#lucilla aurelius

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Domina Mea Series Masterlist ⭑

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Warnings for overall fic: Death, alcohol consumpion, diseases, corruption, +18 content and smut, angst and obsession.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Summary: After years you returned to Rome to visit your father, General Marcus Acacius, to celebrate his recent victory. However, when the Emperors Caracalla and Geta get you in their sights, they will not let you go so easily.

✧ Chapter One: When in Rome

✧ Chapter Two: The Battle of Salamis

✧ Chapter Three: The Art of Combat

✧ Chapter Four: Patience is a Virtue +18

✧ Chapter Five: Parthenos

✧ Chapter Six: Where Loyalties Lie

✧ Chapter Seven: Patria Potestas +18

✧ Chapter Eight: Strength and Honor

✧ Chapter Nine: Limerence +18

✧ Chapter Ten: Imperatrix +18

This fanfiction is finished!

Divers by: (Could not for the life of me find the creator)

Header Image by: Me

All rights to this fanfiction belong to me, no copying or claiming as your own, as well as the header image. The characters Aurelia and Edas are both made up by me as well as 'The Aurelian Estate'.

[sunshinehaze1]

Unwrapped

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (f. Marcus Acacius & Lucilla Aurelius)

Summary: You attend your friend Lucilla's annual holiday party and meet someone new.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. Modern AU, no outbreak or battles in the colosseum, meet-cute, fingering, unprotected PiV (do better), creampie, no use of y/n

a/n: This is my Secret Santa gift for my beautiful friend @ak-vintage. Her Pedro faves are Joel, Marcus A., and Din. I hope you like it, Ash! ❤️ and that you'll forgive me for not elaborating further on the party bathroom smut 🤭 tysm to @80ssong for the beta! 🥰 and big time thanks to @pr3ttynpiink for organizing! ❤️

word count: 4,386

ao3 | ml

As you walk up the driveway, you admire the lights trailing along the edges of Marcus and Lucilla's house. They live in a large, luxurious home decked in over-the-top opulence. Roman columns frame the front porch, wrapped in garland and accented with gold bows and lighting. Glittery white lights perfectly line the edges of the house, and more are draped meticulously over the immaculately trimmed shrubs. Their house practically lights up the whole neighborhood. It's hard to imagine their electric bill; you're thankful you don't have to pay it.

You met Lucilla earlier this year while volunteering at the local food bank. You decided to volunteer to meet people after moving to the area recently. Lucilla comes from money; her father was the CEO of a local business, and she inherited a large amount of money when he passed. So she has plenty of free time to give back to those in the community who are less fortunate.

After one of your volunteer shifts, Lucilla invited you for coffee. You found her to be surprisingly down to earth. It's not typical of your experience with people who come from money and have had things handed to them. She's very grounded and wise. You quickly became friends, and she's like the big sister you never had. She has at least a decade on you, and you've often turned to her for advice as you assimilate to Austin. It's comforting to have a support system in the area.

You've been invited to her beautiful home for dinners numerous times and met her handsome husband, Marcus. He's around Lucilla's age with soft, greying curls, always perfectly coifed. His face is framed with Romanesque features and a prominent nose. Having retired a couple of years ago as a general in the Army, he still maintains a thick, sturdy physique that offers an intimidating presence. He's anything but. You've only seen him as soft, gentle, and welcoming. You've spent enough time with them that you've been able to observe their relationship quietly, and it's nothing short of "relationship goals." You hope to find a loving relationship like theirs for yourself one day.

They throw these holiday parties every year, and this is your first time attending. You're bound to have a great time based on what you've heard about past years' parties. And you look forward to meeting new people. Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone.

Lucilla and Marcus go all out. The outdoor decorations were only a precursor to what awaits you inside. It looks like a Christmas store blew up. Garland is wrapped around the staircase banister and the fireplace mantle with perfectly placed ornaments. Every door frame is adorned with mistletoe dangling over the threshold, waiting for unsuspecting guests to pass through. Santas and snowmen of varying sizes sit on tables and shelves. Silvery snowflakes decorate the walls, and you spot not one but three different Christmas trees. Each has its own theme.

The expansive kitchen island has a beautiful spread of charcuterie, wines, and liquors and a punch bowl of spiked egg nog; holiday songs, clinking glasses, and the smell of mulled cider waft through the air.

--

Joel is a good sport. He's not a fan of large gatherings. He'd much rather hang out in the backyard with a beer, catching up with his brother. Or when Sarah was still at home, a night on the couch watching a movie. Nights that would end with Sarah falling asleep halfway through the movie and Joel carrying her upstairs to bed. With his reserved nature, he tends to be a wallflower at parties and a quiet observer. This one, which his employee, Marcus, invited him to, is no different.

He's found himself in a corner, making small talk with another partygoer who, unfortunately, found out what Joel does and has since been bending his ear about house renovations. Joel spots you as you walk through the door, ignoring the man in front of him, who continues to prattle on how he can't decide which faucet to place in his half bath.

Joel finds himself gawking at you. You're a vision in your eggplant velvet wrap dress with a satin sash tied into a bow on the side of your waist. The dress hugs every curve of your body, with a skirt that falls to your mid-thigh, providing Joel a view of your shapely legs. The dress's neckline cuts into a deep v, hinting at what's underneath. You're a fucking knockout.

He observes as you juggle a wrapped gift box for the white elephant exchange and a hostess gift in your other hand. It's a lavender-scented candle. You've noticed Lucilla wears the scent often. You greet Lucilla with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Offering her a wide, glowing smile. Oh god, you're beautiful. Joel is shaken from his enamored haze when the sound of broken glass interrupts his thoughts. He must find a way to talk to you before he leaves tonight.

--

Over the last hour or so, you've had a chance to meet everyone at the party—neighbors, family friends, Marcus's old Army buddies, and their spouses. All of them were very nice, but the small talk was exhausting, so you're thankful when you hear Lucilla quiet the guests with a shout, "ALRIGHT EVERYONE TO THE LIVING ROOM! It's time for the gift exchange."

You enter the living room and look for a place to sit. Various chairs are lined up around the couches, almost all already taken. You decide to remain standing rather than scramble to find an open seat.

While Lucilla explains the rules, a basket with small pieces of folded-up paper is passed around the room, with numbers 1-30 written on each. You select yours and pass it to the man beside you; rough fingers graze your hand as you complete the handoff. He thanks you, and you turn to get a better look at the owner of the deep, gravelly voice.

You're struck by how ruggedly handsome he is. A sharp nose, plush lips, and patchy facial hair sprinkled with greys. He's wearing a crisp light blue button-up and dark jeans that hug him just right. It seems you haven't met everyone at the party yet. How did he escape your notice?

He catches you staring, "What number did ya get?"

"Um…" you look down at your paper, "29. How about you?"

"Looks like I got lucky tonight," he turns his piece of paper around to show you, "30." He winks.

Uh oh. He's handsome and charming. You're in trouble.

"Name's Joel. How do you know Marcus and Lucilla?"

You introduce yourself and tell him about your volunteer work and how you met Lucilla. "And you?"

"Marcus works for me." Your surprised reaction amuses him, and he continues. "After he retired, he was looking for part-time work to keep himself busy. I own a contracting business."

That explains his rugged appearance and calloused hands. You take in his broad shoulders and biceps, which cause the seams of his shirt to work overtime to stay together. Lucilla interrupts your thoughts, "OK, now that everyone has their number, we'll go ahead and get started!"

A woman named Simone starts things off. After selecting a gift from under the tree, she tears the wrapping paper to reveal a cat-shaped ice cube tray. The crowd erupts in laughter when she shows it around the room. It's not a very appealing gift, which likely means she'll be stuck with it. You doubt anyone will want to "steal" it from her, but at least it has practical use. 

The game continues with half the participants taking their turn. Lucilla's son, Lucius, is next. You met him briefly when Lucilla introduced you earlier. He's in town to spend the holidays with his mother. After over a decade apart, he reconnected with Lucilla a few years ago. The relationship is still in repair but moving in the right direction. You know how important it is to Lucilla to have him here.

You haven't gotten the full story from Lucilla, but you know it's a sensitive subject for her, so you've never pressed too hard. You've left the door open for her to share if and when she's ready. He and Marcus seem to have an agreeable relationship and get along fine, which you're happy to see. Stepparent and stepchild relationships can be pretty fraught. He's a handsome kid who resembles Lucilla, but you think he inherited most of his looks from his father.

Lucius takes his turn and decides to steal a gift that was already stolen, securing it himself. The game continues as the room works through the numbers. A steady din of laughter echoes through the room as the exchange becomes more cutthroat. It's all in good fun, though.

Finally, it's your turn. You walk over to the tree where two gifts remain. One is a box covered in teal wrapping paper with a gold diamond pattern and embellished with a twine ribbon. The other one is a tall, slender gift bag that is the perfect size to hold a bottle of wine. You choose the box and return to your spot next to Joel.

All eyes in the room are now on you as you unwrap the gift. Pulling the paper away, you squeal when you see it's a Funko Pop figure. You try to remain calm when you remove the rest of the paper and recognize it is The Mandalorian and Grogu.

