A Song Of Broken Skin And Fated Lovers: Part V
A song of broken skin and fated lovers: part V
— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)
— 7.1k words.
— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V —
Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙
TW!! There’s some description of wounds and if you squint some dub con. Proceed daintily loves-
It seemed your dreams were the only place you could reliably escape too. The only plain you’d find any peace.
You picture the hill before your home. Every night away from home you dreamt you’d be walking up it. Feeling the dappled shade of olive trees curling above on your skin. Passing along your back in freckles. Dotted light, spots of shade interspersed.
Your soft skirt swishing around bare calves. The creak of your sandals meeting the dusty road. The one that kinks and bends and shows you that endless glimpse of searing ocean waiting just beyond. Aegean water. Sage fields. Boundless heavens.
You remember these fields. You played in them as a child. The ones that thrash with soft grasses. Ruffled by salty sea air. You can hear your sisters laughter brushing along to you like sweet blossom petals garnished on the wind. Sweet and calming. Crushed honeycomb and milk.
A sound as familiar and as comforting to you as their calls and voices that make the shape of your name.
Every night in your dreams you walk up this hill.
Every night you come home.
You can see them - your sisters - on the winding ribbon of the road ahead. Running out the front door of the house. Tullia with her dress flying behind her. Ever decorous eldest. Calling to Diana, with her hair falling in waves and telling her younger sister that ladies don’t run. Diana isn’t listening she’s too joyous. Too forthright to pay attention.
And Ceres. Sweet little Ceres sprints for your arms. Gap toothed grin. Clutching her cloth doll. Skirts held past her knees, she runs for you.
You can see mother in her dark plum linen stola. Gold jewellery on her neck and dangling from her ears. She lingers in the shade of the the hallway. Her dark wavy hair shot through with a fierce bolt of silver - lightning struck - at her temples. Radiant. As she watched from the door with a smile at their graceless display.
Her smile wide and brilliant, you always thought so, exactly as you remember it, as crows feet sit by her eyes. Emboldened and etched deep with her mirth. Hers is a face that has seen years of sun and sea spray. Made serene as placid waters by it. She is tanned and weathered elegantly by decades of watching sunshine bouncing like rows of diamonds off the sea. Salt and sea foam as hemmed in her blood as it is in yours.
You run to them - crying and wailing - feet slapping the dirt and dust, and you’re aching, legs burning, lungs aflame and you won’t stop. Calling their names til your throat is as dry as the dust below your feet.
Then the sun is too bright. It’s too far and you can’t see them. They can’t hear you. Swallowed from your grasp.
There’s just blinding light engulfing them just out of reach of your scraping fingertips. It’s like brushing grains of sand. It tumbles away before it grows into actuality. Your fingers brush empty air as your whole being lurches and mourns.
You jolt awake, body clammy and sheened in sweat. Eyes snapping open as you jerk upwards in the cover of fine smooth sheets. You feel your hair slip over your naked shoulders. Jewels and gold still around your neck. Sunshine blares harshly at your crusted eyes.
Aches and pains come swimming back to you in sharp degrees. Bruises on your neck and your hips. Fading to ugly yellow black already. Bite marks ring your collarbones and the meat of your shoulders.
Out the window you can hear a bustling city. The clamour of crowds. Hot sun baked dirt and filth. Bells peeling from temples. Servants scurrying in the courtyards below and beyond. Horses baying in the streets.
You smear sleep from your eyes, twisting over in the huge slab of a bed to see the sheets behind you are still filled.
Geta slumbers on golden pillows under the same sheets as you. On his back with bis face turned to the sun. Arm slung over his belly. The thin sheets stick to the climes and outlines of his body. His stomach. Thighs. Hips. The heavy bulge between his legs.
His expression seems almost gentle in his rest. Pillowy lips and dark lashes kissing onto his cheeks. Kohl still smeared on his eyes from yesterday. Naked same as you, save for golden decorations, jewelled rings…
A wedding ring. Matching bands. That’s the weight that comes crashing down on you so fiercely.
Acid bile claws it way up your throat when you shift your legs. Finding the edge of the bed with a breathy sigh. The stickiness between your legs and dried around your cunt doesn’t bear thinking about. You screw your eyes shut so as not to think about it.
Stirring silk. Rustles from behind you.
“Where do you think you’re going wife?” Comes a sleepy drawl across the pillows and sheets. Slithering across to you. Husky from his slumber.
You swallow and twist your head over your shoulder. Hair matted and twined close from sleep. Bite marks wedged deep in your back and neck throb as you move.
His eyes are lidded heavy but their burning gaze rests on you. Branding like a hot knife. White hot from the fire. You’re beginning to think that gaze of his always will.
“I’m not used to having my bed filled in the mornings. The kind of company I’m used to promptly leaves after the pleasuring is done.” He explains. Inflection of lust in his tone. He smirks with it. Wide and filthy.
Now he has a little plaything to trap into his bed whenever he feels like it. An ornament he can use and decorate his already gilded arm, and bring out to inspire envy in all peoples of Rome.
You pause where you sit on the bed. Caught.
“I wanted to fetch some water.” You grovel. Voice scraping raw. Throat feeling full of sharp rocks when you speak.
His eyes harden. Laychromose, but deepening with his anger. The way he slips into intimidation if he doesn’t immediately get what he wants. The way he snaps his fingers and has this world uncurl and offer itself up to his desires. That too must apply to you. Your role now was obedience in all things.
Bend and break and mould yourself for your husband, little nymph.
“You may… when your emperor is finished with you.” He plays and toys with your emotions at his whims. Eyes intently gazing at you. His words come with a bladed meaning.
“Come here-“ He orders. Voice softer but the command cuts straight to your spine. Arrowhead sharp. Studs deep.
You curl back into the bed. Back stiff. Trying not to wince at the cuts which burn and tear at your skin. You feel the pull and tug of barely closed wounds. His teeth had drawn blood. You feel the congealing wound at your back shift. The scab lifting. A bead of blood rolls over down your shoulder blade.
He notices. Shifts on his side behind you. Curls a hand to the hill of your hip. Catches that drip of blood with his lips. Savours it. Sea foam flavour of you bedded on his tongue.
The warm stinging path of his tongue on your back takes your mind back to what happened in these sheets hours previous.
How he’d pushed your thighs, widened your legs, opened the bowl of your pelvis and drunk from you. Showed you the various ways a man can please his lover with tongue, lips and hungry teeth.
He’d done it til you shivered and begged. Tried to writhe away. He meanly tugged you back where you belonged, bullied you, recaptured in the cradle of his hands, and did it again. Smirked when you asked for clemency.
“I warned you I was without mercy, Salacia.” He’d leered. His smirking lips and sharp teeth shining with you as he smeared his warm nose against your thigh. Slaked in the taste of you from chin to cheek. Makeup running under his Umbrian eyes. Panting like a beast to your skin and because of the scent he finds synonymous with you. Lemons and salt.
