When It's My Turn🥺🥺

That would be me. I love them all and I would steal all of them from their boyfriends.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ chivalry isn’t dead! [wag edition!]

hey, it’s not like you wanted these girls to end up in these situations, you just happened to be there!

content warning; again, not much, you’re hella cool here though 🫡.

summary; ferrari reserve driver y/n strikes again with her chivalrous ways but with a lil’ twist! featuring the wags!

here’s part one, lovers!

It all started innocently enough—or so you’d claim if anyone ever asked.

You weren’t out here trying to put the grid to shame or steal anyone’s thunder. But when you saw that the boyfriends of the WAGs couldn’t be bothered to step up, you figured someone had to. And hey, if that someone happened to be you? So be it.

The first incident happened during the Monaco GP.

You were at a post-qualifying dinner, mingling with drivers and their partners. Kika, Pierre girlfriend, was struggling to take a picture of the group because Pierre, like the rest of the boys, was too busy comparing lap times. You noticed her dilemma and quickly stepped in.

“Want me to take it?” you asked, smiling.

“Oh, that’d be amazing, thank you!” Kika handed you her phone, and you crouched to find the best angle.

“Alright, everyone, squeeze in! And Pierre, stop pretending you’re taller than Lando,” you teased, earning laughs all around. After a few shots, Kika peeked over your shoulder and beamed.

“These are perfect! You’re a pro at this.”

“Just call me Ferrari’s unofficial photographer,” you joked, handing her phone back.

—

The second moment was a bit more… dramatic.

You were at Silverstone, where Alexandra,, Charles’ girlfriend, accidentally spilled her drink on her white pants during a VIP meet-and-greet. Charles was off giving interviews, and Alexandra looked mortified, dabbing at the stain with a napkin.

Without a word, you grabbed your Ferrari jacket from your chair and draped it over her waist.

“There. Crisis averted.”

Alexandra looked at you with wide eyes. “You didn’t have to—”

“It’s just a jacket,” you said with a shrug. “Besides, it suits you better.”

The press caught a picture of the moment, and the internet had a field day. #MsStealYourGirl started trending on Twitter, much to Charles’ amusement.

—

Things escalated in Austin.

Carmen, George’s girlfriend, was trying to find her way back to the paddock after wandering into the crowded fan zone. George was on track, and Carmen looked visibly flustered.

You were passing by when you spotted her. “Carmen, you good?”

“I think I got a little lost,” she admitted sheepishly.

Offering your arm, you grinned. “Come on, I’ll walk you back. Can’t have Mercedes losing their queen, can we?”

Fans caught the two of you walking arm-in-arm, laughing as you led her safely to the paddock. George later treated you to dinner.

—

The most talked-about moment, however, was in Abu Dhabi.

During the final afterparty of the season, you found yourself at the bar, chatting with some engineers, when you noticed Rebecca Donaldson trying to navigate the crowded dance floor in towering heels. Carlos was nowhere in sight, probably caught up in Ferrari’s celebrations.

“Careful there,” you said, steadying her when she stumbled slightly.

Rebecca smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Y/N. These shoes aren’t made for this.”

“Let me guess—Carlos picked them out?” you teased, earning a laugh.

“No, this was all me. Bad decision, though.”

“Here, take my seat. I’ll grab another,” you offered, guiding her to your spot at the bar. She gave you a look of pure gratitude.

“You’re too sweet.”

“Just doing my part,” you said with a wink.

—

By the end of the season, the WAGs were singing your praises. You’d become their unofficial knight in shining armor, the one they could count on when their boyfriends were too distracted by racing.

The drivers, meanwhile, took it all in stride—mostly.

“Alright, Y/N, enough with the heroics,” Pierre joked one day. “You’re making us look bad.”

“Maybe step up your game, Gasly,” you shot back with a smirk.

But honestly? You weren’t trying to show anyone up. You were just being you.

And if that meant stealing the hearts of every WAG on the grid? Well, you weren’t complaining.

can y’all tell i tried not to be borderline flirty? lol, you a gentleman, for real 🙂‍↔️✋🏻.

i’ve been in an insane writer’s block for the past few days, i’m rolling in bed like a maniac every other day, lol.

also, god bless women just because, the lily’s are definitely my fav wags (,,>ヮ<,,)!

anyways, pls enjoy!!

also, i have another version of this featuring y’all’s favourite, mr norris (which i contemplate to post at the moment).

This one is so cute!!!! I love it!💖💖💓💓

Smooth Operator (Carlos Sainz x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people can hear a song when their close to their soulmate, the volume depends on how far or close to them you are. Carlos was sure his song was smooth operator, so why hasn't he found his soulmate yet.

People would spend their whole life hoping to meeting their soulmate. Some would meet them as entered any stage of schooling or some would run into them suddenly but the worst were those that spent their life preening their ears for the soft melody of their soulmate song. You never knew what the song was, it could be a song that actually existed or just a mash of musical notes that described the two people involved but there was one thing Carlos was sure of; smooth operator was his soulmate song and yet his love life was anything but smooth operation.

He had heard stories of how loud and melodious the music was when his mother entered his father's life, his sister's recounted time when they met their soulmate. Carlos was getting antsy. Until one day, during a race weekend, he had grown tired of the tune of smooth operator which he could hear playing faintly as he walked in to the paddock with Lando. "ugh, that stupid song" Carlos muttered. "What song?" Lando asked confused. "Smooth Operator" Carlos stated. Lando looked confused, "I hear nothing" Lando stated. Carlos's eyes widened trying to figure out where he should move to find his soulmate. In the frantic few minutes of Carlos running around the paddock like a headless chicken with a confused Lando calling out to him; the melody stopped just as it had started.

Y/N never thought she would find her soulmate, she was above the natural age most of her relatives and family had met theirs and she had given up hope on ever meeting hers. She was in a small store near an F1 race when she heard the faint sound of smooth operator playing. She chalked it down to it being played at the race because it was a running gag with Carlos, her favourite Formula One driver. Y/N wasn't able to secure tickets to the race and just enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the race from the entrance, retreating to her hotel to try and enjoy a F1 free vacation.

Carlos waited days and months to be able to hear the song again, but with all the travelling it wouldn't have been possible. He just wished he had tried harder and maybe than he would've met his soulmate by now. His spirit was wounded to say the least.

Carlos then proceeded to hear smooth operator a few more times, but the melody was so faint that anyone would've missed it. His ears had started to pick up on the song whether it was being played or not.

Y/N finally got tickets to a F1 race. She used to watch the races with her siblings and being able to experience it with them was a dream come true for her. They had packed their bag and headed off to Spain. Ever since she had landed, she could hear the faint buzzing of smooth operator. She chalked it up to being obsessed with Carlos that, that was she was hearing it. She had made beaded bracelets for him and her siblings had made posters for the track side. It was Carlos's home race and she was so excited to be able to see him race in his home turf. As she had only gotten tickets for the race day, she spent the rest of her time in Barcelona with Smooth Operator playing. She thought it was probably the song currently stuck in her head. A thought did cross her mind; what if it was her soulmate song, but quickly pushed it off since the volume didn't seem to increase of decrease constantly.

Carlos was on edge, he could hear the song playing over and over again, the melody taunting him. The volume had increased on Friday but had remained constant the whole weekend, making it difficult to communicate with his race engineer. This was really throwing his mind off track since he couldn't focus on anything but the thought of his soulmate being so close yet so far away.

It was race day and both Carlos and Y/N were getting ready for the day. Y/N held all the bracelets she made for the drivers and fellow fans in hand as she distributed it to her fellow 55ers. She hoped to meet Carlos as he drove in. A little while after she had gotten on the track, the volume of the song playing in her ears had increased. Was she about to meet her soulmate? was all she could think about as the volume kept increasing. Y/N kept an eye out for anyone, in hopes that maybe, just maybe. She felt stupid for hoping when never thought she'd meet her soulmate.

As Carlos's car halted to a stop in the parking lot, the song had gotten quite loud, loud enough to make it difficult to focus. Carlos was extremely excited by it. He hopped out of the car and started scanning the area for his soulmate. He walked around for a bit before proceeding to the fans when he felt like he would go deaf with how loudly the song was blaring. He looked around for anyone who was also being affected by it. And than he saw it. A girl who's eyes were frantically scanning the area. Carlos stumbled forward to stand in front of her and as their eyes met, they knew since the song suddenly stopped, like the whole world stopped. Y/N slipped a bracelet into his palm while Carlos tried to walk away, not to cause a big scene. Y/N pulled her siblings aside and told them what had just happened and they couldn't stop jumping in excitement.

He asked his cousin to help get the girl into the garage. His cousin was quick to get her and her siblings in. Y/N was anxious and worried and excited. She couldn't believe Carlos was her soulmate. What good karma had she acquired to have him as her soulmate, she wondered.

Y/N was ushered into the garage, Carlos was seen waiting, his hair a mess from running his hands through it so many times. The pair stood in front of each other, "Carlos" she whispered and Carlos took her in. Dressed in his colours with his number on her cap and looked at the bracelet in his hand which read, idc ur my soulmate. It was supposed to be a joke, but right now neither of them were laughing. "Not fair you know my name" Carlos spoke, breaking the silence. "Y/N" she laughed. "Can't believe it" she said turning around to stop herself from fan girling. "You better believe it because I'm here to stay" he stated. She turned around to look at him once more, taking him in, not Carlos Sainz Jr, Formula One driver but Carlos Sainz, her soulmate. "That bracelet was supposed to be a joke" she stated as she saw him put it on. "And now it will be something I will wear forever" Carlos said, kissing the bracelet on his hand. "I never thought I would meet my soulmate but it was totally worth the wait" she smiled at him with tears in her eyes. "I always knew I would meet you and I'm glad I didn't lose hope" he smiled back, wrapping her in his embrace. The pair stood there for a while before breaking away, "Gonna have to win the race to show you how good I am" Carlos said. "I know how good you are but a race win doesn't sound bad" she replied.

This one is so cute and fluffy😍😍💖💖

🌶️ DADDY — CARLOS SAINZ

bf!carlos x fem!reader | wc : 0.5k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, fluff, humor, lots of petnames, a tinge of suggestiveness towards the end | loki's lines : mom i love him

"carlitos, look at what the fans are saying!"

you grinned, turning your phone as you showed your screen to your boyfriend so he could see.

carlos squinted his eyes at your phone, shaking his head. "too many words, mi amor. what does it say?" he asked, too lazy to read what you were showing.

he sunk into the sofa, eyes closed, as he tried to go back to the nap he was having. you brought the phone closer, reading what was in the article.

"carlos sainz now dubbed daddy sainz. f1 fans come up with a new nickname after seeing—"

"eh?!" the brunet shot up from his seat, eyes filled with panic as his head snapped towards you. "what are these people saying?!"

"they say you are daddy." you repeated, stifling a laugh as his eyes widened. "it's like saying—"

"who wrote this?!" carlos shook his head. "mi vida, please know this is not true. i don't know who said this is true, but it's not."

you couldn't help but frown, wondering why the nickname was bothering your boyfriend. he was mad, and it was very evident as you looked at him.

before you could ask him what the reason was, he held your hands, kneeling on the floor of the living room of your shared apartment as he looked at you.

"i am not a daddy, y/n. you are my first love and only love. i never in my life—i promise i don't have any children, mi amor. i am not a daddy."

your face fell as you heard his words, finding your boyfriend's gesture absolutely precious. you kneeled next to him on the floor, pouting as you held his face in your hands.

"oh, you adorable thing. gosh, i love you so much." you pecked his lips, smiling widely. "they aren't accusing you of being a dad, my love. it's a nickname your fans gave to you."

"but how is daddy..."

"daddy is a slang word of sorts. it means someone who is very sexy and attractive and also has good qualities associated with protection and care — basically, someone like you!"

carlos stayed quiet, and you let him have this moment to himself. a minute passed before he looked at you again, this time with relief in his eyes in contrast to the shock that was in them before.

"this english language is very difficult." he sighed, shaking his head. "i don't know how you do it."

you chuckled in amusement. "english to you is exactly how spanish is to me." you shrugged.

carlos smiled, his hands around your waist as he pulled you closer, capturing your lips in his. you let out a surprised gasp at his sudden action, only making him smile wider at your reaction.

