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bitchface24-7 · 23 days ago

Note

bestie do you happen to know of you could find it in your heart to write for my FAV senior citizen. Silco. (I MISS HIM)

The tiktok ban has made me deprived. Please let me know at your earliest convenience. I will now go back to fighting my demons and missing my shayla. (I hope you are having a good day!)

YOUR DAD’S KINDA HOT… - SILCO X READER

synopsis: you've been friends with Jinx for years now, you're a few years older than her but you two are as thick as thieves. So don't ask how this conversation came up… you have no idea.

warnings: age gap (silco’s like late 30s to early 40s, reader is early 20s), teasing, banter (jinx makes fun of you), overheard conversations, fear of discipline, flirting, suggestiveness

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. SILCOOOOO 😩😍 I've been down bad since S1 but people would jump down your throat if you said anything about him. The art book definitely spoiled us

You have no idea how your conversation took this turn. Here you are, sitting with Jinx as she works on her bombs in her little lair, having a good time when all of a sudden she asks, “Do you think Silco is hot?”

A sputter is heard as you cough and thump your chest, trying to unchoke yourself from your drink going down the wrong pipe.

“What?!” your voice is whiny in incredulous. No seriously… what?! Where did that come from?!

Jinx casually shrugs, “I won’t be mad y’know. You're not very subtle, just tell the truth toots.”

Your lips thin in contemplation. I mean… you’re not blind? You have eyes? Should you honestly tell his daughter that you think he's attractive?

Jinx appreciates honesty, and loyalty; the same as her dad. She's your best friend, you've never lied to her. And you're not gonna start now.

Even if it’s an uncomfortable topic.

You sigh, face scrunching up is displeasure, “Yes Jinx. I think your dad is hot… I’m not blind, duh.”

She cackles at you, “Seriously?! You could have any guy ya want, and you go for him, my old man?! Finn’ll be heartbroken.”

“He can stay heartbroken! I've got much a finer taste than… that. Silco’s strong, level-headed, and handsome. He values honesty and loyalty. Finn’s… Finn.”

Jinx’s reply is cut off by a deeper voice, “That you do my dear, that you do. Jinx, continue working on your bombs. The ones I see so far are perfect. You, come with me.”

It’ Silco.

Fuck, it’s Silco!

You gulp as Jinx just smiles at the praise, you slowly raise from your seat and follow the kingpin. A frantic look is shot Jinx’s way as you mouth “Help me!”

Jinx giggles at you and winks. You'll be getting no help from her. She's taken too much time planning this moment, she's not letting all her hard work go to waste!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The walk back to Silco’s office is tense, you're tempted to jump out a window and hopefully die in the fall to escape this cloying feeling.

It’s too late, you're doomed.

Is your only thought as Silco opens the doors to his office, ushers you in, and locks the doors behind him. You're trapped with a lion, and you’re nothing but a beetle.

He's gonna kill you.

“Sit.” Is all he says as he walks to his drink cart and pours you both two fingers of bourbon. You sit down immediately and fidget lightly. Ok… so maybe he's not going to kill you.

Yet.

He plops a cup into your hand and gracefully walks around his desk and sits down. He's not wearing his coat you realize. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his forearms and you get to see how tiny his waist is.

God he so hot.

In your appreciation of Silco, you don't see him take a swig of his drink and look you over as well. Hmm, looks like you were telling the truth.

Time to make things interesting.

“So, you find me attractive?”

You gulp looking down to your lap as you quickly bring your glass up to your lips and take a large swig, “Yes sir.”

“Hmm. How curious, you find a man old enough to be your father attractive. What's that say about you?”

“It says I prefer things that have aged finely. Like how you feel about this burboun.”

Silco chuckles, you’re quick. Smart as a whip. Loyal. Honest. Attractive.

He's noticed you for a while now, always on his radar due to Jinx. He appreciate’s your care for his daughter, how you’re with her constantly and protect her. He knew you as a teen, he knew you'd grow up into a attractive adult.

He knew he’d be right.

He knew that you have denied all advances made on you. No partner, no romantic or sexual relationships. The main reason why he knows that is you essentially live with him and Jinx.

He knows how you've looked at him over the years, ignoring their heat. But now… you're an adult. You've finally admitted your attraction.

He's going to take what’s rightfully his.

He's going to see what you've been hiding under your clothes, he's going to take you apart piece by piece. He's going to have you on his desk, his bed, in front of the large window in his office. He's going to feel your lips, how soft your skin is. How nice your hair would feel in his grip.

(You’re going to deeply enjoy it.)

(The two of you hope Jinx won’t be hiding in the office in the rafters as her dad devours you.)

(She wasn’t, thankfully. But she did have a knowing look on her face for like a week.)

(She still pats herself on the back to this day.)

