#DONEZO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluesidez · 11 months ago

Text

My face when Mig started barking orders:

Gentleman part 3 🌼💌

Geneticist CEO!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Intern College Student!Reader

Synopsis: your relationship with your new sugar daddy progresses, but meanwhile your jealous sorority members plot against you. Word count 5.5k

A/N: so I know at first the idea was to make this a situationship to lovers but I actually completely forgot about that lol so I'm just rolling with whatever this is that this has turned into. 🫶🏽🖤 This art by blahhberry on insta is Dr. O'Hara's face claim if you wanna see. ;)

TW: MINORS DNI, SUGGESTIVE, MASTURBATION ALLUDED TO BUT NO EXPLICIT SMUT YET (NEXT CHAPTER HEHE), SOME ANGST, LONELINESS, BULLYING, SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND ASSAULT (A GUY NEARLY GROPES YOU AND YOU GET PEER PRESSURED), BAD DRUNKEN BEHAVIOR, YOUR ROOMMATES SHOW THE WORST SIDES OF THEMSELVES, IT MIGHT BE KINDA TOUGH TO READ, TAKE CARE WITH THIS ONE IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE❤️ SUGAR DADDY RELATIONSHIP, (BOSS/EMPLOYEE) don't condone this IRL, maybe OOC Miguel, age gap (reader is somewhere around 24-27, Miguel is mid-late 30s), mild violence

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

-------

Once you got back to your dorm, you ran upstairs to your room, kicking off your shoes. You fixed your hair and held your bouquet, angling your phone for the best lighting and took a selfie, sending it to Miguel along with a quick text:

You: Thanks for the flowers. ❤️💐 You made my whole day!

A couple minutes later:

M❤️: You're very welcome. You look so beautiful. I hope you had a good day.

You: Thank you❤️❤️I did, a lot better thanks to you. 🥰

M❤️: I'm so glad.

You sat there, trying to think of what to say next.

You: So, when can I see you again? :)

M❤️: Well, my flight gets in Friday afternoon, however I will most likely spend the rest of the day with my daughter and my mother. Would Saturday work for you?

You smiled and texted back:

You: Saturday works perfectly! What did you have in mind?

Miguel smiled from his high up hotel room in Chicago, looking out the window and thinking for a moment, then typing back.

M❤️: How does going to the Hamptons sound? There's a waterfront restaurant that serves some of the best food on the East coast, and the views are lovely this time of year.

You smiled widely at this, appreciating that he came up with an actual date idea that sounded incredible and not just defaulting to whatever you wanted.

You: That sounds incredible! I'd love that. ☺️ Thank you so much. ❤️❤️

M❤️: You're welcome. Have you ever been to the Hamptons before?

You: I haven't, no.

M❤️: I will have Noir take you shopping this week.

A ding went off on your phone, and your mouth fell open. $500 was just sent to one of your money apps from Miguel.

M❤️: Use that wisely to pick out an outfit, or a few. You'll want to dress semi-warm, as it can get a little chilly in the evenings. But we'll only go for the day. I'll have you home at a reasonable hour so you can rest.

You just had to shake your head and bite your lip. This truly was the best thing ever.

You: You are seriously so sweet...thank you. ❤️Really, you didn't have to do that.

Miguel smiles, laying back on his hotel bed with a hand behind his head as he texts you back. You're so humble, it's adorable.

M❤️: You're very welcome. But, I insist. You deserve it for all your hard work and for what you've had to deal with lately. I hope it gives you a little something to look forward to this week. ❤️

You can't help but kick your feet at his message.

You: I sure do, I'll be counting down the days. ❤️

Miguel stood up, a little smirk playing on his lips. Man, it felt good to have a special lady in his life again. But, he had more business to get to first. And he knew he couldn't rush this. He did have hopes that this would become something more serious than just a sugar relationship.

Still, he had to ride that fine line between building something longer lasting, without creating friction between you both at his hang-up when it came to the institution of marriage. That almost always ended up being the reliable nail in the coffin for his previous flames. But that was a future problem to worry about.

M❤️: What are your plans this evening?

You sat up, chewing your lip at the sight of your backpack, knowing you should probably get a head start on the ample workload you were issued by your microbiology and health science professors.

You: Just homework for the most part. 😮‍💨 I have soo much this week.

M❤️: I'm sorry to hear that, cariño. The sooner you get to it, the sooner you can rest. ❤️

Your heart fluttered a little.

You: Miguel, what does cariño mean?

M❤️: It's a term of endearment, such as sweetheart or dear. Is it alright if I call you that?

You bite your lip and feel a heat in your cheeks coming on.

You: Absolutely, I love it when you do. It makes me feel special.❤️

M❤️: You should feel special, cariño. Because you are, very special to me... ❤️ Did you eat dinner?

A grumble in your stomach answered his question for you.

You: No, haha... Not yet.

Miguel pauses, dialing Noir while he stands up, crossing the room, trying to secure a pair of cufflinks onto his dress shirt as he reaches for his suit coat that's hanging from the coat rack by a large TV.

After he hangs up, he texts you again while checking his reflection before he leaves.

M❤️: Noir is bringing you dinner. Please text him and let him know what you'd like as soon as you can, okay? I will also have him grab groceries for you tomorrow. Be sure to also send him a list of things you need when you get the chance.

Your heart swells with gratitude and your mouth waters as you envision your favorite pizza from your favorite local joint which sounds perfect right about now. This might have been the most you ate in weeks, as a matter of fact, all thanks to this angel of a man.

You: Thank you sooo sooo much Miguel 😭❤️

M❤️: You're very welcome, cariño, just want to make sure my girl doesn't go hungry. ❤️ I have to go to a business dinner right now, so I won't be able to answer any texts until later. When you're done with your studies, give me a call?

You: Okay, I will. ❤️

M❤️: Good. ❤️ Talk to you soon.

-----

Noir was on your doorstep a short time later with your pipping hot, favorite pizza, a side order of some gooey, cheesy garlic breadsticks, a side salad, a huge bottled water to keep you hydrated, a brand new luxurious fluffy blanket in your favorite color, matching fuzzy socks with your initials, a pumpkin vanilla scented candle, and fancy moisturizer that wouldn't irritate your skin.

"Here you are, madam. The doctor wanted to throw these in as well, since it gets drafty up here in the dorms, and since you deserved a little something to pamper yourself."

"Oh my God, thank you sooo much, Noir!!" you gushed.

Noir noticed the snide looks coming from your bitter roommates as he handed you your food and presents, but he decided not to say anything about it right now. "Can I get you anything else tonight?"

"Oh, no, no, that's okay Noir...thank you, you're the best."

"Course, it's my absolute pleasure to serve you ma'am. The doctor has totally changed my life and given me everything I could ask for, so working for him and making sure his woman is taken care of is the least I can do to pay him back." Noir says with a bow. He tips the brim of his black fedora.

"Enjoy, madam. I'll be here for you at 7:30 am tomorrow morning, be sure to write up your grocery list, too, you hear?"

You nod and smile and thank him enthusiastically again, walking quickly back upstairs to your room, trying to ignore the hateful stares of your bitter roommates.

------

Heather shakes her head as she waits for her lean cuisine to finish heating in the microwave. "Y'all, I do not fucking get it. At all."

"Me neither," Vivian scoffs, taking a bite of her salad at the table next to Isla.

"I give it a month, tops." Heather replies, opening the microwave.

Isla is staring off when an idea comes to her. "Why wait a month?"

"Huh?" The other two look at her with curious stares.

"Seriously, do we really wanna let this get worse than it already has?" Isla asks.

