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totally-not-your-babe · 16 days ago

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Eddie is like; Fine I'll adopt the weird, pretty golden retriever guy into our group but I will complain about it the whole time. 😒😒😒

But in time... 😏😏

Welcome to Hawkins Prologue

A/N: I had soooooooooooo much fun writing this I'm pretty sure I'm gonna continue. I named our poor Freak 1 Peter. Also it's way longer than I originally planned it to be but well...

Hawkins, Indiana - 5th of November, 1984.

„You are soooo full of shit Gareth” Jo looked at him as she sat across from him at the table, then continued painting her nails. She did it so many times before the others stopped complaining about the smell a long time ago.

“I swear on my… I swear on anything. Tim saw them have an argument and the Byers kid took Nancy home.” The younger boy stuck to the story.

“You wish to tell me” She screwed the cap back on top of the nail polish and started to blow her nails. “Hawkins High’s golden couple broke up in the middle of a Halloween Party and Johnatan Byers took Nancy Wheeler home and THE Steve Harrington let that happen?” She looked at him with raised brows.

“I saw Wheeler leave with Byers too.” Doug spoke up and Peter nodded along.

“Holy fucking shit.” Jo leaned back on her chair crossing her legs.

“Now, now Josephine that’s at least three dollars in your precious swear jar.” Eddie called out eating whatever the high school dared to call food. The swear jar was Jo’s idea years ago, every time someone cursed the person had to put a dollar in it, when the jar was full they used the money to buy stuff for the band, or for Hellfire. Everyone put their fair share into the said jar but it was an open secret that it was made up most of Jo's dollars. Jo and Eddie had a separate jar back at Wayne’s trailer, that was their tattoo-money-jar.

“Well Edward” she turned to her brother giving him a two-can-play-this-game look. “let’s make it five with a not so lady like fuck you.” Jo picked up the bottle of the nail polish at his brother, who knowing his little sister well enough was ready for it and caught it easily. “So, King Steve became single the last year of high school.” She coffed looking around at the cafeteria to see if she could spot the person in question. “And here I thought the most shocking thing will be him ditching shithead Tommy H and that Perkins hag.”

“That’s seven” said Eddie not looking up as he was searching for something in his launch box. ”Maybe, now it’s your time to shoot your shot sis.” he added sarcastically which made the other boys at the table laugh until Jo gave them a death stare.

“Yeah, sure. When I wanna be prom queen and dance around in a fluffy pink dress.” She rolled her eyes.

“You are the one who had a crush on him.” Jeff had a shit eating grin as he said that.

“Which my dear brother promised not to tell anyone.” she hissed giving Eddie a pointed look. “But like have you looked at him? He looks so good, it’s ridiculous, straight up witchcraft.” she reached over the table snatching Gareth’s orange juice not caring about the boy’s protest . “The point is, it was only a moment of weakness, a dark part of my past.” She said dramatically.

“Amen!” muttered Eddie under his nose offering his sister a half teasing smile.

“Shut up! Tell us what you are planning for the camp…”

“Well look at that!” Gareth interrupted her pointing towards the cafeteria’s door. They all looked at the direction, Peter and Jo had to turn around in their seat as they were sitting with their back to the entrance. There he stood, “the new boy” in his knee length jeans, white shirt crowned with a red hoodie. His blond hair was messy - he reminded Jo to Gareth in that matter -, looking like it didn’t see a brush in days, he had chipped nail polish on his ring decorated fingers. A half smile played on his lips, but Jo could see he was more than nervous, as he looked around for a place to sit, the food tray in his hands slightly shaking.

“The fresh meat walked in.” They heard the jocks laughing and Jo turned to them, the irony of it all Billy being the loudest of them all.

“Hey Hargrove!” she raised her voice and heard Eddie trying to shut her up. “Aren’t you just as fresh California boy?”

“Wanna say that again?” He stood from his chair and Jo was ready to do the same.

