#remus my man fr | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onyxstyx · 3 months ago

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ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room. “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.”

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced.

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words.

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued.

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.”

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you.

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second, you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like.

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed.

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow.

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin.

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you.

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult.

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile.

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.”

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…”

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak.

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze.

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention.

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

“Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla.

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor.

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo.

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room.

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned.

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable.

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face.

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours.

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup.

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.”

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

#emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator ii fic #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator ii fanfiction #geta x you #geta imagine #emperor geta #𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘢? 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 '𝘦𝘳!#𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘹𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘹 𝘧𝘪𝘤

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ccccatttta · 2 months ago

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hello ladies and gentlemen, i am here to show my marauders fancasts. this post will be long as fuck im afraid, but i have stuff to say. cheers!

james potter as michael cimino

PAPIIIIIRRHAWWWRWWGRA i mean ha. he's cute. mi gente latino

regulus black as choi beomgyu (txt)

my baby star candy, my sunshine, my everything. also! his voice is one of the prettiest things on earth and i totally think regulus would sing like that

sirius black as hwang hyunjin (stray kids)

he's so androgynous,,,, like if a man and a woman had a baby.

remus lupin as esteban kukurickza (actor)

these low quality ahh photos, this man is hard to catch fr. he IS remus lupin you can't change my mind on this + the actor knows we see him as remus and embraces it, god bless you kuku esteban

peter pettigrew as cooper hoffman (actor)

you guys have no idea how much my peter fc changes, it used to be lewis capaldi but i think i have finally managed to find the one for me.

lily evans as chapell roan (soloist)

she's unreal, she's the moment, she's everything. nobody other than her could be the icon lily evans is

pandora lovegood/rosier as namephyra on ig (model)

i say lovegood/rosier bc i like the hc where she's evan's twin, but at the same time i also like when she's a lovegood or a lestrange. elle fanning used to be my fc for sooo long (and i still kinda see it) but she has all the vibes i picture in pandora, and she's honestly so pretty i wanna cry

dorcas meadowes as nia sondaya (actress)

LOOK AT HER OH MY GOD LOOK AT HER, it took me so long to find someone who gives me dorcas vibes, like my girl isn't easy to find, but nia has this aura about her and it was love at first sight

marlene mckinnon as beabadoobee (soloist)

this is one of the og's (or it was when i came to the fandom) and till this day i can't picture anyone else, she's put a spell on me or something

mary mcdonald as bcsais_ (ig)

i don't know much about her, but every time i see another mirror selfie my heart stops for a bit, and that's the only way mary mcdonald should be perceived

evan rosier as casper von bülow (actor)

i know a great chunk of the fandom hcs evan (and dora too) as poc, and i totally see it too, however this little german boy.... oh the grip he has on me is out of this world, it also has to do with the fact he's on germany's skam (druck) and that immediately means i'm emotionally attached

barty crouch jr. as hayden (ig) or marlon noah (ig)

this is a tricky one, they are both so different but they feel like barty to me. lately i've been using hayden more but i do think marlon can make a comeback any of these days.

[extra] the black sisters <333

andromeda black as hwang yeji (itzy)

it's not a coincidence i chose yeji for andromeda and hyunjin for sirius (if u don't know, these two are by no means related in real life but they look so much alike and they even share the same last name, so they could be lost siblings). i do think that andy and sirius looked alike and that's what made them even more fond of each other, the fcs were sent by the gods themselves

bellatrix black as kim hyeong seo (bibi ; soloist)

i support women's rights and i support women's wrongs. hate her or love her, bellatrix has always been THAT girl and bibi is also THAT girl

narcissa black as kim minjeong (winter ; aespa)

i do believe that winter looks a bit similar to beomgyu and i do believe that narcissa looked similar to regulus, it's the genes guys, they are strong. she's so gorgeous i wanna sob in my hands till i die

these are all my fcs!, i haven't really thought about any other characters for now, these are my main guys and pretty much the only ones i read about.

this was exhausting lord, imma go take a nap, toodles!!!

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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i blame you so much for my sudden poly!marauders obsession lolol i genuinely cant find anyone who writes them as good as you do!

but imagine like lily asking fuck marry kill out of the three of them, and you give the obvious “marry all of them” but they keep pressing you for your answer even though they know one of them is gonna get hurt (even if you said a name on purpose as a joke lmao) bonus points if one of them is being so dramatic and just fr lies on the floor pretending to be dead for the rest of the day and being all sulky.