"so, does this mean you agree with the fans?" he asked as he pulled away, making you raise your brows in question. "that i'm very sexy and attractive?"

you chuckled at his words. "way to ruin the moment, carlos." you couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat, seeing the look of adoration on your boyfriend's face as he looked at you.

"actually, you don't even have to answer the question." he shrugged, a confident smile on his face. "i can just find out tonight and see what you call me when you are full of my-"

"carlos sainz vázquez de castro!"

not really sure who to tag bc this is just a small carlos drabble i had lying around, do let me know if you want to be included to my normal (non-smau) works too!

I love it. Forever in my heart❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Tender Fires

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, with a few hints of spice)

Word Count: 6.4k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: I'm back with another Maximus fic! This is actually part of a larger narrative in which Maximus escapes the execution attempt and ends up at reader's farm, where she tends his wounds and they fall in love but have to fight their feelings because he intends to leave to keep her safe. As always, this fic is written from the deepest longings of my lovestruck heart, and I hope that love is obvious :) Thank y'all so much for your kind words about the last fic, and I hope you enjoy this one!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“You’re up late.”

At your words, Maximus turns his head to look at you, and a soft smile crosses his lips. His features are etched in shadow, flickering with the dancing firelight.

He’s seated in front of your kitchen fire, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, gazing deep into the flames as if searching for some hidden meaning within. You would never have known he was in here if you had not been awakened by the loud cracks of thunder outside and come in search of the warmth of the fire.

An autumn storm, a midnight fire, and the most captivating man you have ever known, dressed only in his plain white sleeping tunic. It seems like a combination intended to lure you into trouble.

As you move to sit in the chair beside him, he looks back into the hearth, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. “I have stayed awake staring at many fires in my life,” he tells you quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful.

Out of the corner of your eye, you risk a glance at him, looking for the scar on his ribs. He has been with you for a little more than two weeks now, helping you with odd jobs around the farm as his strength returns. His wounds, though still vulnerable, have healed quickly, and you are relieved to see no signs of further injury on the parts of his skin that you can see.

“As have I,” you reply, eyes still lingering on him. “Though for me, it has always been the same fire. This one.”

He hums in response, nodding slightly. You have never sat by this fire together at night, and you are bewitched by the way the light dances over him, makes his golden skin shimmer. The lines of his arms and shoulders are limned in shadow, the firelight flickering on his handsome features.

You are overcome with a desire to put your hands on him, to feel the heat of his skin and the strength of his body, but you cast your gaze on the fireplace instead.

“I envy you that,” he answers softly, after a short reflection. He glances up at you, studying you intently. “A home fire, always burning in the same place.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you.

Every day, the thought of him leaving you is more painful. At the moment, as you sit close enough to listen to him breathing, the thought is unbearable. Your home is his home now, and you long — more than you have ever longed for anything — for him to realize that he belongs here.

His shadowed eyes search yours a moment more, then return to gazing at the flames.

You take a deep, steadying breath to calm yourself. Your hands are trembling, and you smooth them over your skirt, hoping he does not notice how nervous you are from this simple interaction.

“Tea?” you ask quickly, pushing yourself to stand and get a bit of space between the two of you.

He glances up again, and your heart clenches at the gentleness in his expression. He nods. “Thank you.”

Have his eyes ever seemed so wide, so earnest? Are you imagining the way his gaze lingers on you, drinking in every detail of the way you move?

You can feel the tension in the room thickening, your own heart beating faster as you fill the kettle with water and set the tea leaves to brewing. Somehow, sharing space with this man is so much more intimate at night, with a storm raging outside and a warm fire bringing extra heat to the atmosphere.

Even more astonishing to you is the fact that you are not afraid of this powerful soldier. He is strong enough to do anything he wishes to you, to take whatever he obviously wants. But even now, standing here in your night shift, with your hair and your defenses down, you have no fear of him.

If anything, you wish he would initiate a touch, a kiss, anything that would lead to the passion that has been haunting your dreams every night.

Such as your dream last night. You can still feel the sensation of your body thoroughly tangled with his, your limbs entwined, his hands pulling your skirt up to your waist. Your cheeks burn when you remember all the places he kissed in your dream, all the places he touched and explored and pleasured. Such thoughts make you ache all over again, especially now that you are standing so close to him.

A blinding crack of lightning, followed by the roar of thunder, pulls you from the dream-memory of his mouth hot on your throat.

To distract yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you ramble on the first topic you can think of. “My father used to tell me stories beside this fire,” you announce as you hang the kettle over the fire and settle back into the chair beside him. You don’t dare meet his eyes, even as a smile crosses your lips at the memory. “I always begged him to tell me ghost stories even though they frightened me.”

He tilts his head to the side to look at you curiously, a smile of his own playing at his lips. “What kind of ghosts do you have in these parts?” he asks, leaning on one arm of the chair to look at you more squarely.

Somehow, having his full attention focused on you is unnerving, undoing, arousing. You can hardly find the words to speak.

His eyes are still on your face as you feel a deep blush burning in your cheeks. You hope he will attribute it to the warmth of the fire, not your intense reaction to the way he gazes at you. If he only knew how much more heated you are by his presence.

“My favorite is the Howling Woman,” you blurt out, glad that your voice is not as unsteady as you feared. “She wears all gray, with her head covered. She’s been seen in these mountains for decades.”

He does not interrupt you, but your breath catches as his gaze wanders across your face. An absent smile is still on his lips, and he seems to be content to simply watch you, to let his eyes trace the lines of your face, your neck, your hair where it tumbles over your shoulders. His gaze is searching, admiring.

How will you find the strength to hide your desire when one look from him could bring you to your knees?

Clenching your jaw and willing the kettle to boil faster, you continue your story determinedly. “They say she was the wife of a farmer who was killed after being thrown from his horse. She found him with his neck broken.” You pause, still breathless from the effects of his undivided attention. “She went mad and drowned her own children. When she came to her senses and realized what she had done, she walked into the wilderness to die.”

You wait for him to interject, to ask some clarifying question or comment, but he does not. He is still leaning on the arm of his chair, his dark eyes captivated by the sight of you in the firelight. You can almost sense the way he is actively preventing himself from letting his gaze wander further down — where your shift does little to hide the shape of your figure.

But somehow, his watchfulness is not an act of seduction. He seems genuinely swept up in your story, spellbound by the sound of your voice. He listens to you intently, curiously, and waits for you to continue.

“But to punish her for her crime,” you continue, blushing even harder, “the gods cursed her to wander these mountains and valleys for eternity, never able to die and meet her family in the afterlife.”

It is the sound of your voice, you realize now. His gaze wanders over your features slowly, as if measuring them, but his silence persists the longer you speak. It is as if he cannot bring himself to interrupt you, so captivated as he is by your voice.

“She still walks at night,” you finish, finally allowing yourself to look deep into his eyes. There seems to be no end to them, no way to pull yourself out of the gaze that holds you captive. “She wanders, calling and wailing and howling.”

He swallows hard, licks his lips, though you guess he does so unconsciously. A shiver runs up your spine, and not from your ghost story.

You lean forward, just an inch or so, to finish the story. “They say you can hear her best on a night like this,” you whisper, and the silence between you is so concentrated that you feel you might choke on it.

His gaze flits down to your lips for a moment, and in this flickering firelight, surrounded by warmth and desire, you think he may kiss you.

The silence is broken by a loud crack of thunder outside, one that makes you jump at its suddenness. You both look away, realizing how intently you have been gazing at one another for an inexcusably long amount of time.

The tea in the kettle is boiling at last, and, glad for the distraction, you lean forward to take it off the fire. Your two cups are sitting on the table beside you, and you fill both before handing one to him. He nods his thanks, and the two of you sit quietly for a few moments, looking deep into the firelight.

He is the one who finally breaks the silence. “Do you believe in ghosts?” he asks softly, with that pleasant raspy quality you have come to recognize in him at night.

You smile and lean back in your chair to sip at your tea. “Of course,” you confirm lightly. “Don’t you?”

His expression grows quizzical, and he doesn’t lift his eyes away from the fire. He takes a sip of his tea, thinks for a long time before answering. You are more than content to sit in silence with him, but he finally comes to an answer.

“No,” he tells you quietly, still mesmerized by the dancing flames. Eerie shadows prance over his fine features. “Spirits do not wander the earth after death. They go to the afterlife.”

His voice is calm and even, but resolute, assured. You have talked so little with him about such things, and you cannot deny your curiosity at learning more about what he believes.

“How do you know?” you press, unconsciously leaning toward him.

He does not move for a moment, just grips his cup tighter and sharpens his gaze at the fire. “I have seen enough death to feel certain of it,” he declares, then turns his head to look into your eyes again. “If ghosts could exist,” he tells you softly, gently, “then I would be haunted by them every moment.”

Your heart aches for him now, for the pain and grief he carries with him always. His life has been difficult, laden with the weight of many lives and much responsibility. Even in a peaceful haven like your home, he is ever followed by the burdens of his past, no matter how much comfort and peace you have offered him.

“Perhaps they do not wish to speak to you,” you suggest, tilting your head to show that you are teasing him. “Perhaps you do not know all there is to know in the world.”

His haunted expression softens as he looks at you, taking in the meaning of your words. As before, his soft smile smoothes the lines in his face, lifts a bit of the weariness etched into his features. You can’t help wondering if he realizes your effect on him, if he craves these moments of tranquility and comfort as much as you do.

“I am sure of that,” he tells you in a low voice, and your heart turns over at the simple passion in his eyes.

You lapse into silence once again, each of you drinking your tea and losing yourself in thought. Your own ponderings are of him, wondering what he is thinking. He has seemed burdened ever since you found him sitting by the fire, and you long to know what worries him.

If he only knew how your heart leaps at the sight of him, how you long to cradle his face in your hands, to kiss him until all his burdens are lifted, until all he knows is this deep, all-consuming love that has swept over your heart like an autumn storm.

The thunder continues to roll outside, the rain pelting your roof relentlessly, but the warmth of the fire and the pleasant constancy of his presence is comforting.

You do not press him for several long minutes, letting him mull over his worries in silence until both of you have finished your tea. When you set your two empty cups on the table beside you, you finally decide to inquire, pushing your chair a few inches nearer to him and leaning on one arm of the chair so you can look into his eyes more closely.

“What troubles you?” you ask softly, and he finally lifts his head, dark eyes burning into yours with all the intensity of the hearth fire.

His voice is hardly more than a whisper when he replies, “Ghosts.”

“Memories?” you ask, entranced by the way he slowly leans forward, closing the distance between the two of you one inch at a time. Your skin suddenly burns, aching for a touch, one simple touch, that will answer your constant longing for his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, in which he seems to ponder the consequences of what he wants, he finally lifts one hand and trails his fingertips down the side of your face.

“Shadows of things I do not understand,” he murmurs absently, and he traces the line of your jaw with fingers so gentle you cannot imagine them ever wielding a sword.

He gazes at you more openly now, his eyes traveling down to your lips as his thumb brushes over them. You suppress a shudder at the contact, and he strokes your lips a few times, transfixed by the sight, before sliding the backs of his knuckles down the column of your throat.

Stars in the heavens, if he only knew how your body is aching for him, how you respond to the slightest touch he gives you.

You finally find your voice to speak. “Is it your men?” you ask softly, as if the room has suddenly been overtaken by a spell.

He sighs, brow furrowed deeply in thought. “They were not my men,” he replies at last, still stroking his fingers down your neck. “Not the ones who betrayed me. My men were loyal, courageous.” His voice is thick with sorrow, and you sense that recalling this memory is painful for him. “They were my brothers,” he half-whispers. “They would have risen up in rebellion if they had known.”

Your heart aches again at the sadness in his voice, the sadness he works so hard to disguise throughout the day. Somehow, in the darkness, in the stillness of nighttime, he seems more vulnerable.

“Why does the Emperor want you dead so badly?” you finally venture to ask.

His hand stills on your neck, eyes not quite focused on your face. He seems to be traveling back in time in his mind, and he draws a deep breath as he thinks. Almost as if he does not realize what he is doing, his hand wanders to the base of your neck, absently stroking the sensitive skin there.