“No, she doesn’t!” Eddie grabbed her sister’s arm and hold her so she couldn’t stand up. “I’m not spending the night in Hopper’s office, for being beaten up because you pissed off the new jock.” He hissed under his breath and squeezed Jo’s arm to give weight to his words.

“Fine.” she hissed back, turning her attention to the boy at the entrance. “He looks like a kicked puppy.” she said pouting her lips dramatically and looked back to his brother.

“No way.” he shook his head pushing his tray away.

“Come on Ed, you said we help the lost sheep, here is a lost sheep.” Jo gestured towards the blond boy still standing awkwardly. Eddie looked at the boy for a long minute with an unreadable expression and shook his head again. “He is kinda cute, don’t you think?”

“A little downgrade after your crush on Harrington don’t you think?” he rolled his eyes, but Jo could see a little pink taint on his face.

“Eddie” she looked at him with wide eyes like when she was a little girl and really wanted something which made the other boys snicker. They already knew Jo had his brother in her pocket, no matter how much he tried to show otherwise. “Little sheep.” she added in a small voice with a half-smile. “Who knows, maybe he plays D&D.”

“Fuck, I’m going to regret this.” Eddie shook his head with a sigh. “Hey Red!” he shouted and boy looked at his way, Eddie motioned for his to come over. The boys face lit up and had the brightest smile on his face they’ve ever seen.

“God, the guy is like a toothpaste commercial.” groaned Gareth and Jo kicked him under the table. “Hey!” Jo ignored him looking at his brother with a frown.

“He is blond.”

“The hoodie is red.” he shrugged putting his launch box on the ground.

Jo only rolled her eyes at his brother’s words but soon a friendly smile appeared on her face as the boy in question took a seat on her left side.

“Hey!” he greeted them with the same wide smile that was on his face when Eddie urged asked him to come to their table, his eyes settled on Eddie. “Thanks.”

“Sooo” Jo tilted her head getting Simon’s attention. “Who can we welcome to our table of misfits and freaks?” she asked rather theatrically. Ronnie always said she would be a good DM just like Eddie, but Jo liked his brother’s campaigns, and she always thought she could never come up half as good challenges as he did. “Or should we just call you New Boy?”

“I’m Simon. Kalivoda, and I know it’s sounds weird and kind of a tongue murderer.” he added which made Gareth and Jeff scoff.

“Sounds like something pulled straight from D&D if you ask me.” Jo shrugged her shoulder. “I’m Jo, call me Josephine only if you have a death wish. This is Peter” she pointed at the boy on her right. “Those idiots are Doug, Jeff and Gareth. And the very man who was gracious enough to allow you to join our table is my brother Eddie.”

“Thanks again.” he said squirming a bit and as he leaned a little closer to Jo she could smell the faint scent of weed. Now, now.

“Where are you from?” inquired Doug chewing on some… God doesn’t even know what.

“And why did you leave in the middle of the school year?” Gareth leaned closer, like he wanted to interrogate Simon. He would never admit it, but he was more interested in gossip than some retired old lady.

“Jesus H Christ…” Jo and Eddie muttered under their breathes feeling bad for Simon already.

Eddie kept watching the boy who stood out in their table like a sore thumb. He seemed social, someone who is liked for no reason at all, with a smile that probably would make even some off the cheerleaders walk out of their panties. He looked like someone who got on well with others, maybe not the popular guys, but certainly not with people like him and the others at the table. And yet here he was letting Gareth get all Chief Hopper on him. But why?

“Well long story short” Simon cleared his throat, making a face as he pushed his smashed potato around. “my parents wanted to move for a while now – they just forgot to tell me and my brother -, but when another murder rampage went down, they said Fuck it, packed up and here I am.”

“M… murder rampage?” Peter stuttered and Simon just shrugged while practically throwing down his fork.

“Yeah, well Shadyside being the Killer Capital and all that shit.”

“You are from Shadyside?” Jo looked at Simon with wide eyes. “Killer Capital and Witch Town?”