This is a score, and you can't believe your luck. You love Star Wars, especially The Mandalorian. And it's not just because you have a crush on the actor who plays him. You love the storytelling and the world-building. This isn't something you'd buy for yourself, but you'll proudly display it in your home. With Joel as the last person left, you hope your brief interaction with him has earned you enough favor that he won't steal your gift.

However, you don't know that Joel and his daughter watch The Mandalorian over Facetime every Sunday night. It's a way for them to stay connected now that she's miles away. They're on their third rewatch, and he treasures these nights with his daughter. He eyes the Funko Pop in your hand and thinks Sarah would get a kick out of this cute figure. Even if he has no clue what a Funko is.

Joel hems and haws, trying to decide if he should go for the last gift under the tree, which he suspects is a bottle of wine. He wouldn't have much use for it as he's more of a beer guy. Or steal your gift and potentially derail any opportunity he may have had to get to know you better. After a few moments of quiet deliberation, he opts to steal.

You huff in defeat, bummed that you lost out on your gift, and hand the box over to Joel. You know it's all in good fun, and Joel had no malicious intent behind his decision. You retrieve the last gift from under the tree, confirming your suspicion of what was inside.

After the gift exchange is complete, the guests disperse throughout the house. You're looking over the wine's label when you feel an elbow nudge your bicep. Your attention turns to Joel, who has a sheepish look. "Sorry for that. My daughter and I love The Mandalorian. We watch it together every Sunday night while she's away at school," he sighs.

Now, how can you be upset about that? Of course, he had a heartwarming reason behind his decision to steal. "Oh, it's no big deal. I'm just happy he's going to a good home."

Joel chuckles. "Would you like a drink?"

You nod and follow him into the kitchen.

--

With your cup of eggnog, you settle at a threshold out of the way of party traffic. He tells you more about the contracting business he owns with his younger brother. You share more about yourself and how you moved to Austin for a job opportunity. He's incredibly handsome, and you get lost in his brown eyes. His quiet confidence and sense of humor are extremely sexy.

Joel recounts a time when his brother screwed up an order for a job. He ordered the incorrect size of lumber and set the project back a week. Joel took over placing orders after that. He shares his hunch that his brother purposefully messed up the order, so he no longer has to do it.

His retelling is endearing. Through it, you get a good sense of his love for his brother, but as with most sibling relationships, some things drive him crazy. You can relate.

A silence falls between you two for the first time since you began talking. You're not even sure how much time has passed. However, it's been long enough to cause a crick in your neck since you've had to look up at Joel this whole time. You tilt your head, rolling it back and forth to stretch it out. When you open your eyes, you're frozen as you realize where you and Joel have been standing. Your chest begins to warm at the implication of where this could lead.

Joel follows your gaze to see what's caught your attention. He gulps when he spots the leafy instigator. His palms sweat as he straightens, and you make eye contact.

The warmth in your chest has moved up your neck as Joel's eyes lock with yours. The swirl of the party moves around you two, and you feel frozen in time. At this moment, it is just you and Joel. A soft smile appears on his face. "Welp. Do you know what this means?"

You swallow, take a deep breath, and offer an inviting smile. "It can only mean one thing."

Joel leans in. You feel his hot breath as his face nears yours. This sweet, funny, handsome man is about to kiss you, and you remind yourself to breathe. His index finger lifts your chin toward him, his lips brushing over yours. It feels like hours have ticked by at this standstill when only seconds have passed. But your patience still wears thin, "Well…what are you waiting for?"

Joel laughs and finally closes the distance. His lips capture yours in a chaste kiss, aware you are not alone. You press your lips to his and let out a soft moan. The sparks you've only read about in novels start to fly, butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you see fireworks shooting off behind your eyelids. You keep them shut out of fear that you'll wake up from a dream if you don't.

You blink back as you pull yourself away from Joel. Knocked on your ass over a kiss. If his kiss can feel like that, you can only imagine what more would feel like. And you would love to find out.

Wide-eyed, you coo, "That was a really good kiss."

Joel nods, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind doing that again."

"Me either," you giggle, feeling bold, "and maybe more?"

Joel quickly grabs your hand, determination in his eyes, "Follow me."

--

There's no shortage of privacy in a house of this size. The large amount of guests allows you and Joel to sneak off unnoticed. With your hand in his, he pulls you behind him in search of a more conspicuous location. At the end of the hall, you spot an open door that leads to a beautifully appointed bathroom: marble countertops, travertine tile, and a glass-enclosed shower with a waterfall showerhead. Large mirrors with an intricately designed gold frame sit over each sink. This is just the guest bathroom?!

He whips you around to face him and pulls you in for a kiss, not chaste this time. This kiss is brimming with passion. A mix of tongues dancing around, exploring each other's mouths. Playful nibbles leave their marks on each other's lips.

Your palms flatten against his firm chest, and you grip the lapels of his shirt and yank it open. The top buttons fly across the counter's surface and bounce every which way—ping, ping, ting—until they land flat on the surface. Hiding your giggle behind your hand, you look up at Joel apologetically. "Hey! I liked this shirt!" he bemused.

You walk your fingers up his now bare sternum and pinch his chin mischievously. "Oops, my bad!"

"Oh, you're fucking trouble, aren't you?!"

"Only one way to find out," you tease.

"Oh, honey, you bet your sweet ass I will." His hands caress your waist and hips, enjoying the feel of the velvet over your soft curves. "But first, I want you to see how gorgeous you are." He kisses you before he turns you to face the mirror.

Joel stands tall behind you. His hands roam along your body when he captures your gaze. With pleading eyes, he asks, "Can I unwrap my gift now?"

You nod. He pulls down the neckline of your dress and frees your tits from the cups of your bra. You let out a small gasp. He looks at you in the mirror while he kneads them, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index finger. He nuzzles into your neck and ascends with featherlight kisses to your earlobe, and whispers, "You're so fucking gorgeous."

With a gentle squeeze of your breasts, "gorgeous tits." His husky voice sends a shiver down your spine.

One of his hands moves down your body. His fingertips trail up the back of your bare thigh and underneath your skirt to your ass. A sly grin appears on his face when he doesn't feel any fabric impeding his exploration. You decided to wear a thong tonight to avoid panty lines with the way the fabric of the dress clings to your figure. With a firm squeeze of your bare cheek, "gorgeous ass."

You whimper at his attention and praise, overwhelmed by his adoration of your body. Both hands make their way to your neck, and he turns your face toward him, "gorgeous lips," and he devours you in a toe-curling kiss.

He hisses when your ass backs into him in response. His hardened cock straining the front of his jeans. You suck in your breath, apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

He chuckles, "It's ok, baby." He brushes his lips over your nose and tilts back with a glint in his eye, "You can make it up to me."

You quirk your eyebrow, "oh yeah, how so?"

He doesn't answer you. Silently, he grips your hips to turn you back to face the mirror. He grabs your hands and places your palms flat on the cool marble. He watches your tits bounce in the mirror and feels his cock get impossibly harder. "Stay. Just like this."

You feel the arousal pool in your belly at his command. His hands travel down the sides of your thighs and up under the skirt of your dress. His fingers slip under the elastic band of your thong, and you hear the lace fabric rip.

He slides a calloused finger through your slick lips. A growl escapes him as he feels how wet you are. "This pussy's just drenched for me, isn't she?"

You whimper out a strangled "yes." Overwhelmed by the feel of his thick fingers through your folds, teasing your entrance and brushing against your clit.

Finally, he shows mercy and slides a finger inside you. You clench around his thick digit as he enters you to his last knuckle, his fingertip reaching that spongy spot just right, sending an intense wave of pleasure through your body.

He leans forward, his whole chest pressed against your back. The heat from his body envelopes you. His husky voice vibrates in your ear, "Fucking dripping."

You groan when Joel pulls his finger out to taste you. "Such a sweet fucking pussy. I can't wait to make a whole meal out of her."

He breaches you again with two fingers, and you buck forward at the pleasurable stretch. He begins to thumb against your clit while his two fingers thrust inside you at a steady pace.

"Fuck. I can't wait to get you out of here. I want to take my time with you. The things I want to do."

"Tell…" breathless, "…me."

"I want to eat your pussy until your legs shake." he continues his exploration of your cunt. "Suck on your perfect tits. Fold you in half while I fuck into you until you scream my name."

"Yes, fuck…Joel, I want all of that." Your imagination is running wild at his ideas, the tension is building, and you're ready to snap.

"You'll get it, but I need you to come for me, darlin'." Desperation in his voice, "My cock needs to be inside this perfect pussy."

His words were all you needed to push you over the edge. You brace yourself on the counter as your orgasm moves through you, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

As you come down from your high, Joel quickly unfastens his jeans and lowers them along with his boxer briefs, releasing his throbbing cock. You feel his length bop against your ass. His fingers run through your pussy to coat his dick with your arousal. He lazily strokes his dick while bunching up the skirt of your dress over your waist with his other hand.

His palm runs over your bare ass cheek and slowly navigates your curves to your other cheek. You whimper when he pulls his palm away, already missing the warmth of his skin against yours. The unexpected strike of his palm causes you to jolt forward with a whine.

"Fuck! This is a juicy ass," he growls as his fingers dig into your flesh.

"Do it again. Harder." you pant.

You catch his devilish grin in the mirror as he lifts his arm with a flattened palm. The din of the party muffles the sound of it moving through the air before it lands on your other cheek. Harder. Just like you asked. You feel another wave of arousal rush through you.