He's a bad man but fuck is he hot! Hope y’all enjoyed this ❤️❤️ also I think the US has tiktok again? I saw the sad goodbyes last night, no Americans this morning on the app, then I took a nap and creators from the US were posting again?? I was so lost LMAO

#arcane #arcane silco #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #silco imagine #silco x reader #banners by cafekitsune

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hypnobeauty · 25 days ago

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A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 2)

summary: a story about how you and Hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, angst, transphobia, fluff if you squint really hard, pre-squid game, slice of life, timeline might be a bit wonky, this one is a bit sad. a/n: hey, didn't think i'd get any response on the previous part but people enjoyed and i'm happy! this time i decided to write some background for hyun; the show gives us very little on her, so i made up a lot of stuff. my shayla!! just a heads up, i know nothing of military, so i googled a bunch of stuff and probably faked some information. oh well. enjoy! xx comments are always appreciated ♥️ taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @trizxyp - lemme know if you'd like to be added.

part 2. unexpected bloom

it was hyun-ju.

she’d lingered in the clinic longer than she’d planned, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you. she’d seen you when you first came in, laughing with your friend, and something about your energy had drawn her in. for a moment, she’d dared to hope you might still be there when she left. but when she scanned the waiting room, you were gone, and that small flicker of hope faded into disappointment.

she wasn’t sure why she cared. hyun-ju had felt your glances earlier, and while being stared at wasn’t new to her, it wasn’t something she ever got used to. there was always a tension in those moments—a question of whether the gaze was one of judgment, curiosity, or something worse. but with you, it had been different. there was no malice or disgust in the way you looked at her. if anything, you seemed… curious. interested, maybe. though she told herself she was probably imagining it.

as she sat in her car, her mind drifted back to the past months. it hadn’t been easy—nothing about transitioning ever was—but this was the life she had chosen, the life she’d fought for. hyun-ju’s life had changed drastically. almost a year ago, she’d lost her position in the army, a career she’d poured herself into for twelve long years. as a sergeant first class in the special forces, she’d been respected and admired, known for her skill and discipline. but when she came out to her superior—a man she’d once seen as a mentor, even a father figure—everything crumbled.

she’d gone into his office nervous but hopeful. maybe he’d understand. maybe, at worst, she’d lose a rank or face a transfer. but instead, he’d looked at her like she’d grown a second head, addressing her by her dead name and suggesting she was "confused" or "clouded in judgment." he gave her a week to reconsider her words but by the time she walked out of that office, her military career was over.

at thirty, she was adrift—jobless, heartbroken, and unsure of her place in the world. her girlfriend at the time hadn’t made it any easier. when hyun-ju told her about her plans to transition, the girl had simply said, “i can’t date a gay man. sorry.” no amount of explaining—about how she wasn’t gay, how she liked girls but was also a girl—seemed to get through. the girl left her in a café, bewildered and suddenly very alone.

in moments like that, hyun-ju often found herself reflecting on her life. even as a kid, she’d known she was different. she loved roughhousing with her brother, playing football in the middle of the road and riding her bike around the neighborhood, but she secretly longed to be the pink ranger when they played, even though she always ended up as the blue.

by the time puberty hit, her confusion had crystallized into a painful clarity. she envied the girls in her school—not just for who they were, or her personalities, but for how their bodies changed in ways hers never would. at fourteen, she tried confiding in a school counselor, but that backfired spectacularly when her father found out. the berating she endured and the punishment that followed left her with one lesson: never speak of it again.

her first girlfriend, ga-eul, had been a bright spot in those early years. hyun-ju liked to think she had been a good “boyfriend,” attentive and sensitive, but deep down, she’d longed to be seen for who she truly was. when she left for military service at eighteen, she and ga-eul parted ways.

many years later, when hyun-ju updated her social media with her new name and posted her first photo of her, ga-eul had sent her a message. “i always knew you were special. live your truth, hyun-ju.” it was small, but it meant the world to her.

even so, she carried that secret inside her, even as she became a star in physical education, even as she left for mandatory military service at eighteen. rising through the ranks to become a special forces sergeant first class was no small feat, especially for someone who had to constantly suppress half of who they were. but at home, behind closed doors, she allowed herself small moments of freedom. over time, she collected pieces of her true self—a pair of delicate earrings, a sleek dress, makeup she practiced applying in secret.

over the past nine months, hyun-ju had made strides toward becoming the woman she’d always been inside. hrt had softened her features, reshaped her body, and even brought a slight swell to her chest. now, every time she looked in the mirror, she felt closer to the person she’d always been inside. but it wasn’t enough—not yet.

this new chapter in her life wasn’t without its challenges. her savings, her army pension, and her cautious spending habits had carried her this far, but she hadn’t anticipated how expensive transitioning would be. she’d started laser hair removal and gotten fillers and botox, but today’s procedure was her first major surgery: a rhinoplasty to smooth out the bump on her nose and reshape the tip and nostrils. she had other procedures planned—a facelift, jaw shaving, double eyelid surgery—but her surgeon had advised starting small. the costs were steep, but to her it was worth it.

and yet, the isolation that came with these changes weighed the most on her. she’d distanced herself from her family, avoided video calls, and cut ties with many of her old friends and colleagues. outside of her therapist and a trans support group she’d joined, she rarely interacted with anyone who truly saw her.

and then there was you.

two weeks later, you were back at the clinic with ha-neul, waiting outside the doctor’s office with your kindle. you were engrossed in your book when a quiet argument at the reception desk caught your attention. looking up, you saw her: hyun-ju.

she looked different from before, her hair slightly longer and tied in a small bun. she wore jeans, knee-high boots, and a trench coat, with a leather crossbody bag slung over her shoulder. but her face was what really caught your attention.

her nose was bandaged, the skin around it bruised and swollen. she looked tired, but it wasn’t just physical—it was the kind of weariness that came from carrying too much for too long. you weren’t sure why your breath hitched, but it did. then you caught snippets of the conversation.

