#but the power of love and loyalty your honor

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Ray recalculating his meticulously crafted plan of six years to save his best friends every time Emma and Norman present him with some new bullshit

[oceandolores]

ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔦𝔬𝔫 | chapter I

General Marcus Acacius x f!reader

"in her eyes shone the sweetness of melancholy."

summary: In the grandeur of ancient Rome, you are the secret daughter of Commodus, living a quiet life as a servant in the imperial palace. Everything changes when you meet General Marcus Acacius, Rome’s honorable and stoic leader.

Though devoted to duty and loyalty to the princess, Marcus is drawn to you in a way he cannot ignore. A forbidden passion ignites between you both, and an affair begins—one that threatens the very foundation of loyalty, power, and honor. As you fall deeper into your dangerous love for Marcus, each stolen moment becomes a fragile, dangerous secret.

warnings: 18+ only, 14 YEARS AFTER GLADIATOR 1, ANGST, Fluff, A LOT OF SMUT, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, mentions of violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, mentions of death, Innocent and pure reader, Loss of virginity, Infidelity, more warnings will be added throughout the story

Chapter I

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next | chapter II

The palace is alive with preparation, a beast of marble and gold that never rests. Its veins are the labyrinthine halls, pulsing with servants like you, carrying trays of delicacies, wreaths of flowers, and jugs of wine.

Its heart beats to the rhythm of whispered orders, clinking metal, and the distant echo of the marketplace beyond its gates. Tonight, the beast awakens for another feast.

You adjust the folds of your simple tunic, careful not to brush against the elaborate tapestries that line the walls. Each thread tells a story of conquest, glory, and power—legends you’ve only heard murmured by those old enough to remember.

You are not part of those tales, nor their lineage. You are a servant, a shadow cast by the towering figures who walk these halls.

The kitchen is a tempest. The air is thick with the scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and sweet figs. Claudia, the head cook, barks orders, her voice slicing through the chaos like the edge of a Roman gladius.

You pass her with a nod, your arms laden with trays of fruit—gleaming apples, plump grapes, the kind of bounty the common people outside these walls could only dream of.

Livia catches your eye from across the room. Her presence is a steady anchor in the storm, her face worn but kind.

“Have you checked the wine?” she asks, her tone soft but urgent.

You nod. “It’s ready, Mother,” you reply, the word slipping out as naturally as breath.

She is not your mother—you know this much—but she is all you have.

The story of how you came to be here is one you’ve heard countless times: a baby abandoned at the servants' chamber door, cradled in a basket of woven reeds, with nothing to mark your origin save for a scrap of fine cloth that no one in your station would dare to own.

Livia found you there, swaddled in whispers of mystery, and against all odds, she chose to keep you.

Raised among the laboring hands of the palace, you were given no privilege beyond survival and no legacy but that of work.

The great marble halls and gilded frescoes became your entire world, a place as eternal and unmoving as the gods themselves—or so it seemed.

The servants’ quarters where you lived were nestled in the hidden bowels of the palace, far from the glittering feasts and marble statues.

You learned to scrub floors and pour wine long before you understood the language of wealth and power that filled these walls.

Your life had been carved out in the shadows, molded by the soft voices and calloused hands of those who raised you.

Today, like every other, begins in service to Rome's ever-churning hunger for spectacle.

The air hums with anticipation, thick with the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine, a stark contrast to the stench of poverty that lingers just beyond the palace gates.

“Are the platters for the atrium ready?” Livia’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“They are,” you reply, glancing at the polished silver laden with grapes and apples, their skins shining like jewels under the torchlight.

“Good.” Livia’s sharp eyes soften, though her expression remains tense. “Take the fruit out yourself. And stay close to the kitchen. Today will bring trouble, I feel it.”

You nod, understanding the weight of her instincts. Years of serving in the palace have taught her to sense the storm before it strikes.

As you lift the platters, Claudia, calls over her daughter, Alexandra.

“Go with her,” Claudia orders, waving a ladle for emphasis.

Alexandra groans dramatically but obeys, rolling her eyes as she grabs one of the platters.

“She can’t let me rest for a moment,” she mutters, her tone more amused than annoyed.

You chuckle softly. Alexandra has always been like this—bold where you are cautious, quick to speak where you stay silent.

She is your only true companion here, older by four years and infinitely more daring.

As you and Alexandra arrange the fruits on a grand table in the atrium, she leans closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “The Princess will be here tonight.”

You nod absently, focused on ensuring the grapes cascade just so. “Of course, she will. She is the Princess after all.”

“No, I mean, I haven’t seen her in years,” Alexandra continues, ignoring your tone. “Not since I was a kid. That was ten years ago. You know she moved out of the palace after marrying the general.”

You don’t reply immediately, your hands steady as you arrange the fruit. Alexandra has always loved to gossip, but you prefer to keep your thoughts unspoken.

“Can you believe it’s been ten years, and she hasn’t had a child? Not one with him,” Alexandra muses.

“Maybe it’s their choice,” you say quietly. “It’s not our place to wonder.”

Alexandra scoffs lightly. “I’m just saying, after her son—what was his name? Lucius?—after he was taken and killed by her brother, Commodus…” She trails off, her voice tinged with something between pity and fascination.

You remember Lucius vaguely, a boy with a quiet demeanor and a sad smile.

You were too young then to understand the weight of his loss, but the servants whispered of curses and tragedies surrounding the imperial family.

“It’s not good to talk about the great emperors like that,” you murmur, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Before Alexandra can reply, the sound of heavy boots echoes through the atrium.

The guards step forward, their polished armor glinting in the firelight. “Make way for their majesties,” one announces, his voice carrying over the growing murmur of the guests.

You and Alexandra immediately bow your heads, the platters forgotten as the twin emperors enter the room.

Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla are a study in contrasts.

Geta, an imposing figure, commands the space with a cold and calculating gaze. His every step seems deliberate, as if the weight of the empire rests on his shoulders alone.

Caracalla, by contrast, walks with an erratic energy, his pet monkey perched on his shoulder. Dondus, the creature’s name, chatters and hisses, a mirror of its master’s unpredictable moods.

You feel the weight of their gazes as they sweep the room. Geta’s lips curl into a smile—or is it a smirk?—as his eyes linger on Alexandra.

There have been whispers, rumors of an affair, though Alexandra denies them with a laugh.

Caracalla’s gaze lands on you, and for a moment, his expression softens. Unlike his brother, he has always been strange but oddly kind to you.

When you were a child, he would find you in the halls, offering you small trinkets or asking you to keep him company.

“Your Majesties,” Alexandra says again, her voice like honeyed wine, sweet but strong.

She curtsies with practiced ease, her eyes cast downward, yet her boldness hangs in the air, unspoken but palpable.

You follow her lead, bowing deeply, but your heart pounds in your chest like the war drums of a distant legion. In the presence of the emperors, the room feels smaller, the air heavier.

To serve Rome, you think, is to breathe in the will of its rulers, no matter how suffocating.

Geta's gaze lingers on Alexandra, traveling from her head to her feet, as though she were a statue he might commission or a possession he already owns.

His smirk deepens, the corner of his mouth curving with an indulgence that unsettles you.

“Alexandra,” he drawls, his voice smooth as polished bronze. “Why do I find the table half-dressed? Are my guests to dine on the promise of fruit alone?”

You glance at the platters, perfectly arranged but not yet fully adorned with the remaining dishes. Your pulse quickens; you know the punishment for displeasing the emperors can be swift, unpredictable.

But Alexandra, bold as always, doesn’t flinch.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty,” she says, her tone measured yet edged with defiance. “The final trays are being brought out as we speak. The delay was unforeseen.”

Geta arches a brow, his smirk turning sharper, more dangerous. “Unforeseen,” he repeats, as though savoring the word.

“I wonder, Alexandra, if you’ve grown too accustomed to... distractions.”

You know the meaning behind his words. Everyone does.

The whispered rumors of their affair swirl through the palace like incense smoke, clinging to every corner.

Her mother Claudia knows, though she turns a blind eye, perhaps thinking it wiser not to provoke the wrath of an emperor.

Beside him, Caracalla shifts, uninterested in the exchange. His pet monkey, Dondus, chitters softly on his shoulder, its small, beady eyes scanning the room.

Caracalla’s gaze falls on you briefly, but it is not unkind. He has always been more erratic than cruel with you, there is a peculiar understanding in his glances—a shared knowledge of solitude.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty,” you say suddenly, your voice trembling like a bird caught in a net. The words tumble out before you can stop them, and the weight of the room shifts.

Geta’s eyes snap to you, sharp as a blade. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake.

But then he laughs—a low, indulgent sound that sends shivers down your spine.

“Ah,” he says, leaning slightly toward you. “The little dove finds her voice. How curious.”

You stiffen under his gaze, your knees threatening to buckle. It feels as though he is peeling back your very skin, seeking something hidden beneath.

“You’re the youngest servant here, aren’t you?” Geta muses, his tone light but with an edge that cuts.

“A curious creature, so quiet and unassuming. And yet…” He trails off, his eyes narrowing, as if piecing together a puzzle.

The weight of unspoken rumors presses against your chest.

The whispers about your lineage, the murmurs that you are more than a servant—that you are the illegitimate daughter of Commodus himself, a shadow of Rome’s bloody past.

You’ve heard them before, though never directly. Livia, your steadfast mother in all but blood, dismisses them as lies, the gossip of bored tongues.

But in moments like this, when Geta’s piercing gaze locks onto yours, it feels as though the marble walls around you whisper secrets only they can hold.

Secrets of your origin, of what blood may or may not flow through your veins, encased in the silent austerity of Rome’s cold embrace. You feel the weight of it, a shroud both invisible and suffocating.

Geta doesn’t believe the rumors entirely, but he cannot ignore them either. To him, you are a thorn he cannot pluck without proof.

If the whispers are true, if you are indeed the hidden scion of Commodus and the only living grandchild of Marcus Aurelius, you would be a danger to his rule.

Rome, after all, has loved its Aurelius lineage fiercely.

The plebeians would rally to your name like vines twisting toward sunlight.

Still, no woman has ever ruled Rome.

The Senate, the soldiers, and the gods themselves would balk at such a notion. But Geta knows that power is not always rooted in precedent—it is rooted in the hearts of the people.

And the people would love a descendant of Marcus Aurelius far more than they could ever love him.

“You wear the palace well,” Geta says finally, his tone dripping with mockery. “A little too well, perhaps.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks but keep your gaze respectfully lowered. His words are like serpents coiling around you, their venom lying just beneath the surface.

Caracalla hums softly, breaking the tension. He strokes Dondus, the little monkey perched on his shoulder, as though soothing himself rather than the animal.

“Leave her, brother,” he mutters, his tone flat but carrying weight. “You scare the child.”

Geta casts his twin a glance, his smirk briefly faltering. With that, he straightens, clapping his hands once in finality. “Finish the table,” he commands, the sharpness of his tone slicing through the room.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you and Alexandra reply in unison, bowing deeply as the emperors turn and walk away.

Their robes ripple like molten gold, catching the light as though the gods themselves had woven the fabric.

The moment they are gone, you exhale shakily, the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding slipping from your lips.

The grandeur of the palace, so often a thing of wonder, now feels oppressive—a prison of marble and ambition.