The other two shake their heads, remembering all the extra labs they had to do that Dr. O'Hara issued them, no doubt as punishment for messing with his woman.

"She's gotta go." Vivian agrees.

"But how?" Heather asks. "She's literally fucking the boss. He's not gonna break up with her so easily..."

Isla smirks. "But the university might if she makes a fool of herself at the football game."

----

As you worked on your homework, you looked at your closed door at the sound of your roommates laughing hysterically behind it, half slightly peeved by the loud noises while you were trying to work, half feeling that nagging loneliness you felt in your heart.

The truth was, even though the trio drove you nuts and could be quite mean, you don't know why, but you still cared about their approval. All you wanted was peace between you four while you shared the space. Deep down, you felt left out and sad at their exclusion of you. You knew you could be quiet and awkward, at times, but you missed having girlfriends.

Getting ready to go out on Friday nights, doing your makeup while crowded around a smudged mirror in your jammies while one of the girls played music on their phones, talking excitedly about the night ahead and complaining about the boys you were talking to. Sharing clothes, studying together, slumber parties, talking about things that would be considered TMI with anyone else. Girlhood.

You just wanted to belong. Just wanted someone to talk to and have your back. Sure, you had Miguel now, but you needed space for friends too. You were starting to get worried at how much you craved the sound of his voice and his company. How much you started to rely on him mentally and emotionally. You knew he was a busy man and he could only be there for you so much.

Suddenly you're a little girl again on the playground during recess, wondering why nobody wanted to be your friend. Wondering why you weren't interesting enough or why you were so weird that you couldn't make people stay.

You felt a lump build up in your throat as you tried to work in the darkness of your room while they laughed together outside, holding back tears.

---

A quiet knock comes at your door and you clear your throat, trying to dry your eyes. "C-come in!"

The trio enters your room. Isla's eyes land momentarily on the new bouquet of flowers sitting on your desk but move quickly back to you. "Hey girl."

The other two sit on your bed.

"Are you crying?" Heather asks in a concerned tone.

"N-No..." You sniffle.

"Aw, girl..." Vivian pouts, putting a soft hand on your shoulder.

Your lip trembles as you try to fight off your tears unsuccessfully.

"Hey, we were hard on you, and we wanna apologize." Isla says, plopping down on your bed, the others hum in agreement.

"Come to the football game with us tomorrow night!" Vivian says, piping up. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah we can start over, have some girl time. A couple of our guy friends are coming too! It'll be chill. And we're getting milkshakes afterwards at Caddy's diner like we always do." Heather says with a smile.

"Please?" Isla asks, giving you a grin. "Whaddya say?"

"O-o-okay..." You manage a weak smile. "Thank you guys...I, I don't want us to fight either, *sniff* and I'm so sorry if rubbed any of you the wrong way about anything or offended you."

"Of course not!" Isla says with a wave of her hand. "Seriously, I mean, look, if you're dating Dr. O'Hara, good for you. Get that bag girl." She utters the last sentence with some difficulty, but her tone remains light and friendly, you don't notice. She flashes her lovely smile at you. "We'll get ready in Vivian's room around 4, then we gotta be ready to leave by 6."

"I have a really really cute shirt you can wear!" Heather offers.

"Um, who's all coming?" You ask, sitting up.

"It's us, you, then Heather's boyfriend Chase, and Chase's friends: Jaden, Alex, and I think his name is Will? Yeah, Will." Vivian says with a smirk.

"He's so hot..." Isla says biting her lip.

"Girl, he is your ex's cousin, sit down!" Heather throws a pillow at Isla.

"Oh my goddd let me liveee, dammit!" Isla giggles throwing it back, the pillow hitting you in the face on accident. "Oops! My bad girl I'm so sorry!" Isla pulls you into a hug, catching you off guard as Sexy Angel perfume from Victoria's Secret assaults your nostrils as she hugs you.

"Okay, anyway, see you tomorrow girl. Remember, 4pm, my room!" Vivian points at you as she follows Heather and Isla out, shutting the door behind her.

You feel a little uneasy but you feel the most hope you've felt in weeks after all the tension. Finally, maybe you could be chill with your roommates, and even make some new friends.

------

Miguel waves his room key in front of his lavish hotel room door, entering it with a sigh as he loosens his tie. He smiles widely at the incoming call from you on his phone.

"Hey," he says with a smile. You can hear the warmness in his voice from over the phone, the sound alone causing you to feel tingles all throughout your body.

"Hi, Miguel." You say with a smile, laying back on your pillow.

"How was your day, did you get all your work done?"

"Yee-up." You say, popping the "p" at the end of your sentence.

"Good girl."

Oh God, that was hot.

"How was your day, Miguel?" You ask him, trying to keep the conversation flowing and give you something to focus on other than his tantalizing voice.

"My day wasn't bad." He admits. He starts to unbutton his shirt, putting the phone on speaker.

"Just had a productive chat with a few stakeholders about some investments. I admit, I'm not one for social events." He chuckles.

The corner of your mouth twitches. "Haha, me neither. Guess we have that in common."

"Guess we do." Miguel agrees with a hum.

You smile, fiddling with one of your hoodie strings as you continue to talk to him, "Well, the trio invited me to a football game tomorrow night."

"Oh?" Miguel slips out of his pants and lies down in bed with a small grunt of relief. "I thought you four didn't get along?"

"I thought we didn't either." You admit. "But they apologized and invited me. They admitted they don't mind my relationship with you and wanted to start over fresh."

Miguel nods slowly, feeling a little suspicious about this. He's seen how ugly people can be to one another, particularly if the nasty feeling of jealousy is involved, taking nothing off the table of the lengths someone would go to get what they wanted.

"Just, be careful, cariño. I don't want to see you hurt. If they treat you poorly again, you're to tell me immediately, understood?"

"I'll be okay, promise." You try and reassure him, but Miguel doesn't feel too convinced.

"I trust you, cariño. I'm just not sure I trust them." He tells you gently. "You deserve good friends who are supportive and lift you up, not tear you down." His eyes fill with compassion as he speaks to you on the phone, a little astounded at how you manage to tug at his heart strings even hundreds of miles away, a feeling of needing to protect you and make sure you were safe, even if he couldn't physically be there.

"Would you let me have Noir drive you? You're welcome to invite your friends to ride with. I'll just feel much better about it if he's there to keep an eye on things."

You hesitate, but think about it. This might be a good way to get on the trio's good side, if you can let them into your new world of luxury a little bit. It kind of felt wrong to use Dr. O'Hara's wealth to win the favor of your roommates. But he was offering, and you'd do anything to improve your living situation at this point.

"Okay...yeah, that works." You answer. "I'll tell them he can drop us off and pick us up. Thank you, Miguel."

"You're welcome, cariño." Miguel says quietly with a smile. "Have fun tomorrow, and be safe okay? Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself."

"I will, I will." You say with a smile, brushing him off.

There's silence on the other line for some time before Miguel speaks again.

"Well, I wanted to talk some more tonight, because there's still a lot that I don't know about you yet."

You sit up a little in bed, "Y-yeah, of course...ask away."

He asks a few questions about your family and your childhood and you answer them honestly, finding yourself turning into an open book as you give him your life story, telling him all about your parents and siblings, your theories about why your upbringing may have effected your personality and so on.

And he listens quietly and intently, all of his attention undivided and owned by you completely in this moment. A small feeling endears himself closer and closer to you with every word you speak. You're so enriched with everything you have to say. You're insightful and intelligent and interesting. You doubt yourself. You're a pure soul who seems to feel lonely sometimes like he does, empathizing for how difficult it can be to relate to others and how the weight of becoming an adult and trying to support yourself through school was much more staggering than you expected.