It’s all you can do to hold still, to keep from betraying how perfectly wonderful his touch is to you.

His voice is low and measured when he answers your question. “I once received favor that he believed should have been his.” He pauses, then raises his eyes to meet yours meaningfully. “By his own father.”

His words take you aback, and you know he must notice your wide-eyed stare. “Marcus Aurelius?” you squawk in disbelief. “You knew the great Emperor?”

“Yes,” he replies, his face softening into a smile at the memory. You are shocked by the revelation, but his fond smile warms your heart after seeing his heavily burdened expression a moment ago. 

He presses on, though his hand is now running softly over your shoulder, skimming over the top of your thin shift. “I was young when he took me under his wing,” he explains, eyes tracing the path his hand is making on your shoulder. “I had won some small battles, and he saw in me potential for greater things. He made me what I am today.”

He strokes your shoulder once, gently, then removes his hand, as though he cannot trust himself to keep touching you there. Again lifting his deep blue eyes to meet your gaze, he looks at you so tenderly, so affectionately, as he raises the same hand to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You want to melt, to close your eyes and sigh in pleasure at his simple touch, but you fight for your composure. “He must have been a great man,” you manage instead, meaning every word.

“He was the greatest man I have ever known,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through your hair at your temple now. “He is the closest thing to a father that I ever knew.”

You have noticed how the man is drawn to your hair whenever you leave it down. He seems fascinated with it, with the way it cascades through his fingers when he cards them through it. His attentions are so gentle, so unobtrusive, as if he is unable to keep himself from simply admiring your beauty in this soft firelight.

“And that is why the Emperor envies you,” you observe to keep from losing your breath.

“Yes,” he answers quietly, his voice hardly above a whisper. “He believed that his father wanted to pass on his power to me.”

You nearly startle in surprise at his words. Not only the commander of the northern armies, not only a confidante of Marcus Aurelius, but the rightful future emperor himself?

You almost feel dizzy, though you’re not sure if it is from the shocking news or the way his fingers keep brushing your temple as he plays with your hair. “Did he?” you prompt him breathlessly, genuinely curious.

He ponders for several long moments, letting your hair stream between his fingers. You are entranced simply by looking at his features — his dark eyelashes, his sharp nose, the gentle creases by his mouth. He is so exquisitely lovely to you, so unaware of how deeply he affects you.

“I do not know,” he finally admits, tracing the side of your face before letting his hand fall back into his lap again. “He never told me.”

His words silence some of the shock you were feeling at wondering if you were in the presence of a man who was supposed to have ruled Rome. The thought of this man, this humble, honest, unpretentious warrior, ruling such a corrupt and conniving empire is almost unthinkable.

You are struck by the absence of his touch, and he seems hesitant to initiate any more contact now that he realizes how close he has drawn to you. He’s still watching you carefully, as if gauging your reaction to his touches, but you cannot resist reaching out to him now.

Your fingers seek out the necklace that hangs down to his chest, a simple cord bearing two wolf’s teeth on the end. You have never asked him about its origin. You handle it carefully, and the man barely breathes as your hand hovers over his chest.

“What would you have done if all this had never happened?” you ask softly, caught in the intimacy of this quiet moment. “Would you have been a soldier all your life?”

Your question is a heavy one, full of unspoken desire and curiosity. You can tell he senses that desire by the way his dark eyes burn into yours, by the way his chest rises and falls more quickly, as if you are taking his breath away just by touching his necklace.

He thinks for a few moments, still gazing deep into your eyes. “I always imagined I would die in battle,” he tells you, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “There seemed no other fate in store for me.”

Your heart tightens, and you let go of your loose grip on his necklace. Suddenly, all you want to do is touch him, to make contact with his body somehow. His words have struck a chord in your heart, reminding you how grateful you are that this world-weary soldier has come to your home, to your hearth, instead of falling on a battlefield hundreds of miles away.

With your pulse racing, you press your hand flat against his chest, splaying your fingers over his heart. Even through the fabric of his nightshirt, you can feel his heart pounding like a war drum, perfectly in rhythm with your own.

Oh, how you long to press your heart against his, to be wrapped up in his arms, so thoroughly tangled with his body that you cannot tell where you begin and he ends.

His breath comes more quickly now, his lips parted and his eyes scorching yours with a hunger that stirs your blood.

“But,” he begins in a hoarse whisper, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then back up, “I did imagine, sometimes…” He pauses, licks his lips again, takes a slow breath, “that if I did have a chance to grow old… I might…”

He halts again, his voice dying in his throat. You press your palm more firmly against his chest, and his heart skips a beat beneath your hand. You can feel his skin burning hot under his shirt.

“Tell me,” you whisper, and a look of unadulterated desire flashes across his face.

He leans close to you, close enough that his breath skims over your lips. “That I might one day have a home,” he breathes. “A family.” He sighs softly, the longing in his voice especially evident. “A life of peace always seemed… unlikely.”

The hesitation in his words is palpable, and suddenly his own larger hand is covering yours, pressing it tight against his chest. You realize that he is relishing your touch the way you relished his a moment ago.

After holding your hand against his heart a moment longer, he grasps your hand in his, lifts it to his lips. Your own heart skips a beat now, when he presses a slow, languid kiss to the back of your hand.

“And now?” you whisper, breathless and tingling with need.

He breathes against your hand, slowly and calmly. “Now,” he echoes, his voice rumbling in your bones. “Now a life of peace seems impossible.”

No. No, he cannot mean that. He cannot still mean to leave you when his gentle eyes speak of the passion he holds for you.

“It does not have to be,” you insist, lifting your free hand to touch the side of his face. He actually sighs at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. His lips are slightly parted, and it takes all your willpower not to lean forward and kiss him until he can breathe nothing but your name.

His eyes remain closed when he responds, your hand still cradled in his. “To believe otherwise would be foolish,” he tells you, though his voice is anything but resolute. “Dangerous.”

You stroke the side of his face tenderly, enraptured by the way he reacts to your touch. He seems so relaxed, so overwhelmed when you caress him gently. The thought suddenly strikes you that this man has probably never been touched this way — not as light as a feather, with such love and affection that he can feel it beating in rhythm with his heart.

When you brush your fingertips down his neck, over the sensitive skin of his throat, he makes a sound so soft, so unguarded, that you nearly come undone for him right there.

“Are you not well acquainted with danger?” you whisper, leaning in closer to him. He opens his eyes when he feels you drawing nearer, and his fathomless eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You want him to stay. You want him to love you as you so desperately love him. You want him to never stop looking at you the way he is now.

And when you press your hand flat against the side of his neck, your gaze fluttering over every perfect feature of his face, his soul opens to you, and you see all the love you bear for him reflected deep in his own eyes.

“Yes,” he breathes, and he leans forward to close the few inches that separate your lips from his.

The first sensation that strikes you is his blood pulsing in his neck, hammering against your hand as you caress him. His own hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place while he presses his lips against yours.

There is no hesitation in this kiss, no second-guessing or reluctance. His lips move against yours in a rhythm so natural that you wonder if he has imagined this as many times as you have.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, drowning in your kiss like a dying man seeking air. You can feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, so unaccustomed to any attention as passionate as this. The man lifts his other hand to cradle your jaw, still kissing your lips, gently but insistently, over and over and over.

This is what heaven must be like, you realize distantly when his tongue slides against yours, every inch of your skin tingling in response. His undivided attention, his unashamed desire for you is so arousing, so delightful in every way.

You can feel your cheeks burning, your skin heating up, the longer his hands linger on your face and neck. His fingers stroke your jaw, and his other hand grips your hair just hard enough to hold you in place. He is still reveling in your kiss, still using his lips and tongue to draw out the softest moan you have ever made in your life.

As soon as he hears it, he moves his lips to press against the corner of your mouth, much as he did the first time he kissed you in the barn. He trails his lips down your jaw, peppering kisses on every inch of skin he passes.

Thoroughly excited by his kisses and touches, your mind is all too eager to provide any number of tempting images. When he dips his head to one side, lips touching the place where your jaw meets your neck, all you can imagine is the careful way he would undress you, lay you down, and make love to you, slowly and gently but passionately.

He drags his lips down your neck, his curious tongue coaxing another soft sound from you. Again, your mind flashes to all the ways he might use his tongue on you, all the places he could seek out and tease until you are so dizzy with pleasure that all you can say is his name, over and over.

Another press of his tongue, and it takes all your strength not to beg him to take you right here. You can imagine it so easily, the way he would grip your waist, your hips, the way you would wrap yourself around him and touch every inch of his bare skin if he would only give you the chance.

What would you not give to see him shudder in pleasure, to throw his head back and hold you tight as you cling to him and make him feel the same thing he ignites in you?

It’s at that moment that he whispers your name, tenderly, reverently, like a prayer, against the soft column of your throat. Your whole body shudders in response, your hands tightening where they have landed on his broad shoulders, and he finally fulfills what you have been aching for.

One strong arm wraps around your waist, the other around your upper back, and in the space of a breath the man has pulled you against him, leaning you to the side so that you are cradled in his arms across his lap.

You are suddenly very aware of how thin your shift is, of the way he must be able to feel every curve of your body pressed against him. His fingers are gentle where they wrap around your waist, and you feel with heightened awareness all the strength of his own body, all his powerful muscles and vigorous energy.

All you can do is sigh in pleasure as he keeps his head buried in your neck, still kissing your sensitive skin as though he cannot get enough of you.

You can barely take a breath, so overcome with the multitude of sensations he ignites in you. His hand flexes against your waist, and you respond in kind with your fingers digging into his back.

You have the distinct impression that the man is having to physically restrain himself from going further, that all he wants to do right now is yank open your shift and kiss his way down your bare body. As irresistible as that thought is, you let him take the lead, and he chooses to simply kiss you rather than ravish you.

He is a noble man, a man of honor, and though your body is aching for him to truly make you his, you take pleasure in his self-control, his respect for you.

His fervent kisses to your neck finally slow, and he breathes against your skin as though trying to memorize you. When he nuzzles his face against your neck, all you can do is close your eyes in absolute ecstasy. One of your hands finds its way into his hair, and it’s his turn to shiver with pleasure, pulling you even closer against his body and resting his lips against the curve of your neck.

He goes still in your arms when you stroke his hair, slowly and tenderly with your fingertips. Again, you are struck by his reactions to your gentle touches, by the way he melts into your arms as though overpowered.

Several long moments are spent in that position, with you cradled against his chest, his face against your neck. You would be content to stay like this all night, just listening to him breathe, feeling his heart beating against your side.

But the moment passes, as all moments do. Another crack of thunder shakes the house, and you can’t help but jump a little in his arms.

As if pulled out of his daze, the man smiles softly against your neck, strokes your back soothingly in a way that only serves to make you arch your body against his. A moment later, he lifts his head from the crook of your shoulder, letting his face brush against yours as you disentangle yourselves.

Though you have just spent the last few moments passionately embracing and kissing, and though both of you are still flushed and breathless with exhilaration, the following moment is not awkward. You do not look at each other as you part, but you can sense your own relief and contentment in him.

You do not know what will come of this. You do not know if he will stay much longer. But in a moment like this, with your lips still swollen from his kiss and your skin still burning from his touch, you feel as though no heartbreak can be as vast as this perfect fulfillment you feel with him.

You stand slowly, glad that you are not as unsteady as you feel, and you lift the kettle off the fire just to have something to do. You can feel the man’s eyes on you, though he does not speak.

“It is a fierce storm tonight,” you comment, almost without realizing that you are speaking. The silence between you was comfortable, but you long to say something, to know that he is still at ease with you.

He takes his time in responding, especially since you have your back to him. “Yes,” he says simply, his voice deep and husky.

Stars, how you want to hear that voice in your ear, in your bed, murmuring to you while you both reach the height of your shared pleasure.

You swallow hard to banish your intrusive thoughts. You move to set the kettle down in your cabinet and scramble to think of something else to say. Rain continues to pound against your roof, sending a slight chill through the air despite the warmth of the fire.

“Will you be warm enough tonight?” you ask over your shoulder, still conscious of his eyes burning into your back.

Again, he takes his time answering. “Yes,” he finally replies. “Will you?”

You let the question hang, still standing with your back to him. You hope he can understand your wordless answer, especially after sharing such an intimate moment.