Alexandra nudges you gently, her smile faint but reassuring. “It’s fine,” she murmurs, though the tightness in her voice betrays her unease.

You nod and return to your work, the routine motions of arranging platters grounding you once more. But the unease lingers, like a storm cloud that refuses to dissipate.

Later, after the feast preparations are complete, you retreat to the servants’ quarters. The hallways grow quieter as the palace begins to prepare for the night’s debauchery.

Your mother, Livia, finds you there, her expression tight with concern.

“Are you all right?” You nod quickly, not wanting to worry her further.

Livia’s sharp eyes search yours for a moment before she exhales heavily. “Stay away from them tonight,” she warns. “There will be soldiers, senators, politicians—men who think they own the world. And women and men from the brothels to entertain them. It will not be a place for a child like you.”

“I understand,” you say softly, though the thought of the gathering makes your skin prickle.

"Go to your chamber and stay there.” You nod, obedient as always, and Livia cups your face briefly before bustling away.

But as you walk toward your chamber, the stillness of the afternoon draws you elsewhere.

***

The sun bathes the palace gardens in a golden light, soft and warm, like an embrace from the gods themselves.

The sky is a flawless stretch of azure, and the air carries the faintest scent of blooming jasmine.

Unable to resist, you veer toward the gardens, seeking solace in their quiet beauty.

You make your way to the small pond at the edge of the grounds, where the world feels simpler, untouched by the weight of marble columns and imperial decrees.

This is your sanctuary, a place you’ve tended with your own hands.

The hedges are trimmed neatly, the flowers arranged in bursts of vibrant color—crimson roses, golden marigolds, and pale violets that seem to glow in the sunlight.

The pond reflects the sky like polished glass, its surface rippling gently in the breeze.

You settle onto the cool stone bench nearby, pulling out a small parchment and charcoal.

Writing has always been your escape, a way to make sense of the labyrinth that is your mind.

The words flow from you like water from a spring, each line capturing fragments of your thoughts and fears.

To live in the shadow of gods is to forget the warmth of the sun.

You stare at the words you’ve written, sentences about Rome and its people, the empire’s endless hunger that devours the poor while the rulers gorge themselves on the spoils.

It isn’t rebellion that drives you—at least, not yet—but a quiet, gnawing sense of wrongness.

You have lived your entire life within the confines of this palace, its gilded walls both a sanctuary and a prison.

Outside, beyond the Forum and its grand marble temples, the streets of Rome teem with despair. You’ve seen it, fleeting glimpses on the rare occasions you ventured beyond the palace gates.

Children with hollow eyes and grime-streaked faces.

Men broken by war or taxation, their shoulders bowed under invisible yokes.

Women clutching bundles of rags that you realized, with a sick lurch, were infants too still to be alive.

These thoughts weigh heavily on you as you sit by the pond, the garden’s beauty unable to shield you from the world’s harsh truths.

You lower your quill, pressing trembling fingers to your lips, when the sound of approaching footsteps pulls you sharply from your thoughts.

You stiffen, the air in your lungs turning to stone. It isn’t one of the servants; their steps are lighter, quicker.

This tread is deliberate, measured, carrying a weight of authority. When you glance up, your breath catches.

The man before you is not adorned with the opulence of the Senate nor the ostentatious silk of the emperors.

You know who he is. How could you not?

General Marcus Acacius.

Rome’s shield and sword, the hero of distant campaigns whose name is whispered with both reverence and fear.

You have never seen him in the flesh, for he seldom resides in the palace, choosing instead to live with Princess Lucilla far from its labyrinth of intrigue.

But his likeness is everywhere: etched in marble statues, painted in frescoes, immortalized as Rome’s protector.

Yet, here he stands, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if the gods themselves have sent him.

The crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders glints faintly in the golden light, its hem embroidered with intricate patterns that seem to tell the story of the empire’s conquests.

His tunic, simple yet stately, is cinched with a polished belt, a gleaming buckle bearing the proud insignia of the wolf of Rome.

Unlike the ornamental decadence of the Senate or the twin emperors, his attire speaks of purpose and practicality—beauty tempered by utility.

And his face—by Jupiter, his beautiful face.

It is a map of victories and sacrifices, weathered yet noble. The lines carved by years of sun and battle only enhance the sharpness of his features, as if the gods had personally molded him for their own designs.

His hair, dark and streaked with silver like the gleam of moonlight on a blade, curls faintly at his temples.

His beard, neatly trimmed, frames a mouth set in the hard line of a man who has spoken a thousand commands and swallowed a thousand regrets.

But it is his eyes that strike you most: deep, piercing, soulful-brown eyes.

They are the eyes of a man who has seen the best and worst of humanity and bears the weight of both.

Your breath catches as his gaze sweeps over you, taking in the sight of a young servant clutching a parchment like a shield.

He regards you with a sharp, assessing gaze, his eyes like iron tempered in fire—unyielding yet reflective.

His presence is commanding, a gravity that draws everything into its orbit. You are struck by how different he is from the emperors.

Where Geta and Caracalla exude indulgence and cruelty, Acacius carries himself with the disciplined grace of a man who has known the weight of true responsibility.

“Not many choose the gardens for their thoughts,” he says, his voice deep, steady, and tinged with curiosity.

It is a soldier’s voice, devoid of the honeyed pretense of courtiers.

You scramble to your feet, clutching your parchment to your chest. “General,” you manage, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

He raises a hand, the gesture more commanding than any shout. “At ease,” he says, a faint flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—crossing his face. “You are Livia's daughter?"

His question hangs in the air like the distant clang of a bell. You nodded, your name feels small in your mouth when you finally say it, barely audible against the rustling of the garden’s leaves.

Acacius nods, as though filing the information away. His eyes flick to the parchment in your hands. “A poet?”

You hesitate, “I... I write, sometimes. Thoughts.”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming yet strangely grounding. He does not reach for the parchment, but his gaze lingers on it as though he could read its contents by sheer will alone.

“Thoughts on Rome, perhaps?” he asks.

His tone is even, but there is an edge to it, a subtle weight that suggests he already knows the answer.

Your throat tightens. To speak of the empire’s flaws to a general of its armies feels like standing on the edge of a blade.

Yet something in his bearing—a quiet patience, a restrained curiosity—compels you to answer honestly.

“Yes,” you admit softly. “About Rome. And its people.”

Acacius’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly, a shadow crossing his face. He looks away, toward the pond, his gaze distant now, as if seeing not the still water but something far beyond it.

“The people,” he repeats, almost to himself. “The heart of Rome. And yet, the heart is always the first to be sacrificed.”

The words are spoken quietly, but they carry the weight of experience, of battles fought not just with swords but with conscience.

You watch him, your earlier fear now replaced by a cautious curiosity.

"Do you... believe that?" you venture, your voice barely above a whisper, the words trembling like a fledgling bird daring its first flight.

Marcus halts, his crimson cloak swaying like the banner of a legion stilled in the wind.

He turns to you, his eyes—sharp as a polished gladius—softening for the briefest moment, as if your question has reached a part of him long buried under layers of duty and steel.

“Belief,” he begins, his voice low and steady, carrying the weight of a man who has lived lifetimes in service to an empire, “is a luxury in the life of a soldier. I deal in action, not faith. But I have seen enough to know that Rome’s strength lies not in its emperors, but in its people. And we are failing them.”

The honesty in his words strikes you like the tolling of a great bronze bell, reverberating through the quiet garden and deep into your chest.

It is not what you expected from a man like him—a hero to some, a sword-arm to the empire—but here he stands, speaking not as a general but as a man, his voice laced with something unguarded. Regret, perhaps. Or hope—fragile and faint, but alive nonetheless.

“Do you believe in Rome, little one?” His question falls like a stone into still waters, and you startle, unprepared to have the conversation turned toward you.

“I—” Your words falter, and you look down at your hands, clutching the parchment that now feels like an accusation.

But then, something inside you stirs—something that refuses to shrink back beneath the weight of his gaze.

You lift your eyes to meet his, the courage in your chest kindled like a flame drawn from embers.

“I believe in what Rome could be,” you reply, your voice steadier now.

“I believe in the Rome that lives in the hearts of its people—the ones who work its fields, who build its roads, who kneel at its altars not out of fear, but out of love. That is the Rome worth fighting for. But the Rome I see now…” Your throat tightens, but you press on.

“...has forgotten its people. It worships marble statues and golden coins while the streets crumble and the people starve. How can an empire endure when its foundation is so neglected?”

Your words spill forth, unchecked and unmeasured, and it is only when you see the faintest flicker of something in his expression—respect, perhaps, or surprise—that you remember who stands before you.

The weight of your boldness sinks in like a gladiator realizing they’ve overstepped in the arena.

“Forgive me, General,” you murmur, lowering your gaze. “I forgot myself.”

But Marcus shakes his head, a wry smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “Do not apologize,” he says, his tone gentler now, though no less commanding.

“You are young, but your words carry the wisdom of one who has not yet been corrupted by power. Few speak with such clarity, and fewer still with such courage.”

His gaze lingers on you, searching, and you feel it like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

“You remind me,” he says, his voice quieter, almost reverent, “of someone. He believed, as you do, in the strength of Rome’s people. He would sit in gardens much like this one, speaking of justice and duty, and wonder aloud whether the empire could ever live up to its ideals.”

Your heart quickens, the weight of his words settling over you like the cloak of a goddess.

The way Marcus looks at you—as though he sees not the servant, but the soul beneath—makes you feel for a fleeting moment.

“I am no philosopher,” you say softly, your fingers tightening on the parchment. “But it is hard to remain silent when I see so much suffering.”

“A Roman citizen has every right to speak of their empire’s failings,” he says, stepping closer now.

“Do not mistake me for a politician, child. I am a soldier. My loyalty is to Rome—not to the men who rule it."

You nod, the words settling over you like a cloak woven of both gravity and reassurance.

The air between you feels charged, alive with the kind of understanding that is rarely spoken but deeply felt.

You watch him, his form cast in the golden hues of the setting sun, the crimson of his cloak vivid against the muted greens of the garden.

There is something about him that draws you—not merely his reputation, not the legends whispered in the palace halls of his valor and victories, but him.

The man behind the titles and statues.

You swallow, your heart a restless bird in your chest. You should not linger, not with him, not now.

And yet, you find yourself unable to walk away.

Words rise to your lips, hesitant at first, but then they spill forth, tentative and careful, like a child offering a wildflower to a god.

“Forgive me, my lord, but shouldn’t you be inside?” you say, your voice trembling under the weight of its boldness. “The palace is bustling with your celebration—wishing you fortune for your campaign, for Rome’s glory.”

He turns his gaze to you, the faintest flicker of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “Rome’s glory,” he repeats, as though tasting the phrase on his tongue, finding it bitter.

He lets out a soft chuckle, low and warm, a sound that feels oddly out of place amidst the solemn grandeur of the garden. “Let them feast. Let them toast. I’ve no appetite for gilded words tonight.”

You blink, surprised by his candor. He is not what you imagined—not the marble statue immortalized in the Forum or the hardened general whose name echoes in the chants of soldiers. He is… more human than that.