You're a selfless, kind woman who would even give away the last of what she had to a man like him who had the world at his disposal, reaffirming that his choice to make you his was a resoundingly wise one.

A match between you two that was even more well suited for one another than he anticipated. Nevermind the difference in your ages, nevermind that you were originally an employee. There's something special here that he underestimated. It's jarring and it's refreshing.

It's eerily perfect, even causing himself to re-evaluate his wishes from the beginning to not even think about brushing shoulders with the question of matrimony. He's dizzy with all of these sudden epiphanies he's experiencing within just a hour or two of talking to you on the phone. Then, you say something that causes you to laugh loudly.

Miguel feels a warm feeling in his body at the sound of your laugh. It's infectious and hearty. And he'd be lying if he said the dimming lights of the city outside his hotel room and the sound of your voice weren't making him feel...a little needy by this point.

What, with how physically attracted he already found himself to you in the beginning, now you've revealed the contents of your soul to him and in turn demonstrated you're nothing like anyone else he's been involved with in the past. It was too easy not to find himself agonizingly tempted by simple desires. He's only a man.

"What are you up to this evening, my dear?" He asks in that rich voice of his.

"Just laying in bed..." You say, stifling a yawn.

Miguel hums. You bite your lip. Something about his voice had you missing him. You just poured out your heart to him, pulling yourself closer and closer to him with every layer of yourself that you stripped away and revealed to him. You find yourself comfortable with him, desiring him more than you already had, maybe even letting you toy with the idea of putting a more intimate physical relationship back on the table, knowing that Dr. O'Hara was the kind of honorable man he was. You'd love to give yourself to someone like him.

The sun was well below the horizon at this point, the darkness going straight to your head and traveling in a more sensual, suggestive direction.

"...and missing you..." You add with a little smirk.

"Mmm..." Miguel sighs.

Oh boy.

"Yo tambien te extraño..." (I missed you too) His voice is dripping with something suggestive, almost sly.

"What does that mean?" You ask breathlessly, playing with your necklace pendant.

Miguel smiles. "Means I've missed you too..."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm...."

"Mmm..."

"You teasing me, cariño?"

"Teasing you?" You bite your lip. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Careful..."

"What?"

"Heh...well..." Miguel looks around, despite being the only soul in his hotel room. "You're making me feel a certain way."

"Like what?" You bat your eyes innocently.

"Don't play coy." Miguel says firmly. "Like..." he sighs. "You're making me feel like I want to break those damn rules in the contract."

You relax your shoulders and exhale deeply out, the ache between your legs only growing more and more demanding. You really wanted it to continue, "I don't mind..."

"I'm serious, cariño." Miguel warns. "I'm not going against any boundaries we set together. Not unless you're completely sure..."

"I'm sure..." You whisper quietly to him, a faint groan rolling off your tongue as you draw out the last syllable.

"Ay por Dios..." (Oh my God) Miguel chuckles, turning red and biting his lip, hundreds of miles away. "Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?"

"Maybe..." You tease, enjoying this effect you're having on him.

"Not tonight, baby..." Miguel says gently. "Not tonight..."

"Miguel..." You whine, your body still hungry, begging for some form of release, your desire hanging untapped, parched for his loving attention, the low timbre of his voice driving you mad.

"I wish you were here with me..."

"Oh cariño..." he groans, unable to disguise his mutual craving. "I wanna be there too..." He slowly licks his full lips. "I'll make it up to you, baby."

"Yeah?" You whisper.

"I swear." He promises you. "It needs to be special and perfect the next time we're together. We'll take our time but I won't hold back as long as you're completely comfortable and okay with it."

You giggle, biting your cheek and clenching at the thought. "I definitely am..."

"Beautiful..." He murmurs. "You've given me something else to look forward to all week."

"I don't think I can wait that long..." You say breathlessly.

"I don't think I can either." Miguel admits, letting out a chuckle of his own. "Oh....the things you do to me. You've no idea, cariño. Get some sleep now, yeah?"

As soon as you hung up you both fucked yourselves to oblivion in your separate beds, minds completely drunk with only thoughts of the other hundreds of miles away.

-----

You're all smiles as Noir picks you up the next day, barely able to function during work, only thinking about Miguel and the fun night you have planned with your girlfriends at the college football game as you sip your large iced coffee and munch on your heated pastry Noir bought you that morning, courtesy of Miguel's Platinum American Express.

Your heart does flip flops when you find your newest surprise from him in the backseat of the car after work: a Pandora bag with shimmery tissue paper and a lavender bow, eyes widening when you pull out a gorgeous white gold charm bracelet, complete with a crystal heart dangling from it with a note from Miguel.

Can't let those boys at the football game think that you're not taken. ❤️ Be safe tonight, and I'll see you very soon. Thank you for being so open with me last night. I love where this is going. Call me later.

You haven't left my mind once since the day I met you.

Love, Miguel

------

"Nuh uh!!! No freaking way!!" Heather, Vivian, and Isla squeal as they run towards the Mercedes, hand in hand while Noir held the door open for them with a humble smile.

"I always wanted to ride in a G wagon..." Heather's eyes dart around the interior, feeling the leather seats as though she needed to physically touch them to believe they were real.

"Ladies." Noir says as he comes to the door, holding a box of large, gourmet cookies nearly as big as your hand with frosting that matched your college's spirit colors, along with elegant glass bottles of sparkling lemonade. "A little game day treat for you from the doctor."

Your face erupted into a grateful smile as your friends gushed and raved about the snacks, relishing the bite of the warm chocolate chip cookie that practically melted in your mouth and the refreshing lemonade that left a little fizz behind on your tongue. Miguel was so damn thoughtful.

Once you arrive at the game, Noir helps all of you out of the car. "Anything else you need, miss?" Noir asks you as he shuts the door.

"Um, no, I should be good. Thanks Noir!"

"You're welcome. I'll be waiting out front for your entourage when the game is over. Have a good time, miss. Call me if you need anything."

You smile and turn, jogging to catch up to the others. Noir nods and drives off, parking the car only a short distance away in Miguel's designated VIP parking spot in the front row of the stadium parking lot, hanging a special tag in the window.

Noir gets out, pulling his collar of his trench coat little higher up on his neck in a semi-incognito fashion. You don't know he'll be watching you, and he feels a little bad about that, but, at the same time, he can't say no to the boss. He had good reason to keep an eye on you anyway. Your friends seemed too good to be true, and he had kind of a bad feeling about tonight, their jealousy at not being chosen by Dr. O'Hara rendering them blind.

As you find your seats, you're sat in between Isla and Will, a friend of Heather's boyfriend, Chase. Will is tall and muscular, a lacrosse player according to Isla. His green eyes lock onto you immediately, a fact not gone unnoticed to Isla's dismay and simmering jealousy. First Dr. O'Hara and now Will? What on Earth was so special about you?

Will keeps trying to make small talk with you. You try to discourage him with one word answers but he doesn't seem to get the hint, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders when he notices you shivering with the dropping temperature in the stadium. You immediately thought of Miguel but you were utterly freezing, so you decided to accept the gesture for now, praying that he'd take it as platonic.

Isla seeths quietly when she watches him give you his jacket. Time to put her idea into motion.

"Hey!" She smacks Heather who's getting handsy with Chase on the other side of her, handing her a bottle of vodka. You feel your blood run cold. There were strict no alcohol rules in the college stadium. The consequences ranged from ejection from the game to as severe as possession charges, intoxication, or even explusion from the university.