He hovers behind you now. Hands sliding for your waist. Chin on your shoulder. Breath tainted copper. Pressing his lips to bruises and tender spots. You were right. He had to achieve to sting of pain in order to feel something.
He dips his mouth to your neck again. Lapping and nursing a new bruise near an already painful one. Layering pain on pain.
His hand slips lower for your thigh. Warm stones in each of his fingers foreign and hard as he slips his hand between the soft of your legs again.
He’d moaned when you’d grabbed his hair or left nail marks in his large arms and shoulders. He liked that he could draw an emotion out of you. Even if it was overstimulation or desire. He’ll match and meet you in either. As he so wishes.
He’s pleased to find you tacky with the remnants of him from the previous evening. “A fine fruitful offering for your beautiful cunt my wife.” He purrs. Fingers delving deeper to your sex. Rings nearly an unwelcome sensation. “In time mayhaps the gods will bless us.”
Hallowed Saint. Hallowed fate. Bestowed by the gods, he says.
You’d say it was more akin to downfall. Curses and ill fate. Tantalus and his fruit. Medusa and her coiled snakes. Actaeons fateful stag.
He noses onto your jawbone. Fascinated by the scent of you still. Smothered all over these sheets. It grew stronger the longer he was near you. In his sleep it smothered his mind, his every second. Lemons, salt, and you-
He loses himself, mouthing to your neck and into the wild nest of your hair. He inhaled you. Drank the essence of you like a starving peasant. Hungry greedy hands.
“What is about that scent of yours that drives me wild? What is it?” He seeks. Almost angry in his demands.
“Lemon oil. For my hair.” You explain weakly as he plucks and grabs at you.
Descending into lustful madness. He catches the ripe berry of your clit with his rings and it makes you gasp. Bucking back to his chest. He likes that. When a little of your feral reaction to his touch makes you buck and lose your usually placid control. The man is taunting the seas and welcoming in a storm.
“Use it. Always.” He ordered huskily, Huffing as your hair sticks to his lips. Melding with the salt of ocean that he now understands beats through your skin and veins.
He would order ten thousand lemon trees to be bought here just for your use.So he can kiss your shoulders and your skin and always find it brimming with the bright note of that yellow fruit.
A small surrendering of your body as you arch back to him. Having pleased him brings something forth in you: something that eases. His pleasure allows you to relax the stiffness of your spine. Lower your guard.
He tugs your hair out the path of his lips. Delights in the evidence he found of his teeth all over your neck. His claim was skin deep. And he soon hoped it would be even deeper.
You are tugged back to the bed so his hands can wander all over you again. Your back curled to his chest as he lays you on your side. His hand sliding for your thigh to widen you open for him. Behind your hips you feel the hard length of him. He guides himself to you and your breath gets punched out of you as he pushes inside.
He pushes your leg open further to move to you deeper. He delights in finding evidence of your restless wedding night squelching deep inside your cunt. Throws his head back and groans with it.
He moulds his body to yours. Tacky skin. Warm cotton sheets kicked down the bed. Ringed metal and sharp jewels on every finger gripping the fat of your leg tight until he’s sure he’d left marks. Holding you open so he can plunge inside.
Your hand finds his where he crushed one breast in a grip so tight it makes tears spring to your eyes. Melding with the pleasure you cannot deny coming forth as he moves his hips to you so fiercely, your skin smacks where you meet.
Despite the sting of pain from being so overused, to way his fingers reach down to knowingly pinch and caress your clit where you’re spread open around him, makes wordless cries come out your throat. You clutch into the sheets and grit your teeth. His breath muggy hot against your neck. His hair a mess. Golden and fiery. Like stomped down wheat stalks at sunset. A lazy Bacchusian god.
“Let your husband hear you.” He encourages. Your moans and sweet as rare wine. Inbetween sucking and biting your neck. Asking for your sounds of ecstasy like he deserves them. A holy offering that praises him and washes away all sin.
“I don’t think you are goddess of the sea my love. With a cunt this sweet and tight? I think you must be a fertility goddess instead.” He proposes into your ear through harsh chuffs for breath.
“So tight. So fucking Intoxicating” he huffs. Cupping your tits and still moving to you as harshly and deep as he’s able.
He makes sure your breath cannot come as you steal his. A warm sweaty palm on your chin twists your head back to his. He anoints your lips with a messy kiss that echoes with the ghost of last nights wine and the tang of salt from between your legs. His tongue licks over your teeth. He drags every part of you up for devouring.
A commotion over by the door takes your mortified eyes over.
You see Aeliana and some of her maids coming in. When they see you both naked in the bed with Geta thrusting into you like a madman, you watch her eyes blow wide with shame. Head bowing. Arms laden with todays gown for you to wear. She halts the girls by her side.
Geta doesn’t even spare them a look. They are below his divine notice. He manages to lever his mouth off yours for a mere few seconds, to bark his orders and send them scurrying.
“Get out.” He shrieks. Voice ringing through you with the harshness of the sudden shout.
You twist your head into the sweat slicked pillow. Ashamed that they’d even just glimpsed you being used so.
His spit drying on your chin. His hand possessively cupping your cunt again as he fucked you so deeply, something tender within your pelvis had you nearly wailing.
His mouth goes to your neck again. His pace growing faster and faster. Sloppier. Noises of your sex only increasing. His hold on you is so intense it’s an ache. His fingers trailing through your curls and your folds to find that spot that will surrender you entirely to him.
He rears up behind you. Skin glued with heat to yours. He grabs you close as if you’ll fade under his fingertips like smoke. Hips hammering as he reached his pleasure. Yours came snapping down on him not long after.
That telltale tip and then the surge of ecstasy that broke through you. Cunt snapping down right around his cock as you came in shudders. Pulsing through you as his spend burst deep into you. Exactly where he wanted it. Wave after wave of pleasure. You let it take you. Little else you could do. Your strength to fight had turned stone cold.
You laid against him in cooling sheets. Listening to his chasing breath behind you. Feeling the wet and heat between your legs twofold. His sweat drips onto your back. Smeared as he laps at your neck. Fresh bruises and teeth indents are more raw than before.
You can barely notice. You’re more taken with the way your pussy squishes as he pulls free. The hot rush of his spend.
Hot breath comes over your ear again. You shudder and you’re not entirely sure it’s of pleasure. His lips kiss to your jaw and cheek. All this sweat and sex soaked skin. and still he finds lemons in your taste when he kisses you.
“Shall I have the maid fetch you water?” He seeks.
“I shall do it.” You shrink down with sex flushed cheeks. Pushing away from the bed with a wince. Hair draping down your back as you take a smooth sheet from the bed with you. Padding to the side. Hips swaying under the cotton. Your pelvis and thighs feel tender and aching - low and bone deep like sun burn - as you move to the amphora and goblets you’d used last night.
He sits on his elbows to watch you. Uncovered, cock laying soft against his thigh. His thighs and groin sticky-wet with evidence of your joining. Unabashed as to his naked state.