“I’m waiting for my wife,” he adds, his tone casual, though his eyes seem to linger on you as if measuring your reaction.

Princess Lucilla.

The name hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of legend. Rome’s Princess. The only daughter of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor. You’ve never met her, though her shadow looms large over your life.

“She was delayed,” he continues, glancing toward the palace, though his stance is relaxed, unhurried.

Princess Lucilla, her legend precedes her, a name spoken with reverence, and sometimes, in hushed tones, with fear.

Your mother, Livia, has served her since she was but a girl.

Livia, who moves through the world with a quiet dignity, has always spoken of the princess with unwavering loyalty. “She carries Rome on her shoulders,” your mother would say, her voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. “The weight of a crown rests on her brow, even though it does not sit there.”

Your thoughts drift, but his voice pulls you back to the present.

“Your mother,” Marcus says, his tone shifting to something softer, more contemplative, “she’s a loyal servant to our household, isn’t she?”

You nod, feeling a strange warmth rise to your cheeks. “She is, my lord. My mother adores the princess. She always speaks highly of her.”

At this, Marcus smiles faintly. His expression, though guarded, carries a warmth that feels rare, as if he’s allowing himself a brief reprieve from his usual stoicism.

“Livia is wise, then. Lucilla is… more than most know. Rome sees her as Marcus Aurelius’ daughter, but to me—” He pauses, his voice lowering to something almost reverent.

“She is a woman of strength, far greater than any man I’ve known. Her loyalty to Rome and its people… it humbles me.”

For a fleeting moment, his mask of a hardened general slips, and you glimpse something deeper.

A man bound not just by duty but by love.

His words hang in the air, gilded with affection, and you feel a pang of longing, though for what, you cannot say.

“I’ve never met her,” you admit, your voice quieter now.

He turns to you, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “Lucilla?”

You nod, feeling suddenly self-conscious beneath his scrutiny. “I’ve only heard stories. My mother always told me about her strength, her grace. But we’ve never crossed paths.”

Marcus regards you for a long moment, as if seeing something in you he had not noticed before. “She would like you,” he says at last, his voice steady, though something lingers in his tone, a note of intrigue.

“Are you coming to the feast tonight?” he asks, the question catching you off guard.

You hesitate, glancing toward the palace where the distant hum of celebration filters through the evening air. “Servants are not permitted to attend such events, my lord,” you say, lowering your gaze. “I am only a servant after all,"

His brows furrow slightly, as if the answer displeases him. “Rome is built on the backs of those it calls servants. Do not diminish yourself.”

You blink, unsure of how to respond. There’s a weight in his words, one that feels both heavy and freeing.

Before he can say more, hurried footsteps echo through the garden. You turn, and there stands Alexandra, one of the palace attendants, her expression tight with worry.

“My lord,” she says, bowing her head quickly as her wide eyes catch sight of Marcus.

The respect is immediate, almost reflexive. General Acacius commands not just authority but admiration.

Men respect him, but women… they speak of him in hushed tones, a figure both distant and impossibly magnetic.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Alexandra continues, her voice trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze. “Your mother is looking for you,"

Marcus looks at you, his expression softening. He steps aside, the movement graceful despite his formidable frame, as though making room for your escape.

"Tell Livia my apologies for keeping her daughter here," he says, his voice low yet deliberate, as though each word is a promise carved in stone.

His gaze lingers on you, longer than it should, and it feels as though he is reading something beyond the surface—a map of your heart, perhaps, etched in the lines of your face.

For a moment, the world narrows to just this: the garden bathed in the golden light of a setting sun, the faint murmur of the distant feast, and the weight of his eyes, heavy yet strangely gentle.

There is something about you, his expression seems to say—something unspoken but undeniable.

You feel it too, a spark that flickers to life beneath the layers of duty, expectation, and fear.

“I’ll see you at the feast tonight,” he says, the words more a statement than an invitation, leaving little room for protest.

There is a finality to his tone, yet also a quiet insistence that stirs something within you.

Before you can respond, he dips his head ever so slightly—a gesture of respect, or perhaps acknowledgment—before turning and striding away, his crimson cloak flowing like a banner in his wake.

You bow reflexively, watching him disappear into the shadowed corridors of the palace, his figure swallowed by the grandeur of Rome itself.

Yet even as he leaves, his presence lingers, an echo in the air, a weight in your chest.

As soon as the sound of his footsteps fades, Alexandra is at your side, her face alight with barely contained awe.

“Was that… the general?” she whispers, her voice tinged with something between disbelief and reverence.

“Yes,” you reply, though your own voice feels distant, as though it belongs to someone else. Your thoughts are still tethered to the garden, to the quiet intensity of his gaze.

“By the gods,” she breathes, clutching your arm as though you might disappear. “He’s… he’s even more handsome up close.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Careful, Ale,” you chide gently, though there’s no malice in your words.

“I’ve heard so much about him,” she continues, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“About his loyalty to Maximus Decimus Meridius—the late general—and how he served under him during the great campaigns. They say he adored the princess even then. Some even whisper that his loyalty to Maximus was why he stayed so close to her after his death, marrying her to protect her.”

You glance at her, your brow furrowing slightly. “You know far too much for someone who spends their days in the laundry.”

She grins, unrepentant. “The laundry is where all the palace’s secrets come to dry.”

You shake your head, though her words gnaw at the edges of your mind.

You’ve heard the stories too, in bits and pieces from the older servants: tales of Lucilla’s love affair with Maximus, and Marcus’s steadfast devotion not only to his commander but to the empire itself.

A marriage born of loyalty, they say, not love. And yet, there’s something in the way Marcus spoke of Lucilla earlier that makes you wonder.

As Alexandra chatters on, her words a tide of gossip and speculation, your thoughts drift back to Marcus.

To the way he stood in the garden, his form framed by the soft glow of the setting sun. To the depth in his eyes, like wells carved by the gods themselves—deep enough to drown in, and yet you couldn’t look away.

You feel a strange restlessness in your chest, a stirring you can’t quite name. It isn’t admiration, nor fear, but something more complicated. Something heavier.

Marcus is unlike anyone you’ve ever known—unlike the indulgent senators with their honeyed words, unlike the cruel twin emperors whose laughter carries the sting of a whip.

He is a man of iron and fire, tempered by years of battle, yet beneath that hardened exterior lies something softer. Something… human.

And perhaps that’s what unsettles you most.

You’ve spent your life surrounded by women: your mother, Livia, with her quiet strength and unshakable loyalty; the other servants, who taught you to navigate the palace’s labyrinthine halls.

Men were distant figures, their power felt but never seen up close. Fathers, you’ve only heard about in stories—abstract concepts, not flesh and blood.

But Marcus is no abstraction.

He is real, tangible, a presence that feels larger than life yet undeniably mortal.

To see him, to feel him, is to glimpse a side of the world you’ve never known—a world shaped not by whispered orders or silent sacrifices, but by action, by conviction, by the weight of decisions made on the edge of a blade.

You shake your head, trying to banish the thoughts, but they cling to you like the scent of blooming jasmine in the garden. “It’s nothing,” you tell yourself, though your heart betrays you with its restless rhythm.

“Nothing at all,” you murmur, though even the words feel like a lie.

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic! Fire Nation Royal Family x Non-bender Reader

Part 2

With Ozai:

At first he didn't accept the fact that you, his youngest child, is a non-bender, and ignored your existence.

That was until he noticed how his older brother, Iroh, spends time with you, Ozai got extremely jealous.

And decided to spend time with you, only to realize that you are his favorite child, and felt like an actual father.

Yes, you can't firebend nor do you even have the ability to protect yourself.

But why would you need to protect yourself when your father is going to be the Phoenix king of the fire nation?

Ozai will burn down the world for you.

"You, my sweet child, will grow up in the presence of a very powerful father"

With Ursa:

When Ursa found out that you couldn't bend, she became overprotective of you to the point of paranoia.

Since childhood, she refused to allow you to play with anyone except Zuko.

One time, one of her handmaidens scolded you harshly for playing outside without your mother's permission which resulted in you bursting into tears.

The next day, that handmaiden was fired and Ursa made sure that she gets no other jobs.

While thinking of escaping, she thought to take you with her.

However, Ozai has forbidden that from happening.

"When you find out the truth, promise to come find me"

With Azulon

While still alive, he made sure you had the best education and guards.

Azulon also made sure to have you believe that the fire nation is without mistakes or faults.

He tried manipulating you into believing that just your loyalty to your people is enough duty.

However, you are kind, too kind.

Yet, he Azulon didn't hate you for it even if he considered a weak trait to have in the royal family.

He also still has the flower crown you made him stored away safely so it doesn't rot.

It is rumored that the last word he muttered was your name.

With Iroh

Uncle Iroh isn't really as possessive as the other characters, but he focuses on advising you from time to time.

You enjoy drinking tea with him and gossiping about everything.

Even though, Ozai has forbidden him from speaking with you, you would sneak behind your father's back to drink tea with him.

After the loss of his son in the war, Lu Ten, Iroh felt depressed.

Yet you managed to comfort him with your cheerfulness and playful attitude.

It reminded him of his son.

"The best quality in a princess is her kindness, something which your sister clearly lacks"

With Zuko

Zuko thought you would be like Azula but you have proven him wrong.

You are kind, gentle, and nurturing just like your and his mother.

That's why Zuko always found himself by your side, being your playmate...being your protecter.

His mother told him that it's his duty to protect you from danger considering that he is your older brother.

Even though Azula has never hurt you, but Zuko was always wary of her, especially after his mother disappeared.

When Ozai challenged him to an Agni Kai, you were the first to cry out and plead with him to let Zuko off, but Ozai felt jealous of your relationship with Zuko and was determined to teach his son a lesson.

However when your brother got banished, Zuko took you with him in secret not wanting you to be left with Azula.

"I know the journey will take long but once I restore my honor we can return home together"

With Azula

Azula was extremely jealous when you were born, thinking that you will take all the attention from her.

But she realized that you deserve all the attention.

You didn't treat her like a monster, you weren't scared of her.

Instead you showed her love and called her 'big sister'

You would cling to her as a toddler, whenever there was lightning, you would secretly sneak to her room and sleep beside her.

"How can you be scared of lightning, we control it, silly"

Mai and Ty Lee saw how Azula softens whenever you are around.

And when Azula discovered that you have left with Zuko, she destroyed everything in her way and burned a few servants.

"She's mine, and only MINE"

[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au masterlist (yes i need to update it ik) and we will not talk abt the abrupt ending 😭

The grand ballroom of glittered with the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing across marble floors and golden fixtures hung from the ceilings. A symphony played softly in the background, a perfect complement to the hum of ongoing conversation and chatter. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a gown of midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver thread that mirrored the stars. A gift from Simon, one that had you staring at the beautiful dress in awe.

Tonight, you were the very image of grace and poise.

Your face and movements are calm and collected, hiding what you truly feel beneath. Lately, whispers of dishonor had begun circulating; rumors that your husband had fled a border skirmish back when he’d been deployed, abandoning his men, yet had paid for the matter to be buried. Vile lies, born of cowardice and malice. John’s name, his reputation, and the honor of your house were at stake; disloyalty towards the empire was seen as treason, and that was unforgivable.

You would not allow it.

