actually looked really gorgeous.
Then, you god an idea.
"Thank you baby." You kissed his lips lovingly. "I'll be riiight back!"
Before he could reply, you were already off to your bedroom, getting ready to show off your generous gift.
After you put it on, you took a look at yourself in the mirror.
Holy shit.
You can't lie, your boyfriend had good taste.
You deintily skipped down the stairs and innocently walked into the living room where his jaw immediately fell to the floor.
"Merry Christmas to you too, baby" you said in a hushed voice.
You started doing slow spins and all different kinds of poses to show off your new set.
He looked completely mesmerised. "You are..." he said as he stood up and slowly made his way over, fully taking you in as he towered over you. "-the most beautiful angel to walk this earth." He finished.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him slowly.
However, he started to get more eager, and your kisses became hungrier and sloppier.
His hands, that previously found themselves respectfully on your back, now travelled lower towards the round flesh of your ass.
You yelped as he pinched before swiftly picking you up.
You laughed as you realised where he was taking you. "I believe this will be my favourite Christmas yet." He commented as he now caredully placed you on you guys' bed.
You suppose your now cold drinks and your gift to him will have to wait.
Summary: Once, you only had the memory of the curious barbarian poet, entertaining guests at a party with both violence and verse. But it's not until you see him again, now as emperor, that you get to know the man underneath the titles.
Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, power imbalance (emperor/servant to freedwoman), mutual pining, slow-ish burn, sort of forbidden love?, lots and lots of fluff good lord, some jealousy, some angst, lovey dovey smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), maybe some historical inaccuracies lol (I care a lot okay), and iii think that's it but lmk if anything else!
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"Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name."
– Ovid.
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“The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth the descent, and easy is the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.”
That was the first time you had ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice riddled with contempt. Moments before, he had killed another gladiator, his blood spattered on him like a gruesome adornment. But there was no savagery in his fierce eyes, no mere bloodthirst in the sneer directed at Emperor Geta, your Dominus. His glare was even, like a cold, blue flame that promised not just violence, but retribution as well.
You’d recognized the poem immediately, just as taken aback as everyone else. Nobody moved, the room’s collective breath held in anticipation of the inevitable repercussions of such an offense. Emperor Geta made the slightest move to raise his sword and you gripped the decanter of wine tighter, but your face remained impassive.
“Virgil,” supplied Macrinus, trying to placate him with a broad smile. “He was taught poetry just to amuse you, Imperators.”
There was another momentary pause in which neither twin was sure if they should believe him. But then, Caracalla snorted, standing up to clap the taller man’s shoulder.
“A poet,” He said, laughing. “That’s genius, Macrinus.”
“Yes, certainly very amusing,” Geta said begrudgingly, his jaw clenched.
He and the gladiator had not stopped staring at each other for one moment, like two vipers poised to strike.
“Good, I thought you’d like that,” Macrinus said, approaching his fighter to grasp his shoulder, perhaps in warning. “We live to serve you both.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing your poet at the upcoming games in the Colosseum,” he spits out, throwing the sword aside with a loud clatter. “Let’s see how his verses work for him then.”
Macrinus nodded at his steward to take the gladiator away. He was smiling, seemingly amused, as the steward approached him. As he was being shoved back to the atrium, his eyes took one last baleful look around the room. For the briefest second, you thought his eyes met yours, striking you like a piercing arrow, but then he was gone.
You had no time to dwell on it though, as Emperor Geta returned to his seat and raised his glass to be refilled. But that didn’t mean you would forget so easily, even if your paths might never cross again. All you could do was offer a prayer to the Gods for him.
—--------------------------
The next time you saw him, he was no longer a barbarian gladiator hailed from a distant land, but the new – and rightful – Emperor of Rome. His name was not Hanno, but Lucius Verus Aurelius, and he was the son of the recently passed Queen Lucilla, whom Rome still mourned.
He was not cruel like the twins had been, rarely raising his voice, much less his hand. His demeanor was usually calm, but sometimes he stalked the halls restlessly, as if unsure what he should be doing. He still rose with the sun and trained for a couple of hours in the morning, already used to the routine he’d had as a gladiator, but after that, it was all politics. Endless scrolls of parchment to pore over, meetings to hold with the senate, and lending a patient ear to the populace’s needs. The weight of an empire was on his shoulders, and yet he didn’t bow under it.
During the day, you served his wine and silently hovered around for anything else he might need. At night, you drew his baths, kept his torches lit, and prepared his bed. You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally.
There were times when you caught him looking at you as if you seemed vaguely familiar, a furrow in his brow when he couldn’t place you. You couldn’t fault him for not remembering you from Senator Thraex’s party, but there was a certain thrill at having piqued his curiosity regardless. Still, you kept your head down and offered no hints, as was your place.
Until one night, while he watched you add aromatic oils and test the bath’s temperature, he finally asked the question that had been on his mind for days.
“What is your name?”
You were startled at first, not having expected him to address you at all. You told him your given Roman name, Domicia, and bowed your head respectfully. He pushed himself off the doorway and stepped into the bathroom, humming thoughtfully.
“Of the home,” he said, referring to the name’s meaning. “Are you Roman? Is that your real name?”
You shook your head in answer to both questions. “I have been in Rome for many years now, though.”
“I have not,” he said, a note of melancholy in his voice. “Yet I grew up here, in these very halls…”
He trailed off, looking around absently, lost in his memories. You could not begin to imagine what he had been through, what he had seen. You had heard of his being sent away as a child, with absolutely no choice in the matter, and could empathize with him.
All you had ever known was a humble life in your native country, until you were stripped of your freedom and brought to the capital of Rome. Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again.