His eyes are hungry and you certainly give him a feast to watch. Clad in sunshine from the great maw of the window. Skin littered with violent red and purple marks in odes to his ownership of you. The smeared blood from bites at your back that he’d licked away.
You stand at the side. Laying your hands flat to the table where the jug stood. You found you didn’t reach for it right away. You looked at the very unfamiliar sight of the wedding band in your finger. The gold surrounded by the two dog heads fighting over the sapphire. A helpless jewel caught in between rabid teeth. How fitting.
Your shaking hands pour clear water into a cup and you drink it all quickly. The taste of metal and sleep fading from your tongue.
Bare feet padding the floor come behind you. The rustle of a fine robe. The red and gold one. He’s barely bothered to tie it closed around his chest.
“I must go and ready for the day. Loathe as I am to depart your blissful company.” He says. His hand slipping round the back of your neck. Bringing you in. Tasting the new wetness on your tongue as he kisses you. You muffle a moan to his lips as he possesses you in a kiss again. Squeak a little as he pulls away.
You don’t know what else there is to say.
Enjoy your gilded cage, little nymph. It’s all you’ll know from now on.
“Wear jewels and something pretty. I’ll come find you later. Wife.” He promises with a salacious smirk. Eyes you up and down like he wants to tear that sheet off and bend you over the lectus here and now. Smack the fat of your ass and claim you again.
A dark smile aimed your way. A thumb on your chin to bring you in for one more lippy kiss. And he’s off - stalking toward the doors. A lascivious look shot your way as he turns away.
You say nothing. You feel nothing. Nothing except for empty hollow rage that shakes through you. Pounds at the bony trap your ribs. Enough for you to shiver even in the warm morning air.
You feel scraped through. Brittle like fraying rope. He’s taken you from your home. Exiled your father. Forced shame upon your family. Killed your brother. Pushed his twisted lust upon you, and now expects you to react as if it’s dressed up in love.
You floated into his life like a midsummer’s night breeze. And he found you breathtaking, enchanting. Now he had you he wanted to cup you close. Seal you to his skin with his nose buried in the crown of your head whilst crowing mine mine mine.
He was in two minds of what to do with you. Cherish you, love you, pour crimson rose petals before your steps. On the other hand, he only knew violence when it came to love and to lust. He wanted to break you apart piece-by-piece like dry clay. Tear at you like those tigers in the coliseum and see what’s left.
He’s never known what to do with his things when it comes to love. Maybe he didn’t even know it at all. Only knew how to demand and take. Never to please or to give. He’s never had too.
And now he expects mightily. For you to sit pretty and wear jewels, rings, gold, and fine stolas. Support his every shrieked command. You must learn to sew your mouth shut and keep your opinions tamed back behind that same silent closure of thread.
An Empresses role was silence. How your soul quakes with that new pain.
The huge doors rattle again. The exit of the Emperor meant the maids were safe to come tend you.
Aeliana walks towards you. You raise your eyes to hers. Wet and wide. Tears on the quivering brink of your lashes.
She is unable to hide the noticeable switch of shock in her expression, when she sees the wounds you’d been saddled with. Teeth marks and bruises. Like you’re a slab of meat and not a cherished spouse.
She cannot fathom how you have more cuts for her to soothe balm on after your wedding night.
“Let’s get you to the baths, Empress.” She soothes. Opens her arm. Encouraged you to follow. She tries a bolstering smile but you both know it’s fragile. Her husky voice is the only kind thing you fear you’ll ever hear in this rotten place.
You nod. Swallow. Stand tall and let her manoeuvre you.
You can allow some tears to slip free when you’re in the water. Then you must banish your feelings. The maids must strap finery and silks onto your body again and truss you up in this farce. You steel every last splitting nerve whilst you can. Tamp them down. Gather the ragged ends up and soothe them. Clutch tight.
Naked, you wade down the steps and sink under the surface of the huge bath.
You’re tempted to not come up for air again. The water lulling you in its cradling warmth like an old familiar companion. As if a siren that you let drag you down. Plunge headlong into waves and succumb.
Unlike Odysseus, you don’t have the strength to fight its pull.
The bite on your shoulder turns the water clouded and rusty.
One salient thought gives you solace as the world around you grows numbs to your ears.
Atleast he drank deeply from the lies you’d fed.
~
Many sun and moons had set since your wedding night. Time marches its onward parade in the beautifully rotten imperial palace.
Geta and Caracalla were summoned to a Imperial Consul with the senators. To discuss the matters of their particular wish to expand the Roman empire to Persia and India. And possibly beyond that. They held Rome and all her starving subjects in a gold fisted vice. Refused to relent like a bratty child clutching a beloved toy. One that they would rather break to splinters in their grasp than see it enjoyed by someone else.
That was not the way of the gods, after all. It was their damn birthright.
They both slouch in their sloping marble carved chairs, in front of the rows of Senators, as the magistrate drones through the Verba fecit. Then they would read the protocols to address problems within the city.
Geta is not attempting to look amused or even mildly interested.
He slurps at a golden goblet of dark wine. A scowl like rolling thunder on his face. Dark eyes smouldering at any old senator who dares contest his gaze. Garbed in gold with rings on every finger. His black and gold silken robes folded in his lap, spilling to the ground.
Caracalla appears more interested in feeding grapes to Dondus. His manic grin shining. Gold tooth glittering in the half dim as he laughs. His creatures chirps and shrieks accompany the low drone of the voices rolling around the great marble room. Bounding off the pillars and echoing back.
Geta ground his jaw tight as he flickered a look to the side and caught sight of the very thing that had begun to vex him from the second he stepped into these chambers. Set far back behind him. Amongst the senators seats.
Your cushioned lectus remained vacant.
He grips his wine goblet too tight. fingers strangling the stem. His attention was brought back to the room as Senator Thraex cleared his throat. Summoning back his attention.
“… I would also like to wish you joy on your recent union. Caesar…. You have bestowed a fine and fair Empress onto Rome and her peoples…”
Geta narrows his eyes at the man. Coaxing out the rest sharply. Or else.
“Yet I cannot help but notice It has been four moons now since the Empress graced us with her presence here at counsel…. I do wonder if all is well. As Rome does deserve the full compliments of its masters here to guide us.”
Geta ground his teeth around an answer. The room throbs in the heady silence as he glares. Punctuated only by the monkeys chitters and the shuffling of Senators gazing at each other in arch amusement as to the meaning of the levied comment.
“The Empress is occupied elsewhere at present. I should hope you are not suggesting me and my brother are lacking in our duties in any way. Senator.” He replies curtly. Eyes thunder heavy and dragging over the dry old man. Umbrian danger.
“Of course not. Sire.” Thraex replied. Seeming unimpressed with the answer. “If you’ll permit me I should like to discuss the issue within the city of what is to be done of taxes within the Porta Capena quarter…”
Geta sunk into his cup again as the Senators droned on. His mood plunged below foul. Jaw tight. He turned to look at the lectus again. Venom in his blood at your absence.