“i’m sorry, miss,” the receptionist said with an apologetic smile. “we can’t dismiss you without a third-party signature. it’s for your safety.”

hyun-ju’s voice was soft but firm, laced in frustration. “i have no one.”

before you could think, you were on your feet, walking toward them. “i—i could help?” you stammered, unsure if you were even speaking to her directly.

she turned to you, her face swollen and bruised, her nose bandaged. for a moment, her expression was unreadable.

“i don’t know if you remember me,” you said quickly, trying to fill the silence. “we met a couple of weeks ago? i was with my friend ha-neul… oh, i didn’t introduce myself back then. i’m sorry.” you gave her your name, fumbling slightly, before adding, “if it’s okay, i could sign you out. i could even help you get home if you don’t think that’s… too much.”

hyun-ju hesitated, her gaze flickering between you and the receptionist.

in truth, she didn’t know what to think. she was exhausted, in pain, and desperate to leave. and then there was you—the girl who’d sat next to her, the one she couldn’t quite forget. you’d made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“why?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled gently. “why not?”

That’s how you ended up signing the dismissal form for a stranger and climbing into the back of an Uber with her. Hyun-ju sat stiffly beside you, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

You sent a quick text to Ha-Neul: “I had to leave, sorry! Explain later 😘😘.”

As the car pulled away, you glanced at her. She looked out the window, her profile softened by the dim light. You weren’t sure why you’d offered to help. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something more.

And maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of the story.

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jd-loves-fiction · 9 days ago

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Coming back to you with another request cuz I loved your previous work

Boothill, Welt, Ratio, Jing Yuan and Gallagher with the same platonic teen reader premise but reader calls them ,,Dad" on accident and they themselves don't even notice it because it comes so naturally to them

🌑so glad you liked it🥺🥺also the dad's of all time yes yes!! Also my internet has been fucked lately that's why uploads are slow sowy 🥺

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

If you look at his lore, he was actually a dad (😭 my Shayla) so yeah big chance he won't notice at all

Because of the trauma associated with his family in general, he'll notice it eventually and be a bit conflicted

On one hand, he's absolutely delighted at the fact that despite being almost entirely made of metal, you are still able to find such fundamentally human comfort within him

And on the other hand, he has a hard time accepting that the man he was before didn't actually die along with most of his body

He won't ever correct you tho, at the end of the day he's just grateful that he's still able to make young folk feel safe around him

Reminds him that he's still human🥺

✦ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭 ✦

Did you see the way he basically adopted Sunday the moment he stepped on the express?? Yeah, that's dad right there

He basically adopts every kid (as in, anyone younger than him) that steps aboard the express, so i feel like someone else might've already called him before and he just brushed it off

Same with you, though in his heart he's over the moon

All he wants in life is to make everyone around him feel safe and loved, so to know that you of all people seem to think of him in such a way really warms his heart

Though he'll never point it out in fear of making you embarrassed

He's overjoyed!! But internally :)

✦ 𝐃𝐫. 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 ✦

Truly baffled, at first

He's aware of his reputation and he doesn't mind it but he never expected someone to him that way

Though he's (not so) secretly very pleased

At his core, he's a teacher and that's what he loves to do - spread knowledge to all who seek it

And I'm sorry for reminding you of this but most of us have called our teacher mom/dad before so...

There's a slight chance it's happened before... also a slight chance he very dryly corrected them - "last time i checked i have no children" 🙄

Might do the same to you unless he's in one of his moods, writing down information or just lost in thought - then he'll probably just wave you away wordlessly

I feel like he understands on a behavioral level why you did it and because of it, wont comment on it or bring it up again. It's just something people do sometimes, nothing weird about it

The most neutral out of all of them but will make a mental note about how it probably means you trust him at least a little

When he lets himself be selfish and overthink it, it does warm his heart but you'll never know

✦ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧 ✦

Actual father to Yanqing YOU CANT CHANGE MY MIND!!