“We are honored and grateful to have you back, Dominus,” you said. “I hope things have been to your satisfaction.”
“I have no complaints,” he said, yet he sighed. “Though becoming accustomed to being here, in my current position, is going to take some more time.”
“If there is anything I can do to make it easier for you, please let me know.”
He inclined his head gratefully, your eyes meeting for a moment. “Thank you, Domicia.”
He had the barest of smiles on his handsome face, but you could tell it was genuine. You felt one corner of your lips tugging upwards, but you looked away out of propriety. Even if you were in the same room, you were leagues apart, and it would do you no good to try to imagine otherwise.
You stood up, grabbing the decanter from a nearby table to have it refilled. “Your bath is ready now. Would you like refreshments other than wine?”
He nodded and you bowed, making your way out. By the time you returned with more wine and a platter of olives, bread, and cheese, he was already in the bathtub, leaning back with his eyes closed. Your feet padded softly on the mosaic floor to avoid disturbing him, and you left his refreshments on the table near the tub.
You settled at one side of the room just in case he might need anything, staring off into the middle distance and letting your mind drift. He glanced at you sidelong, his curiosity having only grown after your brief conversation. He still had that nagging feeling that he had seen you somewhere before, but he didn’t want to ask outright.
You felt his gaze on you but pretended not to, keeping your eyes averted. You thought again of the poem he’d recited, how different his demeanor had been then. You wondered what other verses he’d been taught, and if you might ever hear him recite anything again. He had a voice for poetry, somehow turning the words into a sort of enchantment, keeping one entranced.
“Doesn’t it feel… strange sometimes?” he said suddenly, staring up at the ceiling. “When things settle and you realize how far you have come? How much you’ve had to sacrifice for it?”
You hummed in agreement, waiting for him to say more.
“Sometimes, I even wonder if it was all worth it.”
Still lost in a haze of verses, you spoke before you could even think it through.
“Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.”
He sat up, surprised. “You know Virgil.” Recognition finally dawned on him. “You were at that party, weren’t you?”
You nodded. “Your words then were just as sharp as your blade.”
He huffed, leaning against the edge of the tub as he remembered his barely contained hatred. “Were you taught poetry to amuse, as well?”
“No, I used to read it with my mother when I was younger.”
“Who else have you read?”
“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.”
“And you?”
It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”
The truth was that in a place such as Rome, love was quite hard to come by. You didn’t actively search for it, its ephemeral nature making you less inclined to, but you were no complete stranger to it. You’d never let it take root, though, for it was not something you could afford to have.
“What about you, Dominus?”
“Me?” he said. “I suppose… I’m not entirely sure anymore. I used to be, at one point.”
His haunted expression told you not to press him for details, so you just nodded sympathetically. The two of you lapsed into silence, the weight of tragedy hanging between you. You’d had a lot more time to become numb to your circumstances, but it was clear the pain he was experiencing was still fresh.
“I will be forced to remarry eventually.” He sighed heavily. “Produce heirs to carry out the lineage, show Rome a unified front.”
“Well, whoever you marry shall be the most fortunate woman in the empire.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking over at you. “You really believe so? You’re not just flattering me?”
“Of course,” you said, giving him a cryptic smile that made him laugh again. “I’m perfectly serious.”
“Oh, I am sure you are.”
After some time, he rose with a small splash, prompting you to immediately approach with an outstretched towel. His nudity barely registered in your mind, having already glimpsed him a few times. You wouldn’t dare to look at him directly, even if you were more than a little curious. You tensed as his fingers barely brushed yours in the exchange, but you quickly stepped back to give him more room.
He wrapped the towel around his waist, water dripping down his sculpted arms and chest. You went to start tidying up, studiously keeping your eyes on your task. He watched as you picked up the refreshments to take to the main chamber, a part of him wishing you would look at him instead.
“One more thing,” he said and you immediately turned around. “Please, I want you to call me Lucius.”
Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…”
“I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.”
“I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure.
He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”
—-----------------
Weeks passed, and while Lucius still hadn’t managed to get you to call him by name, he had certainly gotten you to open up more. In the evenings, the two of you swapped more poetry, often sharing your own interpretations of the verses. At some point, he even had scrolls fetched from the library for you to read to him. He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating, but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.
During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape. You still held yourself at a certain distance, though, always aware of the chasm between you. Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.
You wouldn’t necessarily say you were getting attached, for that would be too unrealistic of a fantasy, but you could not deny the butterflies in your stomach that often appeared while around him. His easy, handsome smile, the kindness in his eyes, his patient indulgence when listening to you, and the effort he put into making you laugh…
But the spell was abruptly broken the day he received a visit from his friend Ravi, who had brought someone for him to meet – a respectable Roman lady. A widow, as it happened, just like Lucius. Her hair was perfectly styled, falling in ringlets that framed her lovely face. She wore a lavender-colored dress with a matching veil, much fancier than anything you’d ever owned, and was adorned with golden jewelry. More importantly, she was freeborn, and thus a perfectly good candidate for marriage.
You swallowed hard, otherwise keeping your expression neutral. You hadn’t thought he would start meeting potential brides so soon, and you certainly hadn’t expected how it would make you feel. At least, Lucius also seemed surprised, not expecting his friend to try to set him up without consulting him first. Still, he assumed the role of gracious host and welcomed them warmly, leading them out to the gardens. He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.
The three of them reclined on the couches of the outdoor dining area, shaded by a wooden pergola. It was a beautiful sunny day, the birds singing accompanied by the gurgle of the large fountain at the center of the garden. A gentle breeze stirred the foliage, carrying the faint, sweet smell of a dozen different flowers.