When counsel finished. He stormed from his seat without another word. Robes sweeping the ground as he raced from the room. Sandals meeting the floor like slaps. Rage evident in his stride. He summons the nearest Praetoria. Who promptly comes to his side.
“Where is the Empress?” He snarls. A snake in coil about to strike. Bad enough he had to suffer the thinly veiled barbs of Senators asking why you were absent. Even worse was that you made him look a fool without even being here. They were casting foul allusions as to your marriage.
The guard hesitates before giving an answer. “She has left the Palace, Caesar.” He answers.
Geta’s anger comes sharp and packed in poison. A hiss. He asks so curtly it echoes to the ceiling. “And precisely where has she gone?”
~
At first, the noise and bustle of Rome was repugnant to you. Rancid and dirt and heat. Too much noise and not enough air.
Made putrid by stale sweat en masse bodies, horse manure, and smoke from fires mingling with roasting meat or oily charred fish from street vendors.
There was always shouting, someone selling wine, someone selling exotic wares, and bartering filling the air. Music bleeding from some side alley. Jugglers and slight of hands weaving through the crowds of servants and nobles and peasants, ready to part people from their coin.
You watch and just listen to it all from where you’re seated. A palla folded around your head and neck to block the otherwise fierce sun, also to obscure your features, give you shade wherein to hide your golden jewellery and rich dress.
Though you doubt anyone in this riotous city knows or even cares who you are. To a glance? You are just another rich merchants wife. Or noble woman. Unseen. Unremarkable. You do admire Rome for that small mercy atleast. To make you invisible in a crowd of thousands.
You’re seated at the edge of the fountain. The marble lip cold under your dress. Your hand dangling down into the clean waters. Trailing your fingertips through the cool of it. Water shimmers off the blue stones and pearls of your rings. If you squint, they are treasures cast on the shore. You can imagine you see specs of sand. Golden shells. Milky pearls waiting to be picked - tucked cosily in cream oyster shells.
You try to pretend. You fail.
Your personal praetorian guard lingers not far away. Varro. A perpetual huge shadow to you since your wedding.
Geta told you the morning after that you were to have him watch over you at all times. The man has been hulking after your every footstep since. It’s cloying, but nowhere as much as that palace is.
Varro boasts a huge figure and not one to be easily missed in a crowd. A warriors build. A scowl that could curdle milk. He’s solid. Brawny thick chest, stocky as a barrel, thighs thick as tree trunks, large arms and immense shoulders even without his plates of armour.
He had a proud chiselled face, dark hazel eyes and a prominent nose that had been broken before. Evidence of a pinking scar bumping at the bridge of it. Also a small nick dissecting his lower lip. His life had known pain. You can tell. Typical soldiers life. A body cut from the cloth of war. From polishing armour, baying for unease, and stepping to commands.
It’s hewn in the way he carries himself in crowds. Darting eyes and not feeling at ease, or any kind of sane, unless he can see all four clear corners around himself - and you. And convinced danger lurks behind every brick corner and down every side street. Huge hand permanently slung over the pommel of his sword. A warning.
He stands a little way across from you now. Looming proud as an old oak in the shade of a building and a market stall slung with rich cloth for sale. Shirking the sun and scowling at everyone. Basalt black hair falls like long thorns over, down his brow. Down the nape of his neck and collar, beaded in sweat.
Children scarper around him. Street urchins that clamour like flies on rot at his appearance. He gives no inch and tells them to move along with a curt nod. Steel stiff spine standing to attention. A merchant tries to sell him a cup of wine - red or white - they are silenced by his frown. He won’t touch a drop whilst on duty. Truth be told, You don’t think he knows how to be off duty. He’s not capable.
He’s an austere reminder of your station. Almost literally, in his dark black plate armour and wisteria purple cape swinging from his wide shoulders. A storm cloud eternally perched on the horizon of your day. His words come few and far between. You don’t think you’ve heard him string two full sentences together once. Except possibly in daggered warning;
You draw too much attention. Empress. It is bound to invite trouble.
You wanted to scoff at that irony.
You? In your hooded palla, draw attention?
When it is he, the man who guards you - like a grizzled dog - who is a thick immovable column of uniform widely recognised as imperial praetoria, wherever you turn in these streets? Unfathomable.
I am going to temple to pray. You may either escort me. Or explain to my husband why I have gone into the capital, alone.
His answer was a gruff glare. Acceptance and frustration entwined.
You have caused him to furrow his dark brows at you several times with a “Yes, Empress.” That came dragged through a displeased drone. A hound showing you his teeth before the jaws snap. Having to escort you into the city each day was laying contrary to his regulations to not have you in harms way.
You insisted. He obeyed. With little choice in the matter.
Every day you came here. One corner of the beating, shouting heart of Rome. You went to the Temple of Vesta and you prayed. And you went to a public fountain and let real life ebb in upon you once again. To find some peace away from the rabid emperors, who blaze at the palace with all the ferocity of fiery twin suns. They encompass all. Left little room for anything else. All life revolved around them. You float off in distant orbit.
You wave your fingers through the cool water. Tethered to one small piece of home again. Cool tides that brought you comfort. Reminded you of the sun soaked shores of home. Sunlight fracturing in diamonds off clear blue waters.
Feeling the sun beat down now on your neck through layers of cloth. You cast your eyes over the monuments to Neptune sat in this ornamental fountain. Sea gods and goddesses and creatures of sea foam. The other side where you are, women are washing clothes, or chatting over baskets fetched from market. You can smell perfumed oils, dried flower petals, and the sweet plump of ripe fruits tucked safe in the shade of their baskets.
How wild it is that until four weeks ago, that too had been your life. You didn’t sleep on silken sheets, get trussed in gold, and have servants poised so you never had to even lift a finger.
You knew comforts - of course. You had fine clothes and didn’t have to toil the fields. But you weren’t beyond spinning cloth or running errands. Helping clean and tidy your home. Fetching food or helping prepare meals. Coming home from market in the small town with oiled fish, scorpion fish, or boar, fresh chestnuts or olives. Dried meats sometimes too.
You thought of the olive trees lining the road to town. Huge and ancient. Offering branches that white doves often sat in - cooing away their calls. You thought of buying chestnuts for Ceres because she adored them so. Goats cheese for your mother that she liked with honey. Bunches and bunches of aniseed to make into Canistrelli biscuits for father.
The happy creak of your basket on your arm. Feeling the sun tangle in your hair as you shaded your eyes, felt the sea kissed breeze caress along your arms and back as if an embrace of a lover.
All those things you’d lost in one fell swoop. A life that had been snatched from you without your even getting a chance to bid it goodbye. Just like your brother. Your father.
And here you were now. Hiding away in the crowds. So lonely you felt its sting like the deepest shrapnel. A wound never closing. Always being prodded some more by the dire aspects of your circumstances. Anything to not be trapped in your gilded cage. Being reminded daily that your one use in that foul place, lay solely between your legs.