“Before the witch’s final breath. She found a way to cheat her death. By cutting off her wicked hand. She kept her grip upon our land. She reaches out from beyond the grave, to make good men her wicked slaves. She’ll take your blood, she’ll take your head” Simon started in an eerie voice, Eddie had to give him, the guy had a thing for dramatics. “She’ll follow you until you’re dead.” he finished louder, slapping his palm on the table, which made them jump a little, and earned some looks from the other tables.

“Jesus, dude” Jo chuckled, looking at her brother trying to read his face.

“Well, one of my friends Deena says it’s the place that makes people go nuts and go around murdering people. I’m fine with the witch story though.”

“So” Jo tried to take the conversation to another route. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah, Timothy. He didn’t come today; he had this almost OD thing not too long ago sooo… Yeah. He’ll come tomorrow though, he is fine, already back on the good stuff, so he wasn’t really traumatised if you ask me.” Simon kept rambling. Jo could see Eddie perk up at the mention of Timothy buying stuff, his mind was screaming potential costumer, an imagining dollar bills all around.

“Where did you move?” looked up Jeff who was quiet so far.

“Trailer Park.”

“Really? I haven’t heard someone was moving in. Ed?” the girl looked at her brother who seemed to be still in his I-will-get-money trance.

“Wayne said something the other night. Don’t know I was… busy.” He said clearing his throat.

“Do you mean high?” She teased and Eddie throw a piece of bread at her. “Well seems like we going to be neighbours.”

“Cool. I could use some familiar faces.” he said with a frown, then his signature smile returned. “So, you guys are…” he tilted his head to get a better look at Jo’s shirt.

“We have a D&D club.” she helped him out.

“Oh, that’s cool!”

“You play?” Eddie was still watching Simon like he wanted to see right through him, like he wanted to read all his secrets out of him.

“Nah, but I heard it’s fun.”

The interrogation lasted until the bell rang and they all headed for their classes. Eddie had to take another Math lesson after Jo’s last one, so she waited for her brother at the parking lot next to his van. The van he inherited from their father. She could put into words just how much she hated that man, she always thought Eddie and Wayne were too forgiving. If it was on her, she would have let him sleep with the dogs under the stars the next time he turned up for… Anything. Breaking his nose didn’t seem like a bad idea either.

“Earth to Jossie” she blinked a couple of times when her brother’s hands waved in front of her face. “You good?”

“Yeah, zooned out a little” she said with a forced smile, reaching her hand out so Eddie would help her up from the ground.

“What’s in that head of yours?” Eddie’s tone was as serious as it could get and he was watching Jo like a hawk, with concern in his eyes.

“Fathers’ sins” she answered carelessly and walked to the passenger side of the van. Eddie let out a sigh, but he knew better than to say anything about the topic. He wasn’t about to start an argument or rather a screaming fit with his sister, and this topic, talking about their father always led to one of those. They were almost at the trailer park when Jo spoke again. “So, what do you think?”

“About what?” Eddie didn’t look at her as he turned the wheel.

“About our Little Sheep.” she said with a smirk.

“What do you want me to say? He stands out like a sore thumb; he doesn’t play D&D…”

“Oh, come on Ed! Gareth didn’t play D&D before he joined Hellfire. He just moved, he lives in the same shitty trailer park like us, he has a brother who OD-ed, he knows no one here. He needs...”

“Us?” he looked at her with raised brows as he parked the van.

“Maybe. We will never find out if we don’t give him a chance. What’s the worst that can happen? He walks away. Big deal. But even if it happens, we can tell that we tried.”

“Jesus, with monologues like that, you’d make a terrifying politician.” Eddie scoffed while playing with his keys. “Fine, I give the Red a chance. Just one. He fucks it up he’s out.”

“I don’t think he will. I have a good feeling about him.” Jo said with a satisfied smile. “And he is kinda pretty.”

