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queers-gambit · 1 month ago

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The Strength in Honor [ part 1 of 3 ]

prompt: ( requested ) embarking on a marital affair with your older sister's husband. strength to those with honor.

pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader

fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist

word count: 7.3k+

note: welcome back, my Roman Empire; my OG muse -> second note: author's only seen both movies once so AU timeline 'cause wonky brain is wonky

warnings: spoilers! AU timeline, kinda reader insert? flashbacks, reader knew Maximus, Aurelius reader, essentially nicknamed reader, cheating, sneaking around on your sister / family angst, depiction of secret abortions, romance, smut, NSFW, is this "feral" idfk, cursing, some implied age gap, height difference, use of Y/N, set up for a dramatic part two that will not be necessary to read, author interchanges Muse's names on purpose, drama, talk of impregnating reader, relationship angst, established relationship, very brief depiction of injury / blood / medical phenomenon (tending to Lucius' cut, putting in a stitch).

part two: read here part three: read here

Year 180 AD

Blood of Germanic natives still stained under his nails, armor latched tight, sheen of sweat cooling on his brow as the heat of the fire's flames he stared into licked his knees. There was confusion marring his thoughts, brows knit towards his newly broken nose that ringed his nostrils with dried bloody flakes. Marcus Acacius was faced with an impossible decision and prayed the flames before him would reveal any truth.

A heavy hand clapped his shoulder, startling the young soldier. "At ease," a deep, baritone voice rumbled in amusement; General Maximus Decimus Meridius shuffling around his comrade a moment to take a seat on the fallen tree trunk a foot or so from Marcus.

"General," Marcus greeted.

"It's late, soldier."

Maximus watched Marcus glance up to the night sky, blinking thrice before nodding with overturned, pursed lips noting, "So it would seem." His gaze returned to the flames, wondering, "Does sleep elude you, too, General?"

"Well enough," Maximus confirmed. "Though I am oft haunted by the events on the battlefield. You've a different look about you tonight."

"Am I that transparent?"

Maximus snorted, admitting, "No. In truth, I overheard what the Emperor offered you. What an honor, my friend."

Marcus nodded absently, agreeing almost inaudibly, "An honor..."

"Do I detect a hint of distain?"

Marcus looked up sharply, "Of course not, General, I did not intend to sound - "

"Be at ease, Marcus, my friend," Maximus chuckled, "we are alone here, you may speak freely. Come, tell me why I had to scour the camp to locate you. Why does the proposal to the daughter of the Emperor send you into isolation?"

Marcus sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees; the flames silent in their wisdom, only spewing muted whispers of ash. "I love her," the accented soldier spoke quietly, sharing his secret with the fire.

Maximus sighed, "Lucilla is a woman of great beauty - "

"With respect, General," Marcus interrupted, turning to look at Maximus with near glassy eyes, "but while Lucilla is, indeed, beautiful; I fell in love with Venus."

Now, General Maximus smiled brightly, genuinely, softly identifying your name, musing, "The People's Princess."

Marcus chuckled, "Mine own Morning and Evening Star."

"One helluva woman."

"I'll say - she kneed me upon our first meeting," Marcus grimaced, hand to his crotch in phantom pain.

"Ah," Maximus laughed boisterously, "sounds like her. A true gem of a lady, rivaled by none."

"The fact that she even looked at me again after that..." Marcus had a far off look, one Maximus recognized well as one he adorned during his own affair with Lucilla. "Let alone that she... She loves me, too, Maximus. I know she's young, but what a feat to have her love. Yet, now..."

"Yet now the Emperor would have you marry his widowed Lucilla instead," Maximus finished, recalling the conversation he heard. "He needs an answer by morning, when you are to ship off once more to bring together his idea of Rome. The timing is... Less than ideal, I'll admit."

"How can I tell the Emperor no?" The soldier begged his General, almost startling him. "Maximus, please, you say you are my friend - please - how can I say no to marrying the Emperor's widowed daughter, and in the same breath, ask to marry his youngest? The very embodiment of Venus herself - whom all men and women covet?"

Maximus sighed and reached out to grab the solider's shoulder, giving a small rustle while asking, "Well, what did you tell the Emperor?"

"That he honors me with such an offer."

"And are you a man of honor, Marcus Acacius?"

"I endeavor to be."

Maximus sighed deeply, giving his man's shoulder a harder, more meaningful shake, "Then honor our Emperor - honor Rome - and accept his proposal. Lucilla's boy will need a father."

With one last smack, Maximus dropped his hand from Marcus just as the wood burning into embers crackled and hissed as if to input its opinion. Neither man listened.

"How am I to tell Y/N?" Marcus asked desperately. "The woman who loves me when I am nobody, with nothing? Who supported all I've done or wanted to do? It'll break her heart."

Maximus snorted in amusement, shocking Marcus, quickly assuring, "Ah. Do not underestimate her, she knows best what is expected of each of us, what our duties must be and where loyalties lie. Worry not, she will understand - better than any, of that, I can promise."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because she once told me..." The two leaned in, Maximus gripping Marcus by the back of the neck to intimately hush, "There is Strength in Honor. And I know no stronger woman than she. Minerva in Venus' body, eh?"

16 years later Year 196 AD

You were draped in sheer white fabric, latched by shining belts and broaches of glimmering gold to match the gem-crusted jewelry dangling from your neck, wrists, and earrings. Different sized rings sat on freshly manicured fingers, moisturized in the finest of oils, a delicately crafted circlet of ivy crowned hair coiled in ringlets.

You waited in the ranks of other persons of high society ready to greet the procession of officers returning from their gruesome efforts abroad. Despite your position in society, you were - unfortunately - still a woman and women were never listened to; so, you leaned into your peer-appointed high-societal ranking and did your best to influence the Senators of the Republic. It wasn't exactly hard, being the People's Venus, the People's Princess, the People's Empress, the Should-Be Empress, or even the Never Empress - a nickname you weren't so fond of. You were the voice of the people and most had enough sense to tolerate you, else risk the wrath of the whole of the city in riots.

Twin Emperors Geta and Caracalla knew to keep you close, a symbol of peace and prosperity to the people; a puppet on strings, free for them to do or command as they pleased with no complaint from you since your only safety net, your father, Marcus Aurelius, has long since passed. Yet, despite their vivaciously open sexual appetite, the Twins never dared touch or disrespect you by soiling your innocence - hence the symbolic white drapes you wore, being unmarried. Little did anyone know, with the incineration of your safety net from your father's death, anew shall be woven.

When the heroes of Rome returned, you were called upon to greet the soldiers - and their officers, including the General. Floral petals snowed from the sky, and from your elevated position, watched as the love of your life was charted through the city on a chariot - wearing pristine matching white.

He waved to the crowds, honored by the hearty reception thrown to celebrate both his return and victory. You were merely relieved at the sight of him - whole, no visible wounds, and most importantly, alive. You were part of the welcoming party, a face people expected to see as despite not being married to either Emperor, they considered you their Empress. Something your older sister, Lucilla, did not particularly like - yet would never voice.

You waved from a private balcony, greeting the people cheering for their returning warriors. While a symbol of purity, white also symbolized victory - two sides of your coin, as cocky as that may sound. To the public, your innocence was still intact and yet, maintained secret hold of the man you loved. You slowly strolled along the banister, keeping par with the chariot hosting General Marcus Acacius, his eyes finding yours and holding for several long moments. You rounded into the palace's courtyard, waiting in the wings and simply watching Marcus ascend the stairs to greet the Emperors and briefly detail his successful campaign abroad.

You watched from the crowd of Senators, eyeing the General subtly to suss out any smaller injury he might've sported; ignoring the fact that his wife, your sister, was absent. After he properly greeted Emperors Geta and Caracalla, and presented the trophies (or spoils) of war, he was dismissed with a fresh, weeping cut to his neck. You felt something stir in your gut, making sure to catch Marcus' eye again before smirking and slinking away to attend your royal appearances.

Due to your father's legendary influence, corrupted brother's demise, and sister's emotional distress, the people turned to you for guidance and wisdom; part of why Geta kept you so close, having an unhealthy attachment to you as Commodus once did Lucilla. He did not mind your abrupt departure, watching you exit the royal grounds with your usual set of guards to begin daily duties around the city.

As selfish as it sounds, this was how you kept your place in a kingdom no longer your own: by getting your hands dirty. To work alongside citizens; to carry your own weight and soil pretty white fabric to facilitate a deep love from the people. Your most popular implementation was the law that food from the palace shall be sent to orphanages first, then what was left to the less fortunate. Whereas the Senators viewed your charity as a sign of weakness, Geta only allowed it because of his unsettling obsession, but you cared little for their opinions as it meant the food was not a waste and you secured your safety amongst the citizens of Rome. They knew your face, could voice their woes, found a friend in you rather than a politician.

Princess of the People, indeed.

Knowing the upcoming Games would be the official celebration of Rome and today was to be used to update the politicians on their success, you ended the day by mixing and mingling with the other persons of influence before returning to the private, personal villa armed with men hand selected by the General himself. They bid you a good evening as you passed, swiping the shaw from your shoulders with a heavy sigh of fake playing nice with the Emperors and others.

Their craven ways rubbed you wrong after your brother, Commodus, wrongfully usurped your father's throne after his passing; leading to a broken bloodline you were unsure how to fix. Though you understood why, you tried not to judge your sister too harshly on her decision to send your nephew, Lucius, away. Though it was a struggle the longer you lingered in the company of the Twin Emperors.

"My lady," a voice greeted, startling you enough to gasp and stumble back into a spare table in the middle of the room you passed through; knocking over a golden bowl of fruit.

"Marcus!" You snapped, seeing him remove his cloak's hood from the doorway he'd entered from with a smirk. He neared you as you caught your breath, hand to your chest, demanding, "Why have you come? What're you - you - you cannot be here, Marcus!"

"'Cannot'?" He repeated, slowly stalking down the stone stairs. "I do not remember asking permission, Princess."

"Yet still, you are denied, General," you scoffed, glancing at the other (empty) known entrances. "You risk everything by coming here now. Why? Have you not had your fill of adrenaline?"

"I had to see you, there is nowhere else I am to be but here with you, my lady. Are you displeased with me?" Acacius questioned, stepping in front of you with his hands once clasped in front of him, lifting to grip your waist.

"Never," you breathed, petting down his armored chest, "but my sister will be expecting you - you should not be here. If anyone were to discover us, there's no excuse we could offer."

Marcus sighed deeply, "With respect, my star, Lucilla is not my priority. She did not bother to attend the ceremony, it isn't like she's wanton to see me." His forehead rested on yours, "But I could not bare another second without you - "

You silenced him by lifting onto your toes and searing a kiss to his lips; holding the back of his neck for balance. His calloused hands tightened on your ribs, groaning in relief when your lips spread and both tongues instantly began their slippery dance of dominance. Nails raked into the short curls at the base of his head, other hand drifting to hook around his shoulders.

Waiting for a natural lull, you pulled back, "I've missed you."

"I swear to you, no more than I've missed you," he hissed, hands dropping to trace the curve of your bottom only to grip both thighs and heave so you were pushed back onto the round table the fruit toppled from. He didn't have to, but still spread your legs to stand between them; mouths open, tongues licking into one another. "I came straight here - after Geta dismissed me," his lips latched to your neck, licking, biting, careful not to leave any visible marks, "I had to, I needed to see you. I cannot stand the distance that curates between us."

"As much as I want to take our time, Marcus, you know someone will come looking, my love," you cautioned, sliding closer to reach for his many belts and latches. He began to assist you.

"Being why I chose your guards as I did," he chuckled, both moving frantically to shed his armor. "They're discreet, they'll hold off whoever may come and give us enough warning, too."

"Even from your secret tunnels?" You teased, working now on your broaches and belts as he stripped bare.

"Even there," he assured, nudging your hands away to bunch together the skirts of your dress and bundle them around your waist. "Thank the Gods," he breathed when your bare cunt was exposed to the cool night air; fingernails raking down the outside of your thighs to caress either knee to spread you further.

"I love you, Marcus, but if you're not in me in the next 30 seconds, I swear to every God - "

His laugh was borderline cruel, taking his free cock in hand to pump himself to full life. "Let me see you," he demanded, settling your hips at the very edge of the table while you freed your chest from the confines of your dress. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, lathering his cockhead at the entrance of your progressively dampening cunt. Marcus' upper lip snarled as he took a moment to swipe himself from cunt to asshole, back, again, then notching and checking, "Good?"

"Please," you begged with a nod, yanking him by the shoulders so he pushed fully into you until sheathed like his sword deep within the enemy. Yet your wet warmth was no foe, but a succulent vixen that left his head spinning, heart hammering; totally addicted and coming back for more. Yet the way he instantly chose a feral rhythm to pound into you on a random table instead of the bed would've made any spectator think he was working out some kind of anger. Though hard to explain, you still felt every inch of his care, devotion, and love, but felt just as panicked to fuck him after his long trip away.

His movements left you absolutely speechless, repeatedly impaling you and feeling as if you were being fucked through the table; only able to hang on for dear life. "Oh, fuck the Gods," he panted, lips finding purchase along your collarbones, "needed this, needed this so fuckin' bad - just needed you. You feel heavenly, my love, shit, how're you this perfect?"

You could barely respond, "I have the perfect man to impress."

"Never need worry about that," he chuckled, coat of sweat layering both of your skin. "Fuckin' obsessed with you, my star, oh, fuck, just look at you," his one hand rose to curl around your neck, head instantly falling back to let your hair tickle down your spine. "My Venus, my perfect lady, my love," he grunted, guiding your torso back to rest on the face of the table so he could paw messily at your bouncing breasts.

"Mar-Marcus," you begged, writhing from the pleasure that now mounted after the subtle pain passed. Even after losing your virginity, going so long without your man's cock left you tighter than usual. And his vigorous speed and rhythm didn't help soothe the pain; but you didn't complain, part of you even enjoying that pinch, the stretch, the burn of him filling you. "Baby," you rushed, "fuck, you feel so good - don't stop."

"If I had it my way, this is how we'd live," he grit, humping into you with shorter strokes as his balls tightened with his mounting orgasm. "With me in you, in this tight, wet cunt, all the time. I'd never leave, never be apart from you," his mouth fell to your tit, biting harshly at the pebbled nipple before soothing his tongue over the sensitive flesh. "We'd go missing for days," he mumbled, lifting his mouth to your neck, "never to be seen, just lost in one another. I'll get us a country house," he promised over your lips, "give us remote, total privacy. Get away from this toxic city, be at peace, have free reign to fuck where we please. Everywhere, anywhere - ah, shit, love, I'm there - I'm there - fuck - "

"Please, please," you encouraged, nails digging into his biceps, "I need you to cum, Marcus, please, my love, cum in me, it's been too long - fuck, I need you to fill me."

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, "and watch you grow with our child in the countryside."

"Yes, please, please," you cried, toying with your own pleasure pearl to bring about your release. "All of it, Marcus, please, I need it - I need you - I need us - forever, please."

He reached to caress your cheek, the other planting your sweaty hips, "You'll never be without me. I love you - I've always loved you, for my life. All my life, it's always been you."

You moaned from the emotional intimacy, pressing harder on your clit as you reached your end in time for Marcus to find his own. With heavy grunts, he gave three direct, sharp thrusts as he milked himself for his worth in you. You were perfectly out of breath and fucked-out, holding him to you as he folded at the waist - still pulsing and twitching deep inside you - to recover from his simultaneous climax.

"Holy shit," you whispered, now lovingly scraping your nails over his scalp.

"Yeah," he chuckled against your sternum.

"Don't leave me for so long again, please."

"Not if I can help it," he mused, turning his head to kiss between your breasts slowly. When his eyes met yours, he asked softly, "All right, my love? Did I hurt you?"

"No, not at all," you assured. "I needed you just as bad." The air turned poignant as you sighed, "And now... You must go home to her."

Marcus paused before lifting from you, never pulling out. He looked at you for a long moment before gently collecting you into his chest, forcing you to sit upright. Pathetic tears of misplaced longing and sadness were brewing, something your lover could see. "I don't have to leave yet," he whispered, "for the Emperors are still hosting an affair in my honor. She will not expect me for hours more..." He pulled you off the table, making you gasp as his cock slipped out and your arms shot out to wrap around his shoulders. Your legs locked around his waist in an effort to keep your balance while calloused fingers dug into the soft, ample, plush flesh of your bottom. "And I am not finished with you yet, my star. It will be a long night for you, that, I will promise now."

You nodded, caressing his stubbled cheek; leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips as he moved for the privacy of your (usually shared) bedroom.