The only warmth I crave now is the heat of your body against mine.

Still trying to avoid meeting his eyes, you half-turn to pick up your two empty cups from the table. Doing so makes you lean against the side of the little square table, and you notice with great surprise that it does not tilt dangerously to the side as it has for the last several months.

The table legs are perfectly even now, and you suddenly raise your eyes to look at the man squarely. He is gazing at you with the oddest combination of expressions — desire, contentment, admiration, sorrow, longing, affection, and several others you cannot name.

“You fixed my table,” you observe, genuinely struck by the kindness of his simple gesture. You don’t know when he did it, but sometime in the last few days he must have noticed the unsteadiness and taken the time to fix it somehow.

He holds your gaze for a long moment, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “It needed fixing,” he replies simply.

Your heart leaps into your throat, though you can’t say quite why. Despite the fact that just a moment ago you were wrapped up in his arms, sighing while he covered your neck with kisses, you are much more affected by his modest demonstration of kindness — fixing something of yours that was broken.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, returning his small smile with all the warmth blossoming in your heart.

You finish your task, setting the two cups in the cabinet to be washed tomorrow. The storm outside has quieted somewhat, but you can still hear the constant pounding of raindrops on the roof and walls.

Quiet thunder rolls in the distance as you turn to look at the man again. He is still seated, leaning forward with his knees on his elbows, gazing at you curiously.

This is what you want: this man in your home, always, sharing your fire, sharing your space, looking at you as if you hold his heart in your hands.

The words spill from your lips before you can consider them. “My father always told me that a storm can make a person change their mind about anything.” You hear the significance in your own words, and you press on anyway. “He said it’s in their nature to bring about transformation.”

The man’s darkened eyes do not leave yours for a moment, and you hold his gaze steadily, wanting him to hear your unspoken plea.

Stay with me. Let me love you as I do in my dreams.

His face does not betray any decision, but his gaze is tender, filled with a weary longing. His eyes explore each feature of your face as gently as his fingers did a few moments ago.

“Perhaps I will listen to it for awhile, then,” he murmurs, and your heart sighs.

All is not lost. You must simply wait.

As you start towards the doorway that leads to your bedroom, you pause beside his chair. The man is looking up at you with eyes that melt you to your very soul. Overcome with your affection for him, you lift one hand and stroke the side of his face, smiling down at him fondly.

“Goodnight, general,” you whisper, and your heart whispers, Beloved.

Before you can drop your hand, the man wraps his fingers around it and brings it to his lips. An unhurried kiss to the back of your hand, one that sends another shiver down your spine, and he releases you. His eyes burn into yours, intense, ardent, yearning.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, and your heart hears his whisper, Beloved, long after you have slipped into the next room.

The Suit

Summary: Hotch guest lectures for his daughter’s criminology class. He ends up having to address Foyet’s impact on his life. AU where Hotch never goes into WitSec and remarries and has more children.

Relationship: RetiredHotch x FemBAURetiredReader (college aged daughter too)

Word Count: 1963

TW: Foyet, spoilers, murder, academia, angst if you squint, protective family

A/N: So many fics about Hotch and Foyet address the hidden pain, fear and not so hidden PTSD Hotch contends with. I wanted to write about Hotch and his post-FBI life/career - something fun and saucy - but, alas, this took on a life of its own. I like the idea of writing about Hotch addressing Foyet in a way that’s more like this happened, and it changed me, and now I can talk about it more objectively all these years later. I can still see his family wanting to protect him from something, though, many years behind him, still painful.

————————————————————-

“Honey?! Honey? Where’s my Armani suit? The gray one? That didn’t go in the donation pile, did it?” he asks, referring to the towering, expensive pile of shirts, suits and ties he donated when he retired. He’s trying to hide it, but he’s clearly nervous.

Keep reading

A List of Prompts

because yeah i think it would be helpful if there was a comprehensive list of those, so

ANGST. want to cry? here's some onion for you.

fighting/intense

someone is injured

protective

reluctant allies

shedding a tear

secret relationship--getting caught and confronted

enemies to lovers

corruption arc

sentence starters

forbidden love

101 ways to break the characters (and readers) heart

broken trust

hit em where it hurts

for the damaged

short angst sentence starters

soft angst sentence starters

high pain tolerance

dark and angsty sentence starters

from the villain

SMUT / NSFW. having horny thoughts? endulge.

action prompts

subtle intimacy

sexual tension

kissing starters

smut dialogue prompts

sfw friends with benefits

types of kisses

soft dirty talk sentence starters

consent is sexy

spicy actions

subtle smut sentence starters

nonverbal sexual situations

bdsm and dom/sub prompts

build the tension

love and leashes

FLUFF. for when your heart needs healing.

simple actions.

forehead touches.

things done while spooning

things done while dancing

oblivious idiots in love

idiots in love

dancing prompts

dialogue prompts

simple touches

casual affections

soft and sweet sentence starters

types of hugs

comforting

domestic intimacy

comforting actions

soft touches

BITTERSWEET. for those who like to hurt and then soothed.

reassuring your lover

reassuring your lover pt. 2

sacred moments

hurt/comfort prompts.

hero x villain prompts

lovers in denial

comforting a lover after a nightmare

grumpy x sunshine

enemies with benefits

noticing trauma

all about the yearning

found family

nightmares and sleeping

reassuring

reunion after (physical) trauma

possessive/territorial

for the heavy hearted

enemies to lovers

hero x villain sentence starters

dissociation starters

intervention

enemies to lovers and lovers to enemies

This is beautiful and wonderfully written 🥺🥺💖💖. I love this fic, it's perfect and awesome!!!!

I need a second part or something about Hotch visiting them at the hospital.

Goodbye - Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

WC: 5.8K / navi / preview

Summary: You're a new agent with the BAU, and on your first case, you make the unfortunate mistake of riling up the unsubs. Your boss isn't too happy with you for doing so, and barely waits until you're alone in your shared hotel room to let you know that. But when he steps out for a moment, his fears are realized, and you're revealed to be the unsub's next target. Can he get back to you in time to save you?

Contents/Warnings: typical cm violence, angry hotch, yelling, reader gets attacked, mentions of guns, reader gets stabbed in the stomach and bleeds a lot, copious mentions of blood, sad hotch

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Your stomach had been burning with shame for hours now, your head spinning as you replayed the incident over and over and over again. You’d slipped up at the press conference you were a part of, accidentally revealing that your unsub was two people instead of one, breaking the cover that you’d needed to maintain for the hunt to go smoothly. Now they knew you were onto them, and would most likely begin a panicked spree. People were going to die because of you.

You were so lost in thought, in fact, that you didn’t realize everyone stopping in the hallway of the hotel, bumping gently into Rossi’s back. He steadied you, turning to set a hand comfortingly on your shoulder. He’d been nothing but understanding since it happened, assuring you that everyone made a mistake or two in high-pressure situations like press conferences, and that no one was going to be angry with you. You weren’t so sure about that last point, though, because the second you’d slipped up, Hotch had seemed possessed with the most terrifying, unadulterated rage that you’d ever seen on him. 

Speaking of your Unit Chief, he stood at the front of the group, passing out room keys. Rossi was given one, Prentiss was given one, Morgan was given one, and you stuck beside Rossi, watching as JJ paired with Prentiss, and Reid stayed by Morgan.

You were fully intent on isolating yourself as much as possible away from Hotch, at least until you were able to look at his face without nearly wetting yourself. But it seems he had other plans, his dark eyes glancing at you for the first time since it had happened, pure disdain lingering in them.

“Y/L/N,” Hotch’s voice sent chills down your spine, far too icy cold for your liking, “This is our key. You’ll be rooming with me tonight, we need to have a word..”

There was a palpable onset of tension at Hotch’s words, and you watched the rest of the team slowly disperse, sending you sympathetic smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. Rossi even patted you on the back before he stepped away, leaving you stranded in the hallway with Hotch.

He didn’t say another word until he stepped through the door, and somehow his glare got even more intense when he saw the layout of the room.

One bed. No couch. No floor space.

He had stopped so abruptly at the sight that you rammed into his back, the slip-up becoming a habit within the past five minutes. However, Hotch reacted very differently than Rossi had, stiffening at the contact and stepping away.

He set his bag down on one side of the bed, turning back to face you with an unimpressed glare.

“A- About today,” You started, “Sir, I’m so sorry-”

He held up a hand, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before answering. You felt like a scolded child, shifting lightly on your feet as you waited for him to speak.

“Do you understand what you did?” He finally asked, peering at you through a frown.

“I do.” You started, quickly realizing that the question had been rhetorical and snapping your mouth shut when he silenced you again.

“People’s lives are at stake here. Real people, real, probably defenseless people, that you’ve just condemned to die.” 

You didn’t dare speak, but you felt the shame in your belly grow at his scolding.

“Because you didn’t think about what you said before you said it, they’re going to die. Those murderers are going to break into another couples; house, shoot them before they know what’s going on, and leave them to bleed out on the floor. Is that what you wanted?”

“No, sir.” You cautiously interjected, “Of course not.”

“Well then I’m not sure what possessed you to say that.”

“I-It was an accident,” You meekly supplied, internally cringing when anger flared in his eyes.

“Oh, an accident? Another dead couple, just an accident? These are people, Y/L/N! Living, breathing people! Not for long, though! Not as long as you have a say in the matter, isn’t that right?”

“Hotch,” You gritted your teeth, annoyance now joining the shame that was stinging at your chest, “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? Not fair?! You know what’s not fair, Y/L/N?” He huffed, stepping forwards to tower over you, “You ruined our investigation. We had them! Garcia was seconds away from tracing them, we knew that they’d call in to correct us about how many of them there were! But you did it for them, and they’re spiraling right now at that loss of power. What isn’t fair is that you single-handedly undid all of our progress, and sent us back to square one after three days of work. That’s what’s not fair.”

You took a deep breath, your frustration manifesting itself in an onslaught of tears that you struggled to keep at bay. They burned hot and stinging at your eyes, but you muscled them down, blinking rapidly, “I understand that I’ve negatively impacted the course of the investigation, and set us back with my mistake. Nothing I could say will ever come close to conveying how sorry I am that I misspoke, but there’s nothing that I can do to reverse that. I will work twice as hard tomorrow, sir, to help regain any traction that we lost tonight. I know I messed up, but I have to focus on channeling all of my energy into fixing it, not spiraling because it happened.”

You watched Hotch’s face harden even further, a sight you’d deemed impossible only moments earlier. His brows were low on his face, his expression the disdainful glare that he usually reserved for uncooperative suspects. He scoffed, “I sincerely hope that you work twice as hard tomorrow, because none of us deserve to. You’ve undone three days of our work! Morgan was up until two in the morning last night. Reid has been questioning people nonstop. Garcia was finally about to track his phone service. That’s not fair to any of us, for you to walk in and destroy our work. New agents prove themselves, Y/L/N, and tonight, you have proven yourself incapable of working with this team.”

Your stomach dropped. You felt your throat ache, frantic words clawing their way up into your mouth where they died on your tongue. None of them would fix this, they’d only make it worse. Your eyes widened and your tears finally showed themselves, a single one slipping down the apple of your cheek before you frantically wiped it away, not keen on having a meltdown in front of the man who’d just called you incapable.

“Sir,” You finally spoke, your voice shaking, “I- I can’t give up this job. I know I made a mistake this time, and it was made worse by the fact that this is my first case, so you think it’s all I’m capable of. But if you just give me another chance-”

“Do you think you deserve another chance?”

Yes was on the tip of your tongue. You truly believed it, too, but all words were lost at the sight of Hotch’s venomous glare. You found yourself intimidated into speechlessness, and it gave your boss the hesitance he wanted to see in you.

“That’s what I thought.” Was all he left you with, striding away to rifle through his bag. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, your front teeth digging into the soft, pillowy flesh to hold back your sobs. You rushed past him, narrowly avoiding bumping into him to cross the room into the bathroom.

“I’m taking a shower,” You weakly explained, and you almost slammed the door in your haste to leave him, “I won’t take long.”

As soon as the door was shut, you let your tears fall. You had to sob silently until you turned the water on, but the second you twisted the knobs and effectively drowned out your cries, you let loose.