I'm so glad you like the way that I write them!

"I'm not choosing," You shake your head, jaw clenched resolutely, "I'd like to marry them all."

"And fuck," Sirius boasts, "'Not gonna get a murder out of her, Lils."

"She's gotta choose," Remus presses, and you've got half a mind to kill him just for the suggestion, "Come on, darling, we won't be upset. S'just a game."

"Fuck," You pause, glancing fearfully between your three partners. Your eyes drop to Sirius's hands, veiny and ringed, and you breathe out, "Sirius. 'Cause- 'cause his hands look nice like that."

"Knew I'd be safe," He brags, blowing you a kiss with the aforementioned handsome hands.

"And marry," You trail off again, looking between James and Remus. Remus is far more nonchalant than James is, looking like he really wouldn't mind if you decided he'd need to perish for a party game. But it's still not fair, and you're terrified of hurting his feelings without knowing just because he put up a front.

"James," You glance fearfully over at the curly-headed boy, who looks elated until he realizes you have more to say, "Last week. You ate the cookie I was saving."

His eyes widen in fear, an endearing shade of sweet brown as he shakes his head. His curls fly and he clasps his hands together in a cartoonish display of begging, "No! No, sweetheart, I'm sorry! Don't do this," He begs, sprawling out over the floor on his belly so that he can stare imploringly up at you from below, "Please, maybe- maybe if we kiss you can still taste it! And I'll make you a dozen more," He tries, grief-stricken at your verdict.

"Tough break," Remus claps James on the back of the thigh, then smooths a soothing touch up his back, "'S okay Prongs, I'd bring flowers to your grave every day, y'know?"

"Better luck next time," Sirius drawls, seeming all too interested in James's current ass-up position - there's a reason you chose him for 'Fuck'.

"I'm sorry, Jamie." You lament, and the man lets himself go limp, eyes fluttering shut and tongue falling out of his mouth in a very dramatic impression of death. You nudge your nose between his curls, bury a kiss on his scalp, and whisper in his ear while you're down there, "I'd like to fuck and marry you too, dear."

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sunnydayyzee · 1 month ago

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"james ally potter this" and that and wtv let me tell u sum fr james is so internally homophobic it makes me sick hes gotta be the supportive friend yk, that's what he's known for, but deep down, it thinks its all wrong, when remus tells james's he's gay, james's acts like nothings wrong but everything is, he questions their friendship and whatnot, but he feels guilty, then, just when he tells himself hes going to talk to sirius about his feelings, wolfstar is dropped, now james has to be the supportive bestfriend, sirius had endured so much, he needs som1 he can rely on james doesnt know why he specefically hates wolftstar, he's been okay w same sex couples but wolfstar bothers him, he realizes years later he'd been crushing on them both at the same time, but bc of his internal struggles, he never realized it cue barty, bc im a sunkiller fan, james wants him so bad but it feels so wrong, so he suppresses his desires, then, one fine morning, barty reveals hes trans and james's thought process is "im in love w girl techniqually" and suddenly its not so wrong to kiss barty anymore, he'll try to be the man in their relationship but at the end of the day, barty's a boy and james has to learn to accept that, but he cant thankfully barty becomes a evil deather eater blah blah blah so james has an excuse to break up w him, but hes still painfully inlove, so he marries lily who deserves sm better than james (maybe she has a secret relationship with pandora but james doesnt need to know that...) and now, james has to be unhappy in his marriage, in love w blood supremist death eater and watch wolftstar have a happy life, thankfully peter has always looked out for james and ruins everything thank you for coming to my ted talk

#marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #wolfstar #prongsfoot #james x remus #sunkiller #jarty #james x barty #james potter x barty crouch jr.#roadkill #pandalily #jily

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greenunoreversecard · 12 days ago

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Are You Sirius?- Chapter 1

A/N:definitely not beta read. LMFAOOO. Also, Sorry it took so long for the chapter to come out i procrastinated a lot, didn't have any ideas pn where to go with the story nor where to start, and then also was busy with school and everything. dont expect my publishing schedule to be a good one fr

Warnings: Tranny is said, 1970's term for transgender (Transsexual) and Sirius almost calls reader a 'Filthy Mudblood'. think thats all.