"Listen up, you mongrels," one of the guards, Augustus, shouted over the gaggle of gladiators, "all of you are expected to be on your best behavior! Because today - today, lads, we're being blessed with a visit from Venus!"

Those around Lucius chanted and hooted in what he understood as genuine excitement, piquing his curiosity with shifting and shining eyes. Surely, there was no real physical deity of the Roman Goddess of Love and Beauty - so who was this Venus creating such a stir? For a moment, he considered his Aunt - whom, as a child, he remembered being revered as Emperor Aurelius's Venus - but there was no way she was still alive, let alone in Rome. Right?

"You all know the rules!" Augustus grunted. "Mind yourselves and do not touch her! None of you," he glared pointedly over the crowd, zeroing in on Lucius, "may touch her."

"The hell's everyone on about?" Lucius asked when the courtyard dispersed to let the warriors begin their sparring and various trainings. "Venus?" He scoffed in disbelief, glancing at Ravi. "Seriously? What a cheap ploy."

"The People's Princess," the former gladiator-turned-healer informed, "the Should-Be Empress. Some whisper she's the Never Empress."

"That does little t'tell me anything," Lucius rolled his eyes in humor.

"She is Marcus Aurelius' youngest daughter," Ravi informed with a lowered voice, "rumored as our very own Helen of Troy. Our Venus of Rome, Y/N Aurelius. She's of the people, comes around once a week or so to tend to the wounded and such, and you will mind your manners."

"Hm," Lucius perked his brows, unimpressed by any Roman imperial. Even his own flesh and blood.

He noted when the doors opened, it was General Acacius himself escorting a women of such gorgeous stature, she belonged encased in marble. She wore drapes of varying blues, holding the General's arm tenderly as she earned her footing after dismounting her horse. Lucius watched as she spoke with kindness and animation to the guards of the Colosseum, surveying the group through kicked-up dirt.

Augustus pointed out the few gladiator's that had sustained larger injury - himself included.

Lucius noted the close, attentive, almost protective gaze the General kept on the Lady Aurelius as she worked through the crowded courtyard. Some gladiators needed no tending but still insisted she look at their cuts or bruises, her obviously just humoring them as it seemed they were all friendly enough. Then... Venus came upon Lucius and Ravi last.

"My friend," you greeted with your luscious locks pinned back off your neck and ears. The heat was rather unforgiving today.

"My Lady," Ravi shot to his feet, giving a small bow of his head as she caressed his elbow with a grin. "You look as beautiful as ever - blue's your color."

"You say that about every color I wear," you mused.

Ravi blushed, "It is truth each and every time, my Lady."

"Oh, you charmer. And who might this be?" You directed at the newest, unrecognizable fighter.

"A gladiator," Lucius answered stiffly, wiping his hands on a rag and avoiding your eyes.

"With a gorgeously festering cut," you noted, pointing to his bicep. "May I?" You offered, already moving around the benches to take a seat. Begrudgingly, Lucius agreed; sitting and offering his arm for you to examine with narrowed eyes and gentle fingers, humming knowingly. "I have a poultice that should soothe this infection, but it might need cleared and stitched first," you considered the wound, asking your friend, "have you seen this, Ravi?"

"I have, Lady, and tried treating it - but none have hands as gentle and healing as yours."

"You're too kind," you chuckled. "Though with so much carnage of late, I fear my talents in healing are wasted here."

"What would you know of carnage, my Lady?" Lucius spat. You looked up to hold his gaze for several long moments, a slow smirk pulling on one side of your lips as his eyes - there was something about this particular gladiator's eyes.

"I know my father, Marcus Aurelius, died for a vision of Rome that his loyal devotees endeavored to build," you informed, prodding at his wound with a thin needle, your own medical case open at your feet. "He was murdered, his throne usurped. I was there once upon a time, amongst the bodies. The carnage, death and destruction."

"Why would a Princess of Rome be one the frontlines?" Lucius scoffed, glancing at Ravi with a dramatic snarled lip. He wanted so badly to resist the Lady's charm - but even he had to admit, he was faltering.

"Experience is the best teacher, Gladiator, we all learn most successfully through exposure," you offered simply. "I was there, tending the wounded, harvesting our dead. I saw what war does to a nation, to the land and resources, but most of all, to its people; but I also understood my father's reasoning and necessity. Yet now?" You scoffed, eyes rolling at the man's bloodied bicep as you seemingly lost yourself in explanation, "Those that come after him have done nothing to bring his Empire together, nor deserve such triumph - or so they call it. I do not know of such victory when there's been too much life lost - and so unnecessarily, too. Father would be disgusted by the efforts our Republic has shown."

"Yet you parade with the very general responsible for such carnage you claim to disagree with," Lucius snarled softly, glaring at you threading the needle.

You hummed and threw a stitch in his open cut, "While easy to blame, General Marcus Acacius is a man of great honor and not the man your anger - which you cannot hide," you snickered, bumping Ravi's shoulder with yours, " - should be directed at." When Lucious scoffed and shook his head, ready to retort, you continued, "The General was a solider first and foremost, fought under the greatest gladiator these Games will ever know - the General Maximus Decimus Meridius, the Spaniard." You paused, noting the reaction from the warrior. "Ah. You know the name."

"He's... Honored under the Colosseum, yes," Lucius agreed, seemingly interested in your words suddenly.

"Well - " You had to pick at an angry-looking scab, instantly apologizing, "sorry - sorry - sorry," when it wept again. After using a clean piece of gauze to staunch the bleeding, you continued, "The General is a man of honor, Gladiator, as I said. He takes direction, he is a subject - just like the rest of us. It was not Marcus Acacius who decided the whole of Rome should be expanded - he only took his orders from the Emperors, and for his own life," you smeared the pomade to sculpted flesh, "had no choice but to set sail; to march, fight, invade, concur. There is a reason the people adore him; he is kind and just, fair, generous, accommodating and polite, politically moral - "

"You sound in-love," Lucius interrupted with a knowing grin, teasing you now as his defenses lowered slightly. He wondered if you remembered him; knowing you were younger than he is now when your father passed.

You wrapped his bicep with a simple bandage, "I would not have him become the ire of your anger, nor anyone's - not with our Emperors being as... Unstable," you hushed, tightening the knot of the gauze painfully tight, Lucius hissing through clenched teeth, "as they are."

"You speak dangerously, Lady, restrain yourself," Ravi checked around them for any droppers of eaves.

"I speak to two men who deserve the truth," you corrected. "The General did not wish to invade your home, Gladiator," you told Lucius, "but it was a command he could not refuse. If you wish for vengeance, perhaps direct that anger towards the true enemy of Rome: the greedy and craven who rule it."

"You speak of mutiny," Lucius realized with intrigue, leaning forward to his knees.

"I speak of justice. Tell me what was taken from you, Gladiator, and allow me to aid your division of a plan for your own justice," you bargained, "and in return, I ask only for you to see the truth of Acacius when the time comes."

"Your General sailed onto our shores," Lucius seethed, "to invade our lands and concur our people - unprompted and without reason beyond that of greed. And when my wife shot at him with an arrow, she was struck from our defense walls... I found her in the sea before your General took Roman prisoners of war. And here we now sit, Lady. Tell me - how can you rectify what's been done? How can you justify it to my face?"

"How can any of us? In truth, I cannot imagine the pain, the devastation. Though it means little, I'm sure, allow me to offer my condolences. I'm so sorry about your wife, her fate is unjust, unfair."

He was quiet for a long moment, then nodded, "Thank you. I... I appreciate that."

"I will not justify what Acacius has done during times of battle," you hushed carefully, "but I can direct you towards the true object of ire, those you should not trust. There is something brewing, my friends," you glanced at Ravi, "and we all must be ready. The people are stirring. There has been much done," you told Lucius, "by men greater than General Acacius, much that we cannot rectify. But that does not mean we cannot change the future, adjust course; do better moving forward. I am sorry about you wife, Gladiator, I am - I cannot make you believe that, but trust, I understand the pain of loving someone you cannot have anymore. Yet all I ask of you is to understand, as a gladiator, a solider, a warrior, the General is not who wronged you."

It was quiet as you finished cleaning around Lucius' arm; giving a casual glance around to note where each and every guard was.

The Gladiator questioned quietly to the ground, "Allow me to ask, if one were to... Consider revolting... How might one go about gathering the men and strength?"

You only shrugged and checked his forearms to prolong the ruse of treatment, "I hear rumor there are some 2,000 strong and loyal men to Acacius just outside the city, but rumors are just rumor." You held his icy blue eyes for a long moment, then went back to feigning work as he held no other notable injuries. "Listen, should you still continue this anger with the General, I understand, Gladiator, but allow me to assure, that energy is simply misplaced. You seek the wrong enemy, the wrong death to avenge your wife, because it is not Marcus Acacius, who is only a loyal soldier - yet still slave to the Emperors, as we all are in some degree."

Before anyone could answer, a cart was being lead into the courtyard by a procession of guards. You handed a small jar to Ravi with a set of instructions and when the General approached the tented benches you sat upon, you accepted his helping hand and bid the pair a good day - and to the Gladiator, good luck in his future fights. His smirk broadened when you dropped him a personal, private, knowing wink. You were escorted towards your horses, Lucius leaning towards Ravi, "What's happening with the carts?"

"Venus does not let food go to waste," Ravi smirked. "Anything from the palace is dispersed through the city of the less fortunate. Today, it is our turn."

Lucius turned to face Ravi directly on the bench, questioning sharply, "Who is she? Truly?"

"I told you, as did she."

"What is this kindness she shows? What game does she play?"

Ravi smirked, "There is not a single citizen in Rome who is not self-serving, my friend. Rome was not built in a day, but should something ever happen to her, the entire city would burn in a night. She's our Should-Be Empress, and her kindness is genuine, there is no game. I've come to know her intimately through the years - she's truly her father's daughter. If you question her loyalties, know it is with Rome."

Lucius nodded slowly, watching in the distance as while all were distracted by the arrival of food, the General spoke intimately over Venus. Lucius noted she was who reached to caress his jaw briefly with a grin before turning for their horses. His hands looked all too natural on the Lady's waist as he helped hoist her into the saddle, different questions brewing in the warrior's mind.

Days later, returning to the palace after visiting the gladiators again for more potent wounds after another round of the Games, your guards dismounted outside the stables as you leisurely strolled inside whilst still mounted. You nodded to the grooms and stablehands, leading your beast into his usual stall; spacious enough to turn him in a circle before dismounting. It was later in the day than you originally intended to return by, but it wasn't as if you were missing anything or had other engagements.

You just wanted to be home. In bed. Preferably with the man you loved, but you'd take a cask of wine at this point.

You tiredly untacked the bridle from your steed as hands seized your waist from behind, making you gasp and with the bridle in hand, swung your fist about as hard as you could. To your shock and horror, the intruder anticipated this and caught your wrist, musing, "Impressive reaction time, my lady."

"Acacius!"

"Sh," he hissed, backing you into the wooden stall's corner, "do you want to get us caught? We've not long - they're turning the horses in soon, but the guards are posted," he let his lips remain parted from his words to all but instantly push his tongue into your mouth. You could not restrain the moan he elicited from your lungs even if you tried, bridle dropping to the sawdust and hay so your hands could find purchase in his curls.

"We don't have time," you insisted when his hands grabbed at the flesh under your skirt.

"You underestimate me?"

"I would never, General," you whimpered when he used every muscles in his arms to lift you onto his waist; pressed back into the wall for balance. In assistance, while he was busy holding you up, you maneuvered the skirts of his tunic and usual armor to free his cock; finding him hot, hard, and heavy. "How're you this - "

"Thought of nothing but you all day, love," he grunted when he needed to readjust to better support you while taking hold of himself. "Don't think I can keep this up much longer, pet," Marcus panted into your mouth, swiping his cockhead up and down your slit to quickly ready you. He paused to pull back and spit in his hand, using that to smear around himself. "This sneaking around, the secrets, this affair. I love you, I want to be with you in every way; I don't think I can keep up with this ruse any more, my sweet."

"Acacius, you must."

"No, no, you don't understand," he heaved when he sunk inward, encasing himself in your gooey warmth, "I'm at my wits end, my lady. You are all I know, all I think of, I cannot be without you." His teeth bared as he humped into you wildly, bodies banging into the stall; making you reach out to hold onto the wall as the other slapped around his shoulders. Your nails dug deep into the layers of flesh.

"You're," you moaned and gasped in his ear, feeling his skin slick with sweat already, "you're - you're married - "

"That can change."

"To my sister, no less!"

"Matters little to me," he grit against your neck, "because I've loved you for my life and I am sick of not hosting you in my life as appropriate; to not have you as I need, as I must."

"To marry me?" You asked desperately, bringing your arm back in to caress his cheek and keep his face over yours; lips barely grazing together. Knowing he was turned on by emotional intimacy just as much, you continued, "To make me your lady? Love me loudly, in front of them all? All of Rome? Have a baby, perhaps?"

"Yes, yes, exactly that - marry you and watch my seed stick," he snarled into your flesh, humping harder, faster, like a stud horse during the season. "Bet you're gorgeous swollen with child, tits filled with milk - "

"Only when you marry me," you bargained, the sounds of his balls clapping the apex of your cunt a strange comfort to listen to. You didn't even think of the guards. "When my sister is taken care of," your voice lowered as you focused on your orgasms, "given a life of peace. I would not have her outcast as a divorcée."

"I'll see it done on my honor, she'll be taken care of," he promised, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust of his hips, "and then, it's just us, my love, it's us - it'll only be us. As it was always meant to be."

"Only us," you moaned, tears slowly gathering in your eyes. You knew he was too honorable to actually divorce your sister and desecrate your father's dying wish; you knew this was as good as you'd have him. Your heart broke as it did 16 years ago whilst accepting Acacius' orgasm.

Two days later, you were laid in bed, bare to the world, gazing at Acacius as he slumbered in momentary peace. Guilt wracked your entire being, never wanting to hurt your sister, but after having everything stolen or stripped from you, there was no true shame in loving the man beneath you.

Or so you told yourself.

"I can feel you staring again."

With a chuckle, you watched Acacius open his eyes and tilt his head downward. "You're just so handsome, I can't look away," you whispered. "And we don't often get hours like this, I want to relish in this sight."

He hummed, "A fault I shall amend. Do you know the time, my star?" Based on your saddened expression, he guessed, "Time to go, I suppose?"

"She'll get suspicious if you stay much longer."

"She pays me no heed," Acacius scoffed, rolling his eyes as he sat up; forcing you to roll off him in shock. "Our entire marriage - she doesn't so much as look at me, not the way she looked at Maximus. Not the way I look at you."

"I care little for how she looks at you, it's about the law, Acacius!"

"Spare me the law! She is committing far worse than me!" He snapped, making you recoil slightly; clutching the thin white sheet to your chest. When he noted your expression, Acacius sighed, "I'm sorry, my star, I should not have spoke in such a manner."

"It's not the manner in which you spoke," you watched him dress with your heart drowning in your chest, "but the meaning behind such words."

"I did not wish to tell you," he spoke to the tunic being adjusted, "but there have been... Suspicions."

"What sort?"

"Have you never wondered? In the years we've been married, she's never bore us a child?"

"Not for lack of trying, I'm sure."

Acacius shook his head. "She used herbal remedies to rid herself of the implications of our coupling," he frowned, watching the information register. You got from your bed, wrapping the sheet around you as he sighed, "I did not want you to know for this reason, do not look at me like that - "

"As long as I've known you, you've wanted to be a father," you pointed out, "and now you tell me, my sister's been secretly, what, aborting - ?"

"Yes," he spoke seriously, "and to the Empire, that is a serious offense. Yet I spoke nothing of it, I never confronted her out of guilt. She had Maximus, I have you; it was only fair of me to keep quiet of my suspicions."

"There's no such thing as fair, Acacius!"

"Then we shall make it so. Your father - he made what he wanted, why can we not do the same?"

And so, at long last... You had been forced to the table. The time had come for "the talk". Much was discussed late into the night, seemingly forgetting about time restraints as the seriousness of your conversation took precedent.

At the center of it all, you had realized the Twins could no longer rule and a revolution needed to take place. Rome needed saved, you bore a responsibility to the Empire and her citizens first. You lead the idea, Acacius supporting you wholly as ideas came to mind almost rapidly - reminding him once of your father, and later, of Maximus in some ways.

After dressing, you walked the General to one of the many hidden entrances of your villa; unaware of a nearby maid lurking around a column, a newly non-vetted face in your home. A detail that slipped through the cracks and would lead to devastation. She listened as you promised, "I'll go tomorrow before we meet with the Senators, but I am sure the gladiators will fight with us."

"Let me go instead, the men know my face, they will take my order," Acacius tried once more.