Two small girls come stumbling to an ungraceful stop, laughing, breathless and slowing from a run. They come right to your side to fill some amphorae with water. Dunking the clay jug into the clear water and letting it fill.
They each have dark hair and dark eyes. One must be close to Ceres’ age of six, toddling, milk teeth smile, youthful weight clinging to her cheeks, the other slightly older. Longer hair and a fuller smile. They have flowers pinched from a stall stuffed in their rusty coloured linen apron pockets. Some bay laurels and cornflowers.
You smile warmly at them. They smile back, unabashed. Joy seeping out of them. That brand of innocent fearlessness that grasps the young.
Turning your head you hear the clank of armour, feet shifting fast on dirt. Varro steps towards you with his scowl and his hand already on his sword.
You reprimand him silently. Gaze packed in ice. Jaw set. Mouth flicking to a grim line. You calmly hold up your hand and motion for him to step back. He’d scare the poor things.
You feel a gentle tug on your dress where it splays at your shoulders. Turning back, you see the younger one has her small hand on your dress.
You gently return your hand to your side. Seeing what she wanted your attention for. They both looked at Varro with much wide eyed curiosity. Only very rich ladies could afford a soldier. Only those of very high status. You fear he’s just betrayed your standing.
“Pardon me…” She utters. Her unsure voice carefully picking over the words. As if she was still learning larger words and their uses.
“Yes?” You smile. Touched by her boldness. Treating her with gentility.
“Are you the Empress?” She seeks. Forming words slowly. A curious tilt of her head.
You see no reason to lie.
You can feel Varros eyes burning a glare into your back. Harsher. More furious than the sun. Don’t.
“I am.” You respond.
They smile as if excited. Sharing a look. Both each producing a small laurel sprig from their stuffed pockets. They each step forwards and present the small branches out to you. A gift. You lay your hand flat and accept them both. Curling your fingers around branch stems.
“Gods blessings be upon you, Empress.” They speak in clunky unison.
You take the branches with reverence. Feeling the smooth leaves. The verdant and subtle scent coming from them.
“Pray tell me. What are your names?” You enquire.
The eldest speaks first. “Amata, Empress.”
The youngest follows suit. “Junia, Empress.” She tells you proudly.
You reach for your purse. Stowed safely within your dress folds away from the hands of beggars. You pluck out two coins and place them in their small hands. Junias hand reminds you if a small pudgy starfish. Curling round a silver shell.
“Blessings be upon you both. Amata. Junia. For your kindness…” You beam to them both.
They shimmer with mirth. Taking their jugs and scampering away through the crowds like nymphs.
Varro appears at your shoulder like an omen. “Empress.” He says your name lowly. Chiding you with his tone alone for revealing yourself to them.
“Surely two little girls holding flowers in their pockets, pose no danger to me.” You reply archly. Watching across the crowds where they’d disappeared.
“I only seek to resupply you of my one duty.”
“I don’t need reminding.” You tell him. Not unkindly. But he can hear the way you might be tempted to let the words be sharpened to little blades off your back teeth.
He’ll say this for you; you don’t have sharp teeth or poisonous tongue like every other noble in that palace. You are made different to their spoilt ways. Something sleeker and softer. All foam whipped off waves. You can sting and lash if required - you simply choose not too.
You hear bells toll for midday from the temple beyond. Clanging off the golden stone of every building around you. You fancy you can see the ripple of the sound sending waves to burst across the fountains surface.
Varro is giving you that stern look that urges you to be heading back. Before you’re started to be noticed. Before you become a perfidious gap in your Emperors day, when he isn’t vying for blood, gold or war. That or applying himself ruthlessly to the detriment of this great city, crushing his own people in the same way his favourite wine is made. Squeezing every drop til dry.
You hate to return. But you fear what wrath will come if you don’t. The thought of slipping away into these crowds and dipping into another form of life mocks you. Cowardice curbs your actions.
With some of the meagre coin in your pocket, you could try and make for the coast, possibly. You could disguise yourself as a merchants wife, or a servant. Anything to slip the golden net you’ve been landed in.
You wonder how far you’d make it, running away like a common ruffian, before the stomping hooves of a Roman battalion would be on your heels. Snatching you back here to be humiliated at Geta’s own insistence. The punishment he’d dole on you doesn’t bear thinking about. You were property after all.
You watch men and women weave in and out of the crowds, wishing you had half their luck as to put your back to this palace and peel away. Your mind wanders over that idea. A faint ember that dies to a curling puff of smoke. Snuffed out.
It doesn’t bear thinking about-
You take your offered laurel branches and stand. Varro takes up his guard. Eyes flicking all around. Searching for those corners he requires. For that split second of danger he can cleave his sword onto treasonous limbs for your protection.
You make your way back through crowds. Varro cutting a swathe for you. You keep your head down and remain quiet. Mind vacant as you move through the paved streets.
A flash of a body pushing past you takes your attention down a side alley. One arched with fabric awnings thrown over merchants stalls.
The flash of white turned out to be a senators robe. The vivid plum purple bordering white. You bat away the bitter thought of once recognising it as your fathers noble robes.
You catch sight of three people, stood on a street corner. One of them you don’t recognise but you know him to be a Senator. The two people he’s stood conversing with does make you stop in your tracks.
General Acacious and Lady Lucilla.
They are conversing deeply. Attention not given to you where you stand on the other side of the street. Shade cloaks them all. A moment out the sun. A place they hope guards them in obscurity. Talking with each other in hushed tones. Marcus and Lucilla wear hoods so as to hide their fine features from any obvious recognition.
The crowd trickles on around you. Water carving on around a large rock in the way.
Lady Lucilla raises her eyes. They flash to you in an instant. Dazzling green. A sun dappled meadow holding you in sight.
Her face falls as she halts her words. Lips parting. The General and the Senator both turn to follow her gaze. Finding you, caught static, at the other end of it. You recognise a prickle of panic when you see it.
You turn your head. Eyes snapping away as you hold your skirts and continue on.
Your guard says nothing. Though you know he saw what you just did. It’s not his place. He forgets all he sees or hears - all that doesn’t pose risk to you.
Maybe you weren’t the only person in Rome to wish the Palace walls didn’t have treasonous eyes and ears. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps Varro was right;
There is danger round these street corners in Rome.
~
Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--
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Hey just a friendly reminder to all the new and old fanfic writers for Avatar Way Of The Water, that "x oc" is NOT "x reader". I know the movie only came out a bit ago but I am seeing some writers tagging their work as "x reader" but its an oc. I'm tired of seeing "x oc" when I'm specifically searching for a "x reader". As soon as a author adds a name to the reader that sets it apart from the "x reader" tag. It is now an oc and a character. It doesnt matter if u dont like writing (y/n), y/n, (reader), (name) or even (___), these are what we use in place for the readers name or even their own oc. If u dont like using these don't write "x reader" content, This is so there is inclusion for everyone in the "x reader" tag as soon as an author adds a name it is needed to be tagged as "x oc", and ONLY "x oc"
So pls respect other readers and use the appropriate tags.