Before I can make it down the stairs, I’m stopped by James. “Hey, we were gonna all compare class schedules. Care to join?” I blink at him owlishly, and he fidgets under my unrelenting gaze, glancing back at the other three hesitantly before looking back at me. I slowly nod and shuffle my way to the circle they’ve sat themselves at in the middle of the room. I’m sitting between Peter and Remus, with James on the other side of the aforementioned and Sirius next to him, avoiding my gaze.

James starts.

“So, my first period is History of Magic, Second is Charms, then Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Flying and then Herbology, then Astronomy.”

I’m flabbergasted. “What the fuck class schedule is that?” I blurted out before I thought, my brows furrowed and mouth hanging a bit, I was beyond confused.

Remus Snorts, but quickly covers his mouth and looks away. “Right, I agree. What are those schedules? Might as well throw in some bippity boppity boo”

I add on to the joke, smirking as I side eye Remus and say “Or might as well start just ‘abracadabra’-”

There's a resounding commotion from Peter, James and Sirius, as two try to duck and the third looks at me like I’m insane. Me and Remus just look at each other, concerned for the three but trying not to giggle. The three start speaking over each other.

“You cannot just-” “Are you trying to kill us all?” “Are you absolutely bollocks-”

I look at them confused. Sirius looks up from where he hid behind Peter, who's on his right. “You just said the words of the killing curse! Are you insane! You filthy mu-” He cuts himself off, looking at James warily, who side eyes him. “You must be mad.” “Uhm? No, I said a simple little play spell we use when playing pretend as children?” Sirius Scoffs, looking at me with his nose turned. “The avada is *not* a play spell.” Remus butts in,”’He said Abra. As in ‘Abra-ca-dabra’. Like when you wack a bucket pretendin' to do magic and say Abra-ca-dabra.” My heart leaps at the fact I was called a he, but my stomach drops at my reaction. I'm not a man. My mum and dad already made it very clear with the switches’ beatings and the dresses they shoved down my throats.

James and Peter make a face or realization. Sirius doesn't seem to keen on being proven wrong. “So it's a play spell muggles use?” James asks, fully turning to me and Remus. I nod. “As is bippity boppity boo. Like in Cinderella, or whatever had those three ehm fairies.” Remus gives me a quizzical look. “Wasn't it the one with Aurora? I forgot the name of it” I shrug. “Honestly never really could sit still for movies.” He makes a fair enough gesture.

“Either way, it's whatever. Let's just get the schedules over with.” I sigh, before turning to James once more. “WHICH actually what the hells what that schedule? Where was the maths? The science? What the hells is ‘transfiguration’ and why are we *flying*??? Last I checked I wasn’t an attack helicopter- and what happened to PE? What happened to dodgeball?” James looks at me like I'm crazy. I probably am. “This is... a normal schedule? What are you on about?” “No, it isn't. it's insane, and everyone here is insane.” He raises a brow, and Peter butts in. “Are you sure *you* aren't insane?” Remus snorts but tries to cover it. “I’m entirely sane, thank you very much, *Peter and James* you Wizardy fireball magic who-ha people are just silly, with your weird classes.” James and Peter start giggling like school boys. Remus Hasn’t stopped giggling, frankly. “You do realise *you* also have to have these 'Wizardy fireball magic who-ha people' classes, correct?” Sirius chimes in. I level him with a light glare. “Nu-uh.” He gives me an admonished look. The five of us continue to bicker for the rest of the evening, before one of the prefects barges in and gets on us for being up so late, but all of us are so giddy with humor and excitement and laughter we can’t seem to care. They almost made me forget everything.

The next morning, I try to quietly make my way down the stairs, but I wince as they creep under me, trying to swiftly make my way down without anyone else hearing me, the gentle pratter of birds heard from just outside. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night, my mind preoccupied with the information supplied to me by stairs, of all things. I continue to try and shuffle down to the floor of Gryffindor Tower from the male dormitory as silently as possible, and heave a small sigh of relief when I reach my reprieve at the bottom, before glancing around the now empty common room.