You served them wine and hovered close by as another servant brought them food to snack on. Lucius had deliberately sat across from where you stood just so he could keep an eye on you. You’d withdrawn into yourself, trying your hardest to remain indifferent instead of worrying about whether the meeting went well or not. If it did, then you had to be happy for him, but if it didn’t… Well, at least that would buy you a little more time, if nothing else.
“Such a lovely garden,” the lady, Ilaria, said as she looked around. “One could never tire of such a view.”
Lucius nodded absently but said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard her.
“I could see you fitting in perfectly with all the other flowers here,” Ravi cut in, smiling with as much charm as he could muster to make up for it.
Ilaria inclined her head, modestly waving off the compliment. “Oh, you flatter me, Ravi.”
He gave Lucius a subtle, pointed look to encourage him to follow his lead. Lucius sat up and cleared his throat, only just focusing on the conversation. He had been trying to get your attention as subtly as possible, but he hadn’t been successful.
“Er, yes, it’s always a treat to spend time out here. Certainly helps to clear the mind.”
Ravi shook his head a little and tried not to snort with amusement, thinking he was a lost case. Ilaria smiled, unbothered, taking a handful of grapes from a platter and popping one into her mouth.
“I’d wager there is much on your plate, Imperator,” she said. “And having to manage the household staff on top of everything else… Must be a little overwhelming for you, no?”
“Well, I am a very busy man, yes, but it hasn’t been all that bad,” Lucius said. “I’ve certainly had a great deal of support to see me through.”
His words managed to reach you, softening you up infinitesimally. This time, when he glanced at you, you finally looked back. The ghost of a smile was on your face, but you quickly looked away before it could actually manifest.
“I see. Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ilaria said, sharing a curious glance with Ravi, who looked slightly apologetic. “Though perhaps you have considered that having someone run the house for you would take a big burden off your shoulders. I would be more than happy to lend a hand if you’d consider it.”
His eyebrows raised slightly at her boldness, not missing the eagerness in her gaze, poorly concealed behind her innocently helpful demeanor. He certainly did not want to get her hopes up, but he smiled graciously to soften the blow.
“Ah, perhaps in the future, when I have more time to worry about such things,” he said, politely noncommittal. “But I appreciate the offer.”
Her smile wavered and then froze, not wanting to seem too disappointed. “Of course, Imperator.”
For the remainder of their visit, Lucius let them do most of the talking, any remarks he made were studiously polite and yet still a little aloof. Finally, after a few hours, he excused himself, needing to return to his duties. Ravi seemed hesitant, like he wanted to stay behind and speak to him privately, but he would have to wait for another day. He escorted them both out, thanking them for visiting, but he did not exactly invite Ilaria to return to the palace. Her disappointment was more palpable then, but she hid it with as much grace as she could muster.
When they were gone, he turned to you with a shake of his head and a sigh, grinning with bewilderment.
“I do not enjoy being ambushed,” he said as if he felt the need to explain himself. “Decent enough as she seemed.”
You bowed your head in agreement, more relieved than you would like to admit. You had no real reason to have been upset earlier, given that there was nothing between you except for a certain kinship. Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.
He inclined his head towards the eastern hallway leading to his study. “Come, I would like you to read some documents to me. I can get work done faster that way.”
The tablinum was spacious but cozy, with a door to one side that led to a smaller patio. Before, the twin emperors had never used the room, but now it seemed well lived in. There was a mess of scrolls and wax tablets all over his desk that he still hadn’t let you organize. On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.
You lit the oil lamps in their alcoves, bathing the room in warm light. Lucius sat at his desk with a heavy exhale and scanned his notes to remember where he had left off the previous day. You sat on a stool beside him, unfurling the scroll he handed you and resting it on your knees. The texts you read didn’t always make sense to you, but you understood their importance. The fact that he was entrusting you with such work was an honor you did not take for granted.
“Start in that middle section. There is some stuff I would like to revisit,” he said, taking up his stylus.
You nodded, finding what he was referring to and starting right away. You read to him for the next couple of hours, only stopping if he needed you to repeat something or in case he needed more time to make his notes. A few times during the latter, you glanced up to take in the focused furrow of his brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pondered. You wondered what he might be thinking about, wishing he would impart some more knowledge on you.
Outside, the sun was beginning to set, shadows deepening in the corners of the room. Another servant brought him dinner, but he didn’t seem too hungry yet. He handed you his cup of water when he heard you clear your throat a few times, insisting when you were reluctant to take it.
When he was done for the day, he stretched his arms over his head with a groan and slumped in his seat. You neatly rolled the parchment back up and stood so you could stretch your legs.
“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.”
“Well, I still need to draw your bath and…”
“Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied.
You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?”
“Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”
You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that said it was not up for discussion. You pursed your lips, uncomfortable at the idea of being idle, especially while taking up his seat. Still, you obeyed and sat down, hands folded on your lap. Feeling a little bold, you looked at him as if to say ‘satisfied?’ and he huffed in amusement.
“Wait, stay still,” he murmured suddenly, leaning down.
You froze as his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. Delicately, he removed a stray eyelash that had been resting on your cheekbone, and he pulled back a little so you could see it on the pad of his finger.
“Make a wish,” he said.
All you could do was stare at him for another breathless moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. You licked your lips nervously, drawing his eyes there before they returned to hold your gaze. Your heart was like a nervous bird fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Your mind was mostly blank, but the one thought that popped up was ‘I wish he would close the distance right now.’