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𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤: 𝟙
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𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤: 𝟙
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𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤:
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𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤:
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𝕊𝕥𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝔸𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕣
𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤:
⭑ 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.
Fashion n' Cars (Part Five)
Pairings: F1 Grid x Verstappen!Supermodel!Reader Summary: Max Verstappen has a sister who is a famous supermodel but what happens when other F1 drivers start taking interest in her? Warnings: we still have overprotective maxie <3 this is an smau but a short short drabble for lewis!! Tried my best to replicate the espn f1 format lol <3 Fc: Emily Ratajkwoski Proofread!! A/N: part five is hereee!! Woohoo! We're almost 600 followers and ily all so so so much!!
part one part two part three part four
ynverstappen
liked by maxverstappen1, estebanocon, and 68,502,732 others
ynverstappen y/n and estie bestie in the uk 💨
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maxverstappen1 WHAT THE FUCK HE WAS NOT ON MY LIST.
estebanocon YOU HAVE A LIST? AM I DEAD? ynverstappen LOL NO HAHAHAHA
user5 WE LOVE YN AND ESTIE BESTIEEE
charles_leclerc ITS FUCKING ESTEBAN. WHY DID YOU GO TO MY HOUSE AT 3AM. @maxverstappen1
maxverstappen1 better safe than never.
charles_leclerc also looking beautiful y/n 😍
maxverstappen1 it's like you want me to kill you again at 3am.
The busy and calm streets of London, relieved you. You were with Lewis since he was still touring your around. Although, you ask yourself. Do you really need it? or do you just want to spend time with him? You've traveled for so many times but this is the only time you've asked someone to tour you.
"London is a nice place." You mutter as you chuckle, watching the beautiful view of the sky from the streets that you and Lewis were on.
"It is." Lewis smiles, turning his head around to face you. Suddenly, a stranger who was in a hurry accidentally pushed Lewis causing him to lean in closer to you. What you didn't expect was you two to kiss.
Your lips were stiff, you didn't expect the kiss. So did Lewis. His lips pressed against yours, eyes wide open, staring at each other. A few moments passed, you pulled away from the kiss. You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck as you smile at him nervously.
He stares into your eyes, hands slowly cupped your cheek. He leaned in closer to kiss you. Your eyes widened, you didn't know what to do. Lewis continued to kiss you for a few moments eventually pulling away.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He mumbles, pulling you in closer to him to kiss you again.
f1
liked by redbullracing, scuderiaferrari, and 2,983,024 others
f1 what a close one between the red bull and the mercedes!
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espnf1
liked by ynverstappen, lewishamilton, and 1,023,891 others
espnf1 👀
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ynverstapen wowowowowow
maxverstappen1 shut up. (i still love you though.) lewishamilton love you too brother in law! maxverstappen1 God no.
user12 WHAT DO YOU MEAN ANOTHER DRIVER MAX EMILLIAN VERSTAPPEN
user4 maxie knows something we don't
user10 lewis and yn endgame??????
user18 NAH I THINK ITS GONNA BE ANOTHER DRIVER
maxverstappen1
liked by ynverstappen, redbullracing, and 3,965,041 others
maxverstappen1 pov: me seeing the comments on the espnf1 post. (captioned by yn)
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ynverstappen LOLOLOL <3
ynverstappen
liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, and 98,235,083 others
ynverstappen he kissed me.
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TAGLIST
@euphoricchills @charlesleclerx @amethyst-bitch @dr4g0ngirl @likedbygaslyy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bibissparkles @lokideservesahug @hiireadstuff @urfavouriteanon @darleneslane @shelbyteller @spookystitchery @justtprachisblog @xoscar03 @snapeeballsack @silverxxs-world @thearchieves @destinyg237 @juliee4everial @thebasicbiatch @glossiersworld @aadu2173 @honethatty12 @halleest @callsignwidow @evie-119 @exotic-iris13 @dark-night-sky-99 @delululeclerc @eiaaasamantha @hrts4scarr @felicityforyou @sya-skies @hockeyboysarehot @iloveyou3000morgan @sugaspawsmari @aymfsts @khaylin27 @be-your-coffee-pot @yettobedetermined7 @dhanihamidi @formula1simp @lanadelray1989 @petrifying-risotto @erikasurfer @deerieme @someonewhosfallenapart @charlottef1 @bokutos-babyowl @lillithhs-world
Eyes of the Gods Masterlist
Pairing - Caracalla x Reader, Geta x Reader, Caracalla x Reader x Geta
Summary - It takes only once for them to notice you. Nothing will be the same after you have caught the eyes of gods.
Warnings - minors dni, 18+, unedited, blood, background character death, gladiator fighting, eventual dub-con, pining, obsessive affection, more to be added
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
I’ve planned for about 10 chapters total
dividers by @enchanthings
pictures from radio times article and google
hiii !! just read like ,, a BUNCH of ur lumen au stuff ,,,, truly i am brainrotted now because i'm just thinking of so many different scenarios involving the lumens and i am just . EXCITED !!! its SUCHHHH a good concept im a big big sucker for soulmate stuff ,,,,
i was just wondering how you feel about jayvik x reader ,,,, TWO lumens ,,,,,,,, idk if you write for anything poly or not, but id love to hear your thoughts on it !!! either through headcanons or a ficlet, whichever you feel like :]
my first viktor x reader x jayce piece i’ve ever written… wait is this my first poly drabble?? it might be actually! i hope it’s fun to read ♥️
warnings: fem!reader, slight negative feelings of not being good enough, but overall fluff!!!
The scientific jargon that came with having not one but both of your fated being inventors was overwhelming. The words they tossed around became an entire other language since you’d all gotten closer. It left you feeling unbearably empty-headed, wondering why the universe would bond you to such intelligent men.
They were already changing an entire city with their ideas, and you would bet the world would soon bear their mark as well. In comparison, you were a meager artist making ends meet at festivals and street corners. Sure, maybe your work could be seen on a few shop signs or covering a wall or two in a cafe, but that was as famous as you’d ever be—a stranger to the passing eye.
“We need to widen the cylindrical chamber, maybe add an exhaust pipe to help with the cooldown.”
Jayce’s voice slipped through your head, smooth and confident and making no sense. You’d gotten rather good and tuning out the meat of the conversations, only recognizing the tones and emotions.
The heavy, warm accent of Viktor’s replied, swirling in the back of your mind as your pencil swiped over the heavy parchment against your thighs.
Recently, they’d begun inviting you to their lab to spend your free time in their company. There were two desks to choose from, though they were usually piled high with blueprints or notes. Jayce had moved a couch into the space for your comfort, placed in the corner and under a window, well away from any dangerous work they had their hands on, though they usually took anything too precarious into another portion of the building.