"Oh, baby. We're going to have so much fun."

Joel takes his cock and runs the tip through your folds, You haven't seen it, but you can feel it's big as he teases your entrance with just the tip. Your mouth begins to water as you fantasize about taking him between your lips, the heavy weight of it on your tongue as you take him down your throat.

You're so distracted by the thought of choking on his dick that you yelp in surprise when his cock enters you with a forceful thrust; his pelvis slams into your luscious cheeks.

"Oh, she's fucking…" Joel pants, "she's fucking, tight."

He begins a steady pace of fucking you. His hands gripping your hips, fingertips digging in with a bruising force.

He reaches around your waist to rub your clit while he continues a relentless pace. Your walls clenching around him. Breaths increase, and your chest is slick with sweat. His thrusts push you into the counter, driving into you while he rubs your clit. The marble cooling your heated chest. "C'mon, baby. I feel you squeezing me. Let go for me."

You wail out his name as your climax takes hold. He pulls you up against his chest, his hand cupping your breast as he fucks you through your orgasm. Hot breath against your ear as he seeks his release. You wrap your hand around his neck and pull his head toward you. Your lips brush against his ear, and with a whisper, eyes fixed on him in the mirror so you can see his reaction, "Fill me up. I want to feel you dripping out of me."

Joel whimpers. He fucking, whimpers. He's at the precipice of his orgasm and grasps onto your tit tighter. You squeak at the pressure. One. Two. Three more thrusts before he spills into you, drenching your pussy with his seed.

His forehead collapses onto the back of your shoulder; his labored breathing begins to even out. When he looks up, your eyes meet his in the mirror. You both are completely fucked out. Half dressed, tits hanging out, disheveled hair, smeared lipstick. He leans back to get a good look at his spend leaking from your pussy. A boyish grin expands on his face into a toothy smile as he pushes his cum back inside with his finger. "Gotta keep my gift wrapped up."

You roll your eyes and laugh.

Joel grabs a clean washcloth from the towel bar and runs it under warm water. He gently runs the damp cloth over your inner thighs and sensitive folds, cleaning himself before tossing the washcloth in the hamper.

You notice it's after midnight, and you'll need to get home soon—even though you don't want the night to end. You both scramble to dress. Joel stops short when he realizes he can't button his shirt back up all the way. He looks around to find the loose buttons on the counter and pockets them. Softly, you brush his forearm and coo, "I can sew those back on for you."

He winks and kisses the tip of your nose. "Worth it."

--

You accept Joel's offer to walk you to your car, but not before you say your goodbyes. The two of you part to find Lucilla and Marcus to thank them for the party.

When you find Joel again, he guides you toward the door, holding his gift in one hand and the other against the small of your back. He leans toward your ear and teases, "We'll need to discuss visitation arrangements." shaking the figurine in the air.

You playfully swat his chest at his teasing.

You and Joel are unaware that Marcus and Lucilla are watching this exchange from afar. Lucilla turns to Marcus and wonders, "Now, why didn't we think to set those two up? They're perfect together."

"It doesn't look like they needed our help anyway." Marcus wraps his arm around his wife and kisses her temple. "Another successful holiday party, my lady."

Lucilla rests her head on his shoulder and lets out an exhausted but contented sigh. "Until next year, my love."

--

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

I've got an idea brewing to revisit these two (four)...if I get a wild hair, I may take a swing at it. 😏

npt for folks who were interested in this WIP: @baronessvonglitter @kilamonster @half-moon16 @peepawispunk

[messrmoonyy]

New stills of my wife Lucilla. I’m on the floor she’s so gorgeous

[fawninthesnow]

Hallo Beatrice, kannst du vielleicht was schreiben wenn du die neue Dienerin von Lucilla bist und dich ständig in der Villa verläufst und so endest du eines Nachts vor den privat Gemächern von Lucilla und Acacius und hörst Geräusche die wenig Raum für Interpretation lassen und du läufst an wie eine Tomate du wolltest dir doch nur was zum trinken holen du solltest eigentlich in deinen Gemächern sein und schlafen aber vorallem solltest du nicht mal in diesen Teil der Villa sein. Als du endlich deinen Weg in dein gemach findest fragst dich wie du den beiden morgen in die Augen sehen sollst von deiner Mutter weißt du dass das Thema nichts ist über das man redet du kannst dir trotzdem nicht helfen als zu fragen wie es sich anfühlen muss von einem Mann in dieser Weise geliebt zu werden. Liebe Grüße❤️

Hiiiii!!! <3 Translation: Hello Beatrice, maybe you can write something if you are Lucilla's new servant and you constantly get lost in the villa and so one night you end up in front of Lucilla and Acacius' private chambers and you hear noises--- you should actually be in your rooms and sleeping but above all you shouldn't even be in this part of the villa. You know the topic isn't something to talk about, but you still can't help but wonder what it must feel like to be loved in this way by a man.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧: One Shot

𐙚 General Acacius x Lucilla x Fem! reader𐙚 18+

Summary: You are one of the servants for the two newlyweds, Lucilla and General Acacius.

Warnings/contains: Voyeurism, fem! cuck, mentions of perversion, smut, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 0.5k

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

You hold a tray to your abdomen and walk slowly through the halls. Flames from within the lanterns blazed along the halls of the general’s palace. The day came to an end and the sun no longer adorned the limestone walls with light; you finally rest your feet in the servant’s quarters and massage your legs. In the servant’s quarters, you stayed to yourself and remained quiet as the other’s rested or whispered among themselves.

Not that many knew, and not that many cared but you were what many would describe as a pervert.

It isn’t that you are awkward. You are a rather respectable young lady; however, there was something off about you. Maybe it was the way your gaze seemed to linger on the newlywed couple of the house: the general and Queen. Or maybe it was because you stayed up later than all the servants; even the errand boy went to bed before you. Why? No one really knew but you.

When the flames of the palace died and the embers cooled, you rose from your bed and shut the door to the quarters. Before leaving the corridor, you looked both ways down the hall. There was no shadow from an open door, so you slowly walked down the hall and into the Owner’s wing of the palace. You turned to the painting of the man and his Queen above the mantle of the hallway divide.

Of course, the couple was beautiful; everyone, anyone could tell you that. However, you saw them differently. You were infatuated with the two, in love with the couple entirely. Just staring at the painting alone made your pupils dilate; your jaw went slack and your lips fell open.

Conveniently, you had your nighttime walks to stare at this painting since you couldn’t look them in the eyes for too long. Your eyes lingered on General Acacius’ showing biceps and---

Echoing through the hall from the bedroom, a drawn moan was quickly shunned with a low shushing. You moved closer to the owner’s bedroom. You ear pressed to the door as you listened to the two’s bodies press onto the other side. A shivering moan arose from Lucilla’s throat as her husband’s lips suckled on her breasts. Her finger’s caressed his head gently, his hair shifting against her touch.

You listened to all the ‘I love you’s’ and every word of affirmation as he gently moved his hips against his wife’s. You tried to catch your breath as the heat of the moment began to fluster you. You jumped to a thud on the door and quickly covered your mouth. He continued to push—you gently swiped your thumb over your left breasts, gently rubbing your nipple. “Mhh~ M- Marcus~” His wife moaned as your eyes closed.

You bit your lip as your hard nipples poked through your servant’s toga. Your fingers pushed the fabric from the way, exposing your flesh as they continued to make love a few inches from you.

In the dark hall, your knees grew weak as your imagination ran wild. How could a man do that? Make a woman feel that way? Have her making such lewd noises?! You could only imagine how he felt, how *she* felt during a time so tense, so tight… A lewd moan left your lips, drawing the quick attention of the Queen.

Your heart stopped as the noises on the other side of the door stopped.

AN: Starting to get back into K-pop. Thank you for the request!

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

[chloe-skywalker]

Gladiator II Masterlist

By ~ @chloe-skywalker

* = Requested

⭐️ = Favorite

Main Masterlist

Lucius Verus / Hanno :

~ Coming Soon. . .

Marcus Acacius :

~ Coming Soon. . . .

Emperor Geta :

~ Coming Soon . . .

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

preview two

ONE

A starry night, as though the gods themselves had blessed the heavens. You stand in the place where you often meet General Acacius to maintain appearances. He will spend the day attending to Emperors Geta and Caracalla alongside his wife, Lucilla. Meanwhile, your day will revolve around the gladiators—or, more precisely, their wounds. You have been summoned to tend to the gladiators who will participate in that day's opening of the games—battles they will wage against one another or against beasts. Your thoughts are divided between Marcus Acacius and Hanno, the gladiator you strongly suspect harbors intentions of avenging his wife’s death at Acacius's hands.

"Mea domina, you are here," General Acacius murmurs as he approaches, though his complexion appears unusually pale. He is dressed in a tunic that conceals most of his body, with a laurel crown adorning his head. The lateness of the hour and the absence of natural light obscure your view, but as he draws nearer, you notice a wound bleeding on his arm. You rush toward him, your concern overcoming any formality. Without hesitation, you expose the area of his injury, removing the fabric to inspect it. His skin is feverishly warm beneath your touch.