Shame, humiliation, frustration, and despair all mingled in your stomach, a stormy mess of emotions that sent you spiraling. You couldn’t physically keep yourself upright, hunching over the toilet as visions of the couple’s next victims flashed through your mind. Would they be a newlywed couple? Or an elderly one? Would they have a pet? Would they have a child? Would they have multiple children? Scenario after scenario raced through your head, each one more catastrophic than the last in terms of heartbreak. But the common thread in all of them was their deaths, the deaths that you had caused. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, the device pressed tight to your body in your constricting work pants. You tore it out of your pocket, praying that it would be good news from Garcia, or an icebreaking anecdote about the crappy rooms from Prentiss.

It was from Prentiss, but it wasn’t soothing. 

‘We can hear him yelling at you, Y/N.’

Another buzz, ‘We’re not angry with you. Everyone makes mistakes. And those people were probably gonna die anyways, as terrible as that sounds.’

‘Please don’t give up, he’s angry and he always takes things out harder on newer agents. If you’re able to muscle through it, I guarantee you he’ll come around, the work that you’ve done so far has been incredibly helpful, save for the one little accident.’

‘It’s normal for us to make mistakes every once in a while. We’ve all slipped up like that before, even Hotch. He just doesn’t want to admit it, because he’s stressed out right now.’

You blinked rapidly, trying to chase your tears away. You’d heard scary stories about your boss, told around the break room tables instead of around a campfire, but he seemed to be more of a monster than they’d let on. You couldn’t see through your tears, and the sound of the water drowned out any other noise in the room. You set your phone down, grabbing a towel that was draped over the shower and burying your face in it. Now you really couldn’t see, which gave the couple slowly sliding the window open beside you all the advantage they needed.

--

‘Can I speak with you for a moment?’ 

Aaron glanced down at his phone, anger still creasing his brows. He bit back a scoff at Dave’s text on the screen, knowing that he was going to be scolded for shouting. 

‘I can’t leave right now, Y/L/N is in the shower.’

‘What, are you in there together? Why can’t you come out into the hallway?’

Aaron finally let out his frustration, a sickened groan leaving his lips, ‘I would never take advantage of my position over any of my subordinates. Don’t be crass.’

‘Your little speech just now proved that they’re not just one of your subordinates.’

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. You’re making less and less sense by the minute, and I’m not going to sit here and play games with you. Sleep, if you really need to talk to me you can wait until tomorrow morning when we’re back on the case.’

‘I’m not waiting until then.’ Aaron felt annoyance well in his chest at Dave’s persistence, ‘Hallway, now.’

‘Don’t order me around.’

‘You’re coming though, aren’t you?’

--

You had barely dried the tears off of your cheek when your airflow was cut off, a strong, muscled arm winding around your throat. Your immediate instinct was to scream, your eyes blown wide in panic, but another hand stuffed the towel hanging in your face into your mouth, muffling any sound you could have made through a layer of fluffy fabric and the added noise of the shower.

You tried fighting, kicking when you couldn’t scream, but two hands grabbed your ankles, nearly snapping one in an attempt to hold you still.

All at once, the towel was no longer in your mouth, but a knife was to your stomach.

“Make a sound, and we’ll gut you.” A voice hissed in your ear, raspy and rotten. You felt a tear roll down your cheek, this time out of fear and not sadness, but it was ignored in favor of the pair hauling you out the window.

Luckily for you, the window was tiny. One of your captors had to crawl out first, still gripping your ankles like a vice. But then you had to be transported out, and you made it as difficult as possible, twisting yourself this way and that.

They quickly tired of your insolence, pushing the knife so far into your belly that you were surprised it didn’t break skin. The sharp point in your abdomen instilled a sense of panic in you that you’d never felt before, unparalleled to any precautionary training drill you’d suffered through.

Your boot hit the window frame as you were carefully guided out of it, and made a dull thunk. Neither of your captors thought too hard about it, but you knew it was the sound of your taser hitting the wood, the weapon strapped to your ankle in case of emergency situations where you weren’t able to reach your gun.

Like now.

You moved quickly, taking the opportunity that presented itself while your captors were struggling to move you. The second their hands loosened around your ankle, you thrashed in their hold, spinning yourself around so that your chin was tucked safely to your chest while the first person’s arm slid along the back of your head instead of locking into your throat. You swung your legs towards the window, breaking the glass with the rubber soles and screaming as loud as you could.

--

Aaron cast one glance to the bathroom before stepping out, hearing the water hitting the tiles of the shower and starting for the door.

He shut it behind him with a soft click, the key still in his pocket. Dave was already waiting for him, but the usually-comforting presence of his long time friend only made him crankier.

“Hurry up, Y/L/N shouldn’t be in there alone for too long. That’s the whole reason we teamed up.”

“They’ll be fine, as long as you don’t shout at them anymore.” Dave leaned against the wall beside him casually, an unimpressed glare leveled at Aaron.

“They needed to be reprimanded-”

“They’re not a child, Aaron. You don’t need to be their angry parent.”

“Dave, do you realize what they’ve done?”

“Yes, and if I hadn’t before, you yelled it for the entire hotel to hear. I’m pretty sure the people on floor two now know the intimate details of this case.”

“I’m angry, and rightfully so.”

“No, you’re scared.” Dave persisted, never intimidated by Aaron for a second, “You’re scared because you know they’re coming after someone, and you’re worried that it’ll be Y/L/N.”

Aaron let his eyes slip shut after a long, tense silence, pinching his temple between his thumb and pointer finger. He could tell Dave whatever he wanted, but he’d never be able to lie to the man.

“I understand that you don’t want to stir up unnecessary panic. What if the couple doesn’t come after Y/L/N? You’d have freaked them out for no reason with the promise of an attack. But you can’t disguise your fear as anger, especially not if it's directed at them. That’s not fair.” Dave’s parroting of the phrase your argument had been overly saturated by only reinforced the fact that everyone had heard everything, and Aaron felt a pinprick of something he’d never admit was shame poking at his heart.

“Agent Y/L/N is not prepared for high-pressure situations like that.”

“Yeah, I agree, they need some more practice. Why did we let them headline on their very first case? Anyone would have slipped up,” Dave insisted, ever the devil’s advocate to Aaron’s stubborn hotheadedness.

“Their mistake will cost us-”

“No, their mistake will cost you, if you don’t apologize. If you react to a miniscule slip up with unbridled rage, they’re never going to feel comfortable around you. They’ll constantly feel like they’re walking on eggshells, that you’re waiting to scream at them for every little thing.”

“What do you want me to do, Dave? Tell them I’m sorry I hurt their feelings? These are real people getting killed, and-”

A blood-curdling, eerie, sickening scream ripped through the previously cozy silence of the hotel, and Aaron’s hand flew instinctively to his gun. But it wasn’t there, and he scrambled to jam the key back into the lock to retrieve it from where he’d left it on the bed.

Dave looked equally panicked, his own gun in his room with Spencer. Thankfully, the young doctor was already responding to the disturbance, their door flying open and revealing him, guns in both hands.

Dave was quickly passed his, and the pair stuck behind Aaron as he struggled. Finally, he got fed up with the key, his hands too shaky to aim properly, spitting an angry, “Come on!” and rammed his shoulder into the rickety door, sending it flying open and slamming into the wall. He sprinted in, barely remembering to snatch his gun off of the bed before he stopped in front of the bathroom door. His shoulder ached from knocking open the main door, but he didn’t hesitate to bare it once more and snap the lock.

He was definitely going to need a brace after this.

“FBI, don’t- Y/N..” 

--

Of course, they stuck to their promise. The knife was immediately jammed into your stomach, the pain blinding as it slowly spread throughout every inch of your body. You heard immediate commotion from the bedroom, scrambling away from the unsubs as best you could to ram your back against the door. You hunched over, ripping your taser from your ankle and pointing it threateningly at them, but they were now more concerned with getting away than they were with you. Any energy you had possessed before being stabbed was oozing out of you in your blood, a puddle of crimson on the floor as you hunched over it. Your knees gave out and you fell onto your side, barely able to crane your neck up enough to watch them get away. 

You laid slumped against the wall for mere seconds, but they felt like hours ticking by as your life slowly left you. You felt something warm trickling down the side of your face, and without even seeing it you knew that it was blood seeping from your mouth.

You heard the commotion and shouting from just outside the bathroom door, then the lock gave way with a loud snap and the door flung open, slamming into your legs. You weren’t able to move them, though, and you looked up blearily as Hotch stormed into the bathroom, his gun held expectantly before him as he looked around wildly for your attackers.

“FBI, don’t- Y/N..” His gaze finally fell to the floor, following a trail of blood from where your ankles had been cut by the window. His eyes widened, and a panicked expression that you had never seen on him before took over his face.

“They’re gone,” You rasped, your voice strained from the amount of effort it took to speak, “I couldn’t stop them.”

“We’ll go around the back and call an ambulance,” Rossi mumbled, patting Hotch’s back before dragging Spencer away, “You take Y/L/N.”

Hotch didn’t need to be told twice. He kneeled beside you, prying gently at your side to turn you over. You let out a cracked, pained whimper at the pain that blossomed from his touch, and you saw his chin wobble slightly at the sight of your stab wound and your red-rimmed eyes, not ready to say goodbye to you.

“I- I knew I shouldn’t have left,” His voice shook just as his hands did, where they pressed tentatively against your injury. When you winced in pain, he knew he’d found the right spot, and increased the pressure tenfold.

Your eyes widened and you tried protesting, instead only capable of wheezing out a weak cough. More blood pooled in your throat and you choked on it, alerting Hotch to the fact that you needed to be somewhat upright.

“Okay, okay, you’re- you’re okay, let me just-” He rambled as he slipped a hand behind your head, the one on your wound now having to press twice as hard. He lifted your head slightly, shifting so that you were laying in his lap. Your head was elevated now, and your throat cleared, dark red blood now able to flow freely from between your lips..

“Hotch,” You started, and his frantic gaze flitted to your face.

“Don’t speak,” He shushed you, “Conserve your energy.”

“No, no,” You pressed on, shaking your head jerkily, “I need to apologize.”

“You don’t, please just keep quiet and don’t overexert yourself.” There were tears in his eyes now, his breathing shaky as he continued pressing into your wound.

“It’s my fault,” Your words had him shaking his head vehemently, but you pressed on, “You- you were right. If I hadn’t said-”

“Please,” He cried, a sob clinging to his words as his face crumpled, “Stop talking!”

--

“Fourth floor, room thirteen!” Rossi commanded the paramedics waiting outside with your stretcher, “Hurry, they’re losing a lot of blood!”

“Rossi,” Reid stepped towards the man, looking back at the one unsub they’d managed to apprehend, ‘Do you think he’ll give up his partner?”

“It’s not likely,” Rossi mused, frowning at the sight of your blood on the man’s hands, “But I think Hotch would beat it out of him if he had to.”

“Why was he so harsh on Y/L/N?” Reid’s brows furrowed as he recalled the aggressive lecture they’d all overheard from your room.

Rossi kept a straight face while staring at Reid, but one side of his mouth shifted as he sucked his cheek into his mouth to gnaw on it.

“You know something,” Reid realized, his eyes narrowing as he stared Rossi down, “What do you know?”

“He’s scared.” Rossi finally blurted, offering no other explanation.

“I’ve never seen Hotch scared.” Reid frowned, “I’ve seen him resigned; he knows something bad is about to happen but he knows he can’t stop it, or he knows we’ll get there in time to stop it. But he’s never afraid of what’s coming.”

“Yeah, well tonight, he was.” Then a long pause, “And I made him leave the room.” It finally dawned on Rossi, “He knew something was going to happen to Y/L/N, and I forced him out anyways.”

“Rossi-” Reid started, but the older man waved a hand at him.

“No, don’t start. I’m not gonna spiral like Hotch will, It just- it made me think.”

“Hotch is spiraling?”

“You should have seen him when Y/L/N screamed,” Rossi let out a breathless, dry laugh, devoid completely of humor, “He’s gonna blame himself for a long time.”