I glance around at the portraits lining the walls, images of predecessors staring unseeingly, the small sizzles of the remaining embers a white noise as I fully take in the commons for the first time. There is quite a lot of red and gold, as to be expected, enough to be an eyesore, but arranged in ways so it's not entirely gaudy. There are several armchairs scattered about, with desks along the walls, and a couch near the fireplace. The embellishments combined with the stone walls create a rather warm and homey atmosphere, and the sun slowly and just barely rises over the horizon, as well as the birds' call and the fact I’m undisturbed adds to the cozy warmth the tower offers, easing the tensity that had entered me on my escape from my dorm.

I sigh once more and make my way to the exit, stopping at one of the desks to grab a lone map. I square my shoulders as I mentally prepare myself for my talk with the professor. I walk through the winding hallways, getting lost here and there, but eventually find my way to the correct classroom, and knock gently, the door creaking open after a moment.

I steel myself and walk in with as much confidence as I can muster, which isn't a lot. I see Professor McGonagall Sitting at the head desk, rows of desks lining the two sides of the classroom. She sits surrounded by small stacks of books and loose papers, her quill releasing a gentle scratching sound as she writes. She Has an unassuming blue tin next to her, the lid removed, and a biscuit on a small napkin on her left.

“Are you here to stare, young L/N? If so, I must inquire you to go back to your dormitory,” Her voice breaks the silence I hadn't realised had fallen.

I sigh shakily, but reply; “No, uh, I came to ask about yesterday…”

She hums, before gesturing to a chair.

“Please, Pull up a seat. Let’s have a chat, shall we?” I do as told, pulling a wooden chair from one of the desks and dragging it across from her.

“What’s on your mind, then, young L/N?” She starts, putting her quill away and straightening her papers.

I sit there, tucked in on myself, my fingers trembling slightly under her unyielding gaze as I pull at the loose strands of my jumper sleeves. I can feel the cold sweat lining my neck, but I push down the fear and speak in a soft, tepid voice; “Well... I know you told us the stairs recognize those… ehm, trans? People, but I didn't particularly expect to be like… kicked off, I guess”

She hums, adjusting her glasses. Her eyes bore into me, searching, as I sink further into myself. Her eyes sear into my soul, it feels, before she finally leans back a bit and pushes the blue tine towards me.

“Would you care for a biscuit?”

I blink rapidly, finally looking up at her, confused and shocked at the absurdity of the question.

“Excuse me?”

She smiles. “Would you care for a Biscuit?”

I look at her like she's lost her mind. Maybe she has, honestly, but either way, I eye the biscuit with suspicion before slowly grabbing one, looking at her like she might be a bit insane, noting the humored gleam in her eye. I slowly take a bite of the biscuit.

“..What do biscuits have to do with being a tranny, Miss?” I ask, thoroughly lost. She shrugs. “Nothing particularly.” I continue to stare at her like she’s mad for a few moments, continuing to munch on the aforementioned.

“Thank you, though, but I'm very lost.” She seems to shrug off my confusion, starting instead with her spiel.

“What exactly alarms you about being transsexual, young L/N?”

I don’t exactly have an answer, and I hesitate, not responding and averting my gaze.

“Being transsexual isn’t bad, you know. I graduated from Hogwarts in the year of 1954, and when I attended, there were several transsexual people. All it means is that the sex you are assigned does not match who you are in your spirit, in your heart, and in your mind. Gender is such a finicky thing, you know.” McGonagall takes a bite of a biscuit, “It's so widely assumed there's only ‘this’ or ‘that’, ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, ‘man’ or ‘woman’, and what you are given at birth must henceforth define you for life, when that is entirely not the case. All the talk of what should or shouldn’t, the correct binaries, it’s all a load of bogus. The only way to be defined is to be defined by yourself, and even then, that can change. So do not take what I say, or what people say, or what the stairs *did* as a definition of you, because only you can supply that.” She folds her hands under her chin, looking at me with a sense of mirth but also an underlying kindness. I can feel my eyes well with unshed tears.

I breathe in shakily. “But what if.. What if people hate me for it?”

Professor McGonnagall smiles wryly at me. “Then they never were good blokes to be around in the first place, were they?”

I shrug, looking down at my lap and blinking rapidly.

“If people judge you and are repulsed just by how you express yourself and how you find happiness, then they are green in their hearts and not people that should be in your company.”

She sighs, but continues.