Heather giggles and takes the bottle, looking around and taking a generous shot before passing it to Chase, who passes it to Vivian and the other two guys before it travels back to Isla. She takes a shot, throwing her head back and wincing as she hands you the bottle.

"N-No thanks." You push the bottle back towards here.

"Dude," she hisses. "Come on, don't be a little bitch."

Will interrupts, taking the bottle from her and taking a shot, shooting you a playful wink. "Don't be shy."

You feel your cheeks get warm under his gaze, Miguel's face coming to your mind again and immediately shaking your head. "No...no thank you."

"C'mon." Will smirks. "Cute girl like you doesn't like to have some fun?"

Isla's face is boiling but it melts into a cheesy grin when you turn back to face her. "Right? She's just adorable huh? Little goody two shoes we like to call her." She elbows you playfully.

You're getting quite uncomfortable at this point, your eyes searching nervously all around the stadium, trying to make sure nobody around was catching wind of what your group was doing.

"We all took a shot, now you have to!" Vivian leans over, shaking your knee. She starts chanting your name in a sort of taunt. The guys quickly hopping on the band wagon, hooting and egging you on.

You're a nervous wreck, just wanting them all to shut up before all of you get kicked out of the university for good, starting to shiver nervously as a couple people nearby you turn around to see what all the commotion was.

"OKAY!" you snatch the bottle from Isla, bending over and sliding off your seat, taking a quick shot with your head down. You wince and cough uncontrollably as your erratic movements caused some of the alcohol to go down the wrong pipe, wheezing for a moment as the liquor stings and burns down your throat and lungs.

"There ya go, good job." Will pats your back and offers you a sip of his soda to chase it down. You grab it from him, taking several generous gulps without thinking, nearly sputtering again when you discover it's not just soda, but a really strong mixed drink.

Oh no.

Will smirks. "Well damn, girl. Slow down."

You feel your eyes watering up, starting to stumble a little. You hardly drank, so you had absolutely no tolerance, the alcohol flowing and dragging you down like dead weight in the water, a fuzzy feeling in your veins and the outside starting to get real shifty.

You can't make out much of what's going on around you but it sounds like Isla and the girls are taunting you again and making jokes at your expense, trying to dare you to flash your tits to the guys.

"C'mon girl, no balls you won't do it!" Heather and Vivian taunt, the guys around you looking at you like fresh meat.

You're utterly sick and confused and drunk, wanting nothing but Miguel to come in and sweep you away from this madness. Confused why your supposed friends were throwing you on display like some sort of sick circus act, expecting you to act like a slut just to appease their disgusting guy friends.

"S-stop..." You slur, falling backwards as Isla grabs at the hem of your shirt, trying to lift it up.

"Don't worry, I got you." Will mumbles. You stare up at him in horror and cringe as you smell the strong stench of alcohol on his breath as he's practically putting you in a headlock, one of his hands tries to grope your clothed breasts.

"N-No!" You whine.."Please!"

Will is suddenly yanked backwards. Noir flips him so Will is facing him before he utterly decks him in the nose, Will letting out an inhuman noise as he falls to the ground. Noir looks at him like he's scum on the bottom of his shoe before landing a nice kick into the middle of his stomach. Will lets out a large grunt, wheezing pathetically on the stadium floor.

By now, everyone's looking at you. You're disheveled and terrified with your clothes askew. Noir wraps you in his arms, scooping you up like you weigh nothing.

"You alright, doll face?" His eyes search you with worry.

You don't answer, just whimper with a trembling lip, shaking your head no as you hang your head in shame, resting your forehead against his chest as you shudder with a sob.

Noir shoots a glare at your group of so called friends. "You will be dealt with accordingly," He threatens with a growl before getting you out of there.

The stadium police come swarming, ignoring Noir because they recognize him as one of the assistants of the most powerful man in Nueva York (and the university's top donor). They surround the group, pulling the girls out of their seats and putting Will in handcuffs before ejecting the rest of them from the game.

-----

Noir tucks you in the backseat of the Mercedes, giving a soft pat to your hair and several murmured apologies as he speeds quickly away. He dials Miguel, and you can hear Miguel's enraged voice booming through the speakers.

"Bring her to the estate immediately. I'll meet you there."

"Yes boss."

"I need the first and last names of EVERYONE involved in this fucking mess."

"Y-yes boss. Don't worry. Campus police are aware and they're handling it as we speak."

"Not good enough!" Miguel hisses. I will be handling this now."

"Yes, doctor, understood."

"Get her to me safely, Noir."

"I will, doctor."

"Thank you."

Noir hangs up, taking a deep breath.

Those people picked the wrong man to fuck with this time. Miguel would make them pay for what they did to you.

"I feel sick..." you groan.

"Hold on, madam....it's alright, we're almost there." Noir eyes the speedometer as it's pushing 110 miles per hour, the countryside zipping past the windows in what seems like mere light seconds.

You whimper and hold your head in your hands, trying so hard not to vomit as Noir drives furiously towards Miguel's mansion in the countryside.

----

Tags🖤🫶🏽

@scaleniusrm @laysmt @to-the-endoftheline

@criessoft @bammzyboomy @thatone-writer @oharasfilipinawife @lauraolar14 @scaryplanetdestroyer @amberbalcom14

@ofmenanduhhhwellmen @2099hitmylineyline

@safixiovi @daddysfavoritesexkitten @hikaru-sama

@sassypossumm @leonsbimbogf

441 notes · View notes

gorbo-longstocking · 2 months ago

Text

Do Not Blame the Sea | Chapter 2

Pairing: Emperor Geta/Reader, Emperor Caracalla/Reader

Summary: Aelius shares his reservations about Marianus’ plan to give you to the emperors to become their personal physician. After a night of mindless chattering, and a near endless trek to the heart of Rome, you meet Emperors Geta and Caracalla in all their terrifying glory.

Tags: Dehumanizing treatment, hair pulling, Geta and Caracalla being dicks, mentions of slaves and slavery, medical inaccuracies probably, as historically accurate as possible, mentions of parasites and parasitic infestations, dissociating from a pov character, unbeta’d. That’s it I think

Note: Italicized words are both Latin, and when the POV character speaks English

Word Count: 6.5k Words

Chapter One.

Playlist

Upon entering Aelius’ tent, he was quick to make his displeasure for Marianus’ decision known. You blinked rapidly when his hands clasped your wrists, his distressed face inches from yours as he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Centurio Marianus must be mad!” A bit of anxiety crept into his edges and he cast a furtive glance outside to check if Marianus heard him. After breathing a sigh of relief, he pulled the flap shut, his mouth set in a grim line. “The emperors are— are— I cannot even say for fear of being heard, medicus. That is how bad this is.”

You felt your lips pull into a frown, the guilt on Marianus’ face making more sense by the second. “They are corrupt?”

Aelius nodded, his sweat-damp hair flopping with the motion. “More than that. They are bloodthirsty and known for their quick tempers, especially Emperor Caracalla. Do not let his appearance fool you, he is quick to demand death to those who displease him.”

History wasn’t your best subject, and while the name Caracalla was familiar, you didn’t know enough about him, or his brother, to put a name to the face, nor to their actions. All you had to go by was what Aelius said. He was one of their subjects, the average legionary. If even he had poor things to say about his emperors, spoken in whispers for fear of who could be listening, it meant their rule was certain to have spread dissent within the people.