The first spark of rage had ignited the moment you’d overheard the vile accusations from another lady, one of your more arrogant rivals who had laughed snidely. From there, the rumors spread like wildfire, poisoning the halls of the court and society.

But you were no stranger to such games like these. Tonight, after much planning, you’ll put an end to this farce.

You began with your loyal ladies-in-waiting. Each one owed their position to you, and in return, they offered their unwavering loyalty. “Listen carefully,” you instructed them during a private meeting in your sitting room, the door locked behind you. “Go into the court, the markets, the salons- anywhere whispers thrive. I want names, places, and patterns. Who speaks these lies, and who listens too closely?”

They curtsied and departed without hesitation, melting into the bustling world outside of the manor. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to your maids and house staff. Servants were the lifeblood of any noble house, privy to secrets thought hidden.

You met with them personally with Kyle’s help, ensuring they understood the stakes. “Speak subtly,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Let it slip that those who spread these rumors do so for their own gain, that there’s no substance to the rumors. Plant doubt. Create cracks.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Kyle nods his head, hands on your waist. He leans down, and kisses your forehead, and you smile all sweet and pretty at him. “Whatever you want.”

While you wove your network of spies, John watched quietly from the shadows of the manor. Though he trusted you implicitly, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and unease. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he worried nonetheless for you.

In his study, he sat with Kyle.

“How’s she faring?” John asked, puffing a cigar as he leaned back in his chair. Papers were scattered on his desk, though they didn’t require immediate attention or replies. Pressed close to Kyle, bodies warm, he didn’t want to go back to working for now.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “She’s… efficient, John. The staff is utterly devoted to her even without my help. I’ve seen no signs of hesitation in her plans.”

John chuckled dryly, though there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I am not surprised. She’s scarier than any battlefield, Kyle. And they love her.”

With the groundwork laid, you began preparing to host a big gala at the manor. Invitations were sent far and wide, carrying the promise of exquisite dining, captivating entertainment, and the opportunity to curry favor with one of the most powerful families in the region.

None dared refuse.

Johnny worked tirelessly to ensure every detail of the menu was flawless, and though he would have helped anyways, he still enjoyed all the kisses he got as reward from yoh. “You’re pilin’ it on thick, Duchess,” he remarked one evening, wiping his brow as he inspected a rack of lamb. “Even for you.”

“This isn’t just a party, Johnny,” you replied, humming. “This is war.”

“War it is, then. Anything for you, bonnie.” he muttered, diving back into his work with renewed determination. After a very heated look from you that had him preening, though; he looked handsome in his element. And you’ll make sure to really show him your appreciation for all his hard work later, in the privacy of your rooms.

At every other gala and gathering, you moved through the crowd like a dancer with a purpose. You guided conversations subtly, planting seeds of doubt and faltering those who tried to be a bit too brave- and your reputation as a “people’s princess” helped so greatly. Your allies- the few you trusted among the nobility-played their roles perfectly.

Simon, especially. You had specifically asked for his help, curled warm and cozy on his lap one night. He’d kissed you breathless and told you he would always be there for you.

“Lord Marcan, was it?” Simon mused during one party, his glass of whiskey balanced effortlessly in his hand. The others immediately listen to him; though he isn’t the most talkative noble, his words carry weight. “I’ve heard some interesting things about him. Did you know he’s deeply in debt? I wonder how far a man would go to escape ruin.”

The other nobles exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. You watched from a distance, satisfied as Simon delivered the blow with effortless charm.

Your web was nearly complete, each thread pulling tighter around Lord Marcan- the instigator of the rumors- until he had no room to maneuver. At the final ball of the season, the one hosted by you and John, you made your final move.

You descended the grand staircase as the guests gathered, your presence commanding attention. At your signal, the servants unveiled a surprise: a performance of actors reenacting a scene from an old skirmish. But this was no ordinary play; it was a dramatized retelling of that battle, one that highlighted John’s bravery and leadership even when Lord Marcan had tried to say John had fled that day.

The crowd was entranced, all earlier doubts finally wavering and shattering. You saw Marcan shift uncomfortably, his face pale as his lies unraveled before him and eyes turned towards him in disgust.

From the balcony above, John watched with Simon and Kyle at his side. “She’s terrifying.” he murmured, though his voice carried a note of awe.

Simon smirked. “You married a bloody tactician.”

Kyle simply nodded. “She fights for you, for us, John. And she wins.”

By the end of the evening, Lord Marcan was a broken man and his wife, Lady Marcan who had laughed at you by the rumor, was seething. Their allies abandoned them, their name tarnished by his cowardice and deceit and her aftions.

And the rumors about John’s supposed abandonment of his men? Gone.

That night, as you removed your jewelry in the quiet of your chambers, John approached you. His hands rested on your bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’ve been busy, beloved.” he said, his voice soft but laced with admiration.

“I did what needed to be done.” you replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I know you could have simply challenged him to a duel… but we didn’t have full confirmation it was him who started. I had to do it this way.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re terrifying, love. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

From the shadows of the room, Simon leaned casually against the doorframe. “She’s not wrong, John. Best keep on her good side.”

Johnny’s voice echoed from the hallway as he came by with a tray of food. Kyle comes as well, carrying glasses of wine. “Aye, and keep feeding her. Keeps her from plotting.”

Kyle sighs, though he has a smile on his face as he sets the glasses down and instead comes to help you. “…he isn’t exactly wrong. You were incredible…. And scary.”

“Perfect, in other words.” John hums, an eyebrow raising. You do not have enough time to ask anything before he and Kyle are gently turning you around on the seat, face to face with John who kneels down. “You’ve worked so hard for me, for us, my Duchess. Let me take care of you now, hm?”

“John…“

“No more words, my love,” he shakes his head, Kyle’s hands reaching to unlace your dress, your corset, until your breasts spill out. John doesn’t even seem mildly bothered by the layers of your skirt, flipping them up until you are indecent in front of your men and he is face to face with your panties. The way they look at you, so much want…

You don’t mind. The slick spot forming speaks more than enough anyways.

“Tonight,” John murmurs, kissing your inner thighs. “Will be all about spoiling you, wife.”

[plutonianeris]

Asteroid Apollo (1862)

☀️ APOLLO IN THE 1ST HOUSE: Naturally commands attention, regal presence, captivating in every room, people are often in awe of your appearance and mannerisms, powerful aura that’s impossible to ignore, exudes confidence and authority, admired for your individuality and sense of self, people respect you without you needing to demand it, feels like a natural leader, people often follow your lead, impressive first impressions, magnetic in every personal encounter.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 2ND HOUSE: Radiates confidence in material and personal values, people admire your taste and stability, respected for your financial savvy or how you manage resources, strong sense of self-worth that draws others, people often feel inspired by your practical approach to life, exudes power in matters of wealth and possessions, admired for how you create a life of comfort and beauty, people look up to you as a model of financial empowerment, respected for valuing quality.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 3RD HOUSE: Captivating voice, words carry weight, people are inspired by your intellect and wit, respected for your ideas and how you communicate, often seen as a wise figure in discussions, magnetic in conversations, admired for quick thinking and cleverness, powerful storyteller, people often remember your words long after you speak, respected in social circles for your insights, admired for the way you can influence others through language alone.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 4TH HOUSE: Commands respect in personal or family life, radiates an inner strength that others admire, quietly powerful presence at home, often seen as the heart of the family, respected for your loyalty and protective nature, admired for creating a safe and nurturing environment, people may even idealize you as the “soul” of the family, power that feels both gentle and profound, others look up to you for a sense of security and emotional wisdom, worshiped in private settings.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 5TH HOUSE: Magnetic in creative or romantic settings, people admire your expressiveness and originality, often seen as larger-than-life, admired in social and fun environments, powerful attraction in love and creative pursuits, others are drawn to your charisma and artistic talents, people see you as an inspiration for living boldly and passionately, known for an aura of celebration and joy, often the center of attention, others look up to your courage in self-expression.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 6TH HOUSE: Respected for your dedication and hard work, powerful aura in daily life and routines, people admire your work ethic and reliability, a natural leader in any work setting, others look up to you for how you handle responsibilities, admired for your quiet strength and consistency, people may come to you for advice on health or daily routines, a stabilizing influence in the lives of others, power shines through small acts of service, respected for grounded, practical power.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 7TH HOUSE: Commands admiration in partnerships, people see you as an ideal partner, respected for your diplomacy and fairness, a natural presence in one-on-one settings, people feel “honored” to be close to you, magnetic in personal relationships, admired for how you handle conflict with grace, people are often drawn to your energy as a balancing force, radiates strength in commitments, others see you as an exemplary partner, powerful aura of equality and respect.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 8TH HOUSE: Powerful in matters of intimacy and transformation, people feel drawn to your depth and intensity, admired for your courage in facing darker topics, respected for your ability to handle crises, magnetic and almost hypnotic energy, others may even be intimidated by your power, seen as a wise figure in taboo or transformative areas, inspires others to confront their own shadows, radiates an aura of mystery, people are drawn to your strength in vulnerability.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 9TH HOUSE: Inspires admiration through wisdom and expansive ideas, powerful presence in intellectual or spiritual discussions, people look up to you as a mentor or guide, admired for your adventurous spirit, respected for your commitment to truth and higher knowledge, commands attention when sharing insights, magnetic in educational or cultural settings, seen as a seeker of wisdom, respected for following your own path, others may idealize you as a source of enlightenment.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 10TH HOUSE: Commands respect in professional settings, powerful and dignified public image, admired for your achievements and ambition, natural leader in career or social spheres, people are inspired by your determination and success, seen as an authority figure in your field, commands admiration simply by being yourself, respected as a symbol of success, others may even “worship” your career path, people follow your example in work and life goals.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 11TH HOUSE: Magnetic in group settings, admired for your progressive ideas and humanitarian values, powerful presence in community and social causes, people look up to you as a visionary, natural leader in social circles, respected for your inclusivity and forward-thinking, seen as a source of inspiration for friends and networks, others may idealize your vision, radiates an aura of unity and collective power, admired for your dedication to making the world better.

☀️APOLLO IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Respected for your spiritual strength and introspection, powerful yet subtle presence, people admire you for your depth and understanding of life’s mysteries, magnetic in quiet or solitary settings, people feel honored to know you on a deeper level, radiates a wisdom that feels almost otherworldly, others are drawn to your ability to navigate the unseen, admired for compassion and emotional insight, power that feels hidden but profound, others may idealize your “soulfulness.”

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: Future Friend/partner/Spouse Reading Message from Goddess Hera

Top Left [Pile 1], Top Right [Pile 2], Bottom Left[ Pile 3], Bottom Right [Pile 4]

Goddess Hera, the queen of the Greek gods and wife of Zeus, is the deity of marriage, women, childbirth, and family. Revered for her regal authority, she wields power over familial bonds and marital fidelity. Hera is often depicted as a majestic figure, symbolizing the sanctity and strength of marriage. Her powers include protecting women in childbirth, ensuring marital harmony, and bestowing blessings upon families, embodying the virtues of loyalty, fidelity, and nurturing within the household.

================================================

Pile 1

Message from Goddess Hera: In this pile, Hera emphasizes the importance of loyalty and trust in your relationships. She advises you to seek out and cherish those who are truly devoted to you.