Ooooh he's tearing his hair out trying not to tease you about it

He knows that if he does you'll crawl back in your shell again and thats tHEEE last thing he wants in life, really

It's easy to feel comfortable around him, i feel. He's just a big lazy cat - pretty independent and chill

He's good at just being there when you need him there as well as talking your ear off as a distraction - peak comfort

Definately called Jingliu 'mom' as a kid, come on

And Yanqing did the same with him

So it doesnt surprise him much since he understands its a pretty normal thing but GOOOOD he wants to acknowledge it so BAAADD

HE WANTS TO MAKE IT SILLY BUT NOOOOO 😭

He's an adult now (a very old one at that) so he understands that now is NOT the time

Will keep thinking back on it fondly tho :))

✦ 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫 ✦

Oh oh my... he gives so much deadbeat dad I'm getting nostalgic IM KIDDING

Anyway, as a bartender, i feel like thats happened to him before

People say weird shit when they're drunk so it's very likely someone's called him dad before

Though that feels very different to him

When people do that when drunk it doesn't usually mean anything - he must just remind them of their father (for good or bad) so he doesn't take it too seriously

But you? Oh he's taking it seriously

Ego? Inflated to hell and back

He's being extra sweet and caring with you

Making sure you eat and rest, etc

Gotta live up to his reputation 😉

The dad who stepped up fr

Might tease you about it, but if you have an adverse reaction he'll stop immediately

Very touched that you think of him that way even subconsciously and will try to make sure he doesn't disappoint :)

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soullessjack · 2 months ago

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guys.

wouldn’t you like to know weather boy

#literally a Jack Frost moment #jack kline #jack frost #spn #guys I miss him #my shayla 😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔/ref

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londonfog-chan · 1 month ago

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Emperor Caracalla x Fem!Reader: Hermâs

A/N: The little lad dances once again.

I got this idea from listening to the soundtrack for Spirit. I’m a fucking horse girl at heart.

I also wanted to write about the true “quirky girl” experience. The majority of the time, the quirky girl isn’t beloved by all. In fact, many find her quite annoying.

I wanted to write about a sheltered, immature girl whose main character syndrome fucks her over when she finds someone that can match her delulu. I wanted to write a story where the reader is genuinely as stupid and naive, as well as childish, as the moron twins are.

Sometimes, we need a stupid reader.

Summary: Was this truly happening? Have the gods at last acknowledged your existence as the main character of your childhood narrative?

Warnings: Caracalla being a creep, period accurate misogyny, mentions of marrying off daughters to old men, Geta plotting evil, slight smutty elements

Credits: massive shoutout to @writhingg and @rxqueenotd for beta reading my clown shoes writing, as well as dealing with me screaming about my Shayla.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive

You found yourself groaning awake in your bed the morning after your sojourn in the stables.

Despite the consistent treatments of echinacea salve and rendered animal fat, the large bruise on your thigh still stung and bled through the linens— your father’s new war stallion was not one to be trifled with. Whereas you had intended to capture the hearts of the handsome stable hands by taming the horse, your poor planning and recklessness had almost killed you.

The stallion had been a gift— war spoil— from a distant land far to the east. The animal was a beautiful golden buckskin with singed brown legs and dark mane; for a moment, you mistook him for one of the golden horses that pulled Sol’s chariot across the sky. One could imagine the distinct markings as telling a story of his divine origin.

Perhaps the fiery rays of the sun singed his legs, mane and tail, and maybe the light bleached his hide— just as it tended to wash out the dyed colors of forgotten laundry hanging on a line.

He was beautiful.

So different from the broken ones you had been able to ride bareback as a small child, you naively thought all this poor creature needed to be tamed was a tender hand. Someone who understood his divine origin, and respected him for it. Only heroes in your childhood fairytales could tame such a beast, and you fancied yourself to be of their rank.

Unfortunately, your status as a chosen one was called into question. The animal was still half possessed by the wilds, and the scent of the working mares around him drove him into a lovesick madness. You jumped without thinking onto his back, and the animal had tried everything in his power to throw you. Both of you went down when he reared, and landed on your sides when the horse lost footing in the arena.

Instead of a potential stable hand suitor rushing to your side to help, your father corralled the stallion, and it was Mother Lucilla who appeared with her maid Leta when she heard your cries of agony. Leta scolded you with a clicking of her tongue as she hauled you up, and your mother’s deep contralto barked out as she gave you a verbal lashing.

“What were you thinking?! Moronic child! Preposterous piss-ant! Behaving as though I’ve never taught you sense! You could have broken your neck, you could have been killed! Foolishness!”

While you were carted back to the house in a lectus, you could hear the young stable hands laughing at your idiocy. Doubled over, they slapped at their bare knees and mimicked your cries and moans of pain in high pitched voices. Baiting, ugly, almost sexual sounding cries, they laughed and hooted until chastised back into their duties by your father’s hard gaze.

The old stable master had yet again approached your father, begging Acacius to do something about these repeated infractions.

“General! With all due respect, your daughter is a nuisance, a menace to my animals and to society! The horse may be ruined because of her stupidity.”

“She is only a child…”

“Does she not count nineteen years, General?! She is more than old enough to be wed, certainly old enough to know better. Perhaps it would do her some good to marry a man of advanced age and wisdom, surely he would straighten out her insolence with a sound beating!”