You gently blew the eyelash away, your wish scattering into the air alongside it. The Gods must have decided to grant it immediately, for he did not pull away, instead slowly leaning in. His lips brushed yours tentatively and you closed your eyes, rejoicing for the barest second before you forced your face to turn away.
“We shouldn’t…” you murmured, the words hard to utter when a desperate want clung to your throat like honey.
“Why not?” He whispered.
“It’s not– I’m not…” You vaguely gestured towards yourself, unsure of what the right words were.
He pulled back to look at you better. “Was I too presumptuous?”
You shook your head. “Not at all.”
“Then what is it?” He pressed.
“Dominus, please.”
“Lucius,” he pleaded, loathing the title. “Say it, please.”
“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.”
“I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”
“Surely you understand where I am coming from, though.” You sniffed, keeping tears at bay. “I am not wife material, like the lady Ilaria. I have nothing to offer, no dowry, no family name, or even an inkling of Patrician blood. ”
“I do not care for such things. I would never demand them of you. Even if we cannot marry, I will not marry anyone else that isn’t you,” he said with a firm, determined shake of his head. “But I can still give you my name, along with your freedom. That’s all that matters to me.”
You gasped, the shock of his words akin to a bucket of ice water being dumped over you. Now you let the tears spill over, like a dam had finally burst. He kissed them away, his hands cupping your face gently.
“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
“You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”
“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.”
You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.
“Pairs rather well with Lucia Veria, if I do say so myself,” he said with a proud chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you’ll have it, that is.”
You knew by the disarming earnestness in his eyes he wasn’t just offering the name, but himself, as well. His whole heart in the palm of your hand, should you choose to care for it. You felt as if you had already made that choice a while ago, when you first recited Virgil back to him.
“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.”
He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”
More tears flowed as a result of an overwhelming rush of both gratitude and love. You had tried to ignore your feelings, not uprooting them but instead silently letting them grow unacknowledged. For once, it had seemed worth the risk of heartbreak. After all, the love hadn’t stemmed from something as fleeting as lust, but a mutual understanding and respect. It was more than you could ever ask for, and yet everything you desired.
You leaned your forehead against his, your noses brushing as he tilted his head back. This time, it was you who brought your lips to his with a tentative sort of tenderness, propriety still at the back of your mind. He responded in kind, letting you set the pace so as not to scare you off. If you weren’t shaking so much, you might have noticed he was shaking, too.
In that kiss, there was the promise of mutual devotion, sweet and sincere. You were still holding each other’s hands, as if afraid you might drift apart if you let go. You understood then why odes were written about this feeling, as all-consuming as the churning waves of the sea. All those verses had never resonated with you more.
Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all.
—------------------
The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, the fresh sweetness of it bringing you a sense of tranquility. You leaned against the windowsill, looking up at the stars and trying to piece together constellations. The world seemed drastically different now that you had your freedom, so vivid, so open, so alive. You even noticed it in your posture and the lightness with which you walked, as if you were floating. Lucius had said you were radiant with it.
He’d insisted on taking care of you the same way you’d cared for him, eager to show you his gratitude. You had been hesitant at first, but at his unwavering conviction, you relented, curious how it might feel to be spoiled. All that day, he had served you reverently, taking time off from his duties to focus solely on you.
You couldn’t help getting flustered at all the attention, his ardent gaze like a caress every time it met yours. His touch had so far been entirely chaste, but even the smallest, most innocuous contact was heightened with anticipation. The brush of his fingers over yours when he handed you something, a guiding hand on your lower back, even a touch on your shoulder to make you aware of his presence.
There were a few sneaked kisses in both the garden and the tablinum, each one of them leaving an undercurrent of warmth under your skin that promised more. It was like a slow, drawn-out game of chase, neither of you in a rush to reach its conclusion. If anything, it only made you want each other more.
After the sun had set, when the two of you drifted along as if in a drunken stupor, Lucius went to prepare a bath for you in his chambers. You were nervous and exhilarated, every moment spent waiting for him to be done an exquisite agony. Until finally, he poked his head around the bathroom door.
“It’s ready now,” he said, beckoning you with a smile.
You followed him into the bathroom, hands wringing anxiously. Flower petals were scattered on the mosaic floor, leading towards the steaming tub. Flickering candles bathed the room in a warm glow, making your shadows dance on the wall. You looked at each other, both knowing what the next step was but hesitant to initiate it. He averted his gaze first, gesturing towards the door.
“Would you like me to give you some privacy?”
You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.”
His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”
He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides.
“The evening star is the most beautiful of all stars,” he said in a low voice, quoting Sappho.
Warmth spread from your chest to your face, and you smiled coyly as another verse came to mind. “Come to me once more, and abate my torment…”
You offered him your hand, which he took, and he led you to the tub. You daintily stepped in, sighing contentedly as you sank into the water’s enveloping warmth. He knelt next to the tub, leaning against it with one arm propped on the edge.
“Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”
You huffed with amusement, looking down as you fought a geeky grin. “Well, about a hundred times with just your eyes. A few times out loud, though.”
He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to show you in other ways, too… If I may.”
You nodded, silently granting him permission. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up. He took it upon himself to bathe you, starting out by scrubbing your scalp. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. He smiled at your soft, pleasured hum, and vowed to elicit as many more as he could.
Things took on an almost ritualistic quality, with him focused entirely on his task. You were loose limbed, letting him move you about as he used a cloth to scrub your skin. He didn’t try anything that might be deemed unsavory, though you let his tender, reverential touch reach places no one had touched in a very, very long time. But he didn’t linger, to your slight frustration, not wanting to jump into things too quickly. The flames of your desire were stoked slowly, warmth running through you like sweet wine.