“But with all that said, me and the headmaster can arrange for you to be in the girl’s dormitory if that is what you feel is best for you.”

I glance up at her. My eyes sting, and my mind whirls, but I hesitate. Last night, I felt.. Safe. for the first time in a lifetime. I felt true to myself, Like I wasn’t trying to be put into a box premade. I didn’t feel like I was the eldest daughter of a woman who scorned her; I just felt like a normal person. The boys made me feel like just another bloke, someone funny and worth listening to. I felt like I belonged. And I want to feel that. Even if I don’t fully understand myself, I want to feel as fun and carefree as I did last night.

“I- that’s not necessary, Professor…” My voice is quiet, shaky, and almost a foreign sound to my ears.

She raises her brow.

“Are you certain? By this coming Monday, all dorms will be locked in, and we’ll be unable to change them for the school year.”

I hesitate once more, but I nod.

“I felt… Happy. Last night, when everyone was just acting like I was a normal bloke. It made me…Warm inside. I want... To have that” I say softly, and as I do, McGonagall smiles softly at me.

“Then so be it. I’m glad you’re making friends. And if you need anything else, Young L/N, please let me know.” She stands from behind the desk and straightens her skirt before crossing to the other side and offering me a hand, and I take it, rising from my seat.

“I do hope you and your dormmates get along well, and I encourage you all to acquaint yourself with the halls of Hogwarts in your free time.”

The End of Chapter 1.

Also; Taglisters (2/10):

@cursednevermore

@lil-bumbum

hope you enjoyed pookies

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rometalia · 4 months ago

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some art by my friend @vampires-at-your-door <333 been thinking abt them fr they’re so silly and fucked up sigh

and hello again everyone,, I’m somewhat back as winter break for me is starting really soon.

I’ve been reading up a little on indo-Roman trade relationships (and IndRome in general) and tbh it’s funny to me. Like in hetalia terms Rome really wasted all of his money on silk, ivory, textiles, spices etc… much to the complaint of some (including Remus who was the most bitchy about it) but Rome didn’t care sigh he wanted him so bad (and his goods ofc) 💔

Rome is someone to me that is incapable of maintaining a romantic relationship because at the end of the day it all comes down to how it benefits him. I think he more or less had an infatuation with India because of what he represented (wealth and power among other things) and his riches. Rome is someone who chases glory, so of course he was going to chase after India next. I could say so much more but I’m tired so maybe later FSHDHDHD

Poor Remus that his older brother cares more about a man he hasn’t seen for the longest time than him LOL. Bro had every reason to become a villain /hj

(Edit: did some minor word changes and changed the first pic to the completed version <3)

#rometalia #aph rome #2p rome #hetalia #historical hetalia #hws roman empire #remus vargas #romulus vargas #APH India #hws India #indrome #oc rambles #food for thought…#hetaroma fanart

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whorediaries-09 · 1 year ago

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million dollar man;

pairing- sirius black x camgirl!reader warning(s)- drinking, 18+ content, slightly dark themes. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- shit's porn with no plot fr.

ps- 🎵i don't have to pretend i like acid rock🎵

masterlist

and I don't know how you get over, get over someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you

the plastic dildo stretches your pussy open, your hand fondling your breast as you continue you ram the dildo into yourself. you bite your lip, moans leaving your mouth as your device starts tuning endlessly, your viewers sending you money for the show you put on for them.

'fuck fuck, am so close,' you whimper, your walls clamping down around the dildo. your fingers entangle with silk sheets under you and you arch your back, cumming around the dildo.

'shit,' you scream, your orgasm taking you from within, consuming the shit out of you. you fondle with your clit trying to calm yourself, breathing heavy,

'yeah, thank you guys for the money and shit, i've gotta leave.' you suck your fingers audibly before turning off the stream.

'god,' you mutter to yourself, falling back on your bed, scrolling through your phone, going through your reminders. the metal of your ring sat cold on the hot skin of your forehead, sending shivers down your spine.

your phone rings. it's lily, and with some hesitation, you pick the phone up.

'hey,'

'hello,'

'why do you sound so breathless? are you okay?'

shit.

'yeah i'm okay. just burned a few eggs,'

stupid.

the sound of her slapping her hand against her forehead is audible through the line and you chuckle,

'seriously, woman you need to hire a chef or something to make you some simple eggs,'

'eh, i was just you know distracted,'

'hmm....so you remember the plan right?'

silence.