Even though the war horses were your favorite creatures in all the land, never again would you enter your father’s stables. Far too much embarrassment had cowed you, and you feared that if you made just one more misstep with his animals, that this time your father really would punish you rather than make excuses. Acacius had been cross this time, inflexible with your punishment. Under threat of a good thrashing by your mother, you were not to leave the domus, nor were you allowed to breach even the threshold of the atrium for any excuse. Never in your life had you seen your father so angry…

For a moment you were afraid. Afraid that this time, he would listen to the advice of those he trusted, and ship you off to some shriveled old man who would break your spirit.

You stayed put in your bed as your mother and her maid bathed your wounds and stood by as you recovered. When you began to grow restless, your impotent begging for mercy from hateful Mother Lucilla earned you a few moments alone in the hortus.

You loved the hortus. It was a grand design of your late mother’s creation, consisting entirely of things which were either medicinal or able to be used in various dishes. This time of the year it would be awash with a rainbow of perfumed shrubbery; the marigolds and roses would be in bloom with the purple lavender, interspersed liberally with chamomile and pansy, and you could preoccupy yourself with endlessly plucking blossoms to savor the taste. The peppery marigolds and aromatic rose petals were the taste of summer, a comfort whenever you were distressed.

This task could be accomplished alone, leaving you to ruminate on your embarrassment. Settling against a marble bench near the laurel tree, you lay reclined, with legs splayed on either side of the seat as you chewed the petals on a marigold blossom.

There was no one to stop you. Lucilla’s impatience and eye for meticulous detail were soon distracted by matters of the home. With strict instruction to stay put until she came to fetch you, she departed to attend her responsibilities among the servants in preparation for Acacius’s departure. There was food to be purchased and stored beforehand, monetary affairs to settle, as well as a thousand different things to consider for the duration of the General’s campaign. Certainly no time to devote fully to a rambunctious youth who paced the length of the gardens, limping the entire way.

You could hardly imagine it. In a week’s time, your father would be gone for nearly half a year…

The thought was almost frightening and would have put you in your sickbed, had not you already gone to great lengths to harden your heart. This was nothing at all new. Acacius had left often before when you were young, hence why he’d married Lucilla. The marriage was one of mutual benefit: you would have someone to care for you besides your late mother’s selected wet nurse, and Lucilla would have a child of her own to love and raise, a comfor to her heart for the one she’d lost.

You loved Lucilla. But the thought of losing your father, your last biological connection, and being left alone in the world still frightened you. There was always a chance that this would be the one time Acacius wouldn’t come back— and you wished that the emperors would stop sending your father away.

When Acacius left the domus, the mood of the home became sullen. Prayer was ceaselessly carried out in the lararium. Tithes, incense, and blood libations offered to the gods were overseen by your mother, and she could be gone for hours at a time at temple while you stayed behind in your cubiculum.

When at last you tired of eating flowers, you began carelessly scattering blood red rose petals into your mother’s font filled with carp while asking questions of Venus. You were imagining her responses, looking for her answers taking shape in the patterns the petals made in the water, when you heard mad giggling from behind a pillar towards the domus’ portico.

Whipping around, you looked for the source, eyes widening at the unfamiliar sound.

The giggle increased, and you could see wine colored silken damask dart behind a marble column.

What in the name of the gods was that?!

Nymph? Genius loci? One of the marble gods from the lararium— a statuette— come to life to play with you? You weren’t sure, but your heart was racing, breathing staccato as you crept closer to find out.

The scraping of leather sandals against marble could be heard when you approached. Heavy footed and a little clumsy: the perpetrator moved opposite you. You veered to the left, he to the right.

You saw a flash of hair the color of sunset. As well as the smallest glimpse of blue-gray eyes.

Grinning at the game, you decided to go for a feint. The two of you circled the pillar for a time, the high pitched giggling increasing. The giggle drowned out the sound your footsteps made when you doubled back around the pillar, laying hands on the shoulders of the intruder.

“Caught you!” You sing-songed.

He screeched, his ringed hands covering his face, and you both toppled out of the portico into the grass.

“I caught you!” You cried out again, as you leaned down to pull his hands away from his flushed face.

“You did not! Liar! I was hunting you for sport.” Exclaimed the intruder.

“You aren’t supposed to giggle when chasing your quarry.” You smiled, finally yanking his wrists apart and holding them.

“Liar! You lie! No you didn’t!”

You loved the way the man’s face turned rose pink across pock marked cheeks, his aquiline nose scrunching in anger.

“The laughter was a tactoc… um… A tac… it was an idea of my own design to catch you unawares!”

“Fool!” You smiled, keeping his wrists in a secured hold.

Quickly you rolled off of the interloper when he attempted to knee you between your legs, not knowing who he was or what he was doing snooping in the hortus. He must have been some sort of benevolent spirit sent by the gods. Perhaps even one in disguise, for he was certainly dressed in such opulent finery. Wine colored damask silk with golden zardozi embroidery made his toga picta, with gems of all size and color sewn into the fabric. They caught the sunlight, and the pinpricks of color reflected against your skin.