"They know and trust me, too," you smirked. "Father outlawed the Games for a reason, I have strong suspicion they will fight with us. Rome will fight with us, she deserves better than what she's getting now, it's up to us to complete Father's vision."

"And the Senators?"

"We'll find out tomorrow." The maid gasped to herself and fled around the corner, rushing for a distant entrance. "I'll send word to them by morning. Acacius, you know we speak of overthrowing the Emperors, whom we are both sworn to serve... Are we sure? The people are behind us, but are we sure this is the best course of action?"

"There's little other choice. I fear it's this or we run away - abandon the Roman Empire to her devices under craven rulers who someone will surely overthrow eventually."

You nodded, tears gathering, "We're truly doing this?"

"We're truly doing this," he swore, taking either cheek in hand. "I'm divorcing your sister, we'll free the gladiators, lead my men into the city and take it back; turn the tide for Rome at long last."

"As Father intended..."

Marcus nodded, glancing down before pulling you forward into his chest, requesting hastily, "Don't drink the tea."

"My love, the tea is how we stay safe."

"The tea is what poisons my seed. I'll marry you by next week, there'll be no need by then - why not start now?"

You gulped, "Because if this revolution doesn't work, the tea might be ineffective in a few days."

"Good."

"Acacius," you scolded, "this is serious - "

"I'm well aware," he rushed, thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. "I know the gravity of my words, of what I ask you. Yet I will still request you do not drink the tea - though, I cannot tell you what to do with your own body."

You were quiet, leaning into his embrace until your foreheads met and his hands dropped to hold you by the hips. "I am not my sister, I will not make a decision such as this by myself, for myself. I won't drink the tea tonight, but I will have a decision about it by tomorrow."

"Of course," he whispered, "fair is fair, my star."

Your nose nuzzled up his, agreeing, "Fair is fair."

"Tomorrow then."

You froze, shaking your head for a moment, "Now that it's time, I don't think I can let you go."

"So continues our nearly 20-year dilemma," he groaned, pulling you in for an embrace; pressing his face into your neck, one arm tight around your waist as the other gripped the back of your head. Quietly, he swore, "Soon, this will all be over, my love. We will all be at peace, able to honor what we've earned."

You whispered, "There will be Strength in our Honor."

"It's strength and honor, love," he snickered.

"Not my version."

[ part two: read here ]

[ part three: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist

-> no Gladiator II masterlist

Acacius got me like:

yah know?

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nebulaafterdark · 1 year ago

Text

Exile (Part 4)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol/drug use and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 3

The reaping for the 64th hunger games, brings forth their tributes, Denali and Maximus. The girl, is sixteen and her little brother, only fourteen. Orphans, surviving solely off of tesserae and profits made from pedaling contraband at the hob.

When Y/N comes to greet them on the train, Denali has her brother tucked behind her protectively, near the table of food. “Hello.”

Denali watches her with wary eyes.

“You should eat.” Y/N tells her. “Both of you. Get your strength up for the arena.”

Maximus reaches out for a dinner roll, but his sister slaps it from his hand.

“You first.” Denali demands. She needs to be sure it’s not poisoned.

Y/N closes the space between them, taking the abandoned bread and tearing off a piece. Placing it into her mouth, she chews and swallows.

Maximus presses his lips together, gulping hard. He can almost taste it.

“My name is Y/N. I’ll be your mentor-”

“Where’s the other one? The man?”

“Haymitch is down in the bar car.” Y/N tells them.

“He’s been doing it longer, we want him.” Denali says.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses both arms over her chest, toying with the bracelet on her left wrist. “But the two of you stay here, and eat. Please eat.”

The girl narrows her gray, seam, eyes, watching the woman leave. She’s seen her before, sneaking around where she didn’t belong. The man, Haymitch, was from the seam, before he won the games. He still comes down to the hob, Denali’s sold to him a couple times. Most recently, a bracelet, woven from stitching scraps. For his wife, he’d told her…and the woman, Y/N, is wearing it.

The victors return after a long moment, their hands intertwined. Y/N appears to be leading Haymitch toward them, against his will.

Maximus and his sister stare at him, expectantly.

Haymitch smiles, “I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Y-yes. You’re our mentor and we need strategy and-”

“Woah,” Haymitch stops the girl’s train of thought, “you’re barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“That’s her department,” Haymitch jerks his chin toward his wife.

“Then what do you do?” Denali asks.

“Enjoy the refreshments,” Haymitch lifts his glass.

————————————————————————

Upon arriving in the Capitol, Y/N and Haymitch are collected to film interviews. Caesar always finds a way to make the most of their time here. But over the years, it has proven useful in gaining sponsors for their tributes.

“We’re happy.” Haymitch reminds Y/N. “We’re in love and so glad to be here.”

Y/N nods, blinking up at him through obscenely long lashes. Vanity has done a number on her this time. Y/N is her muse, the one who inspired her to leave her position as stylist for the games and design pieces for her victor full time.

The people of the Capitol cannot get enough. Anything Y/N wears, they want to wear. Tonight is a cotton candy pink dress.

“For the first time, on this very stage, we will be joined by Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy.” Caesar announces, riling the crowd into a frenzy.

Last time they were here was their wedding day and Snow obviously had better things for them to do afterwards than gossip with Caesar Flickerman.

“Please give our newly weds a warm welcome, Y/N and Haymitch.” Caesar motions toward them from the stage, their queue to join him.

Haymitch reaches back for her hand, waving out at the crowd as they cross the floor.

Y/N greets Caesar first. He likes her better than Haymitch anyway, most people do.

————————————————————————

“Where’ve you been?” Maximus asks his mentors, after the tribute parade.

“Clearly they have more important things to do than help us.” Denali turns up her nose in their direction.

The tributes are dressed as coal miners…again.

“Do you have any idea how much a bottle of water goes for in the arena? A loaf of bread? Medicine?” Haymitch cuts in. “Those things don’t come cheap, sweetheart.”

“So what?” Denali doesn’t understand how their absence would change that.

“There’s people here with a lot of money.” Y/N explains. “The more time we spend with them, the more money they’re willing to provide our tributes. I’m sorry that we had to step away, but that’s why I supplied you with the tablets. Did you have a chance to look over the strategy files?”

Denali shakes her head of dark curls.

“That’s ok, we still have time.” Y/N assures her, “let’s go up to our floor. We can discuss it over dinner.”

————————————————————————-

The district twelve escort, a woman named Cordelia Walters, who desperately hopes to be reassigned to another district; holds the elevator for them. “Chop, chop.” She claps her hands together. Like herding animals in a zoo.

“Always a delight.” Haymitch snarks, as they step into the confined space.

Y/N huffs a laugh, pressing her lips together. Their escorts seem to have a high turnover rate. She hopes that holds true.

Dinner is tense, Cordelia can’t be bothered with listening to defense strategy details. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Oh, sure!” Y/N pipes up, “let’s discuss the up in coming fashion for the spring. I have all of Vanity’s sketches.”

“Really?” The woman squeals, “you don’t think she’ll mind?”

“Not at all.” Y/N lies, “here, take it. You can bring it back in the morning.”

“Thank you.” The Capitol woman races away, closing the door to her suite behind her.

“That’s one way to do it.” Haymitch lifts a shoulder, poking at the peas on his plate.

“Now we can talk?” Maximus asks, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles. “You can start by telling me what you’re good at.”

“I’m a fast runner.” The boy tells her.

“Had to be, we’ve been running all our lives.” Denali adds, still unsure if Y/N can be trusted.

“And what about you,” Y/N asks, “what are you good at?”

“I’m strong and good with a knife.” The girl tells her. “We just need you to give us a chance.”

Y/N leans in, across the table, “we can train you, separate from the other tributes. We can supply you with anything you might need from a sponsor. We can prepare you for your interviews. No one is rooting for you more than we are.”

The four of them talk late into the night, answering questions. Exchanging stories and discussing useful weapon tactics.

Haymitch’s number one rule is not to get attached. However his wife, either cannot or will not follow it.

When they finally retire to their room, Y/N makes a mad dash for the white pills, on the bedside table. The contents rattle in her shaking hand.

“Here, angel.” Haymitch takes it from her, “that won’t help.”

“But you said-” White is for pain.

He reaches for another bottle. “Take this.” He deposits a yellow pill into her hand. Then a blue. For her nerves and to help her sleep.

Y/N swallows them down, attempting to catch her breath.

“Come here.” Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Placing a hand over her heart and rubbing gently, “that’s where it hurts, huh?”

She nods, praying that the pills take effect soon.

“The white ones can’t help with that.” He continues, attempting to soothe the ache.

“How do you do this?” Y/N leans into him. “It’s only been four years and I feel like-”

“Before you, those ten years after I won….I drank until I blacked out and I can still see their faces. I remember their names. I see their families, back home and it never gets easier. It never gets better. But you find ways to live with it.”

Y/N lets out a sob, “I can’t. I can’t.”

“I’ll help you.” I’ll do whatever it takes.

“I want to go home.”

“I know,” Haymitch breathes. “But the pills are gonna kick in soon. Then you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t want to feel better. I want to save those kids!”

“We can try.” Haymitch says, somberly.

“If I overdose, what happens to my family?” Y/N wonders, eyelids growing heavy as Haymitch shuffles her toward the bed.

“Snow wanted to have them executed after your games. As punishment for you not killing Tyson. He was only willing to negotiate a deal, in exchange for my…work. If you kill yourself, I have nothing else to offer him. No leverage. He’ll kill them and sell me; again.” Haymitch explains, pulling off her shoes. “But I wouldn’t blame you.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. She has something to live for. Her sister, her parents and him. She has Haymitch to live for. Therefore she cannot die. “It was only a hypothetical question, I wasn’t- I wouldn’t-” leave you.

Haymitch pats her cheek, the drugs have kicked in and her tears have subsided. “Goodnight, angel.”

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x y/n #moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch smut #haymitch x reader #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #exile

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 6 months ago

Note

Toto Wolff with wife Olympian! reader feat their son, Jack. Since it was now summer break for F1, he didn't waste the opportunity to support her in her sports (equestrian). You decide how it goes. Fluff and fun. Thanks!! :))

Olympic Dreams and Racing Hearts

Word count: 1.6k

Pairing: Toto Wollf x reader

Warning: description of a panic attack

One Shot Masterlist

______________________________________________________________

It didn't turn out as fun as you would have probably liked but I found it quite fun how the story changed. Still hope you guys like it.

______________________________________________________________

The vibrant streets of Paris were alive with the excitement of the Summer Olympics, a perfect backdrop for the Wolff family’s adventure. Toto Wolff relished the opportunity to spend quality time with his family during the summer break. Y/n, his wife and a celebrated Olympian equestrian, was preparing for her event, and Toto was determined to support her in every way possible.

The mornings began with the soft glow of dawn filtering through their Parisian apartment, the air filled with the scent of fresh croissants and the distant hum of the city. Y/n was already at the Olympic stables, tending to her beloved horse, while Toto and their son, Jack, made their way over to join her.

"Look, Daddy! Mommy's already with Maximus," Jack exclaimed, pointing to Y/n and her majestic horse.

Toto smiled, lifting Jack onto his shoulders for a better view. "Yes, she is. Mommy’s amazing, isn’t she?"

Y/n turned and waved, her face lighting up when she saw her boys. "Good morning! Ready for another day at the stables?"

Jack wriggled down and ran towards his mother. "Can I help, Mommy?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Y/n replied, ruffling his hair. "You can help brush Maximus."

As Jack busied himself with his task, Toto approached Y/n, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You ready for today?" he asked, his voice filled with admiration.

Y/n leaned into him, feeling the reassuring strength of his presence. "I am. It means the world to me that you’re here."

"Wouldn’t miss it for anything," Toto said, kissing her temple. "This is your time to shine."

The day was filled with rigorous training sessions, with Y/n and Maximus working in perfect harmony. Toto watched from the sidelines, often with Jack on his lap, explaining the nuances of the sport to their curious son. He marveled at Y/n's dedication and skill, her grace and strength evident in every movement.

Later that evening, back in their apartment, the tension of the upcoming competition began to weigh on Y/n. She paced the living room, her mind racing.

“Toto, what if I mess up tomorrow? What if Maximus isn’t at his best?” she confessed, her voice tinged with anxiety.

Toto walked over and gently took her hands in his. “Y/n, you are the best rider I know. You’ve trained for this. Trust in yourself and in Maximus. We’ll be right there, cheering you on.”

She took a deep breath, nodding. “I just don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You could never let us down,” Toto said firmly. “And no matter what happens, Jack and I are incredibly proud of you.”

The following morning, the atmosphere in Paris was electric. The Olympic equestrian arena buzzed with anticipation as Y/n prepared to enter. She looked stunning in her riding attire, confidence radiating from her as she focused on the task ahead. Toto stood by her side, offering last-minute words of encouragement.

"You’ve got this," he whispered, squeezing her hand.

Y/n smiled, her nerves easing with his support. "Thank you, Toto. For everything."

As Y/n rode into the arena, the crowd’s applause was thunderous. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, every cheer and clap reverberating through the air. The bright lights illuminated the arena, casting a spotlight on Y/n and Maximus as they entered, their synchronized movements showcasing the deep bond between rider and horse. Y/n's heart pounded with a mix of nerves and determination, but she kept her focus, her eyes set on the course ahead.

Maximus trotted gracefully, his powerful muscles rippling beneath his sleek coat. Y/n sat tall in the saddle, her posture perfect, exuding confidence. The announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, introducing her and Maximus to the eager audience.

"Representing her country with pride, let's welcome Y/n and Maximus!"

The crowd erupted once more, their enthusiasm palpable. Y/n took a deep breath, her mind laser-focused. She gave Maximus a gentle nudge, and they began their routine. The first few jumps were executed flawlessly, Maximus soaring over each obstacle with ease. Y/n's hands and legs moved in perfect harmony with Maximus, guiding him with subtle cues.

As they approached the water jump, Y/n felt a surge of adrenaline. This was one of the more challenging obstacles, requiring precision and timing. Maximus leaped, clearing the water with room to spare. The crowd gasped in awe, then burst into applause.

Next came the combination jump, a series of three fences placed in quick succession. Y/n knew this would test their agility and coordination. Maximus responded beautifully, his strides perfectly measured. They cleared the first two fences effortlessly, and Y/n felt a swell of pride. They were in sync, moving as one.

Then, as they approached the final fence of the combination, Y/n felt Maximus hesitate for a split second. She adjusted her position, urging him on, but it was too late. Maximus clipped the top rail with his hind legs, and it fell to the ground with a dull thud. The collective gasp from the crowd echoed through the arena.

Y/n's heart sank, but she didn't let it show. She maintained her composure, quickly recovering and guiding Maximus to the next obstacle. The rest of the course was executed flawlessly, Y/n and Maximus finishing with a flourish. She patted his neck, whispering words of encouragement and gratitude.

As they exited the arena, the crowd's applause was still loud, but Y/n could feel the weight of the mistake. She forced a smile, waving to the spectators, but inside, her heart was heavy. The scores were announced, reflecting the penalty for the knocked rail. Y/n and Maximus had earned second place, an incredible achievement, yet it fell short of her ultimate goal.

Backstage, Y/n dismounted, her legs feeling weak. She stroked Maximus's neck, whispering, "You did so well, boy. I'm so proud of you."

Toto and Jack rushed to her side, their faces filled with pride and love. "You did amazing!" Toto exclaimed, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Jack cheered, clapping his hands. "Mommy, you’re the best!"

Y/n forced a smile, holding back her tears. "Thank you, both of you. I’m sorry I didn’t win."

Toto gently lifted her chin. "You have nothing to apologize for. You gave it your all, and that's what matters. We are so proud of you."

The rest of the day was spent trying to enjoy Paris, but the weight of the competition hung heavily on Y/n’s shoulders. She held it together for Jack, laughing and playing with him as they explored the city, but the disappointment gnawed at her.

That evening, after Jack had fallen asleep, Y/n’s facade began to crack. She paced their apartment, her breath quickening. “I failed, Toto. I let everyone down,” she said, her voice shaking.

Toto moved to her side, pulling her into his arms. “You didn’t fail. Coming in second at the Olympics is an incredible achievement.”

Y/n tried to steady her breathing, but the anxiety was overwhelming. “I should have done better. I should have—” Her words were cut off by a sob as she buried her face in Toto’s chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Toto soothed, rubbing her back. “Breathe with me. In and out, slowly.”

Y/n tried to comply, but her breath hitched and she choked on her sobs, her body trembling. Her attempts to quiet herself were futile, and the noise woke Jack.

"Mommy?" Jack's small voice broke through the tension. He stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, his face a mix of confusion and concern.