'plan?' you mutter.

'oh yeah you totally forgot. anyways i'm introducing you to my boyfriend and his friends at the local pub today...but you already know them,'

'yeah i know them, but i also know you,'

'yep... so nine thirty?'

'i'll see you there,' you confirm before she cuts off the line.

you had half an hour to get ready.

*****

while the place is not unfamiliar to you, and neither are the people around you, you feel out of place within the bounds of sitting in the group of people. everyone seemed to really know each other, and you felt like the black sheep of them group. and that was true, somewhat.

you only really knew lily properly, as you grew up as the shy and quiet kid in school. while james and his group were known throughout the school, you obviously had heard of them, but somewhere along the lines, you never engaged in much conversations with them. except for perhaps peter and remus, who seemed to be fairly quieter than the other two but not to be mistaken as the 'innocent fellas'. remus and peter seemed to be the masterminds of all the shenanigans the group caused within the walls of the school, but rarely engaging in the plans they curated themselves.

'so what do you do for the money?'

the question directed at you pulls you out of the stance and you stare blankly for a few moments before answering,

'nothing much right now, just working at a toyshop, what about you?'

you're not sure who had asked the question, but just to make it seem like you had been paying attention, you had asked back the question. but when the gray eyed, raven haired man had answered your voiced question, you felt a spark of heat lightening you up,

'i work at as a tattoo artist, but trying for a modelling career to be honest,' sirius answers, his voice similar to how you remembered it, yet so different. he pops an olive in his mouth, swirling his teeth over his front row of teeth. you feel his eyes gleam and scan you. you're not sure whether he's judging you or checking you out with the smirk on his pretty lips.

but there's something about his unbroken gaze that speaks to you, that makes you think that he knows something you don't. there's something about it that makes you feel hot from within, and a like a solemn chant, it echoes into your head. your lips curve around the glass of alcohol, the liquid unnervingly warm down your throat. you let the ice cube sit atop your tongue, the coldness numbing down the nerves of your senses.

'lily,'

'hmm?'

'i'm excusing myself.'

'yeah, yeah sure,'

******

'always wanted to feel this pretty pussy gripping my cock tight,' he groans into your ear, pushing your face into the dirty mirror of the washroom. how he got into the ladies washroom without offending anyone wasn't your lookout.

not when he was filling you up so much better than your stupid plastic dildo ever could.

you moan out in severe pleasure, feeling the coil of orgasm hit you again, build up in your nerves. his finger runs complicated figure eights on your sensitive clit and you throw your ass back, trying to get more of him inside your gushing hole.

'more, more, please sirius,' you beg. in a swift move, he's got you turned around, plunging himself into you even deeper, wrapping your legs around his hips. he smacks your ass, pushing three of his wet fingers into your mouth. he feels his the mixture of his warm cum and your saliva in your mouth. he brings your mouth down to his, and forming a pellet of spit on his tongue, he drops it into your mouth, and your groan.

'swallow it you filthy little thing,'

you obey, swallowing away the wrecked mixture of cum and spit. he splits you open, devouring the insides of your hole. his pubic hair teases with your stimulated clit. his cock hits your g-spot so perfectly, it makes you tear up, your mascara rolling down your heated cheeks.

he bites the skin of your neck, leaving spots, marking you all over. you feel trepid, the way he makes you see stars with every push of his cock inside you, filling you up with his treacherous, dirty words.

'f-fuck,' you scream, as you clench your walls around his cock, squirting open his torso. your eyes roll back, toes twisted against the sole of your slippers. you slack your mouth open, with the pleasure that his touch drives you into, and you're high, cock-drunk with the way he's filling you up, using you.

'thought i wouldn't recognize you?' he shudders, thrusting upto you, grabbing your bare nipple between his teeth.

'exposing all of this pretty cunt to the world, getting money with your pretty moans and words. how does it feel to let a real cock fill you up? hmm?' he asks, mockingly.

'so, so good,' you cry the walls of your overstimulated pussy. you cry it in a benevolent lust as he fucks you stupid, chasing his high.