When he was done, he helped you step out of the tub and immediately got to drying you off with a towel. You caught his eye for a moment, his pupils blown wide with equally fervent desire. You stopped yourself from clutching his arm, wanting to anchor yourself to him, but he could still tell you were growing restless. He kissed your shoulder, tapping the tip of your nose playfully with his finger.
“Not done quite yet,” he murmured, not missing the way you involuntarily pressed your thighs together. “You’ve always been very patient.”
“For the first time, I fear it might be running thin…” you said, to which he smiled.
He grabbed a small glass bottle of rose oil and lathered some in his hands. He anointed your body with it, the heady scent of one of Venus’s favorite flowers permeating the air. As he reached your chest, you took hold of his wrist and brought his palm to rest over your heart. He felt it beating rapidly, your chest rising and falling with each panting breath.
His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.
“I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”
You clutched his wrist tighter, his thoughtfulness only making you want him more. All those hours he must have spent yearning, unaware that you were stuck thinking of him too. As emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted, but having previously been a gladiator, he understood the monumental importance of bodily autonomy. Very few people in Rome had such a privilege and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to rob you of it.
You kissed him in response, much fiercer, hungrier, than all the other kisses you had shared so far. A desperate sound escaped his throat and he clasped you against him tightly. Swiftly, he scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you out to the bedchamber as he would a bride.
Gently, he set you down on the bed and pulled away to remove his tunic. This time, you were not meek about his nakedness. You brazenly stared at him, eyes mapping out the lines of his muscles, the pink, raised skin of his scars, and the soft trail of hair on his abdomen that seemed to suggestively point downwards.
His shoulders were squared with pride at your ogling, a sly smile on his face. He’d had an inkling before of your attraction, but to see it on full display was narcotic, and he felt himself pulse with an aching need.
“Come closer,” you said softly.
He did, climbing over you, his warmth immediately enveloping you. You hid your face on the junction between his neck and shoulder, embarrassed at all the thoughts rushing through your mind.
“What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement.
“Nothing,” you said, voice muffled against his skin. “I just… I do not think you realize how badly I wanted this, too. I-I don’t want to ever stop.”
He chuckled indulgently, nudging your head so you’d look at him. “Neither do I.”
He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Your knees hiked up to his hips in a silent plea, but he did not give in quite yet, wanting to prolong things for as long as he could.
Still, unable to resist a little bit of mutual torment, he slid upwards until his hips were aligned with yours. You gasped as you felt the velvety underside of his erection against your slick folds, each small movement making you tremble. Your brows furrowed and your lips parted in a wanton expression, your eyes shiny and half lidded as you looked at him.
“Lucius,” you whimpered.
“I know,” he murmured soothingly, kissing your neck. “I know.”
Neither of you were willing to break apart from your embrace, so there wasn’t actually much of a preamble. Feverish, he sank into you slowly, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you open. That first round was frantic, almost animalistic, all the pent up longing finally being released. His body rolled over yours with the power of the sea’s waves, leaving you awash in ecstasy.
Neither of you lasted very long, but it didn’t matter, as you were nowhere near spent. Lucius, still in the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily began to kiss you all over, wanting to discover every mole and freckle, every tender spot that made you squirm, and every other little detail that made you you.
He settled between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, but he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer.
“What are you– Oh,” you gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the entirely new sensation disarming you.
He tasted his essence mixed with yours, a groan rumbling in his chest. You tightly grasped the sheets under you, arching against his face. You bit your lip to stop yourself from making the most undignified sounds, but it was hard to focus, especially as his fingers were added into the mix. Your body burned brighter than any brazier, his arms pinning you down as he conquered you with his mouth. You shattered once more, crying out as he helped you ride it all the way through.
After, you lied side by side, facing each other. You’d still not had your fill of him, but you needed to gather your strength for the long night ahead. You shared a breathy chuckle, as if still in disbelief it had finally happened, and he kissed your sweat-slick forehead.
“Now that was poetry,” you said jokingly, making him laugh again.
“You put every verse to shame, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
You kissed his palm, adoring, and tangled your legs with his. A swell of emotion unlike anything you had ever felt rose within you. It was as if he had awakened a new part of you that you hadn’t known was dormant, bringing you back from an existence that consisted solely of drifting through days that blended into one another.
He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours. You drew closer to him, like a moth to flame, and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your hips and your eyes were full of mirth as you held his gaze.
“As it happens, I find myself compelled to compose some more with you.” You grinned playfully, hands sliding up his chest.
He mirrored your grin, not minding the idea one bit. “Relentless, just like the great muse Calliope.”
“Well, when inspiration strikes… It can’t be helped, can it?”
Summary: You, part of a family of visiting royalty, decide to sneak into the jails beneath the colosseum. There, you meet a charming young man, Lucius.
Warnings/Contains: f4m•semi public s3x•dirty talk •mild choking•edging•love bites•pinning •size kink• cock warming• male dominant, not proof read.
Word count: 1.5k
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Lucius sat on the edge of his makeshift bed inside his cell. He pondered as the screams and cheers from the colosseum echoes into the jails beneath. All of it made his heart ache.
He would never admit this to anyone but he was scared of--- “Wake up, you bastards!” The wardens of the jail went around to each cell, banging upon the bars, all but his. “Come eat!” Lucius stood by the door of his cell, sneering at the guards who refused to unlock his. He could only watch as the other men went to the food hall to eat.
“Hey!” He yelled after the wardens, “Hey! I’m still in here!” After being ignored, his sore ego made him sit down. Nothing here was civil, nor equal—not even the portions of slop fed to dying men. He frowned and the hall of cells fell silent.