"Who did this to you, Acacius?" you ask, a wave of anger surging through your body, mingling with an overwhelming sense of concern. "By the Gods, you should have come to me sooner," you say, your voice laced with frustration as your fingers graze his fevered skin, causing him to shiver under your touch. You guide him to a nearby bench, urging him to rest. Knowing him well, you suspect he has concealed his injury from everyone, unwilling to reveal any vulnerability. Fortunately, all are accustomed to you tending to him—it is, after all, one of your roles as his lover.

"I did not wish to trouble anyone, least of all you, Y/N," Acacius replies, his tone steady as he attempts to mask his discomfort. "A gladiator loosed an arrow at me—it must have struck me somehow. Macrinus certainly knows how to select skilled men for his arena." His voice retains its commanding timbre, though his actions betray his weariness. He pulls you closer by the waist, resting his head against your abdomen, as though seeking solace in your presence.

"General, we must go to the place where Ravi keeps his instruments. I must tend to your wounds and return you, whole and well, to your wife," you say, holding Acacius' face in your hands, as if willing him to remain conscious. His deep brown eyes meet yours, their gaze uncharacteristically tender.

"But this is my time with you," he whispers, taking your hands in his and pressing a kiss to each. "And I have told you, you need not address me as General. Our relationship has long surpassed formalities," he says, his voice softer now as he finishes kissing your hands. A fleeting thought tempts you to lean down and kiss him, but before you can act, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. Guards arrive, accompanied by Lucilla and Ravi. You instinctively want to withdraw from Acacius, but his unconscious state forces you to hold him upright.

"Take my husband to his quarters. Ravi is here to see to his treatment," Lucilla commands, her tone dismissive, her gaze avoiding yours entirely. The guards comply, carrying the now-limp Acacius away.

"Y/N," Lucilla addresses you, her voice sharp and deliberate, "from this moment forward, Ravi will be responsible for Acacius' care. I trust the gladiators will suffice to occupy your attention." Her words, though polite in form, carry an unmistakable message: your role as Acacius' lover is nearing its end. Vulnerability washes over you, but you lower your head in acknowledgment, as if understanding her decree. Without another glance, she follows the guards to accompany her husband.

Ravi approaches, carrying his instruments and tools. "I need you to go to Macrinus' gladiator and tend to his wounds. Macrinus has already informed the guards of his gladiator's need for treatment, so you need not fear," Ravi instructs, already preparing to attend to Acacius himself. Fear is far from your mind. The only sentiment stirring within you is anger, directed at the one who dared harm Acacius. You nod in silent agreement and gather the necessary supplies to treat the gladiator, your resolve firm as you set out to fulfill your task.

The guards grant you entry without hesitation, their expressions indifferent. Inside the dimly lit cell, you find Hanno—his body marred by fresh wounds, his face pale but defiant. He appears battered, as though every ounce of strength has been drained from him. Anticipating the state you might find him in, you came prepared with tools to clean his wounds, at least superficially.

"The lovely healer graces me with her presence once more," Hanno mutters, his tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and faint amusement. A strained smile flickers across his lips as he clutches his abdomen, evidently in pain. "I suppose you're here to finish what the guards so generously began." His voice is hoarse and weakened, yet it retains a biting edge.

A chill runs through you as you step closer to him, fully entering his cell. The air feels heavier here, and his piercing gaze follows your every move. "They must have hurt you for what you did to General Acacius," you state, your voice measured as you kneel, setting down your tools. The mention of Acacius draws no sign of remorse from Hanno; instead, he seems emboldened, inching himself nearer to you with deliberate subtlety. As you settle beside him, his proximity becomes undeniable, his rugged presence filling the confined space. Though weakened, there’s an unsettling calm in his demeanor, as though he is testing you, seeking something unspoken within your resolve.

As you begin to cleanse his wounds, the facade of the formidable gladiator crumbles beneath the weight of his pain. Low, anguished groans escape his lips despite his efforts to suppress them. It becomes clear that he is suffering deeply, though he clings to the last vestiges of his pride.

"Ah, here we are again," Hanno murmurs between strained breaths, his voice laced with an uneven mixture of sarcasm and torment. "You, seizing the opportunity to inflict more pain under the guise of tending my wounds, and I, striving to focus on your beauty to mask just how much it hurts."

A flicker of anger rises within you, mingled with a reluctant pity for the state of his battered body. "Flattery will not grant you any special treatment," you reply sharply, leaning in closer to examine his injuries more thoroughly. "I warned you not to harm Acacius dishonorably. I thought you might exercise restraint, but I was mistaken."

With deft movements, you remove the upper portion of his tattered garment to gain better access to the worst of his injuries. He offers no resistance, watching you with an unsettling mix of amusement and interest, as if savoring the attention. "I do recall saying I would take your request under consideration," Hanno says nonchalantly, as though the matter were trivial.

Frustrated by his flippant attitude, you press a tender wound more firmly than necessary. He lets out a guttural cry of pain, his composure faltering for a moment. "Forgive me," you say with a mocking smile, your tone cold. "I must have forgotten to take your suffering under consideration."

He meets your gaze, a faint, knowing grin curling his lips as if he derives some twisted pleasure from your defiance. "If you wish to exact vengeance, then take the dagger you’ve hidden and drive it into my heart," he says, his voice low and steady, despite the evident strain. "It is the only way to shield your precious General Acacius from my wrath." Hanno leans closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours, the proximity of his battered form unsettling. His observation of the concealed blade leaves you momentarily stunned, your grip tightening as the tension between you hangs heavy in the air.

"Is that what you believe I should do—kill you?" you ask, a faint trace of amusement in your tone as you marvel at Hanno's audacity. He leans closer to your face, his gaze sharp and provocative.

"If protecting him is your goal, then yes," Hanno replies, his voice steady, his eyes fixed upon yours with an intensity that borders on insolence.

You smile, intrigued by how easily he speaks of his own demise. "General Acacius is a wise and seasoned warrior. He will know how to deal with you," you say, leaning in as if accepting the challenge his very presence seems to demand.

"If you think I seek an honorable battle with Acacius solely to shield him," you continue, your voice steady and measured, "then you are gravely mistaken. Look at yourself, gladiator. To achieve vengeance, it is not merely strength or skill you require. A true fighter knows which battles are worth fighting." Your hand moves deftly to clean a wound near his neck, blood still seeping from it. He winces slightly but does not pull away, his sharp blue eyes never leaving your face.

"The way you speak, it seems as though you've developed an affection for me, healer," Hanno remarks, his tone soft but probing. "If that is the case, why carry a dagger?" He gently grasps your arm, his grip firm yet careful, as if urging you to give him your full attention.

"Because the wife of General Acacius made it clear before the guards that I will no longer tend to his care. For many of the men here, that declaration is as good as an invitation to see me as their sport," you reply, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes.

For a moment, something shifts in his expression—a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "I see," he murmurs, his voice lower now. "Then show me. Show me how you would wield it to defend yourself." Though puzzled by his request, you reach for the dagger and position it as you would in a moment of self-defense, your stance steady and deliberate. His eyes follow your movements with a keen focus, his lips curving into a faint, almost approving smile as he observes your resolve.

"You’re holding it incorrectly," he says, taking your hands, still clutching the dagger, and guiding them to a precise spot on the left side of his chest. "Here. Strike here on any opponent—more than once, if need be—and you’ll increase your chances of survival," he instructs, his voice steady, his grip firm but not overbearing.

You had never considered the necessity of knowing how to fight; before Acacius, your late husband had always been there to shield you. But now, an unsettling vulnerability lingers, heavy and unshakable.

"You place too much trust in me," you murmur, your gaze locked with his. "I could hurt you with this dagger right now."

His lips curl into a faint, genuine smile, weak but without hesitation. "Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if you did," Hanno replies, the tension between you thickening.

You drop the dagger back to its place, snapping yourself out of the moment. "Turn around. I need to apply an herbal salve to the wound on your back so I can retire to my quarters. It has been a long day," you instruct, watching as he complies without protest. His physique, sculpted as one would expect of a gladiator, does not escape your notice. But before your thoughts can wander too far, you refocus, applying the salve with care. He grunts softly at the touch, his pain audible but restrained.

"I could teach you how to defend yourself," Hanno murmurs as you finish tending to his wounds. Once done, he turns to face you, his expression expectant.

"Are you certain you wish to help me, knowing my loyalty lies with General Acacius?" you ask, genuine curiosity laced in your tone.

He lifts a hand to your face, his touch gentle as he caresses your cheek. "Something tells me you need help, and I want to offer it. General Acacius or not, this is about you," he emphasizes, pointing at you, "and me," he finishes, gesturing to himself.

You hesitate, uncertainty flickering in your eyes, but the sincerity in his gaze stirs something within you. Perhaps it would be wise to accept his offer. "Very well, gladiator," you reply, taking the hand that had touched your face and grazing it softly with your fingertips. "Teach me what you know, and I promise to mend you each time you require it."

[whumpypepsigal]

Gladiator II (2024): “I’ve become well versed in losing the things that I love.”

[pinterestanddaydreaming]

Chapter 1: A City of Timeless Beauty - Lucius Verus x Reader

Summary: Y/n is a college student in Rome majoring in Roman History and Archaeology with her friends Priya and Alaya. Her mentor offers her the opportunity of a life time, to work at a dig site that could possibly hold the ruins of a Roman emperor's palace. The excavation starts in summer and it would mean that she can not go home to spend it with her family. Will she do it?