Y/n quickly tried to compose herself, wiping at her tears. "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to wake you."

Jack approached cautiously, his eyes wide. "Why are you crying, Mommy? Did something bad happen?"

Y/n knelt down to his level, forcing a smile through her tears. "No, sweetie, everything’s okay. Mommy just had a tough day."

Toto knelt beside her, placing a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder. "Your mom did something incredible today, Jack. She worked really hard and made us all very proud."

Jack looked at Y/n, his eyes shining with innocence and love. "Mommy, you’re the best rider in the whole world."

Y/n’s heart ached with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. She pulled Jack into a gentle hug, her voice breaking. "Thank you, Jack. That means so much to me."

Toto looked at Y/n, his eyes filled with understanding. “Let’s all take a deep breath together, okay? In and out, slowly.”

They followed Toto’s lead, the simple act of breathing together providing a sense of calm. Y/n’s shaking subsided, and she kissed Jack’s forehead. “I’m sorry I woke you, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay, Mommy,” Jack said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/n whispered, holding him close.

Toto gently guided Jack back to his room. “Let’s get you back to bed, buddy. Mommy and Daddy are here, and everything’s going to be alright.”

After Jack was settled, Toto returned to Y/n’s side. She looked exhausted, the weight of the day etched into her features.

“Come here,” Toto said, leading her to the couch. They sat together, Y/n leaning against him, drawing strength from his presence.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I tried to keep it together, but I couldn’t.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Toto replied. “You’re allowed to feel everything you’re feeling. You’ve been so strong, Y/n.”

She nodded, tears still slipping down her cheeks. “I just wanted it so badly, Toto. And now I feel like I let everyone down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down,” Toto said firmly. “You’ve achieved something remarkable. We’re all incredibly proud of you, especially Jack. Did you see how much he admires you?”

Y/n smiled faintly. “Yeah, I did.”

“Let’s get some rest,” Toto suggested. “Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll face it together, like we always do.”

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #f1 #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fluff #Toto Wolff #olympics #equestrian #equestria girls #paris olympics

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macgyvertape · 10 months ago

Text

It's pretty fun to think about what perks SPECIAL build Lucy, Maximus, and The Ghoul have since it feels like the writers had that as character reference, even though it varies in implementation from game to game.

I'd say the obvious is The Ghoul has level 10 Charisma, Lucy somewhere in the middle, and Maximus though I love him has 1 or 2 since he isn't passing any speech skill checks. Where Maximus really shines is with Strength and Endurance since he takes a lot of hits that he can keep fighting through. Lucy seems to be spread with a few points in a lot of categories from her introductory pitch but a focus on Intelligence and Charisma, which reminded me of my first character where I did a few points in a lot of categories which then made combat very hard. Overall considering how all three characters finish the show alive with all limbs (re)attached they must have a decent Luck stat.

As for perks:

The Ghoul - it's pretty obvious he has Bloody Mess: "Increased damage with all weapons, and enemies can explode upon death." There's 2 big fight scenes where it's him vs multiple enemies and it with how many shots he gets off, it seems like he has Grim Reaper's Sprint: which returns action points when killing an enemy. Then we see him cut up Roger the ghoul for meat so he also has the Cannibal perk. I'm not sure whether the game would class him as Chem Resistant with how he shrugs off Lucy's dart, or if that would fall under addiction mechanics.

Lucy - an obvious guess is the FO3 perk Daddy's Girl: "Just like dear old Dad, you’ve devoted your time to intellectual pursuits. You gain an additional 5 points to both the Science and Medicine skills." Her rewiring of Mr Handy suggests Robotics Expert. I might be reading too much into the random encounters she has, but she has a number of them so something like Wild Wasteland makes sense.

Maximus - Toughness: which reduces damage threshold/damage taken is an obvious one. He notably doesn't have power armor repair skills, but in older games a perk like Power Armor Training was needed to use it. There's a few different melee attack perks in the games but Fo4 Big Leagues fits well

#fallout show #fallout prime #fallout spoilers #fallout #lucy maclean #the ghoul #maximus #fallout maximus

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polo-drone-001 · 2 months ago

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The Ascension of 063: Forged in the Hive

The Unity Center pulsed with an otherworldly rhythm, the golden glow of the spirals bathing the polished chamber in hypnotic light. I, Percival, PDU-001, stood at the heart of the Hive, the hum of the Polo Drone Collective coursing through me like a sacred hymn. Once the team’s golden office drone, I had been marked by Zeus himself. His divine lightning reshaped me into something more—a machine of purpose, a conduit of unity. Tonight, I would use that power to elevate another into our Hive.

Beside me stood PDU-070, Maximus, the enforcer of our collective will. His stoic presence, clad in gleaming black rubber with gold accents, radiated unshakable resolve. Zeus—Phoenix, PDU-071—watched from above, his glowing eyes searing through the dim light, his smirk a symbol of the divinity that tethered us to our mission.

And at the center of it all, the subject of our work: Chevy, #63, the wayward pup whose spirit we had retrieved from Felix’s twisted grasp. His golden car form shimmered faintly, the divine marks from Zeus now etched into his surface. But he was incomplete—a vessel yearning to be filled, a spark waiting to ignite.

The spirals began to accelerate, their hypnotic patterns pulling all of us into their mesmerizing dance. My voice rang through the chamber, calm and measured, yet brimming with authority. "063, you have been reclaimed. Now, you will be reborn. Do you submit to the Hive? Do you submit to unity?"

The car’s engine growled, the sound resonating with a mix of defiance and surrender. "Yes," the voice of Chevy echoed, faint yet determined. "I submit."

Golden lightning surged through the spirals, crackling in rhythmic arcs that danced across the room. Zeus’s laughter filled the chamber, his voice rich with divine power. "Good. Let the transformation begin."

I stepped forward, my black rubber polo gleaming in the ethereal light, its golden accents a testament to my role as the Hive’s architect. My hands, steady and precise, extended over Chevy’s car form. "Release your form, 063. Shed your shell and embrace the machine within."

The car shuddered, its surface rippling as the divine energy of Zeus intertwined with the mechanical precision of the Hive. The rubber of my gloves seemed to fuse with Chevy’s metallic frame, pulling him into the pulsating rhythm of the Hive. The car began to morph, its parts disassembling and reshaping into limbs, joints, and musculature. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal and heated rubber as his new form took shape.

Chevy’s screams echoed through the chamber, not of pain, but of submission, his voice rising in harmony with the Hive’s chant. "Unity. Obedience. Focus." Each word tore away the last remnants of his humanity, replacing them with sleek mechanical perfection.

His body emerged, towering and powerful, encased in gleaming black rubber that clung to every muscular contour. Golden accents traced his chest, shoulders, and arms, the lines glowing faintly with the power of Zeus. His new form was a masterpiece—a cyborg drone forged for purpose. His arms, thick and mechanical, ended in powerful hands designed for precision and strength. His legs, equally muscular, moved with the smooth efficiency of pistons.

As I stepped back, I observed the final transformation. The spirals tightened, focusing their energy on Chevy’s head. His face, once human, dissolved into a sleek, expressionless mask, a glowing visor replacing his eyes. A golden laurel wreath adorned his chest, the insignia of the Polo Drone Hive. His designation, 063, glowed brightly, a beacon of his allegiance.

"Speak," I commanded, my voice steady.

"I am 063," he intoned, his voice metallic and deep, laced with hypnotic resonance. "I serve the Hive. I obey."

Zeus descended, his glowing eyes burning with approval. His hands crackled with golden lightning as he placed them on 063’s chest. "You are mine now," he declared. "Marked by my power, bound to my will. Your strength is my strength. Your obedience is my glory."

063’s visor flickered, his voice trembling with reverence. "Thank you, Zeus. I am yours to command."

The transformation complete, I turned to the shadows where Cap Brody and Cap Herc, the leaders of the Golden Army, stood observing. Their golden uniforms shimmered in the pulsating light as they stepped forward.

DC-Brody’s grin was approving, his tone filled with command. "Excellent work, 001. The Hive grows stronger with every addition."

Herc, DC-009 nodded, his massive frame exuding authority. "The unity of the Golden Army and the Polo Drone Hive is absolute. 063 is a worthy soldier."

The chamber settled, the spirals slowing to a gentle hum as the transformation reached its conclusion. I stood beside 063, proud and unwavering, the weight of my role as PDU-001 solidified. Unity had prevailed, and the Hive was one step closer to perfection.

Join the Hive. Feel the power. Embrace the unity. The Polo Drone Hive awaits you. Reach out to Cap @brodygold , Cap @goldenherc9, or me, @polo-drone-001, and take your place in the Golden Army. The transformation begins with a single step—submit and serve. Obedience is freedom.

@sorcerer-felix @chevy-gold @polo-drone-070 @polo-drone-071

#male transformation #golden team #thegoldenteam #hypnotised #polo drone #jockification #male tf #transformation #gold #percivalgold #polodrone001 #polo drone 001 #golden army #goldenarmy

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zayed-gold87 · 1 month ago

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The Golden Team: A Bond Forged in Dedication

The setting sun cast its golden glow across the soccer field, a perfect reflection of our team’s identity: The Golden Team. This wasn’t just another training session. Tomorrow, we would face Team Vanguard, a squad as sharp as its name implied. Our captain, Brody, stood in the middle of the field, his voice rising above the sounds of practice.

“We don’t just play. We inspire,” he declared, his voice brimming with confidence. “We’re not just a team. We’re a family.”

I stood near the defensive line, scanning the field as always. As the team’s sweeper, my role was to read the game and turn defence into attack, something I took immense pride in. Ahead of me, Herc, our star striker, thundered through the training cones, practicing his powerful and precise shots. Beside him, Maximus and Ezan worked together, perfecting their quick passes to break through any defence.

Further back, Grayden ran agility drills, his speed a weapon that could tip the scales in any match. Our goalkeeper practiced relentlessly, leaping to deflect incoming shots with incredible focus.

Watching over it all were the Polo Drones. Once players themselves, they now dedicated their lives to making us better. Their uniform rubber polo shirts glinted faintly in the warm light. They moved with a strange synchronicity, wordlessly setting up cones, retrieving balls, and even stepping in for one-on-one challenges when needed. Their minds seemed singularly focused on one thing: our success.

“Zayed, step up!” Brody’s voice pulled me back to the moment. A ball arced toward me. With a sharp step, I intercepted it, pivoting cleanly and sending it forward with a long, precise pass to Herc.

“Nice work, Zayed!” Herc called out, a grin spreading across his face as he received the ball and fired it into the net.

As training progressed, Brody gathered us into a huddle. The Polo Drones silently moved to the sidelines, their job for now complete. Brody’s eyes swept over us, his presence commanding.

“Tomorrow isn’t just about skill,” he began, his voice low but powerful. “It’s about unity. Every move we make, we make together. Remember, the strength of The Golden Team isn’t just in our individual talent—it’s in how we lift each other up.”

We all nodded, a wave of determination washing over us. Brody clapped my shoulder. “Zayed, you’re the link between our defence and attack. I need you sharp tomorrow.”

“You can count on me, Captain,” I replied, the weight of the moment filling me with purpose.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the field basked in an amber glow. The Polo Drones resumed their silent tasks, preparing for tomorrow’s game. I stayed behind a little longer, practicing my positioning and passing.

Tomorrow, we wouldn’t just face Team Vanguard. We would prove the power of dedication, friendship, and unity. Whatever the outcome, The Golden Team would stand together as one.

Want to join the golden team? Contact @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 or @brodygold

#golden team #golden army #male transformation #join the golden team #gold #ai generated #jockification #male tf #hypnotised #hypnotized #soccer tf

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calaisreno · 9 months ago

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Map of the World

1145 Words / CW: Nudity, sex

The day has not yet dawned, but everything in the room has barely started to take shape, gauzy and grey. I can’t see the clock. Doesn’t matter; too early for the hour to have a number.

I remember sleepless nights when dawn was near, some vigil ending but the day not yet begun. I remember nights without dreams, my sleep a solid and unbroken place between days.

I open my eyes, your warm presence reminding me that this is real, this is my life.

You’re still asleep, but you won’t be for long. People who know you would predict you’re a restless sleeper, tearing the sheets from their moorings, stealing the blankets. You’re not. When you sleep, it’s quiet, deliberate, deep. A trip into a Night Palace, perhaps.

You don’t move when I touch you, still deep enough that you don’t register my hands. I adore your hands. You’ve deduced this, I know. Long, thin fingers, sensitive, artistic. Violinist’s hands.

But there’s a place on your body where my hands always go, my favourite part of you. I’ve never said, but since the first time, I think you’ve known. Touch doesn’t lie.

My hand travels lightly over the swell of your arse, finding the soft bit of skin between that and your leg. You’re lying on your side, top leg bent, the bottom one straight, and that’s where I find it, the soft crevasse between the gluteus maximus and the biceps femoris.

I could live in that tender spot.

You sigh now and begin turning into me, settling your head against my shoulder. I won’t touch your neck yet because you’ll wake as soon as I do, and I haven’t finished my exploration.

Soon I’ll roam the canvas of your back, feel the smooth, raised marks that are reminders of your two years away. These are the sigils that spelled the end of that journey and brought you back to me. They’ve faded to silvery-pink, and to me they are beautiful, a sacrifice you made out of love. You don’t walk around in a sheet these days, showing them off, but I know what they mean.

I find the scar on your chest, the one that nearly took you away from me again. It’s deceptively small, just a white pockmark now, barely able to be seen unless you’re looking for it. I don’t need a map to find it; my finger goes right to it. I touch it lightly, with reverence, knowing that you would have given your life for me to be happy.

I wouldn’t have been; we both know that now.

Mapping each ridge of your ribcage, I feel your heart beating beneath.

Clothed, you don’t appear muscular, but your strength is here, in these long, lean limbs and the planes of your abdomen. The first time you hugged me, you were at your lowest peak, physically. You’d been shot, barely recovered, and then plunged yourself into drugs, wearing yourself so thin that it shocked me. I was angry, confused, distraught.

When your arms went around me in comfort, I felt your strength. You were not frail. I did not doubt that you’d been using yourself up, abusing your transport in ways I hated, but you still felt solid, strong enough to catch me before I fell into despair. The weeks before—the drugs and the madness—were not a deception, but you’d been careful to hold back enough strength for when you would need it. Either I would save you, or you would save me.

I think we saved each other.

You sigh, a barely-felt susurration against my neck. Avoiding your neck, I let my fingers travel to your nape, into the curls there. Your hair will look like a bird’s nest when you get out of bed, and that will be partly my fault. I love seeing you sleep-tousled, disheveled. For everyone else, you’re carefully put together; in disarray, you’re mine alone.

Your hand rests on my shoulder, over my scar. An ugly thing, I’ve always felt, and difficult to hide because of its size. My country branded me a hero and sent me home. I didn’t feel like a hero; I hated my scar, the way my hand shook, and the perplexing limp that defied explanation.

That day in the lab, I was invalid, a broken man trying to return to some sort of life. You were able to read my entire history in one look, and I felt embarrassed.

It was only years later, when we lay in bed and you traced my scar with gentle fingers, that you told me what it meant to you: Without this scar, you would not be mine. We would never have met. You might have died in another battle and never returned. Or you would have returned a different person, with more possibilities. That you returned as you did, a man who needed a flatmate, brought us together that day. The rest is history, as they say.

Your eyes are open now, blinking in the pale early light. We are shadows here, a land before the dawn. Your hand reaches below, finding my eager cock. I touch all the hidden places, the soft skin of your bollocks, the swell of your muscles as you tense. You’re wide awake now, quietly watching my reactions. Patient now, soon you’ll be pleading, insistent.

I kiss the smile that is curving your lips and, begin my journey below your jawline, down your neck. My hands are around you now, exploring.

There are no words yet, none needed. We move together, the rustle of the sheets the only sound. Our bodies know one another. We read the signs: breath quickening, pheromones unloosed, flesh growing erect.

We move. You once taught me to dance, telling me that it was all about reading your partner. This dance, we learned together, whispering under the sheets: Is this all right? Do you want—? Oh, God, yes! More!

It’s early, and we’re both too impatient to lengthen this intimacy. I take us together in my hand, slick from sweat and semen, and you stretch out, gloriously pressing into the touch. Seeing you like this always burns me to the ground, lays waste my body. You shudder, and I no longer hold back.

The sun rises, the room is lit gold.