The man stared at the sword that rested against the wall outside of his cell. He swallowed his saliva before kneeling. His arm slid through one of the bars as he reached for the steel. “C’mon…ehg!” He strained as the seconds passed, his tight muscles sandwiched between the two bars. “Dammit!” He spat.
You wandered down the hall, letting your gown drag behind you. You knew you should not be beneath the colosseum, especially as visiting royalty, but what can keep a girl from feeding her curiosity? Especially when its right in her fingertips. Besides, you were only here for two more nights—now was the time. “Ahg.” You groaned aloud. “Where are all the sweaty men…?” You asked aloud, looking in each cell.
“Eating. You just missed them.” Lucius sat against the wall of his cell, twirling wheat on his index finger.
You curiously wandered down the corridor to the sound of the man. *Oh, my.* “I don’t think so.” The two of you share a smile and you kneel outside his cell. “You are him? Hano. The talk of Rome.”
“My Lady, why are you here alone?” He looked over your royal garb. The handmade designs, and Latin woven into the indigo purple gown. “Hm?”
“I am merely looking around. Is that a crime?”
“Well, no. But if you are looking for fun, I unfortunately cannot help you.” He said softly, shaking the bars of his cell. The man smiled charismatically, attempting to focus on your eyes instead of your breasts held by loose wraps.
You pout. You were not used to getting denied what you wanted,; especially when it came to men. “But...you could die any day.” You express dramatically, his eyes on your hips as your stood.
“Yes, that is true. Have you no husband to mourn me with?”
“No.” You said sadly, bending down towards him. “I will be left to think of you all alone, Hano.”
He stood on the opposite side of his cell. “Forgive me, my Lady. My name is Lucius, yours?”
“[Y/n].” Your hand reached out to him, your fingertips pressed on his biceps, damp with sweat and humidity. They were firm, as were his triceps. “I am not convinced you can carry me.” You teased, caressing his body. He glared at the wall behind you for some reason and you turned around. A bundle of keys on a hook.
You swayed your hips for a moment, thinking. You could get in serious trouble just by talking to this barbarian. On the other hand, you’re already here, step inside at least. When you grabbed the keys and turned back to him, a look of hunger, and desire rid the man’s face. Part of you wanted to leave, go back to your place behind the emperors but it seems they haven’t noticed. “Try the silver one.” He muttered. You turned the key inside the lock and the large door groaned as it opened.
He took your palm, guiding you inside. You were a stark contrast to the environment around, however that did not discourage you from standing against him.
For a moment, he looked away from you, “I could get lashes for this…”
You whisper, trailing your shaking hands down his arms and to his hands. “I will make sure that does not happen.”
He turned back to you, his hand slid into your hair, holding onto the curly texture. “Let us hope so.” You nodded as he pulled your hair back.
“I swear.”
The man turned you around, his erection pressing above your round ass. “Hm,” He rests against your skin, holding your body against his with his strong forearm. “You can take it, it’s alright.” He moved sweaty and curly strands of your hair from your face. “Keep a lookout for anyone, love.”
You took a few deep breaths as he pushed up the fabric of your dress. His fingers rubbed circles on your ass repeatedly. He let out a soft, relaxed sigh as you stayed still. The audacity of this young woman was quite refreshing, to linger outside his cell like a common whore in heat, then come into his cell with her legs spread. This was going to be one of the best nights he’s had in a bit. His breath was hot against your neck and his grip on your body tightened. “Please…please.”
“Won’t I hurt you?” He asked in a rather teasing manner, moving one hand away from your thigh to slowly slide his fingers up to your heat. “Aren’t you excited?” He asks while resting his head against yours. He tucked his head over your shoulder, watching your breasts as the loose dress gave out, undressing you. “Oh my…”
“Lucius, we should not waste time, please.” You begged, pressing your ass onto his hard cock.
Lucius felt the power he had over you, the submission he possessed when he took and held you. He groaned, the scent of you and your perfume…it was enough to make him want your tight cunt around his cock. He could not resist anymore, kissing the back your neck roughly as his hand cuffed the front. You tried to quiet your moans but with every kiss, his right fingers gently grazed your warm and sopping clit. “Keep quiet.” You knew what he was saying was right, you were being too loud! But it was impossible. Your moans turned to whimpers, pathetic whimpers.
“L- Lucius, please, your fingers.”
“You beg a lot, [].” You shut your eyes to the sound of his voice calling out your name. “You like that?” He squeezed the front of your throat, pulling the rest of your clothing off until you stood in only your sandals. You shut your eyes. It was embarrassing being so exposed in the middle of this jail. Anyone could walk in those doors at any point! But he did not care.
Your nipples gently grazed the cold bars of his cell and your knees trembled from the stimulation.
“Aww,” He murmered in your ear, kissing the sensitive skin. Slowly, his thick digits tucked inside of your cunt, making you reel as your sensitive walls took him inside. “You’re a mess.” He said with a chuckle, pressing you tightly between the cell bars and him. There was nowhere for you to wiggle out of his grip. He gently stroked his fingers inside your pussy, pushing on your clitoris as he did so. With each pass, you shut your eyes tighter. “No, no, open your eyes. You need to keep a look out, remember? Do not close your eyes again, am I understood?”
You moaned helplessly, trying to keep yourself focused on the doors. The skin of his warm, and heavy cock pressed on your ass. Precum leaked between your ass. “I, listen, I-“
“Do you want to get fucked or not?”