--

“There, there you go. You’re gonna be okay,” Hotch babbled, comforting himself more than he was comforting you as you were situated on the stretcher. You blinked hazily up at him as he clambered into the back of the ambulance they’d put you in, his tie brushing gently over your nose as it dangled in your face. He finally got settled, the blue strip of fabric now laying over your chest before he brushed it away, letting it fall over the buttons of his shirt.

“You’re riding with me?” You rasped, your hand hanging limply over the side of the stretcher where it had fallen.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m riding with you,” Hotch’s voice was still trembling, and he grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers and resting your joined hands on your stomach. You glanced down at the embrace briefly, then back at him.

“I’m sorry they got away.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” You winced lightly after your insistence left your stomach stinging, “I agitated them, and I couldn’t even fix my mistake when I had the chance.”

“You didn’t have the chance,” Hotch urged, his voice hardening slightly before he reined himself in, “You- they attacked you, Y/N. You didn’t have the chance to fight back.”

“Did the others catch them?”

“Um,” Hotch fumbled for his phone with one hand, keeping the other firmly locked with your own as he squinted at the screen, “One. They want me to interrogate him, find out who his partner is and where they’re going.’

“Do you think the partner will become less effective in killing now that they’re not together?”

“Definitely,” Hotch soothed you, tucking his phone back into his jacket, “Don’t worry about it, just rest.”

“Don’t- How could I not worry?!” Your brows furrowed, and one of the EMT’s by your side sent you a warning glance.

“You need to relax,” Hotch murmured, keeping his voice low so that yours would follow suit, “You lost a lot of blood and you need to stay awake until they get some more in you.”

You settled back into the stretcher with a resigned sigh, despair seeping through your frame. Not only had you ruined the chase, you hadn’t even remedied it by catching them when they were in the same room as you. 

“You.. You were right, Hotch.” You spoke after a prolonged bout of silence, “I don’t think I’m capable of doing this job.”

“Don’t-” Hotch’s face screwed up in a grimace, his breathing haggard, “Don’t say that. I didn’t mean that, I was- I was worried.”

“You didn’t mean that? Hotch,” You sighed, “You meant every word you said to me tonight, and they were true. I’m not cut out for this, I’m sorry that I messed things up.”

“I didn’t mean it! I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” He composed himself, squeezing your limp hand in his, “It was unfair of me to berate you like that. You didn’t do it on purpose, and it was a mistake anyone could have made. I was just- I was so scared, Y/N.”

“You.. You were scared?” You noted that, for the second time that night, Hotch had used your first name instead of your last, and you filed them both away to think about more critically later.

“I knew they were going to strike again. The problem was, I didn’t know where. It sounds awful, but when we know another victim is condemned to die, we can’t do anything about it. We.. we use them as a means to collect more evidence, sometimes we can’t advance in an investigation unless another person dies. We wait for people to get killed, Y/N, and the more we do it, the less terrible it seems. But I knew he’d come after you.”

“You did?” Something tightened in your chest, a sense of sickening dread that you wished you’d felt before the attack, because it might have saved your life.

“Think about it. You were the face of the press conference, your face and position were broadcasted to anyone watching. We knew they were watching, we wanted them to. When you misspoke, and exposed them to the community before they could, they spiraled. There’s only one hotel in the area, and you mentioned staying as close to the investigation as possible.” Hotch shifted uncomfortably on the rickety plastic bench that he was sitting on, “They knew where you were, they knew who you were, and they knew exactly how to get you. That’s why I teamed us all up tonight, Y/N, because I knew they were coming. I figured there was still a possibility that they’d be too cowardly to attack a government agent in a hotel full of them, but we knew they didn’t shy away from high-risk situations. It- It was you, Y/N, I knew it was you, and- I still left.”

“I.. I don’t understand,” Your mind was reeling, spiraling out of control with the new information you’d been given, “Why didn’t you tell me this before? And- and where did you go?”

“Dave- Rossi wanted to talk to me,” His eyes left your face for the first time in minutes, downcast to the floor, “He was upset that I’d shouted at you.”

“And.. why didn’t you tell me this before?” You repeated.

“I.. Y/N, I tried to.”

Your eyes narrowed and you felt your stomach start to burn again, “No you didn’t! Not one single word that came out of your mouth when you were blaming me for the deaths of innocent civilians had anything to do with the fact that I was about to be stabbed in the crappy hotel bathroom.”

“I- I know,” Hotch squeezed his eyes shut, sighing deeply. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For?” “For blaming you. For yelling at you. For leaving.”

“Why did you blame me? If you didn’t really mean it, why did you?”

Hotch deliberated that for a moment, the fingers of his free hand brushing gently together, “It was easier for me to be angry than it was for me to be scared.”

You stayed silent, but you kept your eyes on him, watching his expression shift.

“I’m never scared.” Hotch insisted, “Or- or I’m scared all the time. I don’t know anymore, really. But this fear was new, this kind of fear was new, this intensity of fear was new. I don’t usually have to worry about us,” He gestured vaguely to his jacket pocket, where you knew he kept his badge, “I mean, not really. We go into high-pressure situations, but we always come back out again. Even- even if we get a few scrapes here and there, we’re okay. There’s only been a few times where something this bad has happened to one of us, and I don’t know how to deal with it yet, I’m not used to it. So I resorted to anger, which I deal with a lot more often than fear. I dealt with it the wrong way, and I got angry with you. I needed to get angry with someone instead of being afraid, and you were easy to blame.”

He took a deep breath, and you took the liberty of being the one to squeeze his hand this time, his eyes flitting to where they laid together on your stomach, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, I should have just been honest with you. I.. I would promise to do better next time, but I’m counting on there not being a next time, so instead I’ll promise to make it up to you.”

He finished his speech with a soft huff, his eyes worriedly scanning your face for a reaction. You weren’t sure you had it in you to give him one, though, so you let your eyes fall shut, taking one deep breath before blinking them open again.

“You can’t be afraid of being afraid, Hotch.”

His shoulders slumped minisculely at your words, his eyebrows raising as he nodded, “I know. I-”

“Just.. let me finish.” You cut him off, “Everyone gets scared sometimes. You don’t have to forgo emotions just because you’re leading a team of FBI agents. You’re allowed to get scared too, and you’re allowed to tell people that you’re scared. No one would judge you, you know that, don’t you? Prentiss isn’t gonna laugh at you, Reid wouldn’t call you a loser.”

He let the ghost of a smile flit over his face at your examples, and you considered it a personal win.

“You almost lost me today.” You reminded him, watching his face fall, “But not because you stepped out. But because you did deal with it the wrong way. Because you wouldn’t let yourself be afraid of losing me. And I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty, Hotch, because I don’t want you to blame yourself. I’m telling you this so that you can grow as a person, and relearn feelings that you’ve suppressed. Use this as an example, as a reason to be scared. Be afraid, Hotch, psych yourself out about this, or it’ll happen again. But don’t blame yourself.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Y/N, and I won’t forget this anytime soon. But I am blaming myself, it is my fault.”

“Hotch, they would have come regardless of whether or not you yelled at me. You’re not responsible for their attack. You can regret that you didn’t warn me, and promise to do better in the future, but warning me would have only given me time, not safety. You couldn’t have stopped them from coming for me by telling me that they were.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” One of the EMTs by your feet spoke up, the intimacy of the moment shattered, “But we’re here, and we need to unload you, Y/N.”

You nodded, looking away from where you’d been staring into Hotch’s eyes and reluctantly letting him let go of your hand. You were jostled slightly by the paramedics pulling you out of the stretcher, but their hastily-wrapped gauze around your stomach did its job, and your stomach wasn’t bleeding profusely anymore. 

Hotch stepped out of the ambulance behind you, standing by the truck instead of following after you. You glanced back at him questioningly as you were being led away, “Aren’t you coming?”

“I.. I can’t, Y/N.” He held out his phone, “They want me to interrogate the man they caught.”

“Right.” You nodded,  disappointment stewing in your stomach alongside the constant pain, “Thank you for riding with me.”

He nodded once, opening his mouth to say something but stalling before he did, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” The EMTs carrying your stretcher stalled at the door, waiting patiently for him to speak just as you did.

“Thank you for.. for helping me.” He tilted his head towards the ambulance, referencing the rather eye-opening conversation you’d just had, “I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too.” You smiled weakly, “Now go find his partner.”

He finally let a real smile flit over his face, no longer restraining himself as he knew you’d be safe, “I will. And I’ll come visit you as soon as I’m done. I’m sure the others will beat me here.”

Your smile grew at the promise of seeing him again, though your brain refused to acknowledge why. You supposed you were scared to admit it, but you used denial to mask your fear instead of anger, like Hotch. You’d have to work on that, but for now, you needed a stationary bed.

“Goodbye, Hotch.” You looked at him for one last moment, then relaxed into the stretcher, letting the EMTs escort you inside.

“Goodbye Y/N,” Hotch supplied weakly, letting relief blossom in his chest that the words he’d just spoken to you weren’t his last, but in the grand scheme of what was to come, a few of the first.

tags: @sunflowermotel @wheelsupkels @ssamorganhotchner @toshijimafarms @jhiddles03 @rosaliedepp @cehnyene @zaddyhotch @aliensaurusrex @tojithesourcerkiller @criminalmindsandmarvel @maddie77777 @anlin2058 @averyhotchner @desireav @thelaststraw3 @alanalanalanalanalanna @ccristata

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

reblog if you’d like one of these in your inbox

- ask me things you want to know about me

- why you follow me

- what’s on your mind/what you’re thinking about

- a compliment

- make me choose between two things

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- anything!!!!

This one needs more appreciation 💖💖

Mercifull - Maximus Decimus Meridius x (Fem)Reader

Gladiator (2000) Oneshot

Warnings: Confession of suicidal thoughts ( reader makes it and he talks her out of it), some age gap ( reader is young lady fan in age of looking for marriage).

Summary: The company of your favorite gladiator is the only bliss your father has been able to obtain for you since the rule of Commodus got you fearing for your lives.

Bought in clandestinity through the aborrecent mechanisms of roman corruption, your one moment to show Maximus thankfullness for the positive impact he had in you becomes your time to present him with a small part of the comfort fate has denied him through his endless sufferings.

Notes: First piece of Gladiator fic I ever written, inspired by the lovely @wildsaltair and an idea that wandered my mind post rewatch. Despite the grim topics in the warnings, I need to clarify it is mostly a comfort fluff

Maximus wasn't counting with more visits at night and the reminder of Lucilla's warnings regarding the depraved customs of wealthy ladies in Rome haunted him when he got the news. He would have yet to receive someone else, fault of his increasing popularity. It was matter of time untill fame would bring that sort of attention to him and he despised it. Forced to be in the presence of the buyer of instants from the misserable life he had yet to live, he would deny them of the one thing they really paid for. Frightening disdain could be enough to make a corrupt rich matron think twice before venturing.

Once he had you face to face, you confused him to no end debunking all previous assumptions. In his eyes you appeared like a portrait of innocence. A polite young lady that smiled for him with shy blush, not the attitude expected for a lascivous woman seeking satisfaction for her wicked desires from a gladiator. Nerves kept you awakardly silent as you advanced towards him and Maximus followed your every move with disconcerted curiosity.

Only after the guard allowed you some privacy, he finally got to hear your voice.

" It's a great honor, … to be in the presence of the most honorable champion … "

You suddenly interrupted yourself, giving him the impression of a previously practiced introductory speech falling due to excitement.

" … I brought you a humble present, just a honey cake. Self made, none of my slaves were involved. Unfortunately, the guards said we can't have it … What is a shame, because I thought something sweet would be comforting for your spirit. "

Adoration of the purest was all you were showing him. If he could have any doubts about what kind of woman you were, it was all confirmed for him.

For the first time since his life was ruined, something amused him enough to throw a few chuckles.

" You shouldn't be here. What would happen with your suitors if the rumour spreads that you frequent champions at night? "

The inmediate, correct implication showing he knew you couldn't be a married woman had slightly shamed you.

" Do you think that troubles me now? A lot has changed since Commodus crowned himself emperor. What used to concern me feels meaningless. Great damage has he inflicted in such brief time! Giving him a lifespan to rule, he will be the downfall of Rome. If the world our people have built may end, I can at least spend a small portion of my family's fortune for a meet with my favorite gladiator. "

Despite presented as sensical reasoning, your comment made him wary for motives that you couldn't possibly predict.