Unbidden, a cold shiver shot up your spine. If you died in your dream, would you wake up? Or, perhaps, a more sinister fate awaited you if you let your guard down for even a second. Especially now that you knew exactly the kind of men these emperors were. A sharp stab of anger towards Marianus lanced through your chest. Putting you in such a precarious position with no choice was cruel, even if he was right that the opportunities for you in the empire were limited, to say the least. Surely, there was a better option than this.

Your terror must have shown on your face because Aelius looked both guilty and ashamed. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have frightened you like that. My worry got the better of me, it won’t happen again. I— I just do not wish to see the man who saved my life suffer a terrible fate and—” He snapped his jaw shut. “Now, I will stop. Is there anything else you wish to speak of, medicus?”

A deep inhale steadied your racing heart, and you met Aelius’ nervous eyes with a smile. “Are you having any trouble breathing? Shortness or breath, a headache, any chest pain?”

Surprise made Aelius’ eyebrows disappear into his sand-colored curls before that boyish grin spread across his face once more. “Some chest pain, though I suspect that is from the bruises you left during your procedure.” Scooting back, he sat cross legged on his bedroll. “You are very strange, medicus.”

You let out a pleased hum at Aelius’ status. Still, you intended to observe him through the night in case of any complications. “How so?”

“You are more worried about my wellbeing than your own,” Aelius responded with a shrug. “It’s odd. There are not many like that.” He tilted his head, looking off in thought. “Then again, I suppose that is what makes for a good physician.”

Heat flooded your cheeks and you gave him a bashful smile. “I try to be.”

Aelius huffed out a sigh, crossing his arms. “I apologize for bringing this up again, but this is exactly why Centurio Marianus shouldn’t hand you away to the emperors. Talent and kindness such as yours should not be wasted on those—” Swallowing his criticisms, he continued on a different tangent, “Yes, you are far too soft for the legions, and yes, you are unmistakably foreign, but there must be a better option before us…”

He was right, there must be, though whatever that option was, it escaped you. Even if Aelius helped you abscond into the night, you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun Marianus, let alone the soldiers he was sure to send after you, likely on horseback. You frowned. That was another problem, you didn’t know how to ride a horse, so that method of locomotion was out of the question. Then, there was the issue regarding your rights as a free-man. You remembered a little bit from your ancient life classes you took in college, and most of that revolved around the fact that, until you were a citizen, any minor infraction could have you named a slave. The prospect was terrifying, even in a dream.

You blinked, remembering yourself. That was right, this was a dream, and this was the path that it wanted you to take. A physician for two Roman despots. Who were you to deny your subconscious? You would simply have to be careful to not earn the emperors ire while in their service.

“I… How quick are their tempers, Aelius?”

He stopped muttering, he had been the entire time, his Latin too quick for you to pick up, to glance up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Well, I have never been in the presence of either emperor personally, all I know are rumors, and the rumors are not flattering to say the least.”

Mirroring his position, you sat on the earth across from him, your eyes firmly on his. “Tell me, please. I must prepare for my future.”

Aelius let out an uncomfortable noise as he shifted in place. Unable to meet your eyes, he looked off towards the lantern that illuminated the small space. He appeared nervous, as if he was preparing for you to burst into tears.

“They say that Emperor Caracalla relishes in bloodshed, to the point of finding it sexually stimulating. His brother, Emperor Geta, has a similar thirst for blood, although not for the same reasons.” Leaning closer, Aelius brought his voice down to a barely there murmur. It was then that you became aware just how badly he stank and, despite yourself, your nose wrinkled. “I hear he knows that he and his brother are unpopular with the people and he’s terrified of losing control, so he reacts to even small infractions with the highest of punishments. You must be careful.”

You gave him a distant nod, your mind elsewhere despite his grim warning. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“Huh?” He muttered, his tanned skin becoming a shade darker as he pulled back the collar of his tunic to give himself a sniff. A grimace made his features scrunch and he gave you an apologetic smile. “Eheu, I do smell bad. I apologize, Centurio Marianus assigned me to help with the horses as punishment for what happened earlier.”

“Punishment for dying,” You deadpanned.

Aelius laughed, good natured and hearty. “I may not agree with his decision to give you to the emperors, but he is a good superior. Any other centurion would have beaten me bloody with his vitis. Many say Marianus is too soft with his men, though I would follow him into even the most hopeless of battles.”

Shoulders slumping, you felt yourself deflate. While your anger at Marianus for basically selling you off was still there, you couldn’t help but respect the man. “What is a vitis? I do not recognize the word.”

“Ah, yes, somehow, I forgot how foreign you are,” Aelius laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “Your Latin is decent and you are civilized, you cannot fault me.” He reared back his arm and mimed hitting someone with what you assumed to be a stick or a rod. “A vitis is a staff made of grapevine that symbolizes a centurion��s authority. With it, he can discipline even citizens.”

You opened your mouth to ask if Marianus ever hit anyone, only for Aelius to quiet you with a raised finger. A boyish grin adorned his face as he began to dig through his pack to retrieve a spare tunic. It was an off white color with two complimentary red stripes down the sides. After he pulled out a belt, he handed both to you, his expression both proud and teasing.

“Put these on, medicus. Trousers are the mark of a barbarian, and while I am aware that you are civilized, the emperor's may not be. You need to make a good first impression.”

Examining the tunic, you stood and held it up to your body. Aelius was a bit broader than you, so it would be baggy, and the hemline would hit below your knees, but it would do. You gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, you are very good to me.”

“That is unnecessary,” He said, parroting your words from earlier back at you, playfulness glinting in his honey eyes. “I am merely doing my duty.”

You gave him a swat on head, your laughter bubbling from your chest. “Turn around, soldier.”

“A modest and a shy, medicus? You are an enigma, my friend,” Aelius teased, though he readily obliged your request, giving you the privacy you desired. After you were dressed, he offered you a pair of sandals similar to his own. It was an easy pass. The shoes you currently wore, while strange to him, were made for working long hours and you would rather die than march tomorrow with no lumbar support.

The rest of the night was spent talking with Aelius. Maybe it wasn’t your smartest move to deprive yourself of sleep before what was surely going to be nearly twelve hours of walking, but you didn’t want to risk falling asleep and something going wrong with Aelius’ recovery. In solidarity, he offered to stay up with you. It was sweet, and you found yourself becoming even fonder of the man. When you awoke, you would miss him terribly, and if you were even an ounce more sentimental, you’d dare to call him a friend.

He told you about his family back home. Of his little sister who he loved dearly despite not getting to see her often since he joined the military, his matercula, a woman with a seemingly endless well of kindness at her disposal, and his pater, a former playwright of some renown who was known for his comedies. After Emperor Geta and Caracalla rose to power, at the request of his wife, he stopped taking part in theater out of fear of retribution. Unfortunately, this meant that Aelius’ pay as a soldier was most of his family’s income.

In return, you regaled him with censored tales of your life in reality. Your long hours, how your focus on your studies rendered you unable to make the connections with others that you wanted, and how your parents' iron grip on you never seemed to loosen. It was the first time in a long time that you had managed to be so candid with someone else. Honestly, it was nice. You never had much time for friendship, maybe this was your brain’s way of telling you to try harder once you woke up. You weren’t on bad terms with your peers, you could always start there. All you had to do was wake up.

It wasn’t until you heard the camp begin to stir did you realize the sun was beginning to rise. You let out a yawn and stretched your arms over your head.

“What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee right now,” You muttered as Aelius began to pack up his belongings in preparation for taking down the tent.

“Coffee?” The English sounded strange coming from him, an accent you couldn’t quite place draping itself around the word. He finished rolling up his bedroll and put out the lantern before shooing you out of the flap. “What a strange word. What is it?”