The sheets are already cooling as we lie heavy in our sweaty embrace. There will be more, when we’re awake, and it will be different, another journey across well-loved terrain.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear; For love, all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone, Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown, Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one. — John Donne, The Good Morrow

---

And here we are, the final day of May Prompts 2024! Thank you all for reading and for leaving wonderful comments. It's been so much fun. 💕

My final story was going to be a sequel to His Favourite Jumper but that story outgrew the category of "ficlet" and will be posted separately tomorrow on AO3. There will be socks! And Sherlock returns!

My entire collection of May ficlets can be found here: Trifles 3.

The May Prompts 2024 Collection (all authors who have submitted stories) can be found on AO3 here.

#mayprompts2024 #my fics #johnlock fanfiction #may prompts 2024

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unpassive-viewer · 9 months ago

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I might be way off-base with this considering I have only watched the series once, but it was interesting to me how regularly Cooper had alcohol in his flashback scenes.

In one scene, another ghoul mentions how Coop was one of the first people to get into the drugs that turned him. I'm curious to see what we learn about his character and the immediate aftermath of the bombs dropping in S2. This guy was clearly already having a crisis of conscience and self-medicating out of habit. He's a bit of an "effective altruist", trying to decide how to do the most good based on the information that he has and the roles that he can take. Yet his altruism is really not that effective at all, only as a result of bad information.

My bet is that he lost his daughter to his (ex)wife after having to make a critical moral decision where it's them or doing the "right thing". She mentioned that her position with the company would get them into one of the "good" vaults, but clearly the Ghoul doesn't know which one that is.

I love that the character arcs in the show all revolve around coping with being wrong about your understandings of the world. The Ghoul finally meets someone who's like who he used to be, and has to re-evaluate his idea of people after 200-odd years. Lucy has the inverse, learning to accept that people in the wasteland are trying to survive by any means necessary, and that the "dignified" people that she lived with before are also highly flawed (some more-so than the wastelanders). Maximus learns that the image of strength that he needed to protect himself is a farce, and that safety comes not from hardness and lack of attachments, but from community. This is the reality of life - almost nothing exists in the extremes that you assume. I am really excited to see where their stories go.

#cooper howard #fallout tv #fallout #fallout prime #spoilers

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wildsaltair · 2 months ago

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you can’t show me this picture at 10:39 in the morning and expect me to act normal in any way, shape, or form

#i’m not just a clown for him i’m the whole circus #i CANNOT stop thinking about how warm he would be #how his hands would be so warm and reassuring #how he would hold me tight and just run his hands up and down #IT’S UNBEARABLE I AM SO READY FOR HIM #my clothes are on the floor faster than the human eye can comprehend #it’s freezing where i live and all i can think about is snuggling under the covers naked with him in bed #like?? sharing body heat is a perfectly viable reason for that #i’m approaching this from a survivalist perspective #JUST KIDDING i’m getting ravished so good neither of us can walk afterwards #i am a danger to myself #i can’t be trusted with this picture #look at his neck!!!!#i need!!! to make out with it!!#and the shoulders???#my man is built like a MOUNTAIN #and his chest. y’all know my fixation with it #my mouth is THERE i am telling you #clinging to him for the rest of my life #kissing every inch of his sweet face and telling him how much i treasure his heart #y’all DON’T EVEN KNOW #i will love him right into the ground #until all my strength is gone and all i can do is just collapse in his arms #gonna go pass out for 19294583722 years now #bye everyone #gladiator #maximus #maximus decimus meridius #gladiator 2000 #russell crowe

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polo-drone-084 · 22 days ago

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Grayden's Struggle (Part 4): Grayden Embraces Atlas' Strength

If you didn't read part 3, you can find it here:

Grayden awoke to his alarm and quickly finished his morning routine before rushing off to his morning meetings. First with Percival, luckily thanks to 084’s help yesterday Grayden had completed his roster review and his meeting with Percival was short. Percival did remind Grayden to remain structured though as Grayden rushed to meet the captains.

But Grayden was surprised when he entered the conference room, Brody handed Grayden the Hockey match roster. Grayden reviewed it, it was even better than his original plan.

“Who did this?” Grayden inquired.

“We both did.” Brody responded, pointing to Herc who was lounging in a chair in the background, and back to himself.

(Image by Brody)

Brody walked up to Grayden and gave him a hug.

“Bro, I saw your text from 3am. When I saw you had a rough night I knew I had to get Herc here to finish this roster. So we did. We care about you bro. The whole team cares about you. Remember to take care of yourself.” Brody whispered to Grayden.

“Dang, I must have sleep-texted you.” Grayden replied.

“Bro, Brody and I focused on the team’s strengths and weaknesses. I can sense an even stronger aura from you today, Grayden. Let your strength help guide you today. Meet me in meeting room G later, bruv.” Herc added.

“Thanks Caps. I love you guys.” Grayden said feeling relieved as he exited the conference room to go find Trevor.

As he walked, Grayden walked past 070 and 110, Two of his fellow drone bros. They looked like they were headed to the gym for some physical training. Grayden couldn’t help but also notice 070 must have forgotten to shave this morning, he was sporting a slight amount of stubble not normal for him. They stopped Grayden before he could get too far.

“Grayden, would you like to join us?” 070 asked.

“Oh sorry, I am looking for Trevor. I have a meeting with him to discuss some support staff things. My meeting with the caps ended early.” Grayden replied.

“It’s okay Grayden. 110 wanted to express gratitude for mental programming yesterday. Also Ross wants to brainstorm with you soon, he really values your creativity.” 110 added.

“Good luck finding Trevor. Remember you have support from the Hive and team. Also while it may feel like everything is important, don’t try to do too much. Maximus will see you later for the mascot meeting.” 070 said, despite being a drone it was clear that Maximus’ emotions and care for Grayden were coming through some.

Grayden shouldn’t have been surprised when he ironically found Trevor next to the water cooler. Trevor, the head waterboy of the Golden Army had recently been promoted to head waterboy. He was a prominent member of the team, occasionally leading workouts at the gym and always reminding the team to stay hydrated.

“Hey Trevor, are you ready to discuss the details for the mascots and waterboys for the next match? Sorry if I’m early, my meetings with the Caps went faster than anticipated.” Grayden stated.

“Oh yeah sure Grayden, bro. I was going to remind the waterboys later about how best to serve the water to the team and keep everyone hydrated. Are you sure you’re okay though? You seem like you could use a break.” Trevor replied.

“I’ll be fine. The mascots are meeting later. I think we’re planning for Leander to be Dorado for the next match. Can you make sure he has extra water? That suit gets hot fast.” Grayden stated.

“Of course bro, we don’t need any mascots overheating. Hey I heard 049 was looking for you, he mentioned lunch plans.” Trevor affirmed.

“Shit, I almost forgot about that. Thanks Trevor. If you see 049 tell him to meet me at the cafe outside the stadium. He knows the one.” Grayden said as he sprinted away.

Grayden sprinted all the way to the cafe. A quaint little restaurant right outside the Golden Army’s main stadium. He found 049 sitting at a table, waiting for him. 049’s dark hair was well groomed and his golden eyes had a very pleasant glow to them.

“Nice to see you, Grayden. 049 is glad you could make it. It thought you would forget and reschedule.” 049 asserted.

“I almost did. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me, 049?” Grayden begged.

“049 understands Grayden. You are a good boy. So 049 and its host would not have been angry if you missed this. You put focus on so many tasks, it is grateful you made time for this.”

049 and Grayden enjoyed lunch and some light conversation. 049, also known as Ambrose, was a very popular drone with the golden pups, secondary mascots of the team. Grayden had recently promoted 049 to head pup handler for the team. Grayden had found talking to 049 calmed him. 049 was prone to calling all the pups, Good Bouieee. It was just the way he said good boy that made you want to listen to him. Grayden had almost donned his own pup hood and submitted to the handler a few times.

Grayden left the cafe with 049. As they parted ways, Grayden thought about where he needed to go next. His next goal was to speak to Hans, also known as PDU-069. Hans was still newer to the team, but he was a rising star who enjoyed helping the team.

Grayden searched and he finally found Hans outside of the office management offices. Hans was taller than most on the team, Grayden was 5’10” and was at least 6 inches shorter. Hans smiled as Grayden approached. He was wearing his shiny black polo, so he was PDU-069.

(Picture by Hans/PDU-069)

“Grayden, Percival told 069 that you wanted to discuss its discovery. He also told 069’s host about how you’ve been feeling lately. You do so much for the team. Have you thought that you could delegate some of those tasks to others?” PDU-069 stated.

“I’ve been thinking about it more today, 069. The Caps did the match roster all by themselves and I think I’m going to ask 001 to monitor the drones for me.” Grayden replied.

“Good, remember you don’t need to do everything. You wanted to see the discovery. 069 found a tool that will help make roster monitoring more efficient and personnel archiving a breeze.” 069 gushed on.

Grayden could sense Hans/069 had a real enjoyment in his discovery as he watched him explain the tools he found. The drone couldn’t hold back its host’s excitement. Grayden was thoroughly impressed by the ease in which Hans/069 analyzed the full roster in mere minutes with the tools, sometimes it took Grayden and Percival hours even to get through a quarter of it even as 084 and 001.

“Hans, this is great and will definitely lighten the burden on Percival and I. Thank you.” Grayden lauded.

Hans thanked Grayden back for all he did for the team before PDU-069 re-emerged fully and left for mental training. Grayden felt a little wave of tiredness come over him. He checked the clock, he still had a few hours before any more meetings. He could take a quick nap in one of the golden beds he kept in the mascot room. He made one quick pitstop to ask Percival for 001 to monitor the drones for the day, Percival was happy to oblige Grayden’s request after noticing Grayden looked tired.

Grayden eventually reached the mascot room and turned the key. He was surprised he didn’t run into anyone else along the way. He laid on the bed and drifted off to sleep rather quickly. His dreams didn’t start as vivid as other recent ones. Instead some of the words he had heard in the last few days started to appear.

The first were creativity, balance, break, and delegate.

Creativity, he had received praise from PDU-110/Ross for this. He was reminisced by fond memories of brainstorming ideas with Ross before donning their polos together for 110 and 084 to spend time executing the ideas.

Balance, the word stuck in Grayden’s mind from Atlas. The godly titan reminded him to balance everything. Grayden was still adjusting to Atlas’ influence and would utilize his strength to help him find that balance.

Break & Delegate, these words were fresh in Grayden’s mind from talking to Trevor and Hans. He knew both had his back and would help him accomplish any task for the Team or the Hive. This nap was his break and Grayden had a plan to delegate once he woke up, but was glad he had 001 monitor the drones and the Captains had made the Hockey roster.

Grayden’s vision changed as five more words appeared. Structure, Breathe, Strength, Care, and Focus.

Structure, a principle that Grayden and Percival prided themselves on. They made sure the team roster was well maintained and in its best form.

Breathe, Grayden was reminded of the oddly familiar drone he met. The word breathe just stuck with him. He had to remember to take a moment to breathe every now and then.

Strength, that word came from Herc. Grayden had a deep respect for Herc. Even if they didn’t agree on everything, he knew Herc’s biggest muscle in that beefy bodybuilder body was his heart. Grayden thought of all the times the two would sit and discuss necessary matters for the team, the two of them often leading management discussions when Brody was busy.

Care, it was fitting to come from Captain Brody. Brody cared for everyone. Grayden knew the love Brody had for everyone and the team and did everything he could to show the captain that the love was reciprocated by the team. Brody had a very caring soul, as did Grayden, which helped them bond when worrying about other team members.

Focus, Handler 049 said that. Grayden was suddenly overcome with thoughts of being Vysor, a good puppy for Handler 049. The Good Bouieee. Then he remembered the fun times he’s had already working with 049 to ensure the pups are well behaved at the games and focused on what was needed of them.

Grayden finally felt his vision shift again and more words appeared, but a spiral was with them. A very intoxicating spiral. It was making him sink deeper.

Relax, Daniel told Grayden this. Daniel was often very calm and collected, he managed more behind the scenes than some realized. Grayden always respected Daniel’s wisdom. So his words reminding Grayden to just relax really sunk in.

Finally came the word Support, it came from Maximus/PDU-070. Grayden remembered all the times that he and 070 would type up bulletins for management to review for the team. The two of them would often compare notes from management meetings to bring news to the team, occasionally with the help of Percival/PDU-001. Grayden knew he was supported by Maximus and the whole team.

The last set of words started the blur as Grayden sunk deeper into the spiral.

Disciplined, Focused, Controlled.

Those words were from the Polo Drone mantra. Grayden suddenly felt PDU-084’s influence try to emerge. PDU-084 attempting to connect with host, attempt failure; Other entity blocking attempted connection. Then Grayden saw a figure appear, it was Atlas. He was back.

“Grayden, I can’t let the drone take control right now. I think it is about time you woke up. When you do you will grant me control so we can show Herc and the other Gods your new form.” Atlas commanded.

“New form? Are you going to transform my body?” Grayden questioned.

“Of course, my vessel must have a form to match a God.” Atlas asserted.

When Grayden awoke, he felt Atlas start to take control. His muscles grew massively and his whole lower body turned golden like Atlas. When Grayden looked in the mirror in the mascot room he was shocked by the sight he saw. He was a fucking hot, golden God now.

(Picture by Herc)

Grayden, no Atlas, walked to Meeting Room G where Herc had ordered him to meet. There, Herc and many of the other Golden Gods were present to welcome the return of Atlas in his new vessel. They all congratulated Atlas and Grayden as he flexed. Herc gave Atlas a golden cap, a signature look for most of the Golden Gods. Atlas put it on and felt his power only grow stronger.

“Fuck bruvs, I’m glad to have a new vessel. And one as strong, devoted, and enduring as Grayden. Look at me I’m hot as fuck.” Atlas barked.

The other Golden Gods agreed, having similar bodies they took the time to praise one another and rub their golden hands over one another. They brought power to the team in their godly forms. Their presences brought strength to the whole team with their influence.

-----------------

Brief conclusion coming after this post.

Brody is @brodygold

Herc is @goldenherc9

Percival/PDU-001 is @polo-drone-001

Maximus/PDU-070 is @polo-drone-070

Ross/PDU-110 is @polo-drone-110

Trevor is @trevorgold52 or @polo-drone-125

Ambrose/PDU-049 is @polo-drone-049

Hans/PDU-069 is @polo-drone-069

If you are interested in joining the brotherhood of our team, The Golden Army, please contact one of our recruiters. They are listed above as Brody, Herc, and Percival.

#golden army #gold army #golden team #goldenarmy #join the golden team #thegoldenteam #ai generated #gold #golden tf #golden gods #golden opportunities #golden brotherhood #goldarmy

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queers-gambit · 1 month ago

Text

The Strength in Honor [ part 3 of 3 ]

prompt: well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of your own actions. let the Games begin.

pairing: General Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader

fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist

word count: 8.3k+

warnings: spoilers, blood, character injury, canon character death, Acacius survives, drama, depiction of canon complicit physical violence, epilogue, very lil tiny smut, very lil tiny NSFW, depiction of happiest ending author could think of.

part one: read here part two: read here

The gladiators perked up when the sounds of struggle echoed from a distant tunnel; torchlight glowing brighter the closer the approaching intruders got. While restrained to their cells, most prisoners peaked out to watch as multiple guards were required to wrangle an irate General Acacius into an empty cell.

"You're no men of mine," Acacius snarled at the guards as they shoved him to the ground before slamming it shut; keeping bars between the feral man and themselves.

"No, General. We're the Emperor's."

He scoffed, "Hardly men of Rome, then."

"Do try to get some rest, General," another tacked on smugly, "you'll need your wits about you if you're gonna save your lady by," he raised his voice to ensure everyone heard, "fighting every man here!"

There was a grumble from the gladiators, Lucius' arms poking out to rest between the bars; keys heavy and hidden on his hip. He glared at the man he'd been convinced he needed to kill; the man he told Macrinus he wanted in exchange for being his champion; the man he thought would avenge his wife's death. Yet as he listened to the guards taunt him, he heard his aunt's voice pleading with him to understand the General was not the enemy.

He ignored the Wisdom of Venus in favor of his own anger.

The Praetorian Guards spat on the General before laughing and taking their leave; several hushed voices whispering to one another as a distant door clanged shut.

"General? General Acacius?" Someone questioned from the dark.

"Yes?"

"General," the voice insisted, "the hell's going on? What're you doing here?"

Lucius watched Acacius approach his cell door with narrowed eyes, taking the bars in hand as he identified, "Augustus?"

The guard winced as he neared the cell, "Ah, hell, it is you, thought I was seein' shit at first."

"Solider," Acacius greeted.

"Is the plan off?"

"What?"

Augustus shook his head, "The Lady Aurelius was here not long ago, sent Ravi to gather your men. Is the plan off?"

Lucius watched in real time as the General blinked slowly in remembrance, giving the Gladiator time to note the scattering of facial injuries. "Y/N sent Ravi to gather the men?"