" Did Lucilla send you as last resort to soften my heart? "

You didn't feel called out in any way and replied with increasing honesty.

" I have no business with her, here I am on my own. My desperate father paid hoping our meeting could reanimate the walking corpse his beloved daughter has become. Your performance in the arena awakened her from the letharge and for once she resembled herself again. "

Unsure of what you meant, he tried to disuade you the best he could.

" He wasted it, I have nothing for you. Not even legendary words of comfort you may treasure for the rest of your life. If an infatuation with the shade of myself you saw brought you here, I'll have to warn you there is no life left in me to share. "

The dark warning had a contradictory effect. Probably because of the frustration caused by such terrible start of the encounter with your idol, some of your initial shyness was slowly dissipating.

" My two brothers gave their lives for Rome, only so Commodus would claim mine! " You admitted right away, controlling yourself to not indulge in reckless yelling. " I know, I saw it in his eyes when I had to swear loyalty to him out of fear. My father ... I am all he has left after sickness claimed my mother and war deprived us of my brothers. Commodus will come for me first. Sooner or later, he will. His wicked smile haunts my dreams turned into nightmares. Your company is the last wish of an innocent who fears herself already sentenced. Can't you not grant such small mercy? "

Maximus no longer could show himself detached from your pleads and your strange fascination became more understandable to him. Far from a superficial admiration, you were moved by his claims. Was that the sort of power Lucilla attributed him? Inspiring terrified people and awakening the conciences of those who remained numb of distractions? He was once a general, but it was not his place to be a revolutionary leader.

And yet, he couldn't help to feel intrigued about your story. He was not in the place to reach you any comfort, but could grant the mercy of listening to you. After all, yours was a moving image for him. Youthfull enough to make him suspect you could as well be a beloved daughter and someone else's fiancee. Innocent and kind, sweet and respectfull of a mere slave.

He relaxed his closed fists, then gave only a few steps closer to you to test if you weren't going to retrocede out of any possible fear of pyshical closeness.

" I am not a good companion, a balsam for desperation, but would like to know what made you expect to find that in me. "

You remained in your position, glance turning softer again before you looked at the ceiling as if you would be confessing yourself to both, him and the gods.

When your eyes were back on him you shrugged, making him smile from amusement.

" Everyday I see the masses supporting him I experience the powerlessness of Cassandra as the trojans cheer arround the wooden horse, because she knows the terrible secret it hides. All what's left for her being the repugnant hands of the lesser Ajax, Agamemnon and the axe of his wife. "

Revisiting the first impression he got of you, Maximus found the comparison fitting. Not because of the terrible fate it augured, but because the image of the beautifull princess cursed with awareness suited with your ways.

" Who am I in this? The priest of Neptune doomed to die for sharing your truth? "

He made you chuckle, but you resumed seriousness to insist with your point.

" You exposed the truth nobody wants to hear loud enough for them to stop ignoring it, and in that I found hope. Your ragefull bright could have burned the cursed artifact of Ulysses. Inspired by it I dreamt of outliving this curse falling upon us."

Your will to share was reaching dangerous territory, but you felt so comfortable with him that you didn't mind to make him the keeper of a secret not even your most trusted slaves knew.

" Before I found you, I was inclined to believe my only way to win would be following the path of the egyptian queen. Take my own life on noble, painless terms before he would command for me the most horrible and humilliating of deaths. My only hope, Maximus, was dying celibate. It was your vengefull hunger for survival what inspired me to think otherwise, ... to crave life. And I am here to show my grattitude, because for a brief instant you made me live again."

It baffled him, incapable of conceibing he could have such strong amount of influence from his position as a doomed entertainer. Aside from the scandall he caused revealing himself, his actions had palpable concencuencies in the most unexpected ways. His cursed existence had a meaning for some, a very real and touching effect on them. Thinking it from the perspective of political manipulation, the sister of the emperor forgot to mention it could reach beyond that.

" My life is brief, girl. I may die tomorrow and what would be left for you to look up to? Survive for your father, your loss would weight too heavy in his heart. Become the wife of a fortunate roman and make him proud. A family to look after will give you the purpose you lack. "

His advice induced you into a very obvious, but delicate conclussion.

" They are your purpose, the reason why you haven't given yourself death yet. Only in your memories they remain, and in the day you will perish, the last glimpse of their existence goes with you. "

Tears began to fall down your face and the sight contained his anger to a mention done by a stranger about his massacrated family. For as incredible as it was, you were the very first person willing to join his mourning.

"You are clever to interpret feelings in the way an augur follows divine signs. "

He managed to bring out one more smile in your still tearfull countenance.

" I suppose that saying I am sorry for your loss would come out as a very empty gesture, but if you indulge me, I will do better to reach you a humble expression of the comfort that was cruelly denied to you. "

The distance between you was shortened at every instant by action of your own approach. Before he would dare to object, your arms were trapping him in an intempestive hug. His chained wrists remained still in their position at the sides, restricted his movement by the ties and his suprise. Your sweet embrace was squeezing thight his firm form, head resting on his chest as if you intended to hear his heart beating.

He stayed there, numb to the comfort that the heat of your body and the scent of jasmines in your skin produced him. From the most ironical of places had someone succeded on the impossible task of caughting him out of guard. Not the fighters on the arena, or the emperor of Rome, but a sweet girl and her infinite kindness.

Unable to respond by receiving you in his arms, he placed a chaste kiss on top of your forehead as soon as you tilted your head up searching for his face.

There were no more tears left in you, only the sweetest delight.

" There are certain moments that can worth for a lifetime and I will treasure this as such. "

He smiled against your skin and pressed another peck.

" You will live again, even if I will not be there to see it. You are strong, way stronger than you think. The kindest roman that my new life has put on my way. "

The praise embarassed you and confused you simultaneously.

" What difference can that make against a monster like Commodus? He has no mercy."

" That doesn't mean he is not fond of finding it on others displaying it for him. " He clarified before completing another advice. " Adoration keeps him pleased. Show him just a brief glimpse of what you have done for me and you may disarm him, like you had disarmed me tonight."

Authentical disbelief to the implied confession made you overlook the rest.

" Have I done that? "

" Your arms are still rounding me. " Maximus reminded you with sweet amusement. " Do you think I would have allowed that if you wouldn't had awakened some sort of weakness? "

You released him a inmediately, raising up your hands with an innocent expression.

" I only meant to comfort you, to share the flame of hope you awakened in me. "

" And you did, … but now it's time for you to leave." He thankfully disencouraged you. " The more time you spend, more dangerous it becomes. If his spies haven't followed you, rumours could lead to a similar end. I want you to never show fright in front of him again, but you will if he finds a reason."

The reminder was sensical and you didn't protest against it.

" Thank you for your mercy, Maximus. "

In that he intepreted your acknowledgedment for the emotional closeness you both had reached through the encounter.

" I could only respond to your mercifull ways, good lady. "

That was fantastic and has me drooling 🤤🤤

Malfoy Manor

Severus has ignored you all day but he gets angry when he sees you and Lucius flirt and then you walk to your room together.

Severus Snape & Lucius Malfoy x femme reader

^this is a long one-shot & this is going to be a bit harsh, and it has a Snucius part.^

SMUT!

-

Being Draco's best friend is always fun. Parties, drinking, dancing, sleepovers, etc. this summer, you've done all of it but Severus, your boyfriend was invited to the Malfoy Manor too. Of course, no one knew about your relationship because if they knew, well, it would have consequences.

You can't ignore the fact that senior Malfoy is attractive, the way he looks you up and down only makes you want to make him pin you to bed and fuck you until you see stars. But you love your lover more than anything, and you know no one can satisfy you but him.

Today, Draco has invited his friends to the Manor again, which means you get to drink, dance and probably end up in bed with Severus. But so far, your plans have been doing good except for Severus' cold glares. He has been ignoring you all day, he hasn't talked to you, kisses you, or even crack a little smile.

He just stared at you with an emotionless expression.

You get ready for the party. Putting on your lacy red knickers without bras, cause your dress has cups to shape your breasts enough for everyone to drool over you. You put on your black dress, a tight crop top that has on a strap on the left shoulder and it's connected to the skirt with thin straps wrapped around your belly.

You slip in your black heels, applying some red lipstick and blush on your cheeks, and with a flick of your wand, your hair is styled down on your shoulder. (You can imagine your hair however you like, but here, some people have short hair, such as me so bear with me loves)

You check yourself in the mirror, You look magnificent. (Yes you are so beautiful and gorgeous) With a satisfied smile, you walk out of your room. As you walk downstairs, you hear the music playing, and chattering fills the Manor.

You enter the room with small steps and search for your boyfriend who gave you the cold shoulder for a day. Spotting him, you walk to him with an annoyed expression, but you couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach. He looks so delicious that it takes everything in you not to jump on him here and there.

His first few buttons are undone. The mixture of his jet black hair with a white shirt and black jeans is too good for you. You bite your lip and walk up to him, swaying your hips side to side. "Professor Snape, it's good to see you've decided to join us at last,"

He rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his whiskey. You look at his soft thin lips, wrapped around the crystal glass as his hands grab the glass tightly. "Severus, what is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me? Huh? I have seen your filthy thoughts about Lucius. Did you think I wouldn't get mad at you for thinking about getting fucked by another man?"

"You know it was only a dream, Severus. Don't make a big deal about it. You are the only one who can satisfy me, and you are aware of that,"

"Get out of my sight, before I snap at you," He whispers dangerously low in your ear. But you can't care less about him. You roll your eyes and turn around to walk away, as you start to make your way to Pansy, you glance back at Severus. To your dismay, Severus' assistant is approaching him with a seductive smile.

Catrina. That whore is always around Severus. Not to mention she gets touchy when they have a conversation, but the thing that annoys you the most is that it seems Severus doesn't have ANY problems with her flirting and touching.

You feel anger and jealousy bubbles inside of you. He has ignored you for the whole day, and now he is flirting with his assistant in front of you. You turn around, eyebrows knitted as anger rises in your veins.

Two can play, Mr. Snape

You look around the room, desperately trying to lit up your mood. You walk to the bar, waiting for the bartender to approach you. "Double neat whiskey," He nods and brings your shot. You gulp down the whole shot, feeling the burning session of the whiskey in your body. You feel yourself getting lighter a bit. You order another one, not being aware of a certain Blonde wizard's presence next to you.

You drink the whole shot again and sigh in relief that now alcohol is in your bloodstream. You order another one, but you are interrupted by a raspy voice behind you. "Slow down, you can't take another drink,"

You turn around and see Lucius Malfoy, standing there with his black button-up shirt with a glass of Brandy in his hand as he looks at you up and down. "I can take more than only whiskey shots, Mr. Malfoy." You lean your back on the counter and grab your glass.

His cock stiffens in his pants as he looks at your exposed cleavage. His eyes darken with lust and the tent his pants get larger and larger by second. You feel yourself getting aroused by the thought of him between your legs. You glance behind Lucius, looking at Severus who's busy flirting with Catrina.

You quickly look back at Lucius, rubbing his shin with your heels as you give him a sexy look. "It's like you have completely forgotten where are we, young lady,"

"Are you suggesting we should take this somewhere private? Because honestly, I'm not complaining," He swallows nervously. You are very tempting and it doesn't help him with the visible bulge in his pants.

You straighten your back, taking a step toward him. You inch yourself closer to his ear and whisper seductively. "Your choice of clothing is very nice, Mr. Malfoy, but they would look better on my bedroom floor," Heat creeps on his pale cheeks as he shifts uncomfortably. He grabs your wrist and pulls you with him upstairs.

None of you are aware that someone is following you too. As he reaches your room, he opens the door and walks in with you, but before he can slam the door shut, someone puts his foot between the door.

The door bursts open, revealing an angry and jealous Severus with a very hard cock in his pants. He shuts the door and locks it, taking big steps towards you. He wraps his fingers around your neck, squeezing it with all his strength as he closes your airway.

"You are such a desperate slut for men. Flirting with Lucius because I didn't pay attention to you. Tsk tsk, I don't even think punishment will suit you. I'll torture you tonight, edging you until you will lick my shoes, begging me to let you cum. Taking my cock down your throat until you are out of tears."