Physical Description of Future Partner/Friend: The person coming into your life will have striking features, possibly dark hair and deep, expressive eyes. They might have a medium to tall build and an air of confidence and mystery about them. Their presence is charismatic, drawing others to them effortlessly.

Quote from Goddess Hera: "True loyalty is rare; honor it when found."

The Empress

Future Marriage Description: Your future marriage will be characterized by abundance, nurturing, and growth. The Empress signifies a relationship filled with love, fertility, and creativity. You and your partner will create a harmonious and bountiful home, where both emotional and material needs are met. This marriage will feel like a sanctuary, where you both can thrive and support each other's dreams.

Key Traits:

Abundance and Prosperity

Nurturing and Caring

Creative and Fertile Environment

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Pile 2

Message from Goddess Hera: Hera speaks of the nurturing aspects of love and family. She encourages you to cultivate a space where those you care for can feel safe and supported.

Physical Description of Future Partner/Friend: This individual will have a warm and approachable demeanor. They may have light hair, such as blonde or light brown, and a gentle smile. Their physical build might be average, with a touch of softness that makes them appear very approachable and kind.

Quote from Goddess Hera: "To nurture and be nurtured is the essence of family."

The Lovers

Future Marriage Description: This marriage will be founded on deep emotional connection and mutual respect. The Lovers card signifies a strong bond, where both partners share values, goals, and a profound love for each other. Your relationship will be marked by harmony, balance, and unity. You will face challenges together with a strong sense of partnership and commitment.

Key Traits:

Deep Emotional Connection

Mutual Respect and Unity

Shared Values and Goals

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Pile 3

Message from Goddess Hera: Hera highlights the strength in unity and mutual respect within your relationships. She advises you to build connections based on equality and shared values.

Physical Description of Future Partner/Friend: The significant person entering your life may have a distinctive, athletic build. They could have dark, curly hair and a vibrant, energetic presence. Their eyes might be a striking color, like green or blue, and they carry themselves with a natural grace and poise.

Quote from Goddess Hera: "In unity and mutual respect, love and family thrive."

The Hierophant

Future Marriage Description: Your future marriage will be deeply rooted in tradition, structure, and spiritual connection. The Hierophant suggests a union that honors cultural or religious practices and values. This marriage will be stable and secure, with both partners committed to upholding shared beliefs and maintaining a strong moral foundation. Your relationship will be a source of guidance and wisdom for others.

Key Traits:

Tradition and Structure

Spiritual Connection

Stability and Security

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Pile 4

Message from Goddess Hera: Hera conveys the power of enduring love and the bonds that withstand the test of time. She encourages you to look for relationships that promise longevity and depth.

Physical Description of Future Partner/Friend: This person might have an elegant and refined appearance. They could have dark, wavy hair and a slender, tall frame. Their style is classic and timeless, often dressed in a way that exudes sophistication. Their eyes reflect wisdom and compassion.

Quote from Goddess Hera: "Enduring love withstands all trials."

The Sun

Future Marriage Description: This marriage will be filled with joy, positivity, and vitality. The Sun card signifies a bright and optimistic relationship, where both partners radiate happiness and enthusiasm. Your union will bring out the best in each other, fostering a sense of warmth and fulfillment. Together, you will create a joyful and supportive environment, where you can both shine and achieve great things.

Key Traits:

Joy and Positivity

Vitality and Enthusiasm

Warmth and Fulfillment

================================================================================================

[entitled-fangirl]

A change of sigil.

Robb Stark x Baratheon!reader

Summary: After wedding Robb Stark and becoming the Lady of Winterfell, the reader learns about the king's death and the treason of Ned.

Masterlist

..............................................................

The newly wedded Y/N Stark (once Baratheon) ran through the corridors of Winterfell. 

Her eyes fell upon the Stark's Maester. Her eyes lit up. "A letter from my father? Has he finally written me back?"

The older man's eyes softened with guilt, "I'm afraid not, my lady."

Her face fell but she quickly recovered it, "oh. M… May I still see it?"

"This," He held it back from her, "Is for Lord Stark to read."

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks and she nodded. "Right. How foolish of me."

His lips pulled into a smile and he held his arm out. The North did like the gentle girl, after all, "C'mon, my lady. Walk to me to him so we may discuss the reason for such a letter."

She smiled back and took his arm.

…

"Treason?" Robb's brows furrowed and his teeth grit, "Sansa wrote this?"

"It is your sister's hand, but the queen's words."

Y/N's eyes remained on the table, unsure of what to think. Her mother was a cunning woman, and it did not surprise her of such a thing.

"You are summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new king."

"My father is dead?" She interrupted quietly.

The men's eyes flickered to her.

Robb's anger did not falter, "Joffrey puts my father in chains, now he wants his ass kissed?"

The Maester sighed, "This is a royal command, my lord." His eyes flickered between the lord and lady, "If you should refuse to obey-"

"-I won't refuse," Robb quickly butted in. "His grace summons me to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing. But not alone."

He rolled the letter up and handed it back to the maester. "Call the banners."

"All of them, my lord?"

"They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?"

"They have."

"Now, we see what their words are worth."

"Very well." The maester left quickly.

Y/N's eyes remained on the table, not once wavering. Robb noticed it and rounded the table to sit by her. His head tilted to study her further. His hand reached up to gently grab her jaw, moving her head to face him.

Her eyes connected with his, and they were filled with tears, "My father is dead?"

His lips pull into a line as he looks to Theon and back, "I'm afraid so."

She took a shaky breath in to keep the tears from falling. "Murdered?"

Theon stood at her words, angered a bit inside. He quickly bowed his head and left the room in a huff.

Robb shook his head, "No. Animal attack while hunting is all Sansa wrote."

She was quiet a while before she spoke again, "He loved me."

Robb gritted his teeth. "He had a funny way of showing it."

"But he did love me. I am worth nothing now."

"Hey." His voice lowered at his words. His grip on her jaw tightened. "Do not say such things. You are worth everything to me. Winterfell is your home. Its people are your people. They are loyal."

"Loyal to you. To your name."

"No." He pushed. "They will be loyal to you. You are still a princess after all, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"And more importantly," he kissed her forehead gently, "You are my wife."

She nodded again before a thought came to her. "What is keeping those that rule from killing your father and sisters just the same?"

His eyebrows raised and he shook her head, "Nothing, I suppose. I must hope they fear the North enough or I drive my sword through your brother before they can touch the Starks." He tilted his head, "I need your loyalty. I know I have it. But the people need it."

"I am loyal to you, Robb. You are all I have."

He smiles and caresses her face before shaking his head, "I don't want loyalty for fear or power. Your loyalty should be of trust and honor. I ask again, are you loyal to me, my love?"

"Without my father, the Baratheon sigil means nothing to me. I belong to House Stark now."

His smile grows and he kisses her gently, "I will win this. For you. For my family. I promise you."

..............................................................

A/N: I feel a series coming onnnnn

[fallenclan]

Pls ramble about Maplestar i didn't think much of him at all when he was around

:3

okay so imagine. You are born into Fallenclan as a fresh little kitten. You are told at a very young age that your mom isn't around anymore, but your dad loves you and your two siblings more than anything, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you all are happy and successful. Your siblings are louder than you, more outgoing than you, and arguably more likeable than you, but they look to you as the cat to follow when your dad isnt around, so it's your job to look after them. You're the oldest, after all.

Later into your kithood you are told that your mother died giving birth to the three of you. If you didnt exist, she would still be alive.

You become an apprentice. Your sister is mentored by the cool older cat that is also your friend's mom. Your brother is mentored by one of your dad's best friends, a cat you've known since birth. You are apprenticed to the deputy of Fallenclan--she cares about you, and the clan, but she's also strict, and tells you in no uncertain terms that she expects you to be great. Not good. Great. You think, "If I am not great, is it my fault?" You try your best. You wonder if it is enough.

You become a warrior. Your sister takes on a mate, your brother does, too. Both of them have kits. You never were interested in having a mate, but you can't help but wonder if that's what your clan, your father, wants you to do. Your father, in the meanwhile, takes over the job that your mentor had, and becomes deputy of Fallenclan. Then he becomes leader. He becomes legend. Cats at gatherings say to you, "You must be so proud!" You are. When your back is turned, they say "The son of Goldenstar, he'll be something special, I'm sure."

The deputy, a cat known for her strength, loyalty, and honor, retires, and chooses you out of everyone to take her place. Your father assures you that you'll do great. Your siblings cheer you on and offer their support. You refuse it, politely. You will be a great deputy if you have to pull out all of your fur to do it--and you will do it by yourself. Are you really great if some of your greatness is borrowed? The whole clan depends on you.

Under the cover of night, the clan is attacked. The former deputy dies. One of your best friends dies. Your brother dies. Four kits, six warriors, and one elder die. You are hardly wounded. For moons you keep the night guard and torture yourself thinking about what you could have done to change things. What you could have done better.

Time passes. You age, your sister ages, your father ages. As leader, he has nine lives, but they slowly dwindle. One evening, he's missing from camp longer than he said he would be, and you and your sister go looking for him. You find his body at the bottom of a cliff. You grieve until sundown, and then you travel to receive your nine lives. You see the faces of all the cats you outlived. All the cats you failed. Your niece and great-nephew, your brother, your mentor, your father, your mother. You wake up and it is only you and your medicine cat huddled together in a cave. Your skin hurts, you can feel each fur on your body. You walk home.

You discover that your former apprentice is a murderer. With no other options, you exile him from the clan and watch as he is escorted away. If you had been a better mentor, would he have lived a kinder life? Would he have forgiven his long-time enemy? You'll never find out.

A neighboring clan, which has had it out for Fallenclan since your father was an apprentice, declares war. You run yourself ragged making plans and trying to keep your warriors safe and alive. There are battles, there are scars, but there are no deaths, and the war ends only a few moons later. You congratulate yourself for this feat, and then wonder why it was only when you became leader that war was declared.

Every death that passes, you wonder if you could have prevented it. Every loss that your sister suffers, your nephews and nieces suffer, you contemplate how to fix. You are old now, and there are few Fallenclan cats that knew you before you were an apprentice, before you were a warrior, before you were deputy or leader. You're not a cat, anymore, you are a shelter; protecting your clan and paying little mind to your own needs.

You take a hunting patrol by yourself, late one night. In a dry riverbed, you feel the ground rumble, and look upstream to see a flash flood clawing its way towards you.

You wonder, "Am I fast enough to outrun it?"

You aren't.

[thewulf]

Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

Taglist Sign Up: @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[kentstoji]

ㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ CRUEL INTENTIONS.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 pairing. new era! bi-han x gn! reader | platonic! liu kang x reader!

ㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 setting. mk1 timeline.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 type. headcanons. | this part focuses more on reader's relationship with their friends and family than actually adding anything to romance (or in relationships with other yandere). some characters may be ooc, but everything here is for fun and writing exercises.