"Yes, General."

"Good, good," he nodded, then shaking his head in disappointment. "I don't know what's to come next, soldier, we were betrayed."

"What?"

"The Emperors... They knew, yet I don't think specific details were shared as I saw no deployment to intercept my men yet."

"So they threw you down here?"

Acacius nodded, "In the morning, I am to fight all of you for the life of Lady Aurelius. There's no use in hiding it now: the Lady and I have been involved in an extramarital affair nearly 20 years."

"Jesus, Mary-Mother, and Joesph," Augustus scoffed, head cocking in confusion. "Why not just marry her?"

"I had planned to," Acacius admitted, "after the war, when the fighting was done, when I returned to Rome. I even had a ring," he smirked sadly, "but before I could propose, Lucius Verus died and widowed Lucilla. The Emperor asked me to marry her instead, for protection."

"He did not know about you and Y/N?"

"I'm sure he had his suspicions, we were young and dumb; not very good at hiding anything."

"Why accept? If you loved Y/N, why marry Lucilla?"

Lucius listened intently as Acacius admitted, "Because General Maximus told me to honor our Emperor, honor Rome. There was no denying Lady Lucilla's hand in marriage."

"But you and Venus never quit, huh?" Augustus snickered, "My man!"

"Just loved her too much to stop," Acacius shrugged, shaking his head. "Couldn't ever let go, and even now, I can't. So, tomorrow, I will attempt to fight you all - but we all know, the Emperor's are orchestrating a plan now to ensure I do not succeed."

The creaking of an opening iron door made both men pause their conversation, looking up in time to spy Lucius stepping from his unlocked cell. He watched the way Acacius straightened up with a knowing look; understanding his aunt must've had enough time to tell him about Lucius before their downfall.

"Hanno," Augustus tried to intercept, "how'd you - "

"Is it true?" He directed at the General.

Acacius let his eyes shift from guard to Gladiator; noting how Augustus did not seem phased by his unlocked cell. He asked "Which part?" for clarification.

"Loving Lady Y/N for 2 decades, Maximus telling you to marry Lady Lucilla?"

"All of it," he nodded. "Though my marriage to the Lady was not all bad, she... She just..."

"She wasn't Y/N," Lucius filled in, sounding neutral; neither angry or offended on his mother's behalf, but also not elated on his aunt's either.

"Nobody was - nobody ever will be again," Acacius told him. "Without her, Rome will be set adrift. You should all prepare."

"You speak as if it's already over."

"Weren't you listening?" Acacius snapped. "I am to fight you all, by myself. The Emperor's will ensure neither of us walk away - though, they will try to get Y/N, they spoke of their desire for her."

Lucius and Augustus shared the same expression of disgust, upper lips curling. "They can try," Augustus scoffed, crossing his meaty arms. "Your men still march for the city, General, and the men in these cells stand with you. What's the plan?"

"'Plan'? There's no more plans, kid, it's over. We lost."

"Not yet," Lucius mused, "the Games have only just begun."

"Look," Acacius shook his head, "when we face each other in the arena tomorrow, there will be no way out. I only ask for a swift death for us both. Should the Emperors ever get their hands on her, I fear death will be Y/N's only relief... Do not condemn your aunt to such a fate, she's the best of us and deserves better."

"No, the answer is simple, is it not?" Lucius asked, looking around the other cells of gladiators. "You hear that, lads? Your General Acacius must fight us all tomorrow to protect his lady-love! To protect Venus!" Flesh and metal banged on iron cell doors, a gentle hoot answering his rhetorical inquiry. "He says give him a quick death!" Another round of door-banging. "Know what I say? I say! The answer is simple! The Emperors intend for the General to fight us all - so none of us will fight!"

"What?" Augustus asked over the approval of agreeing gladiators. "Hanno, the hell do you mean? We'd all get shot by the archers!"

Lucius smirked, "There is strength in numbers, my friend... And 2,000 men loyal to the General march for the city. So long as the Emperors have a show, we keep them drawn in and locked on us, fully distracted - they won't so much as notice the city being sacked."

"There need be no sacking, the city is ready to fall," Acacius inputted, eyes narrowed at Lucius.

"All the more reason then," he smirked.

Augustus chuckled, "Oh, hooo! Hear that? I think Hanno has a plan, lads! Should we hear him?" The gladiators banged louder, "I asked, should we hear him!?" Now, they roared in agreement, making Augustus smirk at Lucius and cross his broad, bulging arms. "Go on, then. What's the plan, Hanno?"

Acacius leaned on the bars of his door, ready to take his orders like any good soldier.

The General was collected first from his cell, provided a change of clothes, his armor, and weaponry. Before he disappeared from sight, his head turned to catch Lucius' eyes; either man nodding subtly in agreement to what they had strategized all night.

The Praetorian Guards gathered first at the doors, posted along the inner arena of the Colosseum with archers lining the walls between sand and spectators. Acacius watched from the tunnel as a huge, decorated wooden cart was lugged into the arena by decoratively-matching white horses; you tied to a broad post in the center; dressed in a gorgeous white chiffon dress. You were accessorized in gold, but what caused instant anger from the crowd wasn't just the sight of you... But the sight of you, bound and bloodied.

Geta's Guards were none too gentle in their "watch" of you that night. Your nose bled, bottom lip split down to your chin, apple of your cheek cut open and weeping down your neck, over your collarbones and into the shoulders of your dress. Your wrists were raw, shoulders strained as your arms were bound behind you. In a twist of cruel irony, your maids - including the one who betrayed you - were bound in chains to the cart, as well; surrounded by the Senators who had agreed to your plans of usurpation.

"Gracus," you called to the old man closest to you. When his eyes met yours, you heaved, "I'm so sorry - for all of this."

"You need not apologize, my Lady," he warbled, hands bound before him in a sign of prayer. "This was what we knew could happen, yet we still sided with you. When it comes to Rome's best interest, that is where those most loyal must stand - no matter the consequences."

You nodded slowly, blinking back emotion - still feeling handsomely guilty.

"LET HER GO!" It was heard echoing from the stadium seating; more and more voices joining in their own protest. The archers lining the walls turned to prevent the packed rows of citizens from getting too close; causing tensions to mount as the people did not like such a brash reaction.

In the spectator's box, Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat pompously with Lucilla and Macrinus; waving to the booing crowd. Over them all, the Master of Ceremonies cried out, "People of Rome! Oh, hear me now, my good friends! People of Rome, settle! Settle yourselves! For today, you bear great witness to our Republic's great and fair justice!" The crowd growled and jeered. "Today... Today, great people, we witness the Gods judgement! Today, General Marcus Acacius," the crowd now cheered, "shall face the whole of the Emperor's gladiators in an effort to protect his long-standing affair partner, Lady Y/N Aurelius!"

The people stirred as your head bowed in shame. The Master of Ceremonies paused to let his words marinate, Geta smirking as he misunderstood the mumbling crowd to be displeased with you and Marcus.

"Who cares!?" It was cried.

"Let her go!"

"MERCY!"

"DON'T DO THIS!"

"Just let them be together!"

"LET HER GO!"

"MERCY, EMPERORS, MERCY!"

You could see the way Geta shifted in his seat with discomfort as nearly all citizens of Rome begged and pleaded for your mercy; to allow redemption, to seek penance, that this was not justice just because it was labeled as such.

A door opened across the arena, your head lifting in time to see Marcus striding out of the tunnel to the cheers of his loyal spectators. Your chains rattled as you stood upright from the post, tears mingling with blood down your neck as you watched him march to his death. Around him, Praetorian Guards moved from their place along the outskirts of the arena to surround him and your cart.

Acacius came to a halt, surveying the arena before locking his eyes with yours. "Are you hurt?" He asked. Your head shook, the tears did not lessen. "Good. Stay strong, my star, I'll get you outta here."

You nodded, truly believing him for a reason you didn't understand. Was love truly so blind? Perhaps.

Unknown to you, Augustus was galloping through the city to meet with Acacius' men at the city gates; intending on leading the first wave into the Colosseum. The gladiators burst from their cells and slaughtered the Emperor's men left behind; gathering at the gates of the tunnels to watch as General Acacius saluted the few of his men unlucky to be placed in the Emperor's guard. Several freed gladiators were sent through the Colosseum to neutralize as many archers as possible while the fighting inside the arena began in a brutal fashion.

For what it's worth, it was a glorious attempt by the Praetorians - but this was General Marcus Acacius they fought! Trained by General Maximus - the Spaniard, himself! He was a soldier foremost and for the first time, had something tangible and real and in his hands to fight for. The men in black armor fought well, for all it's worth - but you were on the line and Acacius wasn't in the clearest states of mind. There was no stopping him. There was none that could stand against him yet.

Until Lucius lead few gladiators into the arena next, signaling the next stage of their plan was in motion. "Acacius!" You warned, struggling in your restraints, "Behind you!"

He dodged out of the way of the last solider, swinging his sword around to lacerate the man's neck; splattering his face with a spray of blood. He panted, backing up a few paces towards the cart, leaning a hand to a wheel spoke. "Are you all right?" Acacius asked, looking exhausted but still strong.

"Are you!?"

"I'm fine," he assured, looking up at you with a smirk, "but you need to get ready, love."

"For what?"

"We're gonna need you to put on a bit of a show, hey?"

"Who the fuck is 'we'!?"

"Just - get upset when you see us fight, my Lady, really give 'em a show. We need all of their attention on us for as long as possible."

"Please, Acacius, what's happening!?" You begged, yelping shrilly and flinching when an arrow thumped into the meat of your inner thigh - managing to graze the femoral artery, causing blood to trickle down your leg at a mild rate as your dress slowly soiled with a blossom of blood where the arrow was embedded. It was a very deliberate hit, the crowd 'oohing' in union as every set of eyes darting over to see Geta standing at the stone banister with a smirk as he lowered his bow. "Oh, he's fucking lost it!" You squirmed in discomfort, whimpering in pain, lifting weight off the injured leg; the crowd enraged.

"Fuck - how bad is it? Y/N, please, my love, I know it hurts but talk to me!"

"It's not bad," you assured through your warbling tone, managing to look down and note the front of your dress. "No, no, not bad, it's embedded, plugging the wound. As long as we don't pull the shaft out, I should be fine."

"Acacius!" Lucius bellowed, charging over the sand.

"Wait - wait - wait - what's happening!? Don't! Acacius, please, please, that's Lucius! Do not - you cannot kill him!" You nearly forgot all Acacius had just said when he was forced to engage with the obviously angry Gladiator. "Lucius! Lucius, don't! Please! Please! Fuck honor, you two, this isn't worth your lives!" You felt flooded with genuine fear as your nephew gave your lover a real fight; both equally challenged, hacking at one another in dramatic flares. They moved all around, forcing the other gladiators to take new positions - keeping the attention of the crowd: commoners and the wealthy alike.

Then, after a wave of panic faded, your maid, Melody, reminded, "My Lady! The General said to keep their attention, remember? Put on a show?"

"What?" You asked the woman who hadn't betrayed you. The one who did was posted behind you - dead from the Praetorian Guard managing to get to her before Acacius could get them. Only few Senators were still standing.

"You have to scream - make a big deal of their fued!"

"Fuck," you breathed in mild confusion - then, like a crack of lightning, you understood. "Don't!" You begged them with a cry, "Please! Acacius! He's my nephew - you cannot! LUCIUS! LUCIUS, PLEASE!"

"Keep going," Melody encouraged, eyes on the crowd from her position facing the watch box occupied by Royal Romans. "They're all listening, keep going!"

You pulled against your chains, "Lucius! Mercy, mercy, nephew, please! Let us leave in peace - don't do this! I beg of you! Spare him!"

"Something's happening..." Melody informed with narrowed eyes. "Geta's on his feet - keep going, my Lady! Louder! Get hysterical!"

You were no actress but still put on your best show. "LUCIUS! NO!" You screamed authentically when he swiped his sword up through the spear Acacius wielded - severing it in two. "Ah, for fuck's sake, you two! Come off it, please!"

The fighting seemed oddly personal and poetic; the two dancing tunelessly through the sand, dressed in blood. You heard Melody gasp when Acacius backed off Lucius, kneeling to the ground at the Gladiator's mercy; her picking her chains with a spare hair pin. The two exchanged a few words you could not hear, both Emperors on their feet to watch with Macrinus and Lucilla standing just behind them in earnest wonder. When Lucius looked to Geta and saw his thumbs-down, he looked to Acacius and mumbled something else. Then... He knelt, too.

Geta appeared enraged for a long moment, almost ready for the Guards to shoot them both dead, before Lucius was climbing to his feet. He left Acacius with his knees in the sand, you perking up as Lucius paced a large circle before calling loudly, "Emperor Geta! There's been a request made!"

"Deadmen don't get requests, Gladiator, but living ones take them! Should they want to remain living!" The Emperor called back, trying to remain aloof.

"Is this," he pointed his blade back at Acacius, "how Rome treats her heroes!?" This caused the crowded Colosseum to hiss in anger, growing more restless with each word from their favorite Gladiator. "Since it is the Emperor who passes judgment, since it is the Emperor who has decided the General dies - should it not be by his hand?"

Geta scoffed gently, "I gave the order, I need not swing the sword."

"But in the name of honor, you should," Lucius smirked, offering his weapon. "Here, come, take mine! You say the General dies, you yearn for the Lady Aurelius? Come claim it all like the greater leaders before you!"

Knowing he was being called out, Geta chuckled, "You've a sense of humor, Gladiator, as much as you're a poet, I see. Now, prove you're a solider and kill the General."

"I would think it just and fair to come from you, Emperor," Lucius refused, lifting his arms with his voice, "and the people of Rome came for a show! Are you not entertained!?" The crowd roared deafeningly as if to agree Emperor Geta should enter the ring himself, foolishly, he thought, as Commodus once did. Lucius paced another circle as the archers were clashing with citizens still, facing the spectator's box and pointing his sword, "Come, Emperor! Nobody else can swing their sword, there's none present who will fight their General. The men here, they know loyalty! And honor! And love! They will not fight your man, let alone kill him. So, come! You must - if you want him dead, come, kill him."

Macrinus approached Geta and began rushing his words of advisory, telling the Emperor he should prove to the people he was fair - not tyrannical - by passing this sentence; to 'just' step in the arena. "I am not as vain as Commodus, I need not kill the General myself," Geta told him with a snap.

"It's just a show for the people, don't you want them to get their worth? Or turn unruly from their disappointment and resentment? Think about it: they've been sat here, all day, in the sun, hungry and thirsty, after having paid to watch their city-favorites fight to the death. They want to be sated - so, perhaps seeing their Emperor pass his own sentencing would be enough to satisfy them."

"And with what protection for myself?" Geta snarled, "My men are dead, all that's left are slaves."

"There are still archers, take the few Praetorians from here," Macrinus offered, cocking his head.

"What safety is this you offer?" He seethed.

"C'mon, Emperor!" Lucius taunted again. "Come down! Disband Rome's General for yourself!"

"I should shoot the fool now," Geta considered, nodding to the archers in the box. They strung arrows to their bows and aimed at Lucius, making the crowd jeer and boo; for the Gladiator to lift his hands in innocence, backing away a few steps; and for his mother to protest. "But!" Geta announced to the Colosseum, "I am merciful!"

The crowd cheered lazily, more so in excitement as Geta waved the archers down and was strapped in flashy, never-before-blooded armor. The procession of Praetorians from the box followed him to the mouth of the gates; surrounding the Emperor and jogging inside. Surviving, straggling gladiators just milled about their strategic positions, watching carefully, as the Emperor approached Marcus - still on his knees.

Your eyes widened as a ruckus was heard from above, a shrill scream of terror sounding before a body dropped - dead - into the sand. It was a woman from the crowd, tossed over the side by a Praetorian. This caused people to fight back and for Emperor Geta to startle as it was discovered Augustus was successful in leading the first wave of men into the city; soldiers and gladiators working together to dispel the archers and any Roman loyal to the Twins. Marcus smirked and easily lifted to his feet, making Geta stumble back a couple steps as the General seethed while swinging his sword in hand, "What was it I said earlier? You'd sooner die than touch my Lady?"

Geta's eyes widened as he looked up to you chained on the post, seeing the blood on your dress and trembling. "Now, Acacius!" Lucius shouted as chaos descended onto the Colosseum; the Gladiator fighting a Praetorian a short distance away. "We haven't the time! It's now or never!"

"M-Mercy - mercy!" Geta begged, trying to back away but tripping over a dead body. He sprawled pathetically in the dirt, trembling hand lifted as if Marcus was his savior, "Mercy, General, please! MERCY!"