Author's Notes: Hey everyone! I know that I have posted a collage earlier for the reader's aesthetic but this collage accompanies this chapter. I personally like to make these to also help myself visualize the things I write about. Please know that y/n does not have to look like the girls in the picture, you can visualize her in any way and form you want to. Another thing, this story will be slow burn and I have not decided what the ending is going to look like so read the series at your own risk. This is my first time writing so the quality itself may not measure up the other very talented writers in this fandom, please know I am working on it!

Warnings: None!! It's just a bunch of girls being smart and lovely! If you hate girls stay away please and thank you! 🤗🙏

The golden hour blanketed Rome in a glow that seemed to blur the line between past and present. The streets buzzed with life, and y/n strolled through them with an air of calm curiosity. Her bag was tucked under her arm, brimming with essential beauty items and notes from her class on the history of Roman politics. She allowed herself a moment to bask in the sounds of the city, the distant hum of traffic mingling with the laughter of tourists and the occasional snatches of conversation in Italian. 

Y/n looked at her wrist. She still had about forty minutes to get to the restaurant where she planned to meet Priya and Alaya for dinner after their classes. Y/n, Priya, and Alaya had grown up together in London, and their business-owner parents were more than happy to let their daughters move to Rome to pursue their passion for studying history and archaeology. 

After nearly a year in Rome with Priya and Alaya, y/n felt at home. She had become familiar with the city and she loved living here. As y/n walked, she thought about the internship offer from Professor Marino, her professor who teaches Archaeological Field Studies. Y/n has been taking the class with Priya and Alaya and they all have gotten close to Marino. She has become a mentor for y/n and she has chosen Marino to be her senior thesis advisor. She is a renowned archaeologist and has been working on finding a royal palace of a Roman emperor for the past ten years.

When y/n talked to her earlier this week, she sounded sure that she had discovered the site for a royal palace. Marino had invited her and her friends to meet her at a local café to discuss an internship opportunity.  

“You see,” Marino began, leaning forward, her cappuccino momentarily forgotten, “this isn’t just any site. I believe we’ve found the remains of the imperial palace of Emperor Lucius Verus—a palace and man we have lost to history and time.”

The warm aroma of coffee and fresh pastries enveloped the small café where Y/N, Priya, and Alaya sat with Professor Marino. The professor, a striking woman in her late forties with sharp features and an air of quiet authority, gestured animatedly as she explained the significance of her latest discovery. 

“Lucius Verus?” Priya asked, her brow furrowing slightly. “He ruled after the mad twin emperors, Geta and Caracalla, right? We don’t have a lot of material culture from the time.”

Marino nodded, a smile curling her lips. “Exactly. And that’s what makes this find so extraordinary. If we can excavate and study this site, we might find details that reshape our understanding of who this man was.” She leaned back in her chair, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “This could rewrite history, ladies.”

Alaya, who had been quietly sipping her espresso, finally spoke. “How sure are you about the location, Professor? I mean, after ten years of searching, it must feel incredible, but what evidence do you have?”

Marino smiled, clearly pleased with the question. “Preliminary scans have revealed a structure consistent with the layout described in ancient texts. We’ve also uncovered fragments of frescoes and inscriptions that point to a residence of significant importance.” She paused for effect, letting the weight of her words sink in. “But we need to confirm it. And that’s where you come in.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re asking us to join the dig?”

“Not just join,” Marino said, her voice lowering as though sharing a secret. “I want you three to be part of the core team. I am not sugarcoating when I say that you three are the sharpest students I have had in a while. You are all familiar with Roman history and have taken more than enough credits on archaeological field methods. I really think you can get something out of this experience.”

The trio exchanged another glance, excitement buzzing in the air like an unspoken agreement.

Priya leaned forward, her excitement barely contained. “When would this start?”

“Summer,” Marino replied, her expression turning serious. “It’ll be a demanding schedule—early mornings, long hours under the sun, meticulous cataloging. But I promise, it will be worth it. What you learn and contribute could shape your careers.”

The discovery of a potential royal palace sounded exciting to y/n and she has loved spending her summers in Italy. But working at the dig meant postponing her return to London and spending time with her family.

As she turned a corner, a small shop caught her eye. It was sandwiched between two bustling cafés, its entrance almost hidden beneath climbing ivy. The antique shop’s name, "Eterna Treasures," was scrawled in faded gold letters above the door. Y/n hesitated, feeling an inexplicable pull toward it. Her feet seemed to move on their own, and soon she was pushing open the heavy wooden door.

Inside, the shop was dimly lit and smelled faintly of sandalwood. Shelves overflowed with curiosities: ornate goblets, faded maps, and statues worn smooth with age. Behind the counter stood a woman who could only be described as eccentric. Her gray curls were untamed, her dark eyes sharp and knowing, and she wore a patterned shawl draped over her shoulders like a queen surveying her domain.

“Ah, there you are,” the woman said, her lips curling into a sly smile.

Y/n blinked. “Sorry, do I know you?”

The woman waved her hand dismissively. “Not yet. But I know you.”

Y/n laughed awkwardly, taking a small step back toward the door. “That’s… not creepy at all.”

The woman chuckled, a rich sound that filled the tiny shop. “Oh, child, don’t be afraid. I simply have an eye for people, and you, my dear, are no ordinary girl.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Is that so?”

The woman leaned forward, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “You have the face of someone out of place. A beauty so timeless it doesn’t belong in this world. No, you belong in another time. A time when Rome wasn’t just ruins but the beating heart of an empire.”

Y/n tilted her head, unsure whether to laugh or feel unnerved. “Well, I do study history. Maybe you’re picking up on that.”

The woman ignored her, her gaze seeming to pierce straight through y/n. “Such eyes… deep as the Tiber itself. They’ve seen more than you know. And you have a dimple!—ah, men would have crossed oceans for a smile like that. Some might still.” She sighed theatrically. “You could change history, my dear. Bring a man to his knees.”

Y/n stared, caught somewhere between discomfort and fascination. “Okay… that’s very poetic and all, but I’m just a history student. No one is crossing oceans for me.”

The woman snapped her fingers suddenly, her tone shifting to something brisk and businesslike. “Well, never mind all that! Let me show you something.”

She disappeared behind the counter, rummaging through a glass display case. When she resurfaced, she held a small velvet box containing a gold ring and a matching necklace, each adorned with a ruby so vivid it seemed to glow from within.

“These,” the woman declared, her earlier intensity replaced with a saleswoman’s enthusiasm. “These are perfect for you. Look at the craftsmanship! Ancient, regal, and absolutely meant to be yours.”

Y/n hesitated, eyeing the jewelry warily. “They’re beautiful, but I wasn’t really planning to buy anything…”

The woman scoffed, thrusting the box toward y/n. “Nonsense! Try them on. You’ll see.”

Y/n sighed and picked up the ring, slipping it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, the ruby catching the faint light and gleaming like fire. The necklace felt cool and strangely heavy as she clasped it around her neck.

The woman clapped her hands, her grin widening. “See? They were made for you. A perfect match.”

“They’re… nice,” y/n admitted, still unsure. “But I’m not sure I need them.”

“Need?” The woman leaned closer, her voice dropping back into its earlier, cryptic tone. “They aren’t about need. They’re about destiny. Some things find you, not the other way around.”

Y/n frowned. “You’re really good at making this sound ominous, you know that?”

The woman only laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ominous? Perhaps. But it's true.”

With a resigned smile, y/n pulled out her wallet. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt compelled to buy the set. Maybe it was the allure of the pieces themselves, or maybe it was the woman’s strange, magnetic energy.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the small bag the woman handed her.

“May they bring you fortune,” the woman replied, her voice soft and enigmatic. As y/n turned to leave, the woman added, almost as an afterthought, “And perhaps… a bit of the past.” 

Y/n paused at the door, glancing back at the woman, who was now humming to herself as she rearranged trinkets on a nearby shelf. Shaking her head, she stepped back into the bustling streets of Rome.

The city was glowing in the last light of day, but y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The ruby ring felt warm on her finger, and the necklace rested against her chest like a weight she hadn’t noticed before.

Maybe the eccentric woman was right. This wasn’t just simple jewelry.

End of Chapter 1

tags - @bad-grammer

I don't have an official taglist yet! But I can create one if you guys would like, please don't hesitate to reach out to me and let me know if you would like me to either create one or just tag you in the next chapter!

[pedroacrossthestreet]

Exactly! And because of that trailer, I very much was waiting to see that scene for the remainder of the film after Acacius’ death only for it to never come ☹️

There was so much more they could have cut without sacrificing the story in order to make a more cohesive narrative

so uh. the ring lucilla gives lucius

and the one marcus is wearing

that’s the same ring, right?

[streets-in-paradise]

If they wanted to make a stupid change that ruins the first movie for the sake of drama they needed for the sequel, they could have been more creative.

Instead of Maximus is Lucius' father, late reveal that Marcus Aurelius is Maximus' father:

-It's fucked up.

-Explains why Marcus Aurelius was willing to give Maximus the empire, but didn't let him marry his daughter.

-Commodus ordered the brutal murder of his own nephew, dark warning for the audience on what could happen to Lucius if Lucilla wrongs him.

-Full greek tragedy style, Lucilla spends the whole first movie escaping from Commodus' incestuous advances unaware that Maximus is her brother.