“Shut up!” Eddie pushed her shoulder and got out of the van. He had a feeling that Simon Kalivoda kid would turn his word upside down.

I really hope that I will not regret it.

@snazzynacho

@headofeddienatio

#stranger things #fear street 1994 #fear street au #stranger things au #eddie munson #simon kalivoda #hellfire club #corroded coffin #stranger things fanfic #siddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie Munson x Simon Kalivoda #Simon Kalivoda x eddie munson

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totally-not-your-babe · 16 days ago

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You have nooooo idea how happy I was when I saw the update this morning!!! 🥹🥹🥹 I loved every single word💞💞💞

Eyes of the Gods XI

series masterlist - part ten

Pairing: Geta x fem!Reader x Caracalla

Summary: You dream of the future of Rome

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unhealthy relationships, controlling behavior, period typical sexism, obsessive/possessive/ relationships, talk of pregnancy, historical inaccuracies, manipulative behavior, jealousy, mentions of slaves/slavery, mentions of miscarriage(not readers), past domestic abuse, unedited

Word Count: 5.5k

With Macrinus safely detained, the palace descended into uneasy silence once more. Macrinus was stubborn; he had yet to reveal what poison he had used but the healer had not been overly concerned. Other than some irritation and bruising at the back of your throat and a slightly unsettled stomach, you were miraculously fine.

It would have turned out differently if Caracalla hadn't been so quick or you had not noticed the difference in the taste of the wine. The 'what ifs' continued to flit around your mind as your hand curled around your stomach, fingers trembling.

It had taken what seemed like hours for Caracalla and Geta to fall asleep. They lay on either side of you, Caracalla's hand on your left shoulder and Geta's on your chest. Caracalla occasionally thrashed in his sleep, seemingly choked with panic , but he seemed to have settled down in the last half hour.

Before, when it had been just your life in danger, you had not felt quite so torn. You had even proven that you were able to somewhat defend yourself. And whilst the ferocity of the emperors was an issue for most, you had found yourself benefitting from it, becoming complacent.

That was not what you wanted for any child of yours. To have to constantly be alert, ready for some kind of attack. The worst being the one you couldn't even see, like poison.

Your thumb idly brushed over your stomach. It was too early to tell whether you were with child and then, of course, there was the poison to consider. Women lost children all the time, even without outside interference. The inner workings of your womb were a mystery to you.

Your throat throbbed. In your mind you saw a child, red-haired and giggly, and already you knew you would do anything to protect them. Anything.

The air was still and tranquil. You lifted your hand from your stomach and wrapped your fingers around Caracalla's warm hand, lifting it to your mouth a pressing a soft kiss against it. You did the same for Geta before slowly easing out of their arms and shuffling to the edge of the bed.

Your feet were cold against the floor. If they wake up, you told yourself, I shall take it as a sign and think of this no more.

Seconds passed, then minutes. The emperors did not stir.

Serenity overcame you as you accepted the actions you would take next. You could not stay, waiting to find out whether you were with child, only for that child to later come to harm. That would destroy you. Not for the first time, you wondered what kind of man your father had been to raise a hand to his only daughter.

Still, a part of you hoped the emperors would wake and demand that you get back into bed, even as you padded across the room and eased open the door to face the Praetorians.

There were only four stationed outside the door. Many had been sent to guard Macrinus, as though he might manage some miraculous escape, and there were more stationed at all entrances to the palace.

"I am going to visit the healer," you lied smoothly, easily. "I only need one of you to accompany me."

The halls were still and bathed in moonlight as you got further and further away from the emperors'. You had taken advantage of the Praetorians and the fact they would not question you. You forced yourself to set aside your rapidly building guilt.

You had no real plan. Instead you were relying on guidance from the fates. If your attempt was unsuccessful, then that simply meant your destiny was here, with the emperors. If you were successful. . .

As you approached the infirmary, you saw a female slave pause at the entrance, glancing over at you before dipping inside. The beginning of an idea began to take root inside as you got closer and closer, the potent smell of remedies and tonics swirling around your head.