Their assistant, Sky, was in and out, always double-checking if you needed anything. She was a kind young woman, curly hair and glasses and a smile that made anyone feel at home. She brought you your own coffee and snacks, promising it was no trouble since she was already bringing them to Viktor and Jayce, anyway.
“You actually eat them,” she chuckled. “Jayce will if he notices they’re there, but it’s a long shot most days.”
You understood what she meant, seeing how focused the men became on their gadgets and studies. You’re sure if you got up and left they wouldn’t notice for a good, long while.
Today was one of those days, though there was peace in your private little corner as you sketched away. You squinted over the top of your sketchbook, skimming the outline of Viktor’s goggles pressed into his thick, winding hair and quickly adding the little licks of tresses to the paper before he was moving again.
You switched targets, taking in Jayce’s side profile and adding a bit more depth to his eyebrow and under eye.
Taking a moment to look between both drawings, you were hit with their beauty once more.
Jayce was deemed the academy’s “pretty boy,” with his strong jaw and perfect smile. He was a clean cut handsome, peak health and built with broad shoulders. He knew how to use those looks to his advantage.
On the other end was Viktor. He was a haunting beauty, sleek and angular. If he had the same charisma with speaking to the masses as Jayce did, that accent would gain him more than a fair share of admirers, but his confidence and skills lied elsewhere. He had a sharp eye and wore his emotions rather loudly on his face.
Where Jayce had faint lines from how much he smiled, Viktor had a feather soft crease between his brows from how often he furrowed them. Where the golden boy’s hands were always warm, his partner’s was cold. They made such gorgeous opposites, yet they held so many comparisons in mannerisms when it came to their shared hobbies and passions.
It was safe to say you adored them and their intricacies.
Taking a slow, deep breath you checked both shoulders before moving the tuft of black in your periphery into your hand. Gold shimmered between the dark mass that made up Jayce’s lumen, settling deeper into your palm as you raised your arms and stretched.
When you moved your drawing pad to the side, you spotted Viktor’s wedged between the apex of your thighs. Swallowing your gasp, you scooped it up, praying it hadn’t been smushed the entire time.
“When did you get there?” you whispered, rubbing your pointer finger into the tawny fuzz of his light. His lumen had always had a bit more give to it, leaving it to wedge itself under your leg or your shirt collar. Viktor’s preferred to be as close as possible to you, even if it left his lumen squished.
Jayce’s lumen was firmer, still soft but in a velveteen sort of sensation. It was bigger, taking up a good portion of your palm. Now your second month with it, you’d learned if it wasn’t on one of your shoulders, it was likely circling your head. His never went far either.
You wondered if you’d received Jayce’s lumen first, if it would have more of an attachment to you. As it stood, you’d had Viktor’s since you were young while he’d held Jayce’s and Jayce yours. The three of you being tied together had become quite the story as there went many outward poly fateds in Piltover, but luckily the gawking had passed after the first handful of weeks.
It was only a few days ago that Viktor confessed he’d been rather confused when he’d met Jayce and the lumens had flashed against one another.
“There were no similarities,” he’d explained, holding up one long, thin finger for your lumen to rest on as it hovered in front of him. The three of you were cozied up in your lackluster apartment—a studio more than a bedroom but it had a nice pullout couch and plenty of blankets to rest on in front of your heater. “Jayce was ecstatic, of course, but I was ruminating over your lumen when we first met.”
“I thought he hated me,” Jayce had murmured, breath warm against your ear as you laughed.
“I did not hate you,” huffed Viktor on your other side, rolling his eyes as he dropped his hand, your lumen resting within. “I wasn’t aware we had a third, yet—it was puzzling.”
“I had to explain it to him,” Jayce chuckled. “One of my old friends was in a poly.”
“And, then, he was even more ecstatic,” Viktor sighed but there was affection in it. “I thought you’d follow him home some nights.”
“And leave you all by yourself?” You laid your head on his shoulder, grinning as his eyes fled. It was still so early into the relationship, and he grew flustered with physical affection whereas Jayce sought it every chance. “I’d never.”
“It’s better now, we’re all together,” Jayce hummed, lowering to lay his head in your lap. You brushed your hand through his hair, smiling as his lumen lit up in Viktor’s lap.
“Yes,” Viktor had agreed, careful as he laid his head against yours. “It all feels…complete.”
Your chest warmed at the memory as you held both of their lumens in your hands, giving a fleeting kiss to each. Viktor’s snuggled happily into your palm while Jayce’s pulsed a happy gold before flying off, likely to check in with Viktor.
As your eyes lifted to follow its journey, you jumped when you found Jayce smiling from a few feet away by his desk. He seemed to be shuffling through some papers. Your lumen floated just nice his head, twinkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows behind you.
“Didn’t see you there,” you said, stretching your legs out before standing. Viktor’s lumen left your hand, keeping close to your neck.
“I hope you’re not bored.” He opened an arm up and you approached. You still grew giddy with any chance to be wrapped in his embrace, quick to accept the invitation.
“I like spending time here with you both,” you assured, giggling as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “Gives me plenty of practice.”
His eyes lit up, one of those dark eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”
“I know what you’re about to ask—”
“Please?” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist. “I wanna see.”
“They’re just rough sketches!” you laughed, pushing against his chest.
“C’mon, I bet they’re great! I’m sure Viktor wants to see them, too.”
You shook your head, a mess of giggles as he wrapped both arms around you and slowly edged his way towards the couch.
“Did someone call my name?” asked Viktor, turning from the machine he was working on. A torch was in his hand but luckily still off for the time being. Jayce’s lumen was sitting on his knee.
“Viktor tell her you want to see her art!” Jayce goaded.
“Tell him he needs to wait for a real piece,” you threw back, wrinkling your nose at him as he stuck his tongue out.
“You’ve been drawing us?” Viktor’s voice seeped with awe and innocent curiosity. “May we see?”
Jayce bounced his eyebrows at you, all too smug. “Told you.”
“Fine—fine!” you sighed, throwing your hands up and wiggling out of his hold as you went to grab your canvas notebook. “Don’t gripe when you see your half-finished faces.”
The tap of Viktor’s crutch intermingled with Jayce’s footsteps as they met you by the couch. As you handed over your work, Viktor was the one to accept it as Jace stood over him. Both their eyes went wide at the current page and your hand went straight to your arm as you shuffled in place.
“Those are just warmups, so…”
“Warmups?” Jayce breathed, looking up from the notebook. “These are amazing!”
“I have to agree, the detail is astounding,” Viktor hummed, looking to turn back a page. He caught your eyes before he did. “Is this all right? Tell us if we’re overstepping.”
“No, it’s okay! I’m used to people watching me draw on the street, it’s just… I don’t know.” You shrugged, bringing a hand up as Viktor’s lumen rubbed against your neck. Jayce’s was just settling on your shoulder again. “I care about what you guys think. It’s not anything big like you do, but…”
“Big?” Jayce echoed, both of their sights set on you.
“Well, it’s not as important as what you both do is what I mean.”