'come on, come on, look at me,' he growls, grabbing your chin to make you look into his lust drowned eyes. you feel him empty himself into you, filling to till your guts, the warmth of his seed feeling you up. he circles around your sensitive clit, groaning and moaning into your ear, feeling the warm walls of your cunt flutter around him.

'now this pretty pussy is mine. j-just fucking mine.'

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #marauders era #sirius black imagine #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanart #sirius being sirius #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you

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mymoonss · 2 months ago

Text

⟡ ݁₊ . jegulus exes to lovers fame au - marauders setlist breakdown :)

you’re gonna go far - noah kahan

JEGULUS JEGULUS JEGULUS, “we ain’t angry at you, love; you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost.” those 2 verses sum up this whole fic. ALSO any noah kahan song just gives me james vibes :)

i can do it with a broken heart - taylor swift

“i’m so depressed, i act likes it’s my birthday everyday” GIVE JAMES A PERSONALITY THAT ISNT JUST HAPPY/SUNSHINE BOY. “im so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague” regulus “introvert” black “‘cause im so miserable and nobody even knows” james who puts his feelings aside to focus on his friends 🥲

casual - chappell roan

i don’t think this one needs an explanation… every ship in the marauders fandom fits under this song. no one can fight me on this

the greatest - billie eilish

james… my shaylaaaaa “all my love and patience” 🫠🫠

so long, london - taylor swift

“i didn’t opt in to be your odd man out” regulus not telling james why they broke up :’)

alley rose - conan grey

would i be mean if i said “i swore lips were made for lies” ?? tbh yes BUT fr tho my reggie stayyyy lying to james (doesn’t rlly make since until later chapters ;))

best- gracie abrams

there rlly isn’t one lyric that sticks out.. this whole song is toxic jegulus coded tho

loml - taylor swift

“you said im the love of your life” regulus fs said this to james at some point in their relationship in ANY universe. random take: anytime i hear this song i think of james being one of those: if we break up it isn’t going to be because i broke up with you boys, but he actually means it.

l’amour de ma vie [over now extended edit] - billie eilish

sirius being petty about remus’ (cheating) exes… SIRIUS BLACK IS THE MOST PETTY MF TO EXIST

bonus track:

tv - billie eilish

JAMES AFTER REGGIE BROKE UP WITH HIM CAUSE WE ALL KNOW HES DRAMATIC AS FUCK

#james potter #regulus black #jegulus #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #james x regulus #moons socmed au #band au #soc med #breakdown #james potter the man you are #james loves regulus #exes to lovers #idk what else to tag #enjoy #hehe :3 #Spotify

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rachhaven · 2 months ago

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If you're looking for fic inspiration but dont have loads of asks, maybe incorrect quotes or headcanons? Good luck in your writing journey!

hi lovelies!!! this was a brilliant starting point, and I think that this sets a good baseline of what to expect from how I write these characters, I adore them all and have my own understanding of them in my head so this is just my opinion. hope you enjoy!!!

Remus – big ol softie at heart- and he looks like one- gets possessive and snappy at the same time closer to the full moon. Chocolate is obvs his fave- but in my head he alternates between dark and milk chocolate- white chocolate is a crime against humanity. Calls his partner dove/ dovey, sweet/pretty/lovely (insert girl or boy or gender) and sunshine (purely because he’s the moon and I think that’s adorable). He loves tea, like obsessed- has to have decaf in evenings because he’s enough of an insomniac- but will have random nights where he’s dead to the world.

Sirius – also a softie, all of them are lets be so fr- but he hides it behind the cocky, joker man bravado. Coffee addict- every morning, without a doubt- he def has a proper coffee machine because he makes the best coffee and no shop does it right anymore. He’s got snobbish tendencies, he’s trying to outlearn them but its tricky- he prefers m and s food, but the rest of them like a big tesco so he deals with it. Calls his partners doll, love, he’s def the type of guy to use my “x”, like, my love, my dear etc. I see him as being like the best big brother in the world, just exudes comfort and love and gives the best hugs ever. Also, curls are always long and a mess and only washed when absolutely necessary

James – eugh the sweetest most adhd ridden soul I’ve ever met other than myself- he’s so gentle but forgets how strong he is majority of the time, hell squeeze in a hug and accidentally hurt someone because he’s def got a sleeper build and forgets his physicality. This guy thrives off dr pepper and I don’t know why, but unfortunately with all the soft loveliness of him there is the gym bro side who will only eat fish and a ricecake some days because he’s doing some weird training plan, but we love him for it. Will happily yap for hours so when remus and Sirius want to sit and read or listen to their vinyl’s he has to be doing something more engaging because he just can’t.