-It's fucked up.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ When in Rome ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter One)

Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Death (gladiator fight)

Summary: After years you returned to Rome to visit your father, General Marcus Acacius, to celebrate his recent victory. However, when the Emperors Caracalla and Geta get you in their sights, they will not let you go so easily.

Word count: 3.3k

Your fathers victory stretched far and wide, as did the people's love for him. This provided you with an opportunity, a chance to leave one of your fathers estate’s and visit him in Rome after all these years. You were fairly young when your mother died of the horrible antonine plague. It had struck many and even your noble family was not safe. 

It took years for your father to overcome his grief, little by little he started to show pieces of his old self again. And it was Lucilla ‘the mother of Rome’ who fully healed him, you hadn’t spent that much time with her but you knew she was a good woman. You were happy for your father even though after your mothers death he had sent you away for your own safety.

The Aurelian Estate was grand and well protected, it was lonely too. Your mothers death left a gaping hole in your heart, and with your father being the general, he was needed elsewhere. The estate had made you grow bored and even though Rome was still unsafe with the twin emperors in power, you longed to see your father.

Knowing well he would refuse your visit, you lied to the household guard. You informed them how you were to visit your father and attend the games with him at the colosseum, all to celebrate his victory in Numidia. They were hesitant as they had not received orders from the general himself, but agreed after your promises. 

The road to Rome was long but durable, the stench of the city came closer and it made your face contort in disgust. Beggars were divided on each side of the road you were travelling and it made you uneasy. Your father had told you many times why Rome was grand but fragile as well, it was ridden with disease and plots, as well as two emperors who were as unpredictable as they were mad. 

Still, it intrigued you, the last time you were in Rome, you were young and you barely remembered it. The walls of the Aurelian Estate being carved into your mind deeper, while Rome eroded. One of your servants handed you a cloth on which she had poured some lavender oil, she gestured to hold it to your nose. 

You thanked her and glanced out of the carriage again to notice the Capitoline wolf upon the gate of Rome. Your fathers voice echoed through your mind upon recalling the legend that was behind the statue. Soon after passing it, Praetorian guards halted the carriage, demanding to know who you were.

When your name left the lips of Edas, your personal guard, the Praetorian muttered an apology and barked around to make way for the carriage. You had almost forgotten how respected your father was and kept in mind how useful it could be, being his daughter. 

You had, however, not thought about what your father would say or do upon your sudden arrival. It was safe to say he was not pleased that you lied to the household guard and travelled all the way to the most dangerous city without his knowledge. Lucilla however was a bit more enthusiastic, giving you a warm welcome. 

Standing in the inner courtyard of their estate in Rome was like a dream, even though you were born there, it didn’t seem real to you. To be back after all these years. Lucilla guided you to a table where fruit and wine was spread out, while your father continued lecturing you. 

“You know how many times I have warned you of this place, it is not safe! Especially not now these mad-” Marcus stopped himself when he noticed one of the servants being a little too interested in what he was about to say next. 

“You should not have come.” He said now calmer. “Father, I have not seen you in three years. How could you blame me for seeking you out? I miss you.” His expression softened at your words, Lucilla gave your hand a squeeze on the table and smiled at you. “She will be safe here, with me. Nobody would dare lay a hand on my daughter.” 

It was still a bit weird to hear her say that, but you had gotten more used to it a long time ago. You returned her smile and your father seemed to come to terms with your arrival. “I- I’m just afraid of losing my only child, it’s safer for you outside of Rome, protected by thick estate walls and our own men.” 

Lucilla offered him a sympathetic smile, understanding all too well after having lost her own son. “She is here now, safe in our estate. If she stays here, nothing will happen to her.” Marcus gave in and let one of the servants show you to a guest bed chamber. After your servants had unpacked your belongings, you finally got to get some rest.

The next morning you woke up feeling happier than you had in a long time. The dangers of Rome did not seem too much of a concern to you. No, being reunited with your father was what you needed to regain your spirit. 

Lucilla made you realise how much you missed your mother but she made sure you had a maternal figure in her, as she showed you the whole of the estate the next day. You shared stories, meals and laughs with her as you regained your energy from your travels, when evening fell, that peace was shattered. 

A messenger came, announcing during supper how Marcus was commanded to be present at the games in the colosseum on the morrow, alongside his wife… and child. Your father was furious, abandoning his food to isolate himself with his anger. How did the emperors find out you were in Rome?

You had only been ‘home’ for two days, nobody except for the household guard and your fathers own men knew you were here. In truth you were excited to see the colosseum and witness the well loved gladiator battles. “I do not understand how they know, and why they want you there. Oh sweet child, it is not entertainment for a young lady such as yourself.” Lucilla expressed.

You wondered why it was so bad for you to go, of course you knew of the stories surrounding the two ‘mad’ emperors but you were sure that with your fathers station they would not harm you. Your title as step-daughter of a princess and daughter of a loved general made you already liked by the people, you were untouchable, right? 

Sleep evaded you that night, you were excited yet afraid. What Lucilla said haunted you, were gladiator battles really that gruesome? And she was right, why did the emperors want you there? Lucilla told you it was probably in retribution of your fathers ‘rude’ request of taking leave to see his family, but how would they know your father didn’t want you there? 

You were awake early, only having caught some hours of sleep. And so you had already eaten and bathed before your parents were ready. When Marcus and Lucilla at last emerged to leave, the dreadful ride to the colosseum began. Your father didn’t speak a word the entire way. You knew exactly what he was thinking, that it was your fault, if you hadn’t come, you wouldn't be about to be face to face with the sick men that ruled Rome. 

Upon your arrival at the colosseum, your father left the carriage first, helping Lucilla out before he helped you. The ginormous building was riddled with praetorians and onlookers, to your surprise they not only chanted your fathers name but also yours and Lucilla’s. The grand entrance took your breath away, before you were grounded when your father pulled you towards him.

You hadn’t even noticed the man that had walked up to your father and Lucilla. “Daughter, you were asked a question.” Marcus said. The man in front of you looked at you expectantly, he almost looked royal himself, although you did not recognise him at all. “Forgive me, I was distracted by the grandeur of the colosseum, it has been so long since I’ve been in Rome.” 

“Do not worry Lady, I do not fault you. I merely wished to know how your travel had been, no complications I hope?” You shook your head. “No, it was fairly smooth. I am sorry, what was your name?” The man smiled at you and took your hand before kissing the back of it. “Macrinus my lady. Again, no need for apologies.” 

You felt Lucilla’s hand on your back and you were suddenly grateful for her presence, the man seemed kind but your intuition was telling you otherwise. “Thank you, Macrinus, for your warm welcome.” He gave you yet another smile. “Shall I escort you to your seats? The emperors are already there, I’ve heard they are- eager to meet your daughter General.” 

Your fathers lips thinned at Macrinus’ words but before he could snap back the man gestured you to follow him, Lucilla’s hand never left your back, your father keeping a fierce grip around your shoulder. Macrinus led you through the guarded halls and stairs of the colosseum until you noticed the light atop the last staircase. 

It was the emperor's box, nerves suddenly overcame you but you felt the reassuring and protecting grip of your father on your shoulder. As you reached the top, Macrinus greeted the emperors before moving out of the way, so you were face to face with them. 

Your father greeted them first. “Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla.” He said as he bowed, letting go of you for but a short moment before his protective grip returned. However the emperors barely paid attention to him or Lucilla as their eyes burned into yours. 

You were speechless for a moment before Lucilla placed her hand on your lower back, recentering you. “Your Majesties.” You spoke while curtsying. Everyone had always spoken of their madness, their ruthlessness, but no one told you of their beauty. You were taken aback by how handsome they were, though they had a mad look in their eye.

Emperor Geta spoke first. “General, you have quite the beauty at your side. Where have you kept her all these years?” You almost winced as your fathers grip tightened. “After Aurelia’s death, I sent her to a safe estate that was built in honor of her mothers memory. Rome was such a dangerous place to be at the time, your Majesty.” Geta hummed in response and Caracalla simply laughed.

“Mm, of course, what a delight that she has come to visit you then. No doubt wanting to join the celebrations, am I right Lady?” Caracalla spoke, both their voices made your heart thump louder in your chest. “Yes Caesar, that is right.” You answered respectfully, lowering your gaze. 

“Tell me, have you ever witnessed a gladiator battle before Lady?” Geta then asked. “No your Majesty, I have not.” He smiled at your answer and you were relieved that you seemed to please them so far. No one could tell what they would do if you failed. It was then that a tiny monkey appeared on Caracalla’s shoulder, holding on to his hair. 

You smiled brightly at the sight, never had you seen an excotic creature like that before. The only ‘creatures’ at your estate were horses, hounds and birds. Caracalla noticed your sudden change in demeanor. “Have you also never ‘witnessed’ a monkey before Lady?” Your cheeks burned red at his words, they must think you were stupid with how they spoke.

“No, your Majesty.” Caracalla giggled at that and guided the monkey into his arms. Geta’s piercing gaze never left you as Caracalla came closer. It was only then you noticed the weird scratches on his face. “Would you like to meet Dondas?” He giggled. “It would be an honor Caesar.” Your father reluctantly let go of you, as did Lucilla.