ㅤ ㅤㅤPART ONE | MEMES | PART THREE.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Immortality was not a gift but a curse, a heavy anchor. A cruel burden that Liu Kang, a monk who once felt the relentless touch of time, began to bear after gaining control over the sands of time. Since then, the God of Fire and Thunder was left alone with the stories he wove, his creations, and the ghosts of a bittersweet past.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Geras was a familiar face, but not quite the same. Merely a shadow. Liu Kang was, without a doubt, alone in this timeline, serving his own creations. Over time, he came to understand that, despite all his power, fate did not always respect his scripts.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— It was in that quietude that you appeared in his life: a sweet child, with curious eyes and an easy smile.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Loving you was easy. For the first time, Liu Kang could realize the fantasies he had shared with Kitana: he finally had a family. Becoming a father became his greatest honor, and he embraced this role with pride. You were his treasure, an unexpected variation in the code he had written, which made you unique in his eyes.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Liu Kang was a devoted father, always indulging your wishes but also knowing when to set boundaries. Beyond that, he was an excellent mentor. You grew up with everything you needed: knowledge, diplomatic training, and physical strength.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Johnny Cage, a champion of Earthrealm, would say that your essence was radiant, like a little sun. Inspired by your father's actions, you strove to be kind and strong. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for you to be seduced by the empty promises of the Lin Kuei Grandmaster. Love, loyalty, honor— qualities you valued and sought in your marriage. But instead, you found a painful betrayal.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Sektor was a loyal friend, and although you noticed how her gaze lingered on your husband, she never acted on those feelings. You were always grateful for that. When the monks from the Wu Shi Academy came to collect your belongings, she was the first to try and understand your motivations.

ㅤ ㅤ���— Without hesitation and without shedding a tear, you revealed the truth. Bi-Han had made his choice, and you would respect it, even if it was a foolish one.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ“The Grandmaster wouldn’t be capable of such an offense,” Sektor murmured, shaking her head in disbelief, her braids mirroring her movements. “He respects you deeply.”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— You laughed. The truth was already public. Everyone in the clan had seen what was truly happening between the Grandmaster and Sareena, who now wore the colors of the Lin Kuei, leaving the scarlet garments behind.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ“I believed that too, but maybe I never truly knew the real Bi-Han. And I don’t even know if I want to.”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Even so, you were happy. You still had the support and affection of friends. After your departure, Kuai Liang and Tomas found time to visit you, often bringing Cyrax and Sektor along. These visits warmed Liu Kang’s heart, though he harbored a quiet fury. You were his greatest weakness, and any offense against you was enough to awaken the brutal side he tried to suppress.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— With the distance from Bi-Han, you returned to training and began building new connections. The champions of Earthrealm were captivating companions, each in their own way. Eventually, however, it was inevitable that you would find yourself in your ex-husband’s presence. On one of these occasions, you congratulated him on his victory over the Black Dragon.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ “It was an easy fight,” Sareena replied before Bi-Han. A sharp smile on her lips. “We make a great team, I must say.”

ㅤ ㅤㅤYou laughed, with veiled cynicism. “Of course you do…”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— Despite keeping up appearances, Sareena’s presence and that of her sisters caused a noticeable discomfort for Liu Kang. But he knew how to hide his feelings. The real tension arose when you and Bi-Han were alone. Your calmness and the innocence he always criticized remained, as if those three years of marriage had never existed.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— The first direct confrontation came from him, during a gathering that Liu Kang had organized. Dressed in the colors of the Academy, you were cheerfully talking with Kung Lao, exchanging cheeky smiles.

ㅤ ㅤㅤ “Now I see why you went back to your father,” Bi-Han growled, once the meeting ended. “To stay close to that weakling?”

ㅤ ㅤㅤYou paused, confused. “Are you being sarcastic?”

ㅤ ㅤㅤ— It was impossible to forget: he had brought another woman into your home, someone with whom he spent more time than he ever had with you. Needless to say, that night ended in a fight. Kuai Liang had to drag his brother away while Tomas apologized repeatedly to Kung Lao and Liu Kang, who watched the scene in disbelief.

[theemissuniverse]

FLIRTY INTROS MK MALE CHARACTERS X GODDESS!READER

SUMMARY : Flirty intros with reader that’s Goddess reader. Reader is goddess of sexual love and beauty. Raiden and Fujin are her younger brothers. This is based off MK 11. If this gets enough likes I’ll do women

ABOUT CHARACTER : (Y/N) is able to put people under love spells. It is also hinted that when she has sex with warriors, she gains their power. (Y/N)’s beauty makes her very conceited and flirtatious than from the other Gods. (Y/N) is good neutral. This means she is mainly good but works with villains. She also has glowing tattoos along her body that symbol love and sexual freedom.

CHARACTERS: Liu Kang, Kano, Kung Lao, Kabal, Johnny Cage, Erron Black, Shao Kahn, Noob Saibot, Scorpion, Sub-Zero, Jax, Geras, Nightwolf, Kotal Kahn, Shang Tsung, Kollector, Baraka, Raiden & Fujin (obviously brother and sister banter for them)

LIU KANG VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I can feel the sexual tension between us, monk

Liu Kang : I find you very beautiful Lady (Y/N)

(Y/N) : You’ll find out the rest of me is soon enough

(Y/N) : Ever lay down with a goddess?

Liu Kang : It was never really on the bucket list

(Y/N) : Well add it and then check it off

(Y/N) : Kitana is such a bore

Liu Kang : Then who’s more interesting?

(Y/N) : Look right in front of you

(Y/N) : My brother was right in choosing you

Liu Kang : I’ll honor him for his decision

(Y/N) : Honor me instead

(Y/N) : Hello, gorgeous

Liu Kang : Are you flirting with me, Lady (Y/N)?

(Y/N) : Just wanted to compliment you before I destroy that beautiful face

KUNG LAO VS (Y/N)

Kung Lao : If I win, you have to let me take you on a date

(Y/N) : If I win, you have to go down on me

Kung Lao : So I win either way?

Kung Lao : Double date with Liu Kang and Kitana?

(Y/N) : You could not handle a woman like me

Kung Lao : Oh I think I can

(Y/N) : You’re quite handsome

Kung Lao : And you’re quite beautiful

(Y/N) : Such a shame I’ll have to ruin that pretty face

(Y/N) : You’ll be one of the first I breed with

Kung Lao : *chuckles* Of course

(Y/N) : Confidence is a trait all my children will share

(Y/N) : Are you jealous of the chemistry I share with Liu Kang?

Kung Lao : Hardly. You know you are mine

(Y/N) : Oh am I?

KANO VS (Y/N)

Kano : Aren’t you lovely to look at

(Y/N) : You can look but you can’t touch

Kano : I like me a challenge

Kano : You know, you don’t act high and mighty like the other Gods

(Y/N) : Is that a turn on for you, Kano?

Kano : Very much

(Y/N) : You’re loyal only to yourself

Kano : I got some loyalty to fit you in, love

(Y/N) : I will make you the most loyal of them all

Kano : So are you the dominant or submissive one?

(Y/N) : I’m the one that puts you in the ground

Kano : I’m feeling you’re more like a switch

Kano : Hello, baby. You miss me?

(Y/N) : Maybe. Did you miss me?

Kano : A lot, lovely

KABAL VS (Y/N)

Kabal : You got me under some spell, babe?

(Y/N) : You are not worthy for that kind of witchcraft

Kabal : Well damn

Kabal : Screwing me wont make you faster

(Y/N) : Actually that is precisely how it works

Kabal : Ah, shit

Kabal : You’re cute when you dress in all white

(Y/N) : You’re cute when you keep your mouth shut

Kabal : Ha. Got you to admit I’m cute

(Y/N) : Are you prepared to die Black Dragon?

Kabal : Not gonna lie. That voice is sexy

(Y/N) : It will be the last thing you hear

(Y/N) : Kneel before your goddess

Kabal : Not gonna lie, that’s tempting

(Y/N) : Cute

GERAS VS (Y/N)

Geras : Beauty will not save you

(Y/N) : So you admit you find me beautiful?

Geras : *sighs*

Geras : I have never seen a God full of themself before

(Y/N) : It is merely fact that I am better than the rest

Geras : It is truly a wonder

Geras : I am immune to all your powers

(Y/N) : As if I need them against you

Geras : Making a grave mistake

(Y/N) : Kronika’s minion

Geras : My purpose is more than you know

(Y/N) : I do not care for your purpose

Geras : In the New Era, you will be more humble

(Y/N) : Is that apart of your imagination?

Geras : Soon will be reality

JOHNNY CAGE VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Johnathan Carlton

Johnny : Ooh. Not the government. What’d I do?

(Y/N) : Practicing for when I scream it

(Y/N) : Are you always this insufferable?

Johnny : Come on. You know you like me

(Y/N) : Like is a very strong word

Johnny : Why are goddesses always so hot?

(Y/N) : I am the only goddess you know of

Johnny : Well yeah. Still hot

Johnny : Flowers or chocolates?

(Y/N) : Neither, Earthrealmer

Johnny : How bout me?

(Y/N) : You couldn’t handle a goddess

Johnny : I beat Shinnok. I think I got this

(Y/N) : I still cannot believe that happened

ERRON BLACK VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : You know that gun won’t kill me

Erron : You don’t like a little foreplay?

(Y/N) : As if you can get there with me

Erron : What I gotta do to prove I like you?

(Y/N) : Kneel before me

Erron : I got no problem getting on my knees for you

Erron : Fighting a pretty lady just ain’t my style

(Y/N) : Then maybe we should find another way to get physical

Erron : You ain’t gotta tell me twice

Erron : Women with tattoos are always hot

(Y/N) : I will make you regret even breathing

Erron : Yeah, still hot

(Y/N) : How much is on my head?

Erron : More than a lifetime

(Y/N) : How disappointing you’ll lose out on the money

FUJIN VS (Y/N)

Fujin : Stay away from Shao Kahn, sister

(Y/N) : He wouldn’t dare to harm me

Fujin : You think that

Fujin : Raiden and I are only trying to look out for you, sister

(Y/N) : I’m the older sister, Fujin

Fujin : You sure don’t act like it

Fujin : Shang Tsung will say anything to have your soul

(Y/N) : I am aware, brother

Fujin : Then why are you bonded to him?

(Y/N) : When will you and Raiden admit that I’m the better one?

Fujin : When hell freezes over

(Y/N) : I guess Sub-Zero will have to take a trip down in the Netherrealm

(Y/N) : You and Raiden don’t know how to have fun

Fujin : You’re just a childish, spoiled, god

(Y/N) : I know you are but what am I?

SHAO KAHN VS (Y/N)

Shao Kahn : Join my concubines

(Y/N) : *laughs* You could not handle all of this, Shao Kahn

Shao Kahn : You will bend to me eventually

(Y/N) : Sindel is a catastrophic bore

Shao Kahn : A bold statement

(Y/N) : An accurate statement

Shao Kahn : You are far too beautiful for me to believe you are Raiden’s sister

(Y/N) : It is something I haven’t found the pleasure in bragging about

Shao Kahn : Let me take you away from that fool

Shao Kahn : A woman like you belongs with a man like me

(Y/N) : How so Shao Kahn?

Shao Kahn : Our power combined will be beyond imaginable

Shao Kahn : Kung Lao is not worthy of your affection

(Y/N) : And you are?

Shao Kahn : I will break his neck again

RAIDEN VS (Y/N)

Raiden : I believe Nightwolf is interested in you

(Y/N) : No overprotective speech brother?