Barty – big shoutout first to @ellecdc because shes an icon who introduced me properly to barty and ev and I’m obsessed now. Treasure is his nickname, tres for short and that’s the only thing hell call his girl other than *other* nicknames during *alone time*. He’s chaos but its organsied in comparisons to james’ pure chaos. He knows where he’s going, what his plans are and anything else like hours in advance, a manic planned person. He totally goes on weed walks, and only shares with people he genuinely cares about. Now there is the other side of barty, the teddy bear- bartybear, for shiggles and giggles, but he’s a sweetheart for those he loves and cares about, he knows violence as a consequence for everything and melts when he’s shown any form of affection and is so so open to learning to be gentle, I know that makes him sound like a dog but imagine him as a puppy and it just makes sense

Reg – my sweet little love I will pass away before anyone says anything remotely bad about my boy. He’s a tortured soul, metaphorically and literally, he’s had the shittiest childhood out of all of them id say, not in the fact that he was hurt more, I don’t think he was hurt anywhere near as much as the others until Sirius left, but seeing his big brother, his protector, so hurt and trying to save him, then just being left? It makes sense he’s so withdrawn from himself, that’s a lifetime of trauma in a young boy. It takes a lot for him to open up, and he falls back on French for his emotions because then only the people who really care about him will try to understand, he needs love and safety and gentleness, and once he’s got that, the real reg shines through. He calls his partners French pet names, and he’s got the most hilarious dry wit that can make people fold over in laughter, dark humour is a coping mechanism and if there was a degree in it he’d have a phd.

Evan - ev. Now, I don’t know much about this beautiful soul, I think he’s the calmest of the slytherins, I love the dynamic I have in my head of him and pandora being the most hilariously yin and yan twins ever, and that they just complete each other. He’s jumpy, but he hides in in a strong boy bravado, but he’s also got the smarts, he’s worked for it, unlike barty who is annoyingly naturally so smart, ev puts in the work and sees the outcomes. He calls his partners sweets or something along those lines, I see him as a baby guy too, when he’s trying to convince you to let him do something so bloody stupid, overall, an angel and a devil in one, and I need to learn more about him.

Pandora- only a baby bit about her for now, im not too involved in the marauders girls yet other than lily and marlene, but pandora, Dorcas, mary, alice- I want to know more and develop my ideas of them better, ill probably use their names for parties or other scenarios, but I will get there eventually with it. Pandora is a whimsical soul, she cares so deeply, she loves most people, and is just the epitome of luna, luna is a copy paste of her mum, and I will die on that hill. She’s naive sometimes, but the boys all look out for her, and they’d die and or kill someone before anything happens to her.

Lily – the firecracker- an absolute icon in the meaning of the word, but also the sweetest most genuines soul ever. She loves her books and being clever and reaching her goals, she’s the kind of girl who has the five year plan moodboard under her bed, but she sprepared for anything and is first aid trained to the max and its so hilarious that the second anyone gets hurt they all just scream for her. Her hair is a mess when she sleeps but she brushes it the second she wakes up. She’s the type of girl to call her partner lovie, something short and sweet but she says it in a tone that just melts anyone she’s talking too, she screams maternal and will just coddle you whenever you need it, friend or partner. She thrives off of small touches, she hates pda but a hand on the back or a kiss on the head in passing makes her day.

Marlene – marlene is genuinely the complete opposite to me, we share dark humour, but she genuinely doesn’t give a fuck what anyone says or does and she’s doing her own thing whether you like it or not. She’s hot as fuck and smokes and drinks and parties as hard as she can, she’s a wild heart but deep down a sweet soul. She doesn’t give fuck what people think of her, but she does push for her to succeed, she hates the thought of failure of being replaced and has attachments to her favourite people because she’s terrified she’s too much for them, but she knows how to handle it, she’s got this life long lesbian thing down to a t.

#marauders #headcanon #remus lupin #moony #padfoot #prongsie #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #regulus black #evan rosier #pandora #harry potter #barty crouch jr #treasure #ask #send asks #ask me anything

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