You swallowed your saliva. If you leave now, you might get caught anyway. “I do.” He circled his tip against the opening to your small cunt. Slowly, he pushed his cock into your pussy. Before you could yelp, he covered your mouth with his large palm. You whimpered behind his palm, looking behind at him.
“You’re ok…” He lets go of your waist and caressed your cheek. “Shhh,” He pulsed inside your cunt as his hips bucked, pushing you into the bars. His gentle hands kept you still as your eyes fluttered closed; cries from your mouth only meeting his palm. “You want to say something?” He grunted out as you soaked his cock, your wetness dripping down to his balls.
Lost in the pleasure of your cunt, he uncovered your mouth and held onto your breast, your soft flesh and hard nipples only made him needy to come. However, he needed to last if he were going to prove a point. He held back his orgasm, turning you over on the cot. You caught your breath for a moment before he slipped back inside your cunt, stretching you as you lay beneath him.
“Mhhh!”
“Shut up,” He pushed a hand over your throat as he continued to stuff you full of his length.
Since it's almost the new year, I've decided to hold another little celebration! This year I hit over 3k followers, which was something I never expected for this little writing blog, and despite all the ups and downs of my year, I'm taking that as a win.
The writing community on Tumblr has taken some hits this year, and a lot of my moots have been impacted by a lack of interaction on their fanfiction, as well as some people stealing their work. So I would like to end this year and start a new one, on a positive note.
I want this years celly to be fun and stress free, and I want everyone who wants to, to participate! Take care of yourselves and your loved ones this new year and make it special!
Celebration entries begin on the 19th of December and ends on the 10th of January! Have fun everyone, and please be kind and patient with me!
New years Day - send in cym, kmk, and other ask games, or just send me your New Year resolutions!
Good Luck babe - send in a character and a song and I'll make a mood board for you based on those two things.
Lotus eater - pick a character, and your dream scenario/concept with them, and I'll write you a short fic. (please specify preferred pronouns for reader, and whether you want the fic to be platonic or romantic.)
Risk - Pick a number from 1 to 100 and a character and I'll write a drabble based around one of the songs on my Spotify wrapped top songs of 24 playlist.
Lucky - Send me a concept (with some details please) and I will write you a drabble. But plot twist, I pick the character, and you won't know who I've chosen until the fic is posted. (please specify preferred pronouns for reader, and whether you want the fic to be platonic or romantic.)
Wait for me (moots only) - send in this and I'll tell you the fictional character I ship you with the most.
"Dulce et decorum" Sweet and bitter. Used to describe the conflicting feelings of pleasure and pain. Love might be sweet, but the bitter undertone that alludes to hate will always be more prominent.
Part I can be found here!!
Warnings - canon-like injuries, nudity, fight over dominance, teasing. Pretty much it.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
After his victory, Lucius made his way over to one of the more secluded thermae.
His time in the spacious, private rooms with pool-like baths after a game was usually his favourite. He enjoyed the ambience the high windows brought with their soft luminense. The cream coloured tiles that decorated the floor and walls. The stone benches that had plates with ripe fruit on them and neatly folded clean, intact clothing.
To him, this was truly a reward.
This area was off-limits for slaves. These thermae were for the best of the best gladiators. The ones that the crowd loved. The ones that enjoyed and were good at their sport. The ones that also found themselves in certain rivalries with other star gladiators.
After he got in, Lucius breathed out with content as he rested his head against the side of the pool, letting the warm water loosen up his tense muscles.
He let his mind wander aimlessly as he found himself in a much more peaceful state. The thought of you did cross it many times.
He smiled to himself as he reflected on the fight you just had and his triumph.
It was always different with you.
It wasn't like the regular blood thirsty shows he had to put on to amuse Rome. To him, fighting you was the only actual game.
In and outside of the Colosseum.
Though he would never actually admit it, he always looked forward to the next time you would find yourself in the arena together.
In between those times, you would make playfully rude comments at each other as you crossed each other's paths about how terrible one's performance was or show mock concern when the other had a slight injury.
He hated your guts, obviously. You were quite literally the most obnoxious person on this planet to him. After all, you were his number one rival.
On the other hand, there was a part of him that admired you. He would sometimes catch himself marvelling at your fierce power and your beauty. He wondered where your strength and discipline came from. What made you that way?
Apart from that, he would also accidentally wonder if you were like that in more intimate settings if you will.
He usually didn't ponder on it for too long, knowing he'd probably never find out anyway.
Gods, he didn't even want to.
Well.
Maybe. It was all a bit confusing.
"An hour!" He suddenly heard, making him snap out of his thoughts and slip out of his relaxed state.
He knew that voice all too well. He also knew that that meant the peace he had known for all of 5 minutes was over.
All you got in response was an annoyed groan.
You shamelessly sat down on one of the stone benches across from the bath that had a plate of fruit on it, taking one of the figs and biting into it.
He just let you get to it with a dour expression written all over his face. There wasn't a slight chance of shooing you away, and he knew it.
"Look!" You exclaimed, turning your torso and frantically pointing at the stitched up wound on the side of your arm.
"It took them an entire hour to stitch it up and it hurt like hell." You added.
His unamused face shifted into a slight smirk, but there was still no verbal response.
You bit into another fig as you stared back at his victorious face. "So unnecessary."
He sighed as he closed his eyes and leant his head back onto the side of the bath again. "Sorry."
"You're not sorry, Lucius."
At this, he smiled widely with his eyes still shut, confirming your statement.
"I wasn't when I broke your finger last month." You added.
You kind of were. You just knew mentioning that would piss him off.
He opened his eyes to glare at you. "Is there a reason you're here other than disturbing by peace?"