“Of course it’s important,” Viktor argued, expression stern.
“But it’s art!” you laughed, waving off the sudden seriousness growing from them. “It’s helping a bunch of people like your creations do. That’s much more important.”
“Art is just as, if not more, important,” he continued, passing the notebook to Jayce. “We are helping people in different ways, but do not do yourself the disservice and think what you create is anything less than what we do.”
“He’s right,” Jayce agreed, holding up your work. “This? This speaks to people. Your work can bring life to a room and lets people save a special moment in time.”
“Okay, don’t butter me up so much or I’ll melt!” you squeaked, too embarrassed to look at them as they chuckled and continued flipping through your sketches. It wasn’t long before the three of you were on the couch, both of them pointing out their favorites.
“Is my hair truly that messy?” Viktor grumbled, raising a hand to it. “Perhaps I should cut it.”
“No, I like it,” you said, grabbing his wrist. “You twirl it when you’re thinking! It’s so sweet.”
He blinked at you. “I do?”
Jayce whistled and you turned and gasped, completely forgetting the drawing you’d done of him in the forge. It was more from memory so your imagination had left it a bit more detailed than the rest.
“Okay, that’s enough!”
You swiped for the book, shutting it as Jayce laughed. Viktor rolled his eyes, smirking as he nudged your shoulder.
“Should I be worried of any scandalous pieces of me in there?”
You pouted, holding the notebook tighter to your chest.
“Oh?” Jayce breathed. “She didn’t say no!”
“You two are the worst!” you groaned, unable to help yourself from smiling as they both laughed in tandem.
☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•GUNS N ROSES•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆
------------------------------------------------
☆•Axl Rose•☆
♡Welcome Audience
♡Spanking
♡Jacuzzi Time
♡Nervous Wreck
♡ Christmas Cards
♤Caught Up In His Life
♡Pick Up The Pace
♡ Jealousy is Pretty on You
♡ Car Times Party Times
☆•Duff McKagan•☆
♡Subby Duff
♤Forgotten Anniversary
♡Much Needed Break
♡Duff x M!reader
♤♡Lack of Communication (pt.1 + pt.2)
♡More Subby Duff
◇Gentle Loving
◇ A Bloody Mess
♡Pull Over
♡Put Those Panties On
☆•Izzy Stradlin•☆
♡Subby Izzy
♡Breeding Kink
♡Back blown out
♡Spanking
♡♤Baby Trap You For A Tour
♡Somnophilia
♡♤ Go On Then
♡Poor Puppy
☆•Slash•☆
♡Sixty Bucks
♡Not So Hidden Fantasy
♤◇Mine
♡Even the Score
♡Jealousy
◇Christmas Pajama's
♤♡The Not so Princely Prince Charming
♡Special Interview
◇Sick Day
♡Drunken Dog
♡Pretty Titty
♡Mutt
◇Snakes in the Sheets
♡Say it Back
♡Insecurity
◇Modern AU
♡Rehab Romance
♡Thigh Love
♡Edging
♡Cockwarming
♡Brat Taming
♡Charity Work
♡Thigh riding
♡Tour Bus Sex
♡Subby Slash
◇ADHD reader
♡Size Kink
◇Chronic Tummy Aches
♡Pegging
◇♡Gender Swap Stuff (pt.1 + pt.2)
♡Arranged Rebel
♡Corruption Kink
♡Unique Band Practice
♡Bottom Slash
♡Age Gap Relationship (pt.1 + pt.2 + pt.3)
♡Take Me With You
♡Spanking Slash
♡ The Best Present
♡ Party Favours
♡ Happy New Year
♡ No Food in the Kitchen
♡ I can't keep coming up with titles for sub Slash
♡Just Fuck Off
♡His New Toy
♡No More Fucking Buts!
♡A Puddle of Pleasure and Pain
♤◇Angry in Love
♡ Lost Deodorant
♤♡Succubus Slash
♡Lost Somewhere In Time
♡ Tit Sucking Comfort
♤♡You Won’t Fuck Me Right
♡ Stop at the Touch
♡ Destressing
♡ Pegging 2x
♤♡ Last Straw
☆•Steven Adler•☆
◇Soft Dom Headcanons
♡Brat Taming
♡Breastfeeding Kink
☆•Multiple members•☆
♡Bingo
♡Izzy x reader x Duff (pt.1 + pt.2)
◇Aftercare
------------------------------------------------
♡ smut
◇ fluff
♤ angst
LOVER OF MINE (01)
SYNOPSIS note to self, don’t break a singer’s heart. their next album will be about you. charlie bushnell can speak from experience.
CONTENT 1 death joke and maybe a sexual joke if u see it that way
NOTE set before pjotv airs, but the cast have been announced for awhile, honey is only just now seeing it. tatertitty = tate
DISCLAIMER i don’t own these pictures, i found all on pinterest! also the reader’s fc is asian and reader does play cindy moon, aka silk, in the marvel universe but feel free to change that to something that fits you!!
charlie bushnell/fem. reader smau
series masterlist. prev.
hanihoney just posted to instagram!
Liked by jennaortega, tatemcrae, ynupdates, and 284,963 other people.
hanihoney hey
View all 72,839 comments.
ethanitup heyyyyy
user0 lmaoo not the 5 y’s…
user1 i love women
jennaortega 😳😳
hanihoney heyyyyy
user2 HELLO???? i miss u guys aww
oliviarodrigo matter of fact where’s everybody from
Liked by creator.
user3 does anyone know what happened between her and her ex she never posts him anymore 😭😭
user4 guess they broke up. which is so saddd they were so adorable
user5 who even was her bf
user6 we dont know 😭 she never posted his face
ynupdates so pretty :(
hanihoney no, you :(
user7 YN1 WHEN ITS BEEN MONTHS…
user8 i have a feeling in my boob that its soon
user9 u mean heart…? user8
user8 no user9
rachelzegler FACE CARD NEVER DECLINES
user10 this is a face economy actually
shessogone just posted to instagram!
Liked by olivvy and others.
shessogone tell me why i just saw that my exbf is gonna be playing luke castellan in the percy jackson series
View all comments.
ethanitup i thought there already was a pjo series
ethanitup lmao i just realized why is ur exbf playing ur childhood crush😭😭
shessogone my childhood crush was book percy actually 🖐️ get ur facts straight ethanitup
tatertitty u could play silena
shessogone id rather die!
olivvy pls tell me this means yn1 coming sooner than later
shessogone 🤔
🧾 © timefight
OMFG IT SEEMS LIKE THESE WRITERS DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE TAGS, IF YOUR FANFIC IS NOT A READER INSERT DON'T USE READER TAGS! jesus christ, we don't want to read your fantasies, there is clearly a difference between "reader insert" and "oc insert" IT'S NOT THAT HARD 💀
edit: "reader inserts" are for people who want to be inserted into the story, with any kind of gender, color, hair etc and NOT a fully described character with name, characteristics, genders..
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