“It is…” You trailed off, thinking of the best way to explain. “A dark, bitter drink that energizes you upon consumption. If you are tired, all you have to do is finish a cup, and you will be awake as if you were well rested.”

Aelius chuckled, and you watched as he expertly took down the tent and rolled it into a small enough fold to place in his marching pack. Around you, other men did the same, in various states of completion. Once he was done, he straightened and handed you a waterskin. “Will posca do, medicus?”

“What is posca?” Marianus had mentioned it was what most soldiers drank and was on par with boiling water — even if you didn’t quite believe that — though you didn’t have a chance to ask what it was. With a curious sniff, you recognized the sharp smell of vinegar emanating from the waterskin.

“It’s a mix of water and wine vinegar. Sometimes, if I have it, I mix in some honey.” With a hand between your shoulder blades, he hefted his pack higher onto his back and began to lead you elsewhere. “The vinegar helps purify the water.”

You tied the waterskin back on Aelius’ marching pack without taking a sip. “I can see the benefits. The vitamins would help prevent scurvy and if I recall correctly, vinegar has antimicrobial properties. However—“ With your hands on your hips, you gave him a disapproving glare “— It does not protect against parasites. You must be full of worms! I insist that from now on, you only drink boiled water, Aelius.”

Aelius raised a teasing eyebrow. “That is not where worms come from, even I know this, medicus.”

“Where do they come from then, dominus?”

At the sarcastic honorific, a sharp bark of a laugh echoed through the open air. Aelius shook his head with a smile. “You get worms if there is too much food in your belly and it begins to rot.”

“Wrong!” You exclaimed. “You get worms from drinking dirty water, coming in contact with infested fecal matter, or eating raw meat. That is only to name a few.”

“… Are you certain?” His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed into a thin line. Uncomfortable, he cast a glance at his waterskin hanging off his pack behind him.

You gave him a firm nod. “Absolutely. I would not lie to you. Boil water if you have the time.”

Aelius let out a huff. “If you hadn’t saved my life, I would think you were speaking nonsense. I will take your advice. Unfortunately, we do not have time to boil any water before we begin our march, so posca will have to do.”

“I’m not drinking that,” You said, firm in your decision. Dream or not, you would not be besieged by worms. Given how vivid and realistic everything had been so far, you wouldn’t put it past your subconscious to give you a whipworm infestation.

Aelius only shrugged in response, a knowing glint in his eyes. Whatever he was thinking he kept to himself, continuing to follow his fellow men towards the horses where Marianus was sure to be waiting.

As the sun began to rise, you and the rest of the century continued your slow, miserable trek to Rome. Once the two of you caught up to Marianus, he informed you that he sent a carrier pigeon to the emperors, warning them of your arrival. Apparently, he told them that you were a physician who could bring the dead back to life. Fantastic.

Marianus defended this decision by insisting that you needed to play to your strengths, and Aelius was clinically dead when he was pulled from the water. You weren’t the only one to check his pulse, you merely happened to be the one to bring him back. Your only response was a tired grimace as you turned back towards the horizon as you prayed for a pair of sunglasses to fall out of the sky. If the heat didn’t kill you, the glare was sure to blind you. Your mother would call you dramatic if she was here, but she wasn’t, so dramatic you would be.

It must have been summer because the sun was oppressive and unforgiving. You let out a low groan as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of your nose. Now that it was afternoon, the heat was unbearable, and you were still a few hours out from the city. Though you had refused the posca Aelius offered you over the course of the march, you were so dehydrated, you were considering the worms to be worth it if only to cure your horrible dry mouth.

Earlier in the day, you had checked on your patients, who were being transported together in a horse drawn cart. Unfortunately, the man with dysentery died in the night, something you felt immense guilt for. You shouldn’t have been talking to Aelius, not when there was a man who needed you. While you knew that Marianus would have dragged you back to the tent, kicking and screaming, as soon as he caught wind you were working again, that didn’t mean you should not have tried. The veterinarius assured you he lasted longer than expected under your recommended treatment. You couldn’t help but let out a frustrated noise. If you had access to more modern supplies and medication, you would have been able to save him.

Thankfully, your other patients were doing well. The maggots had eaten a majority of the necrotic flesh on the man you were most worried about. After removing most of the maggots, but leaving a few to eat what dead tissue remained, you gave the man with a fever another ibuprofen and hoped he’d receive better care in the city. For now, you had to keep his body from cooking him alive.

Unfortunately, though, you were exhausted, even more so than before. Coupled with the heat, your headache was bordering on unbearable. Aelius had slowed down significantly to keep in time with your dragging steps, and you couldn’t help but glare at him out of the corner of your eye. He was practically skipping. How was he not suffering as much as you were? You both pulled an all-nighter. Maybe it was because he was keeping hydrated with his evil worm juice. You licked your chapped lips at the thought.

Damn this dream, damn it all to hell.

After ten more minutes of walking, you said fuck it, and climbed into the cart carrying the sick and injured. At this point, you were sure to be so dehydrated, you were considered one of their kind. Flopping face first into the hot wood, you only closed your eyes for a moment before the world faded to black.

What woke you wasn’t the furious snapping by the side of your head, nor Aelius’ frantic shaking of your shoulder. It was the stench. The smell of sweat mingled with incense, and strangely enough, piss, mingled to create the tragic symphony of stimuli that accosted you. Jolting upwards, the top of your head nearly slammed into Aelius’ nose. You blinked wildly at the sight in front of you. If you didn’t already know you were dreaming, you would be certain of it now.

Before you was a bustling city, but like none you had ever seen. People in unfamiliar clothes, mostly tunics on men and long dresses on women — stolae you recognized distantly — all in a multitude of bright shades danced around your cart. Some shot dirty looks at you, and the horses leading you onwards, for taking up half the road. With wild eyes, you took in the beautiful, but strange architecture that surrounded you. Once before, in reality, you had visited Rome, and even then the remaining ancient structures drew your awe. Now, though, they left you speechless. You had to crane your neck as you passed by the colosseum to see the top. Statues sat between arches, almost judging your humble nature, stared down from above. You squeezed your eyes shut. To keep from becoming hysterical, you fixated your gaze on the bottom of the cart. It was plain, like you. A comrade in arms, you supposed

There were two unfamiliar men driving the cart now, and the only people in the back with you were Aelius and Marianus. A flick to your cheek drew your attention elsewhere.

“Boiled water, just for the spoiled medicus.” Though Marianus was frowning, his words lacked any real heat. He handed you a small tin pot full of water. Greedily, you chugged the contents faster than you would recommend for one of your patients. Whatever, you were never good at taking your own advice.

“Where are we?” You mumbled, a part of you still stunned by the sights around you. “When did you find the time to boil this?”

Aelius laughed and wrapped an arm around you. You noticed he was in his armor now, the sharp edges digging into your side. “We are in the City, my friend. Marianus had some boiled when we arrived on the outskirts. That is where the rest of our men are camped, waiting for the rest of the legion to arrive from up north.”

You cast a glance at the men driving the cart. They had their backs to you, crimson armor glowing in the afternoon sun. “Who are they?”

“Two of the Praetorian Guard. The emperors sent them to escort us,” Marianus muttered under his breath, his mouth set into a stern frown. “Best behavior from here on out, medicus.”

“Explains the dirty looks, doesn’t it?” Aelius joked only to snap his jaw shut after a withering glare from Marianus.