"Well, I was about to wash off..." you said as you got up. "-but all of the thermae are occupied, so I shall wait."
You had almost reached the exit before he spoke up.
"You're filthy."
Really?
You turned on your heels, giving him an annoyed look. "Good observation."
You looked down at your dirty knees and arms, all of them stained with dust, blood and dirt as he stated the obvious.
"This guy kept knocking me on my ass into the mud earlier. Not sure what that was all about." You retorted sarcastically.
He usually would have had something witty to say. A certain look on his face. A scoff or a huff.
But he had neither one of those.
Instead, he completely ignored your comment, nodding his head towards the water, motioning for you to join him.
"I won't be done for a while."
This actually took you by surprise, and you couldn't exactly tell if he was being serious or not.
Not that you minded. You just weren't used to him being? Nice?
"Are you- am-"
"Just get in before I start regretting it." He said as he closed his eyes again, now placing his arms on the sides of the pool, accentuating his slick biceps beautifully.
You huffed through your nose with a confused look on your face. You really were bewildered, but it also felt kinda right. Like nice. Or maybe you were looking into it too much. Anyhow.
Either way, you now found yourself at the edge of the bath, slowly stripping yourself of the torn-at clothing you were wearing.
His eyes were shut, but as he heard you get into the water, he pursed his lips.
"You can look, you know." You said plainly as you swam over to him.
You started to wash off some of the dirt on your arms.
He fixed his gaze on you and observed you in your most fragile, vulnerable state. You hair was down, your body wasn't hidden behind many layers of armour and the sun illuminated your feminine beauty.
He suddenly felt really different towards you. He didn't mean for his masculinity to get in the way, but he felt kind of protective over you.
He didn't want any other gladiator hurting you in a fight. Or worse.
Soon enough, you did take notice of his not so subtle stare and it made you a bit nervous. "What?" You questioned as you splashed some water in his face so he diverted his gaze.
"Why are you here?" He asked you genuinely. He wasn't talking about the water. You knew that.
You looked up at his am you paused your actions and sighed. "I had to be good at something. My sisters were good at sewing or literature. I just ended up handling a sword instead of a needle or a pencil."
"And you think you're good at that?" He commented sarcastically.
"Oh shut up!" You exclaimed as you now sent a much larger wave of water towards his face.
"Sorry, sorry!" He laughed before spitting some of the water out.
You shook your head with a slight smile on your face, his snarky remarks never failing to amuse you.
As you continued cleaning yourself, you got to your wound. Truthfully, the healer didn't do the best job and it was showing.
The pain you experienced while trying to scrub around it was horrible, and small droplets of blood kept dripping out.
"You should go back for that. Go see my healer, Ravi. It is my fault, after all." He paused as he continued to watch you wince at the fractured skin.
"Seriously, that doesn't look right, I'm not trying to make you go through any more pain or anything, I'm just saying I know what it's suppos-"
"I trust you." You said, cutting him off.
"You? You trust me?"
You decided to leave your wound alone as you swam to the side next to him, resting your arms on the tiles and speaking up.
"In the arena, you try your hardest to defeat me. We repeatedly hurt each other to what? Gain favour of a mob we do not care about?"
Lucius wasn't entirely sure what you were getting at.
"So do you, no?"
You sighed as you studied his puzzled expression.
"You could drown me right now. You could've been here alone, but you offered me to be here." You paused for a second. "Nude."
He scoffed and turned, so he was now facing you.
His ego was slightly damaged. Bingo.
"Maybe I prefer having someone around that hates me entirely rather than being adored by people whom I do not know." He said whilst holding profound eye contact with you.
"I think you're messed up."
You whispered, never leaving his eyes.
Instead of answering, he just brought his hand up to your shoulder and pushed you down into the water.
Slowly, you descended.
This seemed like your usual messing about, but it was much more than that.
This was all a part of your imaginary roles in your mental game that had been going on for so long.
When he pushed you down into the water, you didn't resist, essentially proving that he infact could drown you if he wanted to right now.
You'd let him.
And he wouldn't do that.
That last statement became clear as he pulled you back up immediately after submerging your body without any defiance.
You blinked your eyes open and Lucius placed the hand that wasnt already on the ledge on your other side before you could register what was going on, pinning you between the tiles and himself.
He now finally allowed himself to take you in as he had a quite cocky look on his face.
His eyes wandered over your bare neck, your defined colorbones and lastly, the curve of your breasts.
He slowly looked back up again and traced your lips with his fingers.
You couldn't lie to yourself; being pinned against the wall by your sworn enemy ignited a certain fire in your stomach and was travelling further south.
To Lucius, this was it. He had already won.
It was going to be put to the test.
"Kiss me." He said, now staring into your eyes, his look filled with both desire and hatred.
You liked how the same confidence he showed in battle started to show itself, but you wouldn't give yourself away that easy.
You smiled at him, drawing a line with your finger over his jaw, neck, chest, and abdomen before bringing them to his own arms.
"I don't know... Do men like you deserve that?" You replied, referring to Lucius' quote only a few hours prior as you twisted his wrist to break yourself free from his grip, yet again using the same technique as earlier.
You swam over to the side and got out.
Lucius was tempted to swim after you. To have you right here, but he didn't.
For now, he just admired your curves and nude body as you dried your hair and got dressed, passing him knowing glances before you left.
He felt close to vanquishing you, and he knew he would eventually.
But not just yet. This was a game that was in no rush to end.
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Me when im scared to write smut so i just make it cringe instead
Anyway there prob will be a pt 3 where they ACTUALLY do it so yayyy comments or reblogs would be greatly appreciated if u wanna see that!!!