“You look as if the gods laid your gold and jewels across your neck themselves.” You whistled.

The intruder’s movements were feminine, almost demure. So unlike the more burly movements of generals, or the confident strides of the stable hands. As he sat cross legged, the sound made by the cuffs at his wrists clattering against the gems was captivating. Golden discs the size of libum hung from his ears and chimed with his movements as well.

“You dress like a nymph.” He murmured.

Pert, pink lips parted to allow his tongue to lick across, his smile revealing a single shimmering gold incisor. Surely he must be something otherworldly… you’d never seen someone with a golden tooth before.

“Tell me, nymph, have I stumbled into your secret grove?” He asked.

“No.” You were tickled at the insinuation, “I am no nymph. This is my father’s garden.”

“Your father? That’s not so, this is General Acacius’s garden!”

“General Acacius is my father.”

The intruder shook his head in vehement denial.

“Liar! Lady Lucilla counts forty nine years, and I would have known if she had birthed a child!”

“She is not my blood mother. I counted only three years when my father married her.” You responded, flicking off a half chewed petal from your chin.

Although you knew stories of wicked stepmothers, Lucilla had managed to break the molded stereotype. The first time your father left you alone with her, you bawled like an infant. The good lady had not punished you for your insolence, instead she swept you into her arms and showered your forehead with a thousand kisses.

She was a doting mother, your true mother, the one not of womb but of the heart; who held you and cared for you even when you were insolent.

“And your mother allows you to romp wild in your father’s garden?! To dress like a brothel whore, entertaining strange men?”

The stranger let forth a high pitched giggle, one that made you laugh with him. It was easy to feel inadequate, particularly in the face of such opulence and finery as he wore. The privacy of the garden allowed for leniency in your dress. You had wandered out of your cubiculum in a shrunken, thin, faded green stola that gave a clear view of your bandaged thigh and leg. A mismatched pale pink palla was slung carelessly around your shoulders, and you had long since abandoned your worn out calfskin sandals somewhere in the shrubbery.

“No! I dress like this because I should do as I wish in my own domus. And besides, what would a strange man be doing in my father’s garden to begin with?” You asked, “We were not told of visitors coming.”

“Not all visitors have to announce themselves.” He said haughtily, “Certainly not one as important as myself!”

A fist pounded against his chest in an intimidating boom, the sound reminiscent of a drum.

“Important?” You asked, cocking your head to the side, “Are you a messenger of some sort?”

Your nursemaid and her chatterbox daughter often told you stories of such divine messengers. Half asleep with daydreaming, you would sit at your window as your nurse embroidered crisp linens with geometric patterns, telling stories about Mercury— Hermâs she called him, in the language of the Hellenes— and his wily ways of bestowing divine fortunes and boons upon unsuspecting persons.

“Perhaps I am— a god’s messenger— in my divine disguise…!” exclaimed your stranger.

Your eyes were sparkling. Innocent and sweet.

“Truly?” You asked, crawling to him on all fours. Blissfully unaware of the sensuality in such a movement.

“Indeed. I am a bearer, a messenger, sent by Jupiter himself.” He said, his eyes trained lower on your body, “And I come bearing a secret, strictly for the young flower that hides in her father’s garden.”

“What message have you come to give me?” You asked.

“This divine message is for your ear alone.” He said, his voice lowering to a conspirator’s whisper, “Keep it secret, keep it safe. The gods have deemed you worthy of a special gift, but should you spoil the secret, they will take it away and rain down lighting from the west upon your house!”

“How wonderful!” You exclaimed, your excitement masking the fear of the stranger’s thinly veiled curse, “I’ve never had a message of my very own before!”

“Well then, prepare to be blessed, sweet one. For this message is for your ears alone… Come to my knee, let me whisper it to you.”

You sat upon his lap as he beckoned, nodding enthusiastically and sighing, holding both hands to your cheeks. The stranger leaned closer, cupping his hands over your ear as his lips grazed the shell.

“The gods have great plans for you.” He breathed.

A gasp of delight escaped you, enjoying the fact that your mystery messenger was so close. Whispering sweetness into your ear.

“The gods have told me you are to be given everything your heart desires, my beautiful nymph.” He said, “You will be the envy of all: walking marbled halls while draped in damask silks, vibrant jewels, and gossamer. Your name whispered in reverent prayer upon the tongue of the thousands who will see you in the imperator’s box at the colosseum-…”

“How would this be possible?” You interrupted softly, “I’ve never been outside of these walls, let alone in the palace.”

“You dare to question your divine messenger?! Do not underestimate the might of the gods, nymph. They can make anything so.”

He held your chin in his hand, the softness of his fingertips contrasting the tight grip he maintained, as if expecting you to try and get away.

“They can elevate you to a princess— no! To an empress, if they so desire. The gods wish to use you as their instrument, and they desire to give you everything you could ever want. Money, luxury, power, wine, sexual pleasure…”

“And… and how soon would this happen?” You asked softly.

“Very soon, my sweet one. Your time will come on the first day of the month of Juno, matter of fact.”