Raiden : Out of all the suitors, he is most worthy

Raiden : Stay away from, Liu Kang

(Y/N) : He is not just your chosen one

Raiden : I do not need him distracted right now

Raiden : Sister

(Y/N) : The non fun brother

Raiden : Here we go again with this

Raiden : The Black Dragon are not to be trusted

(Y/N) : I know this, brother

Raiden : So stop hanging around Kano and Kabal

(Y/N) : You’ve let rage consume you completely

Raiden : I do it to protect Earthrealm

(Y/N) : Some protection you are

NOOB SAIBOT VS (Y/N)

Noob Saibot : Such beauty like yourself is rare

(Y/N) : Are you flirting with me, shadow?

Noob Saibot : I will bring you to death to live in your beauty for eternity

Noob Saibot : I’ve been looking for you

(Y/N) : Looks like I am found

Noob Saibot : Come with me

Noob Saibot : The shadows yearn for your touch

(Y/N) : They cannot have me

Noob Saibot : Yet

Noob Saibot : Death clings to your embrace

(Y/N) : Only for you Bi-Han, I will grant it

Noob Saibot : That is all I want

Noob Saibot : Join me in death

(Y/N) : Not happening

Noob Saibot : I’d hate to do this the hard way

SCORPION VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I like men that have fire

Scorpion : I will not entertain your advances

(Y/N) : A fireball fool rejects me?

(Y/N) : I think my sign is a Scorpio

Scorpion : Why does that matter?

(Y/N) : Ugh. You are so difficult to flirt with

(Y/N) : Takahashi Takeda is your best student. I bet he’d be great at other things

Scorpion : You will stay away from him

(Y/N) : Jealous Hanzo?

Scorpion : You are playing with fire

(Y/N) : Aren’t you the expert in that?

Scorpion : Playing with a man’s emotions will cost you

Scorpion : I will not indulge in your pyromaniac fantasies

(Y/N) : It’s almost as if you can read my thoughts

Scorpion : A goddess and a scorpion will not work

SUB-ZERO VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : It’s getting a little hot in here

Sub-Zero : What does that have to do with me?

(Y/N) : Sorry. That line was for Scorpion

(Y/N) : I bet you’re good with your hands

Sub-Zero : I can show you in Kombat

(Y/N) : Please. Demonstrate

(Y/N) : Frost is a lost cause

Sub-Zero : There might be hope for her

(Y/N) : The hope is shattered

(Y/N) : So cold I feel goosebumps

Sub-Zero : You will feel more than that

(Y/N) : Are you speaking of kombat or something else?

(Y/N) : You are in the presence of greatness

Sub-Zero : That I am

(Y/N) : Now submit

SHANG TSUNG VS (Y/N)

Shang Tsung : (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Stay away from my brothers

Shang Tsung : Yes. We should keep this between us

Shang Tsung : Come closer

(Y/N) : What will you do if I don’t?

Shang Tsung : You cannot resist me for long

Shang Tsung : Liu Kang admires you well

(Y/N) : Of course the chosen one does

Shang Tsung : He cannot admire you for long

(Y/N) : You cannot have my soul, sorcerer

Shang Tsung : I was thinking of something else

(Y/N) : *laughs* You are not worthy of that

(Y/N) : You have affections for Sonya?

Shang Tsung : Am I sparking something in you, goddess?

(Y/N) : Just can’t believe you’d be interested in someone so boring

JAX VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Well aren’t you easy on the eyes

Jax : Is a goddess really flirting with me?

(Y/N) : Very much so

(Y/N) : You and I keep crossing paths

Jax : I’m not complaining

(Y/N) : I bet you’re not

Jax : There ain’t nothing more attractive than a goddess

(Y/N) : You flatter me, Jax

Jax : I can do more than that

Jax : So how many rounds can you go?

(Y/N) : With my power? About ten

Jax : You know I’m talking about Kombat right?

(Y/N) : Put those arms to use, Briggs

Jax : And do exactly what, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : You know what

KOLLECTOR VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Low life thief

Kollector : I will steal what is left of you when I am finished

(Y/N) : You’ll never have all of me

Kollector : You are the true embodiment of a goddess

(Y/N) : Yes, I know

Kollector : I will break you apart and sell your parts

(Y/N) : To what do I owe the displeasure

Kollector : The Kahn wants you

(Y/N) : If he wants me then he can come get me himself

Kollector : Pretty girl

(Y/N) : Ugh. You

Kollector : You will regret your distaste

Kollector : And what do we have here?

(Y/N) : Someone worth more than your life

Kollector : We’ll see about that

BARAKA VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Baraka

Baraka : Shao Kahn’s concubine

(Y/N) : Ha. He wishes

(Y/N) : Creature

Baraka : Submit to the Tarkata

(Y/N) : My standards aren’t low enough for you

(Y/N) : Keep looking, Baraka

Baraka : You are not all that, goddess

(Y/N) : How dare you!

Baraka : Face me in kombat

(Y/N) : You must have a death wish

Baraka : My wish is for you to die

Baraka : You are unworthy for the tarkata

(Y/N) : You dare call a goddess unworthy?

Baraka : Rightfully so

KOTAL KAHN VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Kotal Kahn

Kotal Kahn : You will stay away from Jade

(Y/N) : I can make you forget all about her

(Y/N) : You are Kahn no more

Kotal Kahn : Kitana takes my place

(Y/N) : Which means you are unworthy

Kotal Kahn : Shao Kahn only brings out destruction

(Y/N) : You’re no more innocent than he is

Kotal Kahn : The innocents are damned

(Y/N) : Why do all men fancy boring women?

Kotal Kahn : Jade is not boring

(Y/N) : Your heart desires for a common assassin

Kotal Kahn : You are truly breathtaking (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I do not need a fallen Kahn to remind me of that

Kotal Kahn : But your mouth is ugly

NIGHTWOLF VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Be on your guard, Nightwolf

Nightwolf : You really are stunning

(Y/N) : Yes. And deadly

(Y/N) : My brother claims that you are interested in me

Nightwolf : I um..that is interesting

(Y/N) : Don’t turn back on me now

Nightwolf : I’ve never met anyone like you

(Y/N) : *chuckles* Are you flirting with me, Nightwolf?

Nightwolf : Would that bother you, my Goddess?

(Y/N) : Are you going to let me win like you let Scorpion win?

Nightwolf : I would never pose kombat on you, Goddess

(Y/N) : Shame. I like being wrestled to the ground

Nightwolf : We shouldn’t fight

(Y/N) : This is merely an exercise

Nightwolf : I will prove I am worthy, Lady (Y/N)

A/N: I hope you guys liked this. It took me a long time to make

[dissapointu]

i love your writing so much!! you are so quickk! may you do how arcane characters would react to a partner who is very confident in themselves and the reader doesn’t hesitate to stick up for the arcane characters??

STOPPP, you’re making me blush, like seriously 🥺🥺 THANK YOU!!

———————————————————————

Jinx

She eats this UP like candy. You stand up for her with that no-nonsense, “Touch her and find out” energy, and she’s immediately wrapped around your finger.

“WOOOOO, BABY!” she yells, pointing at whoever dared cross her. “They’re with me, loser!”

Later, she’s buzzing, practically climbing onto your shoulders while you’re just trying to sit down.

“Do it again,” she whispers dramatically. “Defend my honor or whatever.” She’s obsessed and thinks it’s the hottest thing ever.

Vi

Oh, Vi is smirking so hard it hurts. You’re out here, no hesitation, ready to fight her battles before she can even crack her knuckles.

“Alright, alright, relax,” she says, pulling you back before you throw hands. “They’re not worth your time.”

But later? She’s grinning ear-to-ear, punching your arm like, “I like that fire. You’re pretty badass, you know that?”

You’re her ride-or-die, and if anyone messes with you two, it’s curtains.

Sevika

Sevika is TORN between being annoyed and completely wrecked by your loyalty. She’s used to handling everything herself, so when you step in like, “Back the hell off before I make you,” she’s like, “Excuse me?!”

But deep down? She’s got that little flutter in her chest, even if she’d rather die than admit it.

“Don’t go getting yourself hurt on my account,” she grumbles after, lighting a cigar. But there’s a softness in her eyes that says, “You mean everything to me.”

Silco

Silco is living for this, okay? You defending him—him, the guy who trusts no one—just solidifies that you’re not like anyone else.

He’ll give you that slow, calculating smile and lean in close.

“My dear,” he murmurs, “you truly are one of a kind.”

He’ll never ask you to step in for him, but when you do, it cements your place as his equal, his confidant. You’re his anchor in a world full of chaos, and he’ll treasure you for it.

Vander

Vander is SO PROUD of you. Like, it physically pains him how proud he is. You step up with that big “don’t mess with my man” energy, and he’s in the background, arms crossed, smiling like a soft dad.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he says later, pulling you into one of his massive bear hugs.

But he’ll also gently remind you to pick your battles because he doesn’t want you getting hurt. (Still, he’s telling the whole bar how lucky he is to have someone like you.)

Ekko

Ekko is absolutely FLOORED the first time you go off for him. He’s used to fighting his own battles, so having you step in and defend him catches him completely off guard.

“Yo, did you just—?!” he starts, but then he’s laughing, shaking his head. “Okay, okay, I see you.”

He’s hyping you up like crazy after. “That’s my partner, y’all!” You’re basically a power couple now, the ultimate Zaunite dream team.

Jayce

Jayce gets this big, goofy smile whenever you defend him. Somebody’s coming for his ideas, and you’re like, “Actually, maybe listen to the genius who invented Hextech? Just a thought.”

He’ll pull you aside after, blushing like crazy.

“Thanks for that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot.”

You’re basically his number one hype person, and he’s OBSESSED with how confident and supportive you are.

Viktor

Oh, you defending Viktor? Immediate heart eyes. He’s so used to being underestimated that your fierce loyalty completely disarms him.

“Thank you,” he says softly, avoiding your gaze because he’s blushing so hard.

But later, when it’s just the two of you, he’ll pull you into a quiet hug and whisper, “You’re remarkable, you know that?”

You make him feel like he’s worth standing up for, and that’s everything to him.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is secretly swooning every time you step in for her. Someone’s giving her grief, and you’re there, shutting it down with total confidence.

“Darling, you’re going to get us both in trouble,” she teases, but her smirk says she loves it.

She’s used to being the one standing up for others, so having you in her corner feels like a breath of fresh air. She’ll thank you later with a sweet kiss and a soft, “I’m lucky to have you.”

Mel Medarda

Mel is ALL ABOUT IT. You stand up for her in that smooth, confident way, and she’s just sitting there like, “That’s my partner. Aren’t they magnificent?”

Later, she’ll take your hand, her voice low and honey-smooth.

“You never fail to impress me,” she says, her gold eyes sparkling.

Mel loves how fearless and self-assured you are—it’s the perfect match for her own power and grace. Together? You’re unstoppable.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa watches you step up for her with that little smirk of hers, arms crossed like she’s sizing you up all over again.

“Well done,” she says, her tone full of approval. “You’re as bold as I hoped you’d be.”

She loves that you’re fearless enough to stand by her side, and she’ll absolutely reward you later (in her own very Ambessa way).

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is SO FLUSTERED the first time you stick up for him.