You caught Macrinus watching in the corner of your eye. Caracalla then led Dondas into your arms, you couldn’t help the big smile on your lips as the monkey made some adorable noises before holding onto the expensive fabric of your toga. Dondas inspected your necklace for a bit before he climbed around your shoulders and back into the Emperor's arms. 

“He likes you!” Caracalla exclaimed excitedly, followed by a fit of giggles you already secretly found adorable. You smiled at him. “Well I like him too your Majesty, you have a very sweet monkey.” He grinned widely and his golden tooth met your eyes, why did it suit him so well? 

“Since you have never witnessed a battle such as this before, Lady, why don’t you sit at the front, with us?” Geta spoke, although he rather commanded it then asked. You looked to your side at your father, who tried not to show his fury, Lucilla looked down. It seemed you had no choice, even though that did not bother you as much as it probably should.

“Of course Caesar, how thoughtful of you, thank you.” You answered politely, and relief washed over you once more when he smiled brightly. He commanded servants to move one of the large luxurious chairs to the front, between the thrones of the emperors. Then he gave the signal that the speaker could announce their arrival and that of your father.

“Emperor Caracalla! Emperor Geta! Citizens of Rome!” The speaker's voice echoed through the colosseum as the emperors now stood all the way up front of the box, in clear view of the audience. “These sacred games are in honor of General Acacius’ victory in Numidia!” Loud cheers and applause came from the audience. 

“Acacius.” “General.” The twins gestured for your father to join them so the citizens could see him. He raised his hand and loud cheers filled your ears once more. “Speak to them.” You could faintly hear Geta say. Your fathers words faded in your mind as you took in the colosseum. 

When he returned to go to his seat, he gave your shoulder a loving squeeze before taking his place. Lucilla was then announced and she too was welcomed with a loud applause and cheers from the crowd. Then both the emperors gestured for you to come forward, as you stood between them, the speaker's loud voice boomed through the colosseum again. 

“In attendance today is the beloved daughter of General Acacius himself!” Your brows furrowed as people chanted your name. It confused you, they did not know you. Nor had you conquered lands or won battles like your father. It showed you how much your parentage could mean. 

Lucilla had already taken her seat and after you too had raised your hand to the crowd, you took your seat just like the emperors on either side. The speaker then announced the gladiators, the slaves from Numidia, before announcing the gladiator of Geta and Caracalla themselves. 

The gladiators had taken their place in the low arena of the colosseum before a giant gate opened. Your mouth parted at the sight, an animal you had never seen before with the gladiator standing on his back entered the arena. You didn’t even notice both the emperors grinning at your reaction. Neither did you notice the sharp gaze of your father.

You leaned forward a bit and watched as the big animal came closer. It then stopped before the gladiator greeted the emperors. “Heil Caesars!” He roared, his low voice sent a shiver down your spine, he looked terrifying and you couldn’t help but feel bad for the ‘slaves’ from Numidia. 

Geta and Caracalla raised their hands in response before their gladiator made his first charge, the arena beneath you seemed to shake with the animal's heavy strides. The gladiators jumped out of the way at the last moment, except for one, who was launched into a nearby pillar and died upon impact. 

Your eyes widened at the scene, you were slightly frightened but also intrigued. Maybe you understand now why people like the games. Both Geta and Caracalla clapped beside you, feeling victorious through their warrior. You were on the edge of your seat as you watched how the large animal and its rider turned back around.

One of the gladiators caught your attention as he stuck his sword in the ground before clasping his hands together to cup some sand. He then waited for the animal to charge, let it come closer, before releasing the sand into the air, creating a dust cloud. When it seemed he would get hit by the animal's large horn, he jumped out of the way, causing the animal to crash into the wall. 

The audience as well as the emperors jumped from their seat, the animal was injured badly and the gladiator had been launched from his seat. You joined the emperors to see how the gladiator got up to fight the slave from Numidia. 

It only took a little while before the gladiator had taken the sword from the Numidian and already raised his arms to excite the crowd. You moved back to your seat before Geta spoke. “Brother, it’s that poet is it not?” You had no idea what Geta was talking about. “I can’t remember, that night was a blur.” Caracalla responded before taking his seat as well. 

“The gates of hell… are… open night and day- smooth- I forget-” Your brows furrowed, you knew that poem, Lucilla had once read it to you the night after their wedding, as she wanted to bond with her new daughter. “Smooth is the descent, easy is the way.” You answered. 

Geta looked at you and seemed pleased, thank the gods. The slave had gotten up again in the meantime and fought back against the gladiator with a shield, they fought back and forth until the gladiator had picked up the Numidian and launched him over his shoulder, causing his back to collide hard with the ground. 

The gladiator pointed his sword and looked up expectantly at Geta, the crowd chanted ‘mercy’. It seemed the emperors got to make the decision on who eventually got killed in the arena. Geta looked at Caracalla who almost immediately said ‘blood’. “My Lady, shall we show mercy?” You did not expect Geta to ask your opinion.

You did not want the poor Numidian to die at your hands. “Mercy.” You nodded, Geta smiled before turning to the crowd to raise his hand. While lowering it he balled it into a fist with his thumb out, before pointing it up. “No mercy!” The Numidian yelled. “Your life has been spared by the gods-” 

“I would rather face your blade than accept Roman mercy!” You almost cringed at his words, he was clearly stupid to ignore such a presence as Emperor Geta. He then rolled over to grab a blade from the sand before launching it into the gladiator's chest. It was then he looked at the emperors expectantly instead, to which Geta gave the crowd what they wanted by pointing his thumb down.

The Numidian slave then beheaded the gladiator, leaving the emperor's champion defeated. Caracalla stood and clapped his hands loudly while Geta, on the other hand, stormed out. You turned in your seat to look at your father, who gestured that it was time to go. You stood, and curtseyed to Emperor Caracalla, “Your Majesty.” He gave you a nod, and you joined your father and Lucilla towards the exit.  

When you had gotten back to the estate, your father retired to his rooms, not saying a word the entire way back either. You were relaxing in the garden with Lucilla, when that man, Macrinus, from the colosseum arrived. To your disappointment Lucilla requested you take a bath after all that happened and you left the two alone. The whole time you were bathing you couldn’t get the emperors out of your mind, neither the man that had won that day.

[anyplaceisparadise]

Couldn't decide which one I liked more, so have em all

[caracalla-dondus]