It felt so impossibly far away. Too far to even consider. But the fact that such an exciting blessing was to be bestowed during the month of weddings eluded you.

You bounced in excitement on his lap, his hands immediately reaching out to hold your hips steady. Hissing at the pain as he pressed your bruise, you attempted to re-adjust yourself when you felt something press against your inner thigh.

“What in the name of the gods is that?! It… it feels as though you’ve a dagger strapped to your leg.” You said, grinding your thigh against the protrusion.

The messenger froze, and his cheeks turned crimson. A large, impish grin spread from ear to ear, catlike, as if he was preparing to steal a morsel.

“Undo the belt at my tunic, and find out what it may be.” He said, breathless, a perverse look in his eye.

With an impatient huff, you almost rent the damask fabric of his robes in two, demanding that your messenger help you…

But the calling of your mother interrupted the overwhelming need to see what he had strapped to his leg.

“Oh…!” You sighed, a puff of breath escaping past your lips, “I have to go. I’m sorry, but thank you! Thank you for bringing me this message! Tell the gods I will accept this blessing and that I am most thankful to them, and to the messenger who told this to me!”

Before the messenger could protest, you quickly kissed both of his cheeks, scrambling to your feet as you ran off towards the house. As you approached your mother, running breathlessly up to her, you noticed something odd. It appeared as though her heart was racing, almost as if Lucilla was agitated

“What is it, mother?” You asked, out of breath.

Servants were darting every which way, making preparations to feed their guests and make the house presentable. Leta— your mother’s servant— was ordering the others to set the domus to rights, and you were shocked when Lucilla glowered at your unkempt visage.

“What have you been doing?!” Lucilla exclaimed, brushing leaves and petals off your stola, “I allowed you to take a walk, not roll in the shrubbery— is this a stain?!”

“What is this fuss mother…?” You attempted, but your words were stopped by Leta turning your head to look at you.

“My lady, shall I clean your daughter and dress her in the damask?” Asked the handmaiden.

“Yes, quickly! Make sure she is presentable.”

“What’s going on?!” You squeaked, both women taking you by an arm and leading you away like a prisoner to your cubiculum.

“We have been… graced, by the presence of the twin imperators—…”

“THE EMPERORS?!”

“Hush! Yes, the imperators, my darling. You will not speak out of turn again. You will smile and say little more than a polite greeting, after which we shall keep you in your cubiculum, and pray to the gods that you are spared from the lechery of men…”

Lucilla gave you no room to fret, nor to protest. She instead lead you away, to dress you in her armor of modest silk layers and a thick palla.

All the while, you could not stop thinking of the messenger’s promises.

Luxury…

Wine…

Sexual pleasure…

Unannounced guests and the multitude of problems they brought with them hardly made an impression upon your mind, not when there were such wonderful boons coming your way. All divinely ordained, draped like a zardozi embroidered sheet over the hidden evils of the machinations at hand.

In your ignorance, you believed in the lies of the powerful. Blindly trusting in your place as the chosen of the gods, and feeling the least bit better than at last, your worthiness was recognized.

“Caracalla, what in the name of the gods are you doing…?”

The stern tone of his brother, Geta, interrupted his moment of thoughtfulness as Caracalla watched his nymph run back to the house. His brother was scheming, his giggling increasing to a fever pitch, and Geta raised an eyebrow as Caracalla pointed to the home.

“Enjoying the touch and warmth of a beautiful nymph.” Caracalla beamed.

“… a nymph…” Geta deadpanned.

“Indeed. Simple and pure, with a supple breast-…”

“There are no nymphs in a general’s garden.”

“There are!” Caracalla argued.

“You are mistaken. For I only saw a pauper run from you. What have I told you of infecting the inferiors of other men’s houses? You will deplete Rome of slaves with your appetites.” Geta groused.

“This one was no slave! She is Lucilla’s daughter.” Caracalla snapped.

“The general and Lucilla have no daughters.” Geta said.

“Oh but they do, brother! Acacius hides this charming rose in his garden, away from the eyes of men.”

“Is not Lucilla past the age of childbearing?”

“His seed must have overcome that obstacle.” Cackled Caracalla, “For he has quite the lovely young spawn. Very innocent, and eager to believe every word from my lips.”

“What schemes do you invent in that empty head of yours…?” Geta asked, although he knew the answer already. He could see Caracalla’s maddened mind already concocting the most convoluted, outrageous ideas; the grey blue of his iris overtaken by dilating black pupils.

“Do not tell me…” Geta grinned wickedly.

“You know me so well.” Caracalla smiled, “It is a simple thing, really. Turning nymphs into empresses…”

Geta laughed out loud at his brother’s plotting.

“And how much would you ask for her?”

“Two million denarii!”

“Charity, brother, charity...” Geta laughed, “Acacius is a general after all, not a nobleman. Keep your dowry request under one hundred thousand denarii, or you shall never have her.”

“Only one hundred thousand?!”