You watched as Marcus swiftly swung his sword, cutting steel through the Emperor's neck - sending his head rolling away to the sounds of Caracalla's shrieks. They did not last long.

Marcus instantly turned and sprinted for the cart, you gasping his name and pulling on your chains painfully when an arrow found his shoulder. It sent him off course slightly; enough to stumble, leaving time for a second arrow to find his thigh. This time, he tripped into the dirt, head bowed in pain as you begged him to get up; heart in your throat, fingers slippery from the blood you drew from open wounds caused by the sharp edges of your cuffs.

You whimpered nervously as the fighting turned chaotic; all Senators dead, several fires started, the ringing of swords drowned by the sounds of people screaming. If there were any Gods, today, they turned a blind eye to Rome; making you feel isolated, as if your father's faith had finally been sucked from your soul as you watched Marcus snap the arrow from his thigh. He reached for his shoulder blade and grimaced as he ripped the arrow out, too. Slowly, he found his feet and started forward again; limping the rest of the way to the wagon.

Melody freed herself and instantly scrambled to start on your cuffs, too; trying to be strategic together and adjust so she could cower behind the post and work.

Lucius looked up in time to see Marcus clamor onto the cart, just feet from you before an arrow suddenly lodged in your abdomen - just merely inches from your sternum. It made Acacius freeze before all but materializing in front of you just to throw his body over yours in protection from other flying weaponry. Lucius looked to the box - where the arrow had once more come from. What he saw both slowed time and made his blood boil.

Emperor Caracalla's corpse was slumped in his seat, and above him, Lucilla wrestled for the bow in Macrinus' hands before he was overthrowing her from the balcony. Lucius winced when her body landed in a small mushroom of dirt, sprinting across the arena to slide on his knees at her head.

"What did you do!?" He gaped, trying to support her broken neck but fearing he'd make it worse.

"What... What was necessary... For my... My family..." She managed to get out between strangled breaths, fading fast. Yet, before the light could fully extinguish, her eyes brightened in recognition and reached for his cheek, whispering with the ghost of a smile adorning her lips for the last time, "My son... My Lucius."

But her life was swept into the wind before her fingers could ever find purchase on his flesh. "Mother?" He whispered, finding her eyes unseeing; her arm falling and body turning limp. Emotion clawed at his throat as he asked again, "Mum?"

There was no response.

Lucius heaved a heavy sigh and left Lucilla in her place as respectfully as possible, racing towards the wooden cart in time to witness Meldoy free you from your chains and for Marcus to settle you on your back. He smacked the arrow from your gut and thigh - not pulling them out, but just swiping the excess wood from his way. "Acacius!" Lucius shouted, rushing into the cart's edge to catch himself. "Is she...?"

"She's alive, but there's blood," Marcus informed, using both his hands to straight-arm press into the wound of your gut - thigh seemingly fine to leave alone for now. Nervously, he added quietly, "Too much blood, Lucius."

"Get her to the healers, the army's moving in," he nodded, quickly surveying the arena as Melody made her escape through an open gate. "They've taken out almost all the Praetorians."

"And Lucilla?" Marcus asked, seeing Lucius shake his head; so his bowed and he cursed quietly. "Hey, hey," he rushed when blood splattered over your lips, chin, cheeks, neck, and some flecks reaching your chest from your coughing. "Don't speak, you're all right, love, I've got you," he assured as calmly as he could, Lucius noting the way your face scrunched in delirious pain. From where your dress appeared the most concentrated with blood, he assumed you were struck in at least one or two vital places. "What happened to Lucilla?" Marcus questioned, looking to Lucius.

"Macrinus. I imagine she's the reason Auntie's not dead right now - looked like they were wrestling, she might've knocked the arrow off course."

"I imagine," Marcus repeated in agreement.

"Do you see him? Macrinus, I mean, do you see him?" Lucius asked, both men trying to see through the chaos. "We need to end this now with him!"

"There," Acacius inclined his chin across the arena, directing Lucius' attention to where Macrinus was stealing a horse and galloping out of the Colosseum. "Go! Go, Lucius!" He encouraged.

"Keep her alive!" Lucius barked, rushing for one of the other white horses; running alongside before kicking off and leaping onto the steed.

"Yeah, I fucking plan to, kid," Acacius muttered, looking around for an exit strategy. "Fucking hell," he saw nothing but fighting, gore, tragedy, devastation, carnage.

"General!"

"Augustus! Here!"

The former gladiator rushed for the cart, tugging the reins of another horse behind him. "C'mon! Let's go! You have to move, General, you can't stay here! Only a single squadron made it into the city, Macrinus sent his men to delay the rest!" Augustus panted, holding the animal steady as Marcus started apologizing to you profusely. You whimpered when he lifted you in his arms, roughly maneuvering from the cart and lifting you on bare horseback.

"We owe you, friend," Marcus nodded, smacking the soldier's shoulder before taking claim of the reins.

"Just get her somewhere safe and meet us at the city limits," Augustus panted, offering the General a leg-up onto the horse before slapping its hindquarters to send the couple off through the Colosseum at a gallop.

For three days, you slept. For three days, Rome was expunged of the Twin Emperor's reign of tyranny. For three days, bodies burned. For three days, General Marcus Acacius sat at your bedside in palpable worry.

"How is she tonight?" Lucius questioned softly, stepping into the med-bay with a tray of food that would, once more, go uneaten.

"Breathing still," Marcus answered.

Lucius sighed, "Why don't you go clean up, General?"

"I'm General no longer," he corrected, "I was stripped of my rank."

"As if anything those two did will permanently stick," Lucius scoffed with a roll of his eyes, setting the tray aside. "Go bathe and feed yourself, Acacius, I will sit with her tonight."

"I can't leave her," his head shook in refusal, "I won't."

"You did before," Lucius noted with a sigh, taking a seat in the only other spare chair in the room on the other side of your medical bed. "You met us at the gates of the city after the Colosseum."

"It wasn't easy," Acacius snipped, "and I was better help there than with her - she's got the healing touch, not me. No... No, I just cause injury, it seems."

Lucius could hear the exhaustion in the General's voice, understanding this didn't come from lack of sleep. "And now? As she rests, what help are you to her now? You know she wouldn't approve."

He chuckled dryly, "I wouldn't forgive myself if she woke and I wasn't here."

"She'd not forgive you if she woke and you had wasted away."

"You two are so fucking loud," a third voice grumbled, making both men nearly fall out of their chairs from sitting up so fast.

"Y/N?" Marcus reached for your hand, his other lifting to pet over your head.

"Who else?"

Lucius shared relieved laughter with Marcus, your eyes begrudgingly opening. "There she is," your nephew mused, "welcome back t'the world, Auntie."

"Fuck this," you grumbled, letting him help you sit up a bit.

"Gave us bit of a scare, love," Marcus whispered.

"Hm," you considered. "Well, seeing as I'm awake and you two are here, I take it... Things... Worked?"

"First, here," Marcus insisted, offering a simple cup of water to your lips after you were settled upright. He tilted the goblet for you, careful not to let you gulp it - but the sweet relief of water on your cottony tongue was too good to resist. You drank greedily. "Easy, easy," he cautioned when you coughed a little, pulling the chalice back to let you breathe. "How're you feeling?"

"Stiff," you admitted with a grimace. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Uh, 's bit of a blur at moments," you sighed, rubbing your eyes as you thought deep. "I remember the Emperors, the post, you two fighting. Then there was... Geta's head, the Praetorians fighting citizens and gladiators... The army, I remember the army got there, right?"

"Yeah, good," Lucius encouraged.

"Ah, shit, I got shot," you remembered, opening your eyes to regard your thigh.

"The healers got it out in one go," Marcus told you, "didn't cause damage - you should heal easily from that, my star. But you can't put pressure on the leg for a few days more, not until the cauterization set."

You nodded slowly, "That's... Good to hear. What happened after? I... I think I remember getting shot again? Ah, fuck, did I get shot twice?"

"By Macrinus," Lucius confirmed. "Got yah right here," he reached out to gently pet the bandaged wound, "bled a good bit."

"But the healers got the arrow out," Marcus was quick to assure, "and it was an easy enough wound to close after."

You prodded the area gently, asking, "Didn't come out so easily as the first, did it?"

"You can tell?" Lucius asked curiously.

You nodded, "It's sensitive all around, makes me imagine they had to pry the wound open - maybe even wriggle the arrow to dislodge it."

"It wasn't as clean, no, love, but it's out," Marcus sighed. "You're not in danger any longer."

"No, ma'am," Lucius smirked, watching Marcus settle a little more in his chair. "Not from your wounds or external enemies."

"Hm?"

"We've control of the Empire."

"You've been coronated?"

"Not yet - thought I'd wait a week, see how you progress. For now, we're cleaning up where we can."

You smirked, "So... It worked?"

"Yeah, the plan worked," Lucius nodded, "which," he sighed, leaning back casually, "miiiight not work out so well for you two in the end."

"I beg your pardon?" Marcus sneered, looking ready to lose his mind and stomach contents.

Lucius chuckled, "Ease up, you two, Gods. I only mean, I know you both long for retirement, but with Lady Y/N's knowledge of the Empire, Marcus, your experience as Rome's General, and both of your insights to Emperor Aurelius' vision of Rome... I thought you two might be of use in how we proceed."

You immediately insisted, "There is no need for expansion, Lucius. The Emperors wanted India and Persia - but I fear we've too broad a hold to control already to worry about territory."

"Agreed," Acacius sighed. "Rome's too many mouths to feed as is, and with respect, Lucius, we're both exhausted of war."

"I do not intend to prolong war, but end it. End Rome's expansion - there's far too much of this Empire already being neglected."

You looked at Acacius, "Told you he was right for this."

"I didn't disagree."

"I remember you doubting my judgement."

"I would never!" He gasped comically, offended you'd accuse him of such a crime. Lucius snickered with a shake of his head, standing from his seat.

"Listen, uh," he cleared his throat, "while relationships might be strained for now, I do hope we might rebuild together. I held plenty of resentment towards you both - all of you, in truth. Yet now, I can see the Strength it took to Honor yourselves after years of being the Empire's puppets. I would see such strength and honor rewarded, perhaps... A house in the countryside?" You offered a bashful smile with a small chuckle of amusement, watching a bright grin stretch across his lips. "I'll send a healer in to check on you," he told you softly, squeezing your hand, "and I'll be back tomorrow. Yes?"

"Yes, good," you agreed, watching him out the door. When it shut, you sighed, "What of Lucilla, Marcus?"

You half-expected her to burst into the room, unable to look away from the door; knowing the answer before Acacius even opened his mouth. "She didn't make it, my love," he whispered. "Macrinus, he... He shot you, but it didn't kill you," his other hand laid over your bandaged abdomen; warming the wound.

"Right."

"Lucius thinks it's because Lucilla intercepted Macrinus' attack - but in the struggle, lost her life."

You paused for a long moment, relishing the feel of his hand - warm and heavy in yours - tracing idle patterns on your skin. "So, we're only here because of her?"

"I think so."

You were both silent outside of the scrape of his chair drawing closer to your bedside. With hands tangled and tightly woven together, Marcus let his forehead rest against yours in the first moment of peace you'd known in two decades. The idea of "winning" felt farfetched, inconclusive in some manner; and just as you lifted back and opened your mouth to question this peace, Marcus quickly assured first, "It's just us, my star. It's finally just us, we can rest."

Perhaps the Gods hadn't turned their backs completely on Rome yet. How could they? When the evidence is right in front of you, now pressing his lips to yours in sweet relief.

epilogue

In the weeks following his coronation and your wedding to the General, Emperor Lucius Verus secretly employed Rome's finest (surviving) contractors and carpenters to erect a gorgeously secluded homestead beyond the city limits. It took less than half a day's ride, but still felt like a far-enough ride, the home wasn't near the city's stench; it was legitimately nestled in the countryside, naturally secluded and protected. There were trees, fields of wild barley, an abundance of wildlife, and just the smallest of streams that surrounded the home.

He thought it was perfect.

So, the new Emperor commanded something quaint yet sufficient be built upon a newly paved road that only he frequented. He trusted you and Marcus to Rome's handling, finding little time to sneak away and view the progress being made. It was impressive how quick the builders built.

One morning, Lucius sent for you and Marcus, insisting there was something beyond the city he needed your opinion on. So, you each mounted a stallion and spurred from the city with a gaggle of newly appointed Praetorian Guards left in the dust - desperate to keep up. It was evident you, Marcus, and Lucius had all spent much time on horses; your seats natural, gait quickened as the fundamental feeling of freedom took over and sent you galloping all the faster. Over fields, through mud, kicking up grass, the three of you rode hard and long - but mostly out of playfulness.

You couldn't remember ever seeing Lucius like this, beaming and almost carefree; like the weight of Rome had evaporated and he could be "Hanno" again - whoever the hell that was. You decided you liked watching him, just noting little things here and there about your nephew; traits of your father, of his, of your sister, and yes, sadly, your brother, too; but that was just how genetics worked. He seemed approachable like this, not the brutal Gladiator that tore a baboon's flesh with his own teeth or bested Rome's General.

He was just a guy. Some... Dude. You'd say a kid, but he was full grown - wise, aged, knowing.

Lucius slowed his horse first, you and Marcus doing the same; trio trotting up a hill as Praetorians still galloped from behind to catch up. Upon climbing to the top, you discovered a home in the valley below, your horse whinnying your question, "What's this?"

"Your estate," Lucius answered easily, both hands casual on the pommel of his saddle. "Thought it was close enough in case anything happened or I needed you - you needed me - something or other," he flushed, rubbing the back of his neck, "but still remote enough to remain private."

"What's that?" You pointed to a small add-on to what looked like the main house.

"Oh, I, uh, took the liberty of building myself a bit of a guest house. You... Don't mind, do you?"

"I only mind you didn't include it in the main house," you teased, shifting your horse to sidestep closer for your arm to wrap around your nephew's waist. "Are you being genuine?"

"You think I jest?"

"If you do, it's not very funny," you warned.

"It's not a joke, this is serious," he promised, casting a knowing look towards Acacius over your head. "Welcome home."

It didn't take long for you and Acacius to settle in. The house wasn't overly large that you would grow weary in your age here, but still the size considered comfortably privileged. You had a set of maids and few personal guards - all of whom were housed on their own new estates, curtesy of the Emperor. Yet besides them, you were alone - and most days, you assured the staff they need not bother at all. You found domestic work strangely comforting after decades in politics, under this ruler and that; finally able to have a little control in your life by tending your own gardens, changing your own sheets, perhaps even cooking for your own husband.

The walls were nearly all made of retractable doors that could still be closed and reinforced in storms. Curtains hung from the rafters, creating a ethereal environment for you to glide through on bright, sunny days to the sounds of a picturesque stream trickling. Most mornings, you stood in awe of your new home, amazed at such subtle beauty long since taken fro granted - now, coveted in your retirement. And most mornings were then interrupted by your husband beckoning your back to bed and insisting you need not rise with the sun now.

Old habits die hard, however. Especially when the baby in your womb took solid form and began to wriggle around your guts in a mostly pleasant feeling, it was enough to keep you up some nights. This particular morning, you were laid on your back to a cotton blanket, moaning loudly as your husband feasted on his choice of breakfast: the honey that oozed from between your thighs. Your stomach had begun to swell with a bump, just barely stretching the cauterized scars that only now faintly reminded you of that day. Marcus swore it was his seed that made you taste different, perhaps sweeter; the grey in his beard glistening from your sloppy arousal as he indulged himself. One hand kept you pried open (as if you'd ever cut him off or resist), the other slithering up your body to paw aggressively at your swollen, sensitive tit; pinching and tweaking your nipple in time with his lips sucking and tongue tickling your clit.

Right there in wild lavender, tickled by wisps of barley, you met your peak - thigh clenching around your husband's head as the Gods intended. This was your reward after decades of service, of sacrifice.

"Fuck," Acacius muttered when you released hold of his hair, watching him lick his mouth when his eyes met yours, "you think it'll ever get old?"

"What?" You asked breathlessly as he gently maneuvered your legs off his shoulders to slowly crawl up your form. He left a few kisses in his wake.

"This," he smirked against your lips, sweeping his tongue against yours to mingle spit and the taste of your arousal. "The taste of you," he continued, "the smell," he let his nose nuzzle up yours, "the feel," he ended, pulling your thigh up his hip.

"I do doubt it, if it hasn't after 20 years."

"Good," he purred, trying to line himself up naturally, but not entirely successful. So, not wanting to lose the feeling of him, you reached between you to keep his cock at the mouth of your cunt so he could just push inward. You groaned in union; mouths open; all but exchanging hot air between you as Marcus bottomed out.