Two Caged Birds

Summary: Lucilla and Commodus's wife find comfort in each other

Author's Note: I have only watched the first Gladiator once so I probably have no business writing fanfiction for it but I just love Lucilla too much. This pairing can either be platonic or romantic, it's up to you.

~~~

Lucilla had watched from a distance as the young bride entered the palace, draped in a fine silk tunic and adorned with jewels that Commodus had so eagerly lavished upon her. She was sweet, much too sweet. A gentle thing with wide, trusting eyes and a soft smile that had not yet learned to falter.

Lucilla pitied her.

Commodus had chosen his wife much like a man picks a favored prized pet, one that he could show off the beauty of to others and train it to obey his every command. Truthfully, Lucilla had found herself relieved.

With his attention consumed by his new wife, the leering gazes, the whispered threats, the suffocating obsession he had for Lucilla waned. For the first time in years, she could breathe, if only just a little bit. For the time being, it was one less thing for her to worry about.

Still, she felt the weight of guilt press upon her. Wishing Commodus’s affections on another, even as protection for herself, made her stomach churn. But that was the nature of survival in their world.

At first, she kept her distance, merely observing. Watching how Commodus’s wife would laugh at his every word, clinging to the idea of the man she thought he was. Watching how she would take his hand eagerly, believing herself beloved. Watching how she would come to life under his attention, still too naive to understand the darkness that loomed just beside her. Lucilla was sure her brother loved his wife in his own way, but Commodus's love always came with a price. His love was a heavy burden for anyone to bear.

Lucilla was certain that the girl's innocence would not last. It never did. Lucilla knew that better than anyone.

One evening, Lucilla found the girl standing alone in the palace gardens, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, clutching her stola as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world while she trembled in the cool night air. Lucilla approached quietly, and when her brother’s wife turned, her eyes were red-rimmed, though she quickly looked away, forcing a smile.

“Apologies. I didn’t hear you approach,” she murmured quietly.

Lucilla said nothing at first, only stepping closer, watching the way the girl tensed, then forced herself to relax.

“He frightened you.” It was not a question.

The girl shifted uncomfortably, lowering her gaze. “Commodus can be…temperamental.”

Lucilla scoffed softly. “That is a generous word for him.”

Silence stretched between them, the night air heavy with things unsaid. Then cautiously, Commodus’s wife asked, “Has he always been this way?”

Lucilla exhaled, tilting her head as she studied the young woman before her. She was so unlike Lucilla, so untouched by the cruelty of their world. At least, she had been.

“Yes,” Lucilla admitted, her voice quiet but firm. “He used to have better moments more often, but yes he was always this way.”

The girl said nothing for a moment, her fingers tightening around the silk of her stola. Then, she nodded, as if she had expected that answer, yet still hoped for another.

Lucilla hesitated, then reached out, gently placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She flinched at first but did not pull away.

“You are not alone,” Lucilla told her, a rare softness in her voice. “If you ever need…” She trailed off, but she did not need to finish. The girl understood.

From that night forward, they found solace in each other’s company.

It began with whispered conversations in the gardens, stolen moments in the quiet corners of the palace where Commodus’s presence did not loom over them. Lucilla would distract her with stories of her childhood, of entertaining things Lucius had done recently, of Commodus before he truly took a turn for the worse, of Rome before Commodus’s rule, of the father she and Commodus had both lost in different ways. In return, Commodus’s wife spoke of things Lucilla had nearly forgotten. Of beauty, of kindness, of love. The gentle girl had never known pain of any sort until now. Not truly. She had been raised in the warmth of wealth and comfort, adored by her family, and once thought herself to be cherished as a bride. Now she was being confronted with the harsh reality that is their world and yet she still tries to hold onto some kind of hope. Lucilla didn’t know if it was admirable or too naive of her to still hold onto such sweet fantasies.

When the nights were particularly bad, when Commodus’s temper burned too hot, when his cruelty left invisible wounds, Lucilla would find her, wrapping an arm around her shaking shoulders, whispering reassurances that neither of them were quite sure they believed.

They never spoke of it. The bruises that never fully bloomed, the distant look in the young woman’s eyes when Commodus paraded her before the court. The hope and idealism that was slowly leaving the girl. They did not need to.

One evening, as they sat together in Lucilla’s chambers, the flickering candlelight casting warm shadows across their faces, Commodus’s wife turned to her suddenly, her gloomy eyes searching.

“I feel like I am slowly drowning here,” she whispered.

Lucilla reached for her hand, clasping it tightly. “Then I will hold you above the water.”

A tear slipped down the girl’s cheek, and without thinking, Lucilla reached up, brushing it away. Her fingers lingered for a moment, and something shifted between them. A silent understanding. A tether pulling them closer.

Lucilla should have pulled away. She did not.

That night, when the shadows snuck their way in and the world grew quiet, they clung to each other, not as Commodus’s sister and wife, but as two caged birds longing for freedom.

Neither spoke of what it meant. Perhaps it was not love, not in the way poets described. But it was something, and in the cruel world they lived in, it was enough.

[chloe-skywalker]

So I already have ideas and story lines written down and ready for writing but....

Gladiator 2 stories?

Because I absolutely 💯 ❤️ love this freaking movie as much as I love the first 1. This one just has more potential for fanfic stories lol.

If you have ideas for plots go ahead and request!

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

FANFIC: LUCIUS VERUS X READER X GENERAL ACACIUS

Author's Note: As a test to see if this fanfic might appeal to anyone other than myself, I decided to share a preview with you all. If you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment—I haven’t yet decided if I’ll continue writing it. The characters do not belong to me but rather to the Gladiator II universe created by Ridley Scott.

one

PREVIEW

Gladiators fighting for their lives in the most savage of manners. The savagery does not startle you; you are accustomed to it. Your late husband often had to fight, quite literally, with tooth and nail to survive. He perished as he fought, dreaming that one day you both might escape. Left alone, hollow within, you were spared by General Acacius.

General Marcus Acacius delivered you from the fate of becoming a courtesan to Emperors Geta and Caracalla. In an act of calculated benevolence, he claimed you as his concubine (concubinatus), securing your liberty through this arrangement. For this, you harbor a profound sense of gratitude each day of your life. From that moment forth, you and the General Acacius have maintained the appearance of a romantic entanglement. He graciously granted you leave to serve as an attendant to Ravi, the steward responsible for tending to the wounded gladiators.

"I have heard that you are Macrinus' new gladiator. It seems the battlefield has taken its toll on you," you remark, approaching the gladiator. Hanno—that is what you heard him called. His blue eyes fix upon you, studying you as though he seeks to unravel your very essence.

"I belong to no one," the gladiator replies, his voice strained as he winces in pain. "But I do appreciate your company. Ravi may be a skilled healer, yet nothing compares to the presence of a beautiful woman." His words are accompanied by a grimace, his arm bearing a wound, likely inflicted by the blade of a sword. Positioning yourself before him, you reach for one of the tools Ravi uses to stitch the torn flesh of gladiators. With steady hands, you then lift a cup of wine laced with opium, offering it to the gladiator to ease his suffering.

The gladiator drinks the wine greedily, allowing the liquid to trickle down his lips. "If my appearance pleases you, I suggest you focus on that," you remark coolly. "For what I am about to do will bring you little satisfaction." Without hesitation, you begin stitching his wound, prompting him to release several groans of pain.

"You seem to take pleasure in causing me pain," he mutters between groans, a chuckle escaping him despite the agony etched across his face.

"Do not misinterpret me so gravely. I take pride in being of service to the recovery of gladiators," you reply while continuing to stitch his wound. "I lost my husband to one of the games orchestrated by Emperors Geta and Caracalla. So rest assured, my dedication lies entirely in aiding you." As you work, his expressions shift, the pain visibly dulling—likely the effects of the wine and opium taking hold. Yet, his hand from the uninjured arm suddenly grips your leg firmly, near your thigh. The gesture appears unintentional. You glance at him, startled.

"Forgive me," he murmurs, withdrawing his hand swiftly, your silent gaze alone conveying your disapproval. "I believe I lost control of my actions for a moment." You offer no verbal response, but the unspoken understanding in your exchange pleases you.

"There are rumors circulating that you have come in search of something," you say, your gaze lingering on the ring adorning the gladiator's finger. "I wonder if what you seek is vengeance—or perhaps a love lost." He lifts his eyes to meet yours, as though carefully crafting the right response.

"Vengeance for a lost love," he finally admits, his voice laden with the fury of grief. "My wife perished under the command of the General." The intensity of his words is mirrored in his eyes, now burning with a hunger that seems insatiable.

A fleeting discomfort stirs within you as his words settle. You owe much to General Acacius; your life, your freedom, and perhaps even a part of your heart are tied to him. He has been nothing but an honorable man in your eyes, despite his marriage to Lucilla. A genuine affection for him lingers within you, though you respect the boundaries of his union.

"Since you do not know me, I feel compelled to warn you—should your vengeance be aimed at General Acacius, you will find no ally in me. I am among the many who will not stand idly by should harm come to him," you declare, finishing your care for his wound.

"Ah, and we have only just met, yet I seem to have displeased you already," the gladiator replies, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "But allow me to ask—if you had the chance to kill the one responsible for your husband's death, would you not take it?"

His gaze is unwavering, piercing into yours. You avert your eyes, exhaling slowly before stepping closer to him. "When my husband died, vengeance had no place in my heart," you say firmly. "I was consumed with fear—wondering which emperor I would be forced to lay with to survive, or whose entertainment I would become. Fortunately, General Acacius spared me from all those fates and ensured I was kept far from the gladiator who killed my husband." Your eyes meet his with an intensity that demands understanding, your voice steady and resolute. He listens in silence, his focus unbroken.

"Then you are indebted to General Acacius," the gladiator remarks, his tone probing as he holds your gaze. You step away, irritation rising within you, though you refuse to admit it aloud.

"You could say so—I am indebted to General Acacius. Does that make you angry with me?" you ask earnestly, taking a cloth soaked in wine and carefully pressing it against the gladiator's wounds.

"No, I do not feel anger toward you," he replies, his voice steady despite the sting of the alcohol against his skin.

"Gladiator, you are ready to fight once more. Should you suffer any wounds in the future and prefer Ravi's care, I will not take offense," you say, finishing your work.

He smiles softly, gradually regaining his composure. "My name is Hanno. You may call me that, and I would like to keep you as the one responsible for my care." Hanno says, taking your hands as if in gratitude.

"I am Y/N, since we are introducing ourselves," you reply. "And since we are being friendly, I will ask a favor of you. If you plan to seek revenge, do it properly. Confront General Acacius in a fair manner, that one of you may die an honorable death."

You hold Hanno's rough hands, hoping to appeal to his sense of reason. "I will take your words into consideration, but I cannot guarantee anything," Hanno responds, his gaze never leaving you.

"I recommend you rest before being taken to your cell. Surely, we will meet again soon," you say as you step away, gathering the healing supplies Ravi entrusted to you.

Hanno bids you farewell, settling down in a corner of the place where you had been tending to him. You leave him there, knowing he will soon be escorted to his cell. Meanwhile, you make your way to General Acacius, as he often summons you when he returns from his campaigns, and you follow him without hesitation.

"Mea domina, I have waited so long for you to come to me..." Marcus Acacius' voice fills the space around you. The setting is a private garden within his residence, shared with Lucilla.

You approach him, adjusting the stole around your body. He moves toward you slowly, holding a goblet of wine in his hands.

"I had to attend to the treatment of one of the gladiators," you speak softly, drawing nearer to him. He extends the goblet to you, and you drink from it. Then, he rises slightly and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I have a wound as well; I would like you to tend to it," General Acacius says, his fingers brushing lightly against his lower lip. Gently, you rise toward him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss so soft it could scarcely be called one. It is delicate, restrained—you have no desire to overstep any boundaries.

"Our charade may now conclude, General Acacius. I believe any servant or guard lingering nearby has been sufficiently convinced by our display of affection," you say, fully aware that this romantic gesture is but a performance to solidify the illusion that you truly belong to him.

"Just a little longer, mea domina," he murmurs, placing his hands gently on your face and pulling you into another kiss. This time, it is more fervent, as though he is intent on committing the feel of your lips to memory.

[thekenobee]

THE FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE + Text Posts (Part 3)