Dread squirmed in the pit of your gut the closer you got to Palatine Hill, and subsequently, the emperors themselves. These were the men Aelius warned you about, the men that even Marianus felt guilt for handing you over to. As far as they knew, you were a magician capable of necromancy, or at least that was what your heat-addled brain supplied. You knew that CPR was a valid technique for saving someone’s life, and you knew how exactly it worked. The average Roman — though, twin emperors were nowhere near what you would consider the average Roman — wouldn’t know any of that. You were lucky Marianus didn’t order you dead to begin with.

Uncomfortable, you clutched your duffle bag to your chest. You were thankful Aelius thought to bring it, you had all of your supplies in there. If the emperors didn’t order you to be executed where you stood, you would need your stethoscope and sphygmomanometer to perform a basic checkup on them. Clenching your jaw, you shook your head to clear your anxiety. Focus on the brightest outcome and how to get there, you told yourself. You must remain optimistic.

For a realist, such as yourself, that was easier said than done.

When you looked up, Aelius offered you a reassuring smile, though it was strained at the edges. You returned it, your own wobbly and unconvincing. He squeezed you tighter against his side in an effort to comfort you before allowing his hand to drop. Sitting on the edge of the wagon, Marianus kept his eyes focused on the horizon, waiting for the palace to come into view. Almost on cue, you saw it off in the distance, both elegant and imposing, growing closer with each passing second. Oh, how you wanted to run away. The muscles in your legs clenched as if to prepare for such a fate, even if you would never dare to give into the urge.

You were about to enter the lion’s den. Or, perhaps the wolf's den was more fitting. Romulus and Remus were twins too, after all.

The flow of time was always strange for you, especially in times of high stress. You seemed to have a knack for gliding through life, working on autopilot as your brain fogged over into nothingness. Thankfully, this never happened at work. That wasn’t the kind of stress that got to you. Having another’s life in your hands helped ground you. Your own, on the other hand, that was when you shut down. The world blurred at the edges becoming fuzzy, almost like television static.

Distantly, you recognized Marianus informing you that you had arrived. It felt as though you were moving through water as you climbed out of the cart, your duffle bag hanging on your shoulder. Aelius must have noticed you were off. Instead of wondering what he was whispering to Marianus, you stared off at a fixed point in the distance.

A hand on the back of your neck startled you. “Fix yourself, medicus. We need you at your best.”

“I know,” You muttered.

You weren’t an idiot, you knew what this was. Dissociation was a habit your brain always latched onto in the worst of times. As you walked down the opulent halls, led forward by the praetorians, you did your usual techniques in an effort to calm yourself. It was strange, grounding yourself in a dream rather than reality, but it, thankfully, worked the same. Five things you could see — the marble columns, a bust of a man you didn’t recognize, a beautiful tapestry hanging upon the wall, a peacock parading about in the gardens outside, and Aelius’ concerned expression — four things you could hear — the patter of feet on marble, slaves whispering amongst themselves as they watched you pass, the sound of birdsong, and Marianus’ pointed ‘ahem’ — three things you could touch — the rough strap of your duffle bag, the hair on Aelius’ arm, and your own skin — two things you could smell — cooking pastries carried on the wind and incense, perhaps frankincense — one thing you could taste — the bitter tang of your own fear. It was simple enough. By the time you raised your gaze from your feet to catch a glimpse of fiery red sitting atop two thrones, you were nearly back to normal. There was still a bit of distortion in your vision, and for a moment, you realized that it had been like that for a while now.

Before you were able to assess that thought, Marianus bowed his head. You didn’t have a chance to see who he was bowing to. On instinct, you followed suit, your fingers clutching the strap of your duffle tight enough for your knuckles to go white.

“Caesarēs,” Marianus said.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him, only lifting your head when he did. Upon two twin thrones sat two twin emperors, both with hair bright as a sunrise behind their golden laurels. One was taller, sitting straight backed with one leg crossed over the other, twisting a ring on his finger as he examined you. There was a paranoid air about him, as if the three of you were vipers he had noticed at the last second. The other looked completely disinterested in the entire ordeal, one leg up on his throne, the other outstretched in front of him as he rested his head on his fist. They were both wearing makeup with enough pale foundation for it to look cakey, but where one had kohl rimmed eyes, the other had doll-like blush adorning his cheeks. Their clothes were ornate and the gold that hung from their ears and around their neck clacked together with each minute movement.

“Centurion,” The one with kohl around his eyes stated as he stood, his gaze trained on you. More specifically your hair before darting to your shoes, his lips pursed into a thin line. “You are Lucius Marianus and this is the physician you brought us.” He stopped in front of you and you noticed his jaw was clenched so tight, a muscle in his cheek jumped. “The one who can bring the dead back to life.”

That got the other emperor’s attention. He perked up and you fought the urge to shiver under their dual stares.

To his credit, Marianus did not cow under the intimidation. “Yes, Emperor Geta. I witnessed the procedure myself along with a handful of my men. I can give you their names if you would like their secondhand accounts.”

So, the tall one was Geta. That meant the little one who was staring at you with a predatory smile was Caracalla. Your duffle bag was sliding off your shoulder, but you didn’t dare heft it any higher. You felt as though you were in the presence of a tiger about to pounce. The slightest movement would send either emperor on the offensive, and you really didn’t want to deal with that.

Geta’s pupils slid from Marianus, to you, before landing on Aelius, who visibly flinched under his stare. This seemed to please Geta, his lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “And this is the so-called ‘man who died?’ I am sure you and the witnesses are from the same century, no less.” He sighed and took a few steps backwards, examining all three of you with his hands behind his back. “A century can be a very tight knit band of men, though I’m sure you already know this, centurion. They can be coerced to lie if their superior orders it.”

“It is no lie, Emperor,” Marianus replied, voice steady.

Caracalla spoke up for the first time, his voice a high-pitched rasp, “Perhaps a demonstration is in order, brother.”

“Yes, a demonstration of your skill, medicus.” Geta snapped his fingers and a praetorian stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his gladius. “I will have the centurion’s throat slit and you will prove to me that you can truly bring the dead back to life.”

“Wh- What?” Dumbfounded, you weren’t able to keep yourself from muttering in English. Marianus tensed, his mouth open to speak, though no words came out. Beside you, Aelius looked horrified, his face three shades paler than before. It took the praetorian unsheathing his blade for you to find your voice again. “Caesar, no, wait! That is not how the procedure works! If you slit his throat, I will not be able to save him without surgery!”

Geta raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, Caracalla let out a sharp laugh. “Your accent is repulsive, foreigner. You speak Latin as a child would.” He grinned at you, blue eyes narrowed in cruel amusement. “See-zer. How ridiculous. Speak again, medicus, I want to hear more of your foolish words.”

“Yes, speak.” Geta was fidgeting with his ring again. He seemed to realize this, folding his hands behind his back, his eyes like coal. “Tell us how this procedure works then.”

“It- It, uh…” Licking your dry lips, you cast a glance at Marianus for support.

“Eyes on me, foreigner!” Geta barked. Your head snapped back to him, eyes wide and terrified.

“I apologize, I—”

“I did not ask for an apology, I asked for an explanation. Now, will you give me one, or must I have these men killed for you to find your tongue?”

A bit of cold sweat trailed down the back of your neck. It took everything you had to meet Geta’s gaze. “It’s a procedure called cardiopulmonary resuscitation. It works best on drowning victims and those who are suffering from heart problems. With your hands, you manually beat their heart, and with your mouth, you blow air into their lungs. If there is a wound, a disease, or some other problem that caused death—” You couldn’t believe you were relying on the metaphysical to explain this. What would your professors say? “— Then the spirit, no matter how strong, cannot return to the body as it has been deemed uninhabitable.”