“Yes, brother. To be paid in coin, land, or flesh, in the customary three years time-… Well… No, no. We may extend the dowry installments to five. After all, we are sending him away to fight your campaign in Numidia. He will need some time. You’ll want to wed her and bed her before he leaves as well.”

“I would have preferred the two million…” pouted Caracalla.

“Whatever for? The money is of little consequence. You would only piss away two million on whores, and her father would sooner give her away to someone else. This conquest will be far more simple, exercise your power and will it so. I shall give my blessing as the arrangement is not without benefits.”

When Caracalla’s feverish mind could not connect the dots, Geta prompted him.

“She is Lucilla’s legitimate heir. Marry her daughter, and you secure not only the title, but a closer position to the good lady herself… Slake your thirst for flesh with both this nubile creature’s affections, and with the attentions of her comely mother as well.”

#gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #emperor Caracalla x reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #general acacius #lucilla

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joejhang · 3 days ago

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scenes that we know happen but that i would give a lung to have written out by nora sakavic (or scenes i'd like to see from other povs)

andrew choking kevin after neil gets kidnapped from andrew's pov (i just NEED to know the fear and anger andrew must've felt in that moment. and kevin "you were always going to lose him" day like isn't that just so crazy)

aaron's trial from neil's pov (i would honestly love any pov of this but i feel like neil as someone who isn't very involved in the situation would provide the most insightful pov and GOD I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH the THINGS i would do to have a whole book about neil's sophomore year GODDDD)

the garter scene after nicky's wedding from andrew's pov (late-twenties neil is SO unserious i just know it)

nicky's wedding from literally anyone's pov (it would be just like. pure joy tbh.)

dan + matt's wedding from dan/matt's pov (again. see above.)

katelyn + aaron's wedding from aaron/neil's pov (i say neil pov bc i would LOVE to see how aaron and neil's relationship fares after they get over their beef. and i know neil would be happy for aaron and kate. and yeah obv aaron pov because again, see above.)

neil convincing andrew to go to aaron and kate's wedding from andrew/neil's pov (idk it could either be really sad or really funny)

kevin's phone call to jean in tfc from jean's pov (i NEED to know exactly the emotions jean was feeling when he saw kevin's name on his phone and heard his voice again)

the scene where andrew handcuffs neil after stuart dies from andrew's pov (this is genuinely one of my roman empires. the way nora wrote about this in the ec is genuinely embedded in the folds of my brain. neil kissing words into andrew's jaw. the sick gleam in his eyes that makes him look like nathaniel. i LIVE for andreil angst actually.)

andrew punching his pro team coach after he makes neil play injured from neil/andrew's pov (another roman empire. post-tkm andreil my SHAYLAS)

the angsty kevneil conversation in trk from kevin's pov (i'm just. so curious on kevin's perception of neil tbh.)

the robin cross arc from andrew/neil/robin's pov (i LOVE robin cross she's acc my favourite part of aftg lore. i would DIE to see her dynamic w andrew and neil. robin and neil friendship you are so loved by me)

neil buying his car w robin + i forgot who else was there from neil's pov (random but i just KNOW it would be funny)

the US court winning gold at the olympics from kevin/neil/andrew's pov (ugh the serotonin RUSH and the post-match andreil hug they have me in such a chokehold)

when allison and kevin find out that allison's son has a crush on kevin's daughter from kevin/allison's pov (HELLOOOO THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE AFTG EC CRUMBS IT'S SO FUNNY)

neil hanging out with amalia from neil/amalia's pov (TELL ME they wouldn't have the funniest dynamic)

wymack picking neil up from the airport after evermore from wymack's pov (idk it would be so fun to see how absolutely blindsided everyone is by neil's fucked-up lore)

practically any andreil scene in the series from andrew's pov (foaming at the mouth chewing on drywall clawing at the bars of my enclosure for it)

ok i know i said every andreil scene but this HAS to be included separately: THE BALTIMORE REUNION FROM ANDREW'S POV (oh this would make me crazy)

tetsuji and kayleigh in their university days from either pov (like this is just crazy. that they were like. good friends. they literally made a world famous sport together tf.)

nathan wesninski's trial (the one where neil has to testify) from neil/andrew's pov (the complexity of it all)

andrew yelling at bee after she wakes up in the hospital from andrew/neil's pov (it would be fun. i think.)

the birthday blood scene from andrew's pov (like i know nora's already said what andrew was thinking in that scene but like i reread it recently and it was actually crazy how PISSED neil was idk i would just love to see andrew's reaction to neil being THAT mad)

fall banquet riko roast from literally anyone else's pov (i just know i'd reread that shit religiously)

kathy ferdinand riko roast also from literally anyone else's pov (imagine watching neil "quiet boy" josten absolutely CLOCKING riko moriyama's shit on LIVE TV)

the twins' session with betsy from andrew's pov (after reading aaron's pov it just made me so much more curious to get inside andrew's head in that scene bc that was just crazy tbh)

the foxes' skiing trip from neil's pov (neil pov just bc he's the one i'm most used to. but yeah i NEED this)

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