"Fuck you!"

"I'm up for it if you are,"

You try to shove his hand away from your neck, but he only chuckles darkly at your behaviors and tightens his grip around your neck.

"Yes, my little whore, Lucius, and I will stretch that tight pussy until you are completely ripped. This is what disgusting sluts get for being such a pick-me girl,"

Lucius looks thrilled and shocked at the same time. Shocked because he found out about your secret relationship with Severus, and thrilled that he's going to fuck you mercilessly.

He takes his hands away from your neck. You can feel your arousal, wetting your inner thighs. Suddenly, Severus' hands come down on your cheek, making you jump in surprise. By now, you are beyond turned on. Your body is going to be used for the two men around you for their pleasure, and honestly, you like it.

Severus brings out his wand, with one flick, you are completely naked in front of four lustful eyes who are staring at your curves with a pang of growing hunger. Severus gestures to Lucius to do something that you don't understand. Lucius smirks and goes out of the room.

A few seconds later, he comes back with a bag that you couldn't understand what's inside of it. Before you can ask anything, Severus yanks your hair backward, making you yelp in pain. He pulls you by your hair as he makes his way to the bed. He pushes you on the bed aggressively. "You are in trouble now,"

You feel fear creeping into your body, but at the same time, you can't deny the fact you are so aroused by the way he's treating you. "Tie her up Lucius, dirty sluts don't deserve to be touched, and touch anybody," Lucius obeys and crawls on top of you, flopping you on the pillows as he grabs your wrists with one hand and uses the other to tie your wrists to the headboard.

You press your lips together, desperately wish to be fucked but you know you are up for a very long night. Severus and Lucius smirk at your exposed body. "Are you going to do anything or you're just going to stare at my boobs?"

They thought you wouldn't dare, but you would definitely dare. "How dare you talk back? I thought Severus has fucked some manners into you. How wrong I was,"

"You see, Lucius, I have done it, but she is a brat. And brats never lose their attitude. Isn't that right, my disgusting harlot?"

"Apparently your 'lessons' weren't good enough, Severus," oh shit.

You don't know why you said it, but the second it got out of your mouth, you knew you have fucked up. "You talk too much," He spits at your face and walks to stand next to Lucius. Severus grabs the bag and opens it. He looks at the items in the bag, smirking devilishly as he thinks about how good he can punish you.

He pulls out a ball gag, taking you by surprise. "Since you don't shut up, I need to do it myself," He sits next to you on the bed as he tries to put on the gag in your mouth. You shake your head side to side, squirming under his hands. He slaps your cheeks again, making you moan in pain and pleasure. He takes advantage of your whining and pushes the ball into your mouth.

You look dead in his eyes, making him laugh harder than before. "Now now, let's see what has Lucius got for us in that useful bag,"

"Plenty of things, what do you want to do with her, Severus?"

"Oh I want to do so many things to her tonight, but let's start with a show now, shall we?" You don't know how but you guess with legilimency, Severus told about his first plan to Lucius cause Lucius' smirk turned into a grin and he started searching for something in the bag.

Your eyes widen when you see a purple dildo around 8 inches in Lucius's hand. Lucius tosses the dildo to Severus so he can do whatever he has planned with it. Severus pulls out his wand and points it at the dildo. "Wingarduim Leviosa" He levitates the dildo and directs it at your wet entrance, without warning he shoves all the 8 inches inside of you.

You moan around the gag as he pushes the dildo deeper into you. You shut your eyes, letting your walls adjust to the new feeling. "Open your eyes, hormonal bitch," You open your eyes and look at the men in front of you.

"Now let's put on a show for you, maybe then you'll learn to behave," He looks back at Lucius and flicks his wand. In a blink of an eye, Lucius is completely naked with his cock standing upright, leaking with pre-cum.

"Get. On. Your. Knees, Lucius,"

"What?! I won't-"

"Shut up and I get on your knees!"

"Yes,"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... sir,"

"That's better, now get on your knees,"

They don't even bother to look at your reaction. Your eyes are popping out, spit is running down your chin and a dildo is buried deep inside of you as you watch Severus dominates Lucius.

Lucius kneels in front of Severus, with his hands on his thighs. "Don't disobey me, Lucius, get on with it like a good boy," The way Severus is ruling Lucius around makes you dripping. Suddenly the dildo starts to shake and thrusts in and out of you.

You shut your eyes but Severus's voice makes you open them and look at Lucius who's working on Severus' belt. "Don't you dare close your eyes! You're going to sit and watch!"

You moan around the gag as the dildo's pace fastens. Lucius unbuckles Severus's belt and pulls down his pants with his boxers, freeing Severus's hard cock that is ready to burst at any second. Severus unbuttons his shirt as he steps out of his pants. Now he is completely naked and needy for Lucius to take him down his throat.

"You don't get to cum until I say so. Understood?" You nod your head eagerly, watching the two attractive men closely as the dildo brings you closer to your orgasm.

Lucius kisses up Severus's thighs, inching his face closer to his cock. Severus grabs his cock from the base and slaps Lucius's cheek with it. "Open up man whore, I wanna see your mouth full of my cock," If it wasn't because of the gag in your mouth, you would have screamed, because of the dildo and Severus's arousing words.

Lucius parts his lips, sticking his tongue out for Severus. Severus slaps his cock on his tongue, groaning at the feeling of Lucius's warm and welcoming mouth. With one forceful thrust, he shoves his full length in his mouth, taking Lucius off guard. Lucius chokes on his cock as Severus grabs a fistful of his hair in his hand.

"Relax your throat, my playboy, I'm gonna fuck your throat as that dirty wanton gets fucked by a fake dick," Lucius tries to breathe with his nose. Your legs start to shake as your inner walls clench around the plastic cock that's fucking you.

You moan loudly which is muffled by the gag. You try to keep your eyes open as your stomach tightens. "Are you going to cum?" Severus asks while he rocks his hips back and forth, fucking Lucius's throat slowly. You nod your head, waiting for his approval to let you cum. But he pulls out the dildo, making you whine as your orgasm fades away.

Severus bobs Lucius's head up and down his shaft, meeting his thrusts. The tip of his cock hits the back of his throat, making Severus groan loudly. Lucius closes his lips around his thick shaft, swirling his tongue around the base of Severus's cock making the man moan in pleasure.

Lucius hallows his cheeks, making a strong suction in his mouth. Severus's cock twitches in his mouth, and with a few more thrusts, Severus shoots his seeds in Lucius's mouth. Severus keeps Lucius's head down as he cums down his throat.

"Swallow, big boy," Lucius obeys and tries to swallow whatever he can. Severus pulls out of Lucius's mouth, watching his cum dripping down his chin. "Get up Lucius, that slut there needs to be punished," Lucius stands up with shaky legs, cock standing hard against his lower abdomen and dripping with pre-cum.

You watch them in awe. Lucius fucking Malfoy just swallowed Severus Snape's cum. This will be the night you will never forget. Not in the slightest!

As your mind is clouded with lust and the thoughts of the two men in front of you, you completely forget that they're going to punish you. You get out of your thoughts when you feel someone gets on the bed. You look at Lucius who has a leather whip in his hand.

With one swift movement, Severus turns you around and takes the gag off you. You try to stand still on your knees while your hands are twisted and still tied to the headboard. "Now, let's punish. After each whip, I want you to thank Lucius for punishing you,"

"Yes, sir,"

"Start, Lucius, and remember, do not be gentle," Lucius smirks and brings down the whip on your back, making you whine in pain and pleasure. You've never been whipped before, but the new feeling of pain mixed with pleasure is definitely something you would like to try later again.

"Thank you s-sir,"

Severus grabs your hair and yanks it backward, making you scream. "What for?"

"Thank you sir for punishing me!" You scream as Lucius brings the whip down again.

"That's right, take it Y/N. Take it like a good useless slut,"

Lucius whips your back again. Making you moan louder than before.

"T-thank you sir for p-punishing me,"

After 15 more whips, eventually, Lucius steps back. Your ass and back are covered in red lines. Severus traces his fingers on the red lines making you whine loudly.

"Now, let's reward Lucius. He was a really good boy for me, don't you think Y/N? I think he deserves to fuck this pretty pussy of yours."

"Yes sir, he deserves it,"

Severus turns you around again, laying you on your back which makes you hiss in pain. "You are going to have me down your throat while Lucius fucks your tight pussy, and you don't get to cum because it's your punishment,"

"Yes, sir,"

Severus puts his knees on each side of your head while he strokes his cock. Lucius spreads your legs and steps between them as he runs the tip of his cock between your wet folds. Without warning, Lucius shoves himself all the way inside of you. Your mouth hangs open as he starts thrusting in and out of you with a bruising pace.

Severus grabs his cock and slams himself in your hot mouth. Both men are groaning loudly while your screams are muffled by Severus's thick cock. Your eyes get watery as Severus slams himself into you, hitting the back of your throat. Lucius keeps crashing his hips to yours as the tip of his cock nudges your g-spot, making your eyes roll back in pleasure.

You feel Lucius throbs inside of you, but your orgasm is too close yet too far. You need more but you know that's the point of being punished. Severus's cock twitches in your mouth. You clench your walls around Lucius as the knot in your stomach tightens.

"So fucking tight, I can fuck you every day, every hour, and every second," Severus hums as his cock starts to twitches violently. He suddenly pulls out of your throat. "Pull out Lucius," Lucius groans in disapproval but pulls out nevertheless.

"Lay on your back and untie her, I want you to pound her tight walls while she's on top of you." Lucius obliges and unties your wrists, shifting you on top of him. He guides his cock back into your warm hole. You both moan as he fills you again, but this time, it's more pleasurable.

Lucius pulls you down for a kiss, nibbling your bottom lip as he bends his knee. He bucks his hips upwards, making you moan in his mouth. You grab his shoulders, digging your nails in his white flesh.

He starts pounding you without wasting time. You break the kiss to catch your breath but it's impossible cause Lucius's pace is heavenly. Your eyes roll back and you let your head fall on the crook of his neck.

Suddenly you feel another pair of hands on your hips. Lucius slows down, waiting to see what's going to happen. "Like I said Y/N, we're going to stretch your walls until you are ripped,"

You feel the tip of his cock at your already filled cunt. He pushes his cock into you slowly, careful not to hurt you. You try to slip out his cock by shifting forward but he grips your hips tighter. Lucius moans as Severus's cock rubs against his as he enters you.

You scream as you feel his whole cock inside of you. Severus lets out a throaty groan as the new feeling, you feel your walls getting ripped as you have two cocks in your tight hole. They let you adjust, waiting for your approval to start moving.

"Y-you can m-move now,"

That's enough for the two men to start thrust their hips into yours. Your head falls on Lucius's chest as their cocks rub against each other and your tight walls are sore and ready to clench around them.

This new feeling of fullness brings you closer to your orgasm. You feel your walls tighten around them which makes you scream in pleasure and the two men groan at the new space.

By now they are pounding you with all their strength. Your eyes roll back in your head as your mouth hangs open. You feel your stomach tightens as your release approaches. "I'm gonna cum!" You scream as you milk their cocks.

Lucius groans and grabs your breasts pinching your nails. "I'm cumming," He lets out a throaty moan and shoots his seeds in your womb. You feel Lucius's cock twitch and the warm feeling of his cum inside of you spreads in your belly.

Severus keeps slamming himself inside of you, but he doesn't last long either. He throbs in your cunt and with one powerful thrust he bursts inside of you. He groans your name as his grip on your hips tightens, enough to leave a mark.

He paints your walls with his white loads. Lucius and Severus's cock go soft in you and your bodies go limp on top of each other. They both pull out at the same time, making you whine at the feeling of emptiness.

Severus watches as the three of your cums mixed with each other drips out of your used and swollen hole. Severus lays down as Lucius helps you lay down between them.

Lucius turns to you as you try to catch your breath. "How do you feel? Do you need anything?"

"A glass of water would be nice," Lucius smiles and grabs a glass from the nightstand. He pours water for you and hands it to you. You gulp down slowly as you wipe the dried tears from your cheek.

You hand the glass back to Lucius and get u der the duvet. The two men follow your action closely. "I hope you've learned your lesson–" Severus's sentence is cut off with your soft snoring.