While Geta seemed satisfied by your explanation, Caracalla was visibly disappointed. He turned his hunter’s eyes from you to Aelius. “And you, soldier. You are the one who died?”

“Yes, Caesar.” Unlike Marianus, Aelius was unable to keep the tremor from his voice. If you weren’t so close to Geta, you would have missed the pleased puff of air from his nose.

“Tell me,” Caracalla began, his grin growing wide enough to show off his singular gold tooth. “What was it like to die?”

“I do not rem— remember much. It was cold and dark, it felt as though I was both asleep and awake at the same time. I could have sworn I heard the ferryman approaching before suddenly I was… torn into awareness, my chest aching fiercely.” Gentle, he placed his hand against his chest. You were thankful you didn’t break any ribs. Once you had a moment away, you wanted to check over his bruises once more.

A strangely disappointed frown pulled at Caracalla’s lips. “That is it? No agony? No sorrow?”

“No, emperor, I felt calm. At peace, even.”

With an annoyed huff, Caracalla turned away, clearly done with the conversation. That left room for Geta to turn his attention back on you. “Where are you from, medicus? I had assumed you would be Greek considering your occupation, but I don’t recognize your accent.”

“Our last physician was Greek,” Caracalla piped up, eyeing your hair with interest. “He did not last long.”

“I- I am from…” What did you say? You couldn’t tell them that this was a dream, and saying you were from the future felt like a quick way to get killed. After a moment, you decided to rehash what you told Marianus. “I am from a country far across the western sea. It is large and civilized, much like Rome, th— though I am very impressed with what I have seen of your Empire. It’s beautiful, unlike anything I have ever seen before.”

The compliment made Geta’s chest puff out, no small amount of pride creeping into his features. “Yes, the Empire prospers under our rule.” It didn’t take long for him to remember himself, his expression steeling over once more. “I have never heard of a country to the west. Why is that? Why are you the first visitor I have ever heard of?”

“We are…” You didn’t know the Latin word for ‘isolationist,’ which left you floundering. “Our government likes us to be alone and not interact with other countries. We are not allowed to leave and no one is allowed in. I cannot return now that I am in Rome.”

“A shame,” Geta hummed, looking pleased. “And without citizenship, your options are limited.” Slow and predatory, he began to circle you. “Are you aware that an emperor is capable of granting citizenship?”

Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, you gave up on trying to keep him in your line of sight. With him behind you, goosebumps crept up your arms. “I assumed so.”

In front of you again, Geta ceased his circling. He seemed to have come to a decision. A flash of anger flickered over his face before it became stony once more, his hands clenched into tight fists behind his sides. “You will be the new imperial physician. If you serve me and my brother well, perhaps I will grant you citizenship.”

“And the reward I mentioned in my letter?” Marianus spoke for the first time in what felt like hours.

When Geta took his focus off you, a part of you relaxed. You couldn’t imagine being under either man’s piercing eyes for the foreseeable future without popping a blood vessel. “Yes, your men will be given respite before their next assignment. You, however, will remain here with this man.”

Marianus opened his mouth, probably to protest, before he thought better of it and clamped his jaw shut. “Yes, Caesar.”

“Physician,” Geta said, his voice sharp. “If you fail us in any way, you and these men will die. If you try to harm us in any way, you and these men will die. Am I understood?”

“Y— Yes, Caesar,” Was all you managed. Your heart thudded an angry rhythm in your chest. Having your own life forfeit was one thing, being responsible for two others, while familiar, was no less terrifying. It helped your mind sharpen, however. While you understood the human body innately, these games you would have to play with the emperors were new to you.

“Kai-sar,” Geta corrected through clenched teeth.

“No, don’t correct him, brother, I quite like his accent. It grows on me like maggots on a wound,” Caracalla laughed. It was squeaky and high pitched, almost mousy in tone if not for the harsh edge. With two fingers, he gestured for you to come to him. “Come here, medicus.”

It took everything in your power not to look at Marianus for permission. That had irritated Geta before, and with Aelius’ warnings ringing in your head about Caracalla, you would rather not earn his wrath either. Especially now that you knew it wasn’t only your life on the line. Cautiously, you took a few steps forward.

“Closer,” Caracalla intoned as he leaned forward in his throne.

With nervous, shuffling movements, you obeyed.

“Lean down.”

Your fingers twitched in front of your chest as you leaned down to be eye level with Caracalla, not even a foot away from him. In a blur of red, he lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, giving it a harsh yank. A scandalized yelp tore from your throat and you stumbled backwards as far as you could get the second he let go. It didn’t hurt too bad, but it was enough to startle you. When you looked up, he held a few wispy strands of green hair in his closed fist.

Caracalla let out a mean laugh. “His hair is real, brother. I knew it! Tell me, medicus, is that shade natural where you’re from.��

“I dyed it,” As hard as you tried to keep the annoyance from your tone, you failed miserably. To soothe the pain Caracalla left behind, you rubbed your knuckles against your aching scalp.

Geta looked amused at your expense, the harsh lines of his face softening once his brother was in view. Caracalla was oblivious to this change, his attention focused solely on you. “What is your name?”

When you told him your name, his nose scrunched up in disgust. “What a horrible noise. I refuse to call you that.” Caracalla turned to Geta, his hand lazily cradling his cheek as he rested his elbow upon his throne. “Brother, any ideas? Perhaps, viridans?”

Geta hummed, deep in thought. Given the speed at which he answered, it sounded as if whatever name he intended to give you had been on his mind since he met you. “Alga.”

In response, Caracalla let out another hyena-esque giggle, clapping his hands together with glee. “Yes, yes, Alga is perfect, brother!” Without missing a beat, he turned to you, gold tooth glowing in the sunset with the rest of his jewelry. “You are Alga, now, physician. We expect you to answer to it.”

Your mouth pressed into a thin line. It was the only sign of your displeasure you would let show. The emperors seemed to think of you as a stray dog or a new toy that they could tease and name as they saw fit. For as much as it irritated you, you had enough self preservation to let it go.

“Of course, Caesarēs.”

And just like that, you could practically hear the bars to your gilded cage lock shut.

A/N: Yayyyyyyy, chapter two is done. I am so, so worried that Geta and Caracalla are OOC or their dialogue seems off. Fuck it, we ball. I hope I was able to get it across well, but Geta is playing 5d chess with everyone in his head because he’s convinced Marianus and company are all traitors and spies. The only reason he agreed to let them become a physician was to catch them in the act and then make an example out of all three of them. In his defense, bringing someone back to life doesn’t seem very plausible. Caracalla, on the other hand, is too busy being like ‘tralalalala’ to keep up with the Kira Deathnote levels of insanity Geta is on.

Also, in case you missed it in the last authors note, ‘alga’ means ‘seaweed’ or ‘something of little worth’ in Latin. Those two are pricks with a capital ‘P’ let me tell you.

Oh, BTW, if you noticed that yn’s dialogue is stilted or weird in some placed, that’s on purpose! I’m trying to mimic the eay they sound speaking Latin, as it’s not theie first language and they are rather clumsy with it.

Anyway, thanks for reading!!! Comments mean so much to me btw, I love feedback. I need it to survive. And, if you have any questions about the Latin or cultural stuff, PLEASE ask, I would love to tell you. Yayyyyyy, that’s it, love you, bye!!!

Taglist: @snazzynacho @t6gse370

#emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor caracalla x you #gladiator ii x reader #gladiator 2 x reader #formatting this shit is evil fr #but haaaaiiiiii chapter two is donezo #do not blame the sea

85 notes · View notes