“Oh my goodness, I—I hardly know what to say!” he stammers, his little ears twitching like crazy.

He’s not used to that kind of boldness, but he’s touched beyond words. Expect him to shower you with gratitude and possibly build you a tiny invention as thanks.

Salo & Scar: They’re both a little thrown at first, but they respect the hell out of you for it. They’ll grumble something like, “Didn’t need your help, but… thanks,” but you can tell they’re grateful.

Maddie: Maddie’s laughing her head off. “Damn, you’ve got some guts! I like it.” She’s telling everyone in Zaun about how badass her partner is.

Lest: Oh, sweet Lest is a blushing mess. She can barely get out a thank-you because she’s so flustered, but she’s touched beyond words. Later, she’ll quietly tell you, “You didn’t have to do that, but… it means a lot.”

TL;DR: You being super confident and standing up for them? Peak power couple energy. Whether they’re swooning, smirking, or silently crying inside, every Arcane character is down BAD for your fearless loyalty.

[oceandolores]

ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔦𝔬𝔫 | masterlist.

General Marcus Acacius x f!reader

"Fata viam invenient | The fates will find a way."

summary: In the grandeur of ancient Rome, you are the secret daughter of Commodus, living a quiet life as a servant in the imperial palace. Everything changes when you meet General Marcus Acacius, Rome’s honorable and stoic leader.

Though devoted to duty and loyalty to the princess, Marcus is drawn to you in a way he cannot ignore. A forbidden passion ignites between you both, and an affair begins—one that threatens the very foundation of loyalty, power, and honor. As you fall deeper into your dangerous love for Marcus, each stolen moment becomes a fragile, dangerous secret.

warnings: 18+ only, 14 YEARS AFTER GLADIATOR 1, ANGST, Fluff, A LOT OF SMUT, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, mentions of violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, mentions of death, Innocent and pure reader, Infidelity, more warnings will be added throughout the story

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

❝They call you Rome’s lion, her indomitable shield, yet to me, you are the flicker of warmth in a palace carved from ice.

Your hands are calloused from war, but they cradle my soul with the tenderness of spring rain. Your voice commands legions, yet it whispers my name like a prayer, as though the gods themselves might hear and envy us our stolen moments.

If love were not a sin, I would adorn you with laurel not for conquest, but for the triumph of your heart over mine. Yet here we linger, caught in the webs of empire, where every glance is a rebellion, and every touch a battle lost.

Ad te anhelo, quasi ad caelum ipsam, (I long for you as though for the heavens themselves,) but our stars burn too brightly, and even the gods avert their eyes.

So I am to love you as Rome loves her champions— for eternally.❞

thꫀ ρᥣᥲᥡᥣเ᥉t! (on spotify) 🏛️

in love with marcus acacius

ꪑᥲ᥉tꫀɾᥣเ᥉t!🌞

Chapter I: "in her eyes shone the sweetness of melancholy."

Chapter II: Soon

Chapter III: Soon

Chapter IV: Soon

Chapter V: Soon

Chapter VI: Soon

Chapter VII: Soon

Chapter VIII: Soon

Chapter IX: Soon

Chapter X: Soon

Chapter XI: Soon

Chapter XII: Soon

Chapter XIII: Soon

Chapter XIV: Soon

Chapter XV: Ending

[aphroditelovesu]

Yay! I'm so happy you write for Baldwin IV!!! Could you do general yandere headcanons for him? Thank you!💗

''Nothing is more important to me than you.'' — Baldwin IV.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I got a little excited, but I hope you like it. I've always wanted to write for him and I finally got the chance! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of murder, manipulation (sorta of), unhealthy relationships.

❝📜pairing: yandere!king baldwin iv/leper king x gender neutral!reader.

Baldwin had always been shy in his obsession with you, always self-aware of his illness that had left him forever disfigured. He was afraid that you would find him disgusting, that you would hate him and he didn't want that. Baldwin couldn't handle it if you hated him. He wanted to be loved by you, but he was too afraid to talk to you directly for quite some time.

So he remained in the shadows, hidden and longing for you from afar. Even before becoming King, he already dreamed of you and these desires only became more frequent after he became sovereign. He was precocious and maintained a good shape and physical appearance and was optimistic about his illness, but as he grew older he felt increasingly disturbed by the idea of you hating or despising him.

That doesn't mean he ignored you, Baldwin never did that and never will. He can't bear to be away from you, at least not physically, and he can't even go without talking to you. Talking to you was what cheered him up when his mind was consumed by dark thoughts. You were his light.

Baldwin will make sure that once he becomes King, he can ensure that you are well, that you are living well and with the honor, the wealth that you deserve, in his domain. He will do everything in his power to make sure you are eating well and will even go so far as to offer you an official position, if you don't already have one, so he can take care of you.

Although he prefers to stay away so he can also protect you from his illness, that doesn't mean he will allow you to be taken away from him. You may not know it, but you belonged to him. Any love interests or potential suitors/lovers will be quickly and quietly dealt with. Baldwin is not cruel and does not intend to be, but he will become a monster for you.

If he could, Baldwin would marry you, but due to his illness, he is prevented from doing so, so he prefers to keep you close while giving important positions to you or your family. It's a way of ensuring the loyalty of those important to you and having you close by. There are only benefits from his perspective.

Baldwin is remembered and admired for being a competent king who brought prosperity to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but little is known that the real motivation was you. It was you who held power over him, who influenced him to do anything you wanted. He could become a tyrant if you asked him to. But he feels proud of himself for having met your expectations for his government.

When he has to go out to protect and defend Jerusalem, Baldwin will probably take you with him. He could leave you to take care of State affairs, but he can't bear to be away from you. He is quite clingy although he doesn't always touch you physically, he still needs to be in your presence. It's a constant need, Baldwin feels like a part of his heart withers when he's away from you.

Baldwin may not be able to be with you the way he would like and this has only served to increase his possessive tendencies. He won't allow other people to get too close to you, to steal you from him. Even though you can't officially be his, that doesn't mean he'll let you be someone else's. He will have no problem sending the person who threatens his position in your life to a deadly skirmish, arrest or even executed.

He is neither cruel nor sadistic, but for your sake he will be willing to commit the most heinous crimes just to ensure that you remain by his side. Baldwin needs you like he's never needed anyone before and he knows he'll be destroyed if anything happens to you.

If it were to happen to him, Baldwin will make sure you are safe and protected, perhaps even naming you his Heir. He wouldn't want to leave Earth without you, but he's not selfish enough to want to kill you. He wants you to live a long and happy life, preferably single, even if he's not by your side. He is completely selfless and you will always come first for him. First you and then his duties.

There is nothing he wouldn't do or give to you. Titles, official positions, riches, clothes, jewelry and food in abundance, anything you wanted, he would do it in the blink of an eye. Baldwin trusts you blindly, going so far as to obey your orders on any issue, from food to military matters.

Baldwin IV is a great soft for you and you only. He may seem weak, but that's all he isn't. He is intelligent and knows how to make rational decisions and he will do that with you. Because he loves you, he depends on you and because you are his hope. His light. Don't leave him or Baldwin will go crazy and even go so far as to commit suicide if you abandon him.

You are his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

[brittle-doughie]

Omg I just read your post with the Harbinger Cookie and I loved it so much ❤️ I was wondering, how each of the adult CoD (except Dark Enchantress) would react to the Harbinger softly asking for their hand?

Like— the cold, ruthless, horrifying harbinger that literally towers all of them being warm and even hesitant in that moment.

“My Lord/Lady….”

Pomegranate Cookie would feel greatly honored that it was her that you chose to wish by your side with the invitation of your hand. It’s to be expected, she is the cookie that followed your words down to the letter, the one who’s shown nothing but loyalty to you, to treat you with nothing but admiration being you’re the Harbinger (Cookie) of Darkness. (Don’t forget that shrine in her closet!)

“Hehe! I knew I was the favored one!”

Akin to Pomegranate, Licorice Cookie had always admired you for your feats of evil, spreading fear among those cookie do-gooders! These thoughts of praise could fill entire pages of a diary! (Not that he has one! Don’t be ridiculous!) So when it was him that you chose to take your hand, he gladly took the honor of holding it with his one. He couldn’t help but announce his victory against Pomegranate out loud!

“M-My liege! I would never make you regret trusting me!”

Affogato Cookie would get a bit flustered at first that the strong and all powerful Harbinger Cookie is offering their hand to them, a bit hesitant even! It only endeared you to him that much more with this act of emotional intimacy. He’d be happy to take your hand. Oh my! Your strong grip! It’s making him blush again!

[andy-15-07]

Beneath the Veil of Fate

masterlist ! pairing Feyd-Rautha x reader

Dune Masterlist

The desert sands of Arrakis stretched endlessly beneath the harsh sun, bearing witness to a clash that would shape the fate of the universe. Beneath the scorching heat, Y/N stood on the sidelines, her heart torn between loyalty and love as she watched her husband, Feyd Rautha, engage in combat with the legendary Paul Muad'Dib.

Spectators gathered around the arena, their voices hushed in anticipation as the two warriors faced off. Feyd, fueled by his thirst for power, exuded confidence as he prepared to confront his adversary. Paul, the mysterious and enigmatic figure known as the Kwisatz Haderach, stood tall and unwavering, his eyes betraying a depth of knowledge far beyond his years.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as the battle commenced, her gaze fixed on the swirling dust kicked up by the combatants' movements. She knew that regardless of the outcome, the consequences would be dire. But she never imagined that her heart would be torn between the man she loved and the cause he fought for.

As the fight raged on, it became increasingly clear that Feyd was outmatched. Paul's movements were fluid and precise, his every strike calculated to exploit his opponent's weaknesses. Despite Feyd's best efforts, he found himself unable to gain the upper hand against the formidable Muad'Dib.

Y/N's heart ached as she watched Feyd falter, his once-confident demeanor giving way to desperation. She knew that he was fighting not just for himself, but for the future of House Harkonnen and all they had built on Arrakis. But even as she wished for his victory, she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Feyd, be careful!" Y/N called out, her voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. Her words were a desperate plea, a silent prayer for his safety amidst the chaos of battle.

But Feyd seemed not to hear her, his focus consumed by the struggle before him. Every blow he landed was met with a counterstrike from Paul, each one more devastating than the last. Y/N could see the toll it was taking on him, both physically and emotionally, as the battle wore on.

Then, in a moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity, Paul saw his opening. With a lightning-fast movement, he disarmed Feyd and brought him to his knees, his blade poised at his throat.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Paul emerged victorious, his triumph cementing his status as the savior of Arrakis. But for Y/N, there was no joy in the moment, only heartache and despair as she watched her husband defeated before her eyes.

"Feyd…" she whispered, her voice barely a whisper as she rushed to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands reaching out to cradle his face as tears welled in her eyes.

Feyd met her gaze, his own eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. "I'm sorry, my love," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "I have failed you."

But Y/N shook her head, her heart breaking as she leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. "No, Feyd," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You haven't failed me. You've always fought with honor and courage, and I am proud to stand by your side, no matter what."

And in that moment, as they faced defeat together, Y/N knew that their love was stronger than any conflict, their bond unbreakable in the face of adversity. Though the battle may have been lost, their love would endure, a beacon of hope in the darkness of uncertainty.