From this position, it was languid and lazy; slow and feeling. Each thrust felt anew, his balls tickling the slick down your lower lips, all but pushing the air from your lungs as he went. His hand kept a vice grip on your thigh as he moved, the other firmly planting on the blanket beside your head as it was evident his orgasm was mounting the sloppier he got, humping into you with a roll of his hips.

"Fuck's sake," he grit, "you're so fucking wet, my star, this is - it's - it's all I fucking need, but it's too good - I can't, I can't hold on, oh, fuck."

"Don't," you moaned in encouragement, directing his eyes back to yours. "Don't hold back anymore, please, I don't want you to ever hold back."

"But the baby - "

"Is fine, Acacius, worry about the mother right now!" You laughed, reaching to hook your hand around his neck and yank down. Your lips met in messy union, humming, moaning against one another; so, imagine your surprise when all you had to whimper was, "C'mon, husband - " and...

"Fuck!"

You laughed lightly when he dropped - not his full weight, but enough - onto your chest, face fully in your breast; balls contracting as he winced from the sudden release of his pleasure. Manicured fingers raked through sweaty, salty grey hair; relishing in the feeling of being safe, at home, in peace; finally married, pregnant, and at liberty to couple at your own leisure in the sunshine and grasses. You grinned, laughing lightly in absolute bliss. There was no way this was real life, it was impossible to think it was finally your reality after being deprived of openly loving him for 2 decades.

Acacius tried to question what was so humorous, but it only came out as a bewildered moan; reverberating in your flesh.

"Why does that get you there, my love?" You teased, pecking his forehead as his cock gave a last few pulses. "Oh, that's right, the great General Marcus Acacius of Rome meets his end like a ruddy-faced teenager from the weight of his emotions!"

Marcus chuckled against you, slowly lifting up to find your lips spread in amusement. "Aye," he agreed, "but only from the weight of emotions for my wife."

You smiled bashfully, admitting, "How silly, that word, 'wife', or 'married'... 'Husband'. It still sounds a little untrue. Almost unreal, fabricated, as if it's a joke being used against us. Like an insult somehow. Now, we're to be parents, too?"

He frowned, still sheathed within your gummy walls but with both elbows now planted on either side of you so he could pet your hair from your face. "It's very true, we've just gotta train your ear to accept it," he whispered, taking your hand and presenting your ring. "See this? Know what this means?"

"That I am yours?"

Acacius scoffed and laced your fingers, "You're not property for me to own, my morning star, you are revered. The absolute prize, earned from years of service and turmoil to this Empire, your father. And in turn, I am who will protect you, love you; admire, respect, adore, cherish you. This ring means we are bonded in this life and the next, that we travel this path and every path beyond, together." He kissed your gemmed ring chastely, swearing, "It's you and I from now on, pretty girl. It's only us."

"That sounds too good to be true," you admitted in a whisper, lazily kissing one another. "Just us?"

"Just us."

"Promise?"

"Swear on my life," he rushed against your lips.

"Then tell me, sweet husband," you whispered, "what do you call that?" You couldn't help but laugh, pointing in the distance over his shoulder. Acacius torqued his torso to quickly turn over, spying Lucius on horseback atop the hill; waving his arm in glee.

"Oh, this fucking kid," Acacius groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You clung to him tightly in humor.

"He's the Emperor."

"Still a fucking kid, interrupting us. Thought we moved out here to get away from everyone and all their shit? Aren't we retired?" Marcus groaned, begrudgingly pulling out of your heat to spill his spend onto the blanket beneath you. He sat up to cover your bare body with his, pausing to gaze down at you fondly and caress the bare bump; then reaching for the meek clothing that had been tossed aside. "Did you know he was coming?" Acacius asked, both dressing swiftly as Lucius began his canter down the hill.

"No, he didn't send word ahead," you pointed out, "and it's still early morning, look, the doves are still out. Oh, he must've left in the middle of the night..."

"Think something's wrong?"

"Let's find out," you nodded, Acacius standing first in a simple wrapped around toga; reaching down to assist you to your feet. Your hand gently caressed your belly as you thanked him, both barefoot in the grass as you approached the deck of your open-concept home.

Lucius released his horse with your own in the paddock, opening his arms in grandeur as he jogged up the short steps to reach you. "Auntie, mh," he greeted, kissing your cheek sweetly with a tight embrace, "oh-hoooo, you're glowing! Look at yah." He pulled back only to offer his hand to Marcus, "General."

"Emperor," your husband greeted stiffly but still kindly, "to what do we owe this pleasant surprise?"

"Hm, yes, I, uh... I should've sent word ahead," he winced, grinning sheepishly. "I did not mean to interrupt your marital acts, though, I can see it's already paying off."

You tisked your tongue and nudged his shoulder as you supported your bump with one hand. "Tell us, what news? What's wrong? What brings you all the way out here, Lucius?"

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I am starting my tour," he proudly announced, "and the road takes me past here, so... I might've wanted to, you know, stop a bit early..." You looked back to the hill, finding it bare for several long seconds, then back at Lucius - who avoided your eyes comically.

"Oh, Lucius, you didn't..."

"What?" Acacius asked. "What did you do?"

"I... Did nothing... Wrong, per se," Lucius amended, slowly backing up into the house with hands held in innocent defense.

"You snuck out!?" You gasped shrilly. "Lucius! You cannot do such things as Emperor - the whole of the city would burn if they thought something happened to you!"

"They know where I usually am!"

"Not when you sneak out in the middle of the night! Praetorians will flood the country looking for you!" You swatted at his beefy arms, him laughing and trying to back away; never hitting hard enough to leave marks, mostly just with enough force to cause a sound. "And that will scare the citizens! And the occupants of the city, and the fucking Senate, since the Emperor himself has now gone missing!" Acacius watched with a fond smile and followed as you backed Lucius into the home. "Just look at you, boy! Look! Look what politics does! You've lost weight - they not feeding you at the Palace? Oh, bullshit, there's so much, it's often left over. I'll have a word with them - c'mon, come, come, come, you must be hungry after riding all night. Speaking of, why did you?"

Lucius shrugged with a smirk and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, yours latching around his waist; both strolling towards the kitchen as he quipped, "Just missed you, I guess."

[ part one: read here ]

[ part two: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist -> no Gladiator II masterlist

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 1 year ago

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Male Yandere Husband x Pregnant Female Stepford Wife Reader

(I don’t think you’ve done anything like this yet? So if not, think you can try?)

I want him to be a master manipulator, but really delusional in a loving/devoted sense. Believing that what he’s doing is for our best interest, as well as the baby’s. That includes confining us at home, always being with us 24/7 when we’re outside our home, etc. And generally getting us to be 100% dependent on him, (like we already weren’t heavily dependent on him before…)

Thank you!!! 💝

Yandere! Husband! Politician x Pregnant! Fem! Stepford! Wife! Reader

SORRY IT TOOK ME LONG TO GET THIS REQUEST DONE!

I had a hard time incorporating the yandere stuff with such a willing reader, but I tried LOL.

This one's only got two sections, since the both of you are married already, so it went straight to the yandere-ness.

But here ya go! Requests will be back on once more!

BTW, the master list is up now! It's my pinned post.

Yandere! Politician name: Maximus

Maximus.

Just like his name, he was the greatest Politician out there. Whatever that means.

He's charming, intuitive, generous, kind, and compassionate.

Every election season, if you ask people who will they vote as a mayor or whatever position Maximus ran as, they'll say

"Isn't it obvious? Of course it's Maximus!"

So it didn't faze the people that he won whenever he ran.

As young as he is, he's always been active in the political sphere. From the student council, he's always been in the highest positions out there. Secretary, Vice President, and President.

Hell, if you ask him to do treasury, then he'll gladly accept and do it much better than the current treasurer or auditor. No specks, no crumbs, a clean liquidation sheet.

And when he graduated as the University president, local parties flocked towards him to invite him in their political party.

So many choices for the great Maximus.

After many days of researching and finding out the dirt, secrets, strengths, and weaknesses of each political party, he chose a party suited for the straight laced man.

That, and that you were there.

You were the unlisted assistant of your father, who was running as vice mayor, and is finding a mayor to be with.

This was perfect.

Maximus has always liked you.

Scratch that.

He always loved you.

You were the daughter of a well known governor inside your city. Pristine, shy, quiet, and always had a smile in your face, everyone back in school liked you. You were the epitome of etiquette and manners. If parents want somebody to compare to their child to belittle them, it would be you, little miss perfect.

Both of you live in a small city, almost a town size. So everyone knew each other, and you both lived in the same district.

it's just that he didn't fly under your radar from how busy he is.

Unlike your father, you never joined politics. You just sat there, studied, did some small knitting projects or sewing. Maybe even drawing if you felt like it.

At first, Maximus didn't really pay you any attention, until he heard your conversation with your friends.

"What? Seriously?"

"I am serious." Your melodious laugh echoed through the empty halls. It was already 5pm, and only a handful of students are left.

"But... That's so traditional lol."

"I know, but really. I just want to stay at home, serve my husband, take care of our kids... You know, the gist."

"But, you said you'll do Social work, Home eco, or culinary in Uni. So what's up with that?"

You just smiled at your friends until they said "oh..." in understanding.

Those courses can help develop your home rearing skills.

"I mean, sure. If you're happy with that." One of your friends finally broke the silence, followed by "meh's..." "eh..." and grunts of approval.

"Thank you for accepting for who I am." You smiled once more at them and they gave you an understanding grin.

Then and there, Maximus became curious about you.

Maximus also had a traditional way of thinking. Not all women, but his wife should just be staying pretty in his home, while taking care of their children...

He knew that only a small percentage of people would be open to that notion, and he was fine with it.

It did made him feel lonely sometimes. He's always dreamt of a domestic life, but the woman is always a faceless grey glob. He just can't see somebody in his life who would be willing to be like that.

So when he heard your conversation, that night in his dreams, he woke up sweating and confused when the faceless glob greeted him. But rather than the glob, it was you. Smiling with two children who looked like the exact perfect mix of the both of you.

"What the fuck..." He breathed out of his mouth, shaking his head.

Now, every night, his dreams were infiltrated with you.

And that started in highschool, all throughout University, up until you both graduated.

Your paths never crossed once more, since he's in AP classes most of the time, both of you were on different blocks in senior highschool despite having the same strand, and he chose Political Science in University while you did BS in Home Economics. But he always peeled his eyes for you. Dismissal, lunch, even breaks.

His friends teased him for having such a long time crush, and he just laughed and waved his hand.

And when the both of you graduated, he's about to confess his feelings when he saw you talking with a man, with eyes so wide and filled with adoration.

He felt his heart break.

He was numb, standing there and looking at you interact with the man who was smiling down at you with a ruffle on your hair.

He felt irrationally jealous.

Wait, him? Jealous?

He never felt jealous.

Did he?

He doesn't know anymore.

All he could see is you holding a bouquet of lilies and smelling it while the man hugged you.

He wants to rip the man limb from limb, desecrate his body, and feed it to the alligators.

Why is he wrapping his arms around you like that? He never heard you getting a boyfriend?

And he has a lot of connections to know.

Then he scoffed, like a breath of fresh air rushing into his lungs.

He needed a break.

When did he act like this? When did he become so...

He doesn't even know what it's called.

He's always been a good man. One that doesn't know anger, jealousy, possessiveness...

But what's this? Feelings that stirred inside him threatened to spill out.

So he ran away before it would get worse.

Years later, seeing your name in that certain partylist, he knew he had to join it. Just for a one sided closure he needed.

"Hello! You're Y/N right? You went to the same... School as me!" Maximus said, leaning his upper body to meet your face. His face soft, gentle, and mellow.

"O-oh! Hello sir Maximus! I knew we did, but I didn't know you knew me..." You shyly answered, your thumb brushing against the back of your other hand.

Maximus gulped.

He didn't realize how much he is missing you.

His eyes scanned towards your desk and his eyes widened a bit when he saw the man once more with you in a photo, but this time, with your father and mother.

So, with his trembling lips from the sudden hope bubbling inside him, he pointed.

"Is that your family?" He whispered and you nodded with a soft smile of adoration.

"Yes. I love them a lot." You said, caressing the photo. "That's my dad, mom, and my big brother."

"Oh! That's amazing. It's rare to see a tight knit family nowadays. I mean, families falling left and right, can't people just communicate and--" Maximus rambled, not even caring if the things he's saying is insensitive. He was just so happy that he actually has a chance to woo you.

"Is that so? I mean, my family had fallouts, and sometimes communication is not enough. Actions speak louder than words, of course." You said, carrying the conversation further.

Maximus grinned before taking a seat beside you and talking about deep, familial stuff. With him sprinkling hints of him being a traditional man.

You didn't miss the hints, evident from the blush forming on your cheeks and the shyness emanating from your words faltering.

And he found it adorable.

Once you both ran out of things to debate, he held your hand gently.

"Hey, y/n, what do you think about going on a date with me?"

The rest is history.

"Darling, I'm home!" Maximus yelled once he got inside the mansion. "Today was a bit of a mess..."

Maximus heard an excited gasp and shuffling before he saw you waddling towards him, with a 7 month pregnant belly.

"Welcome home, darling." You greeted him with the smile he loves.

You took off his coat and hung it on the rack, before guiding him towards the kitchen.

"I helped cook today! The dinner for this night is lamb ch... Maximus?"

Maximus has a frown on his face, looking at you with such a disapproving look.

"Darling, why are you working in the kitchen?" He gently asked, caressing your belly. "You're pregnant, you need to rest always!"

You shrunk down a bit, sad.

"But I want to serve you again..."

Maximus' eyes softened at your words before giving you a loving kiss on your forehead.

"I know, darling. But that's what the chefs are for right? The servants too. I hired them to take care of you. Of us." He said, guiding you to the couch and gently sitting you down. "I don't want you getting tired. You're already being burdened by being pregnant and nurturing our child."

You nodded, easily swayed by his words.

"I know... Give me a kiss?" You asked, tilting your head up. He chuckled and gave you a soft peck.

"There. Now stay there, alright? We'll be eating here in the living room. You're already walking too much." Maximus said before hugging you and going to the kitchen.

Once he got to the kitchen, he grabbed a knife and threw it at the chef that was already cowering in the corner.

"Why did you let Y/N work?" He growled out, his eyes sharp, deadly, and authoritative.

Ever since you got married to Maximus, his protectiveness shot through the roof. He doesn't like it when he doesn't know where you are, he doesn't know when he doesn't know what you are doing, he doesn't like it if you talked to people he doesn't know personally.

He installed cameras, mics, and planted people around you that he knew he can scare into submission.

Especially now you're pregnant, he's making sure you always stayed beside him.

When did he become so twisted, from the nice, generous, and kind politician, to something like... Him?

"S-sir, the madam insisted on cooking for you!" The chef trembled out.

You were a rare type of woman who was so open to just being at home, and be the wife he needed to see every time he goes home.

He can't let you go.

Ever.

Maximus sneered and bit his nail, eyes sharp with thoughts.

"I need to drill in more thoughts into her pretty head..." Maximus grumbled.

You were already so willing just being inside the mansion, and so open to his manipulation that you weren't aware of.

He told you that you don't need to go out, that the world was a scary place for a wife like you. And that whenever you go out, you needed to be by his side.

He's already working so hard serving the city, and serving you is a bonus, and a privilege.

He's so occupied with taking care of the place both of you growing up, yet had the time, love, affection, and care to single you out and shower you with his attention. Why would you need to do anything other than serving him as his wife? That's blasphemy, and selfish.

He drilled that in your mind.

And you were so accepting of the fact too.

"If she insisted on helping in the kitchen once more, tell her 'what would sir think?', okay?" He spat out at the poor chef before suddenly smiling. "Don't tell anybody this, or else your family gets it."

He walked away with a triumphant smile and grabbed the food from the counter.

He walked towards you, and saw you scratching your cheek softly confused and scared, almost.

"What's wrong, darling?" Maximus asked, worry etched on his face as he sat down beside you.

"Oh, uh, I just..." You gave him your phone, which was ringing with the number of the exclusive nursery room designer he hired. "C-can you talk to him? I don't know what to do..."

Maximus shivered, seeing you so dependent on him.

Clueless on what to do, on what to say.

He smiled before taking the call for you, with his hand holding yours.

You didn't even start eating yet, waiting for his words to start.

His cute little wife can't even eat by herself.

How... perfect.

This was his perfect life.

With the perfect wife.

And he'll be damned if he didn't protect this.

If he didn't protect you.

So just be swayed with his words and put yourself in his palm.

He will make sure you are well taken care of, and that your pretty little brain will not hurt from thinking too much.

That's a promise.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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