You stopped at the door of the infirmary, glancing back over at the Praetorian. "I would prefer to visit alone."

The man looked uneasy but ultimately agreed. He opened the door for you and you cringed at the noise it made before slipping inside, pressing your palms against it so that it would not make a sound.

The room consisted of two main chambers; the entry way and then the infirmary itself. You could hear the groans of the sick and the low tone of the healer as he talked with someone - probably the woman from before.

You had been here only once before but if your memory was correct, you could find what you were looking for in the set of draws closest to you. You painstakingly pulled the draw open, anxiously glancing over your shoulder for any sign of more guards or the healer.

The draw was full of tunics, just like the ones you had worn before. These ones were perhaps a bit rattier from frequent washes but that was even better. Silently you pulled one out, dropping it on top of the draws before yanking off your own clothing, followed by the jewels the emperors had given you. You left a single bejeweled pin in your hair, tucking it as deep as you could and arranging your hair around it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, your mind insisted. You did not care. You needed to get away, to be alone with your thoughts. Your mind was a jumbled mess that you had no hope of untangling without the aid of time.

You folded the clothing around the jewelry, giving the cuffs one last mournful stare, before gently placing them in the draw and pushing it shut. There was no telling how much time you had left and getting caught at this point would mean you would have a lot more to explain.

In the other room, you could hear the woman and healer moving about. Heart-pounding, you tugged on the tunic and smoothed it out before attending to your hair. The woman had been of similar build to you, her hair a similar shade, and you arranged yours to mimic hers.

Before it was too late, you went to the door and pulled it open. There was a chance the healer might get curious and come to see who was there so you let it fall shut quickly and did not look at the guard. He was stood with his back to the door, spear at his side. You scanned his side profile once, searching for suspicion, before turning your back to him and beginning to quietly tread away.

It was a pain to make sure you did not turn back or walk too quickly, lest you look suspicious. You kept expecting to hear the shout of the Praetorian, or the questioning tone of the healer. Neither of these things happened. If you had not been so preoccupied with trying to breath steadily, you would have been speechless at your fortune.

Naturally, you headed for the kitchens. That might have been the worst place to go before but now there was no-one there to recognise you. You entered the stairway, finally allowing yourself to descend into a swift pace. It was not inherently suspicious; in fact, it made it more likely that anyone who saw you would leave you alone, assuming you had been sent on some errand by an impatient master.

You paused only once to glance around the room where you had spent so many years of your life. The kitchen was not completely empty but the men at the stove hardly spared you a glance, too busy spooning soup into their mouths.

The kitchen had provided security, food and warmth to you on many an occasion. You could smell the day's food lingering in the warm air. It was also potentially the first place the emperors would come looking for you, so with once last look, you pried your fingers from the entrance and dove deeper into the slaves' quarters, heading for the exit.

Far too late to turn back now.

As expected, there were more Praetorians stationed at the exit. Your hands began to sweat as you approached them. It was impossible to predict whether one of them would notice you, even without the luxurious clothing and jewellery.

You came to a stop in front of the guard who stood directly in your way, leering down at you with hard eyes. He searched you for the mark of a slave but did not find one.

"Where are you going?" he asked, breath wafting down into your face.

"An errand for the healer," you swallowed, the motion painful.

"At this hour?"

"He said it could not wait."

The other guards were beginning to turn around, curious. If one of them recognised you it would be over. You could not even begin to imagine the type of punishment you might face.

Finally the guard grunted, moving aside to let you pass. You tried not to allow your relief to show on your face. Instead you nodded your thanks, lowering your head once more before passing by all the guards without a peep. It felt as though you were passing through a pack of dogs who may catch your scent and alert their owners at any moment.

Sweat beaded along your brow and you swiped at it as inconspicuously as possible. Each step felt like a mile but you did not stop, not even as you began to feel the palace at your back, looming over you. Your eyes began to sting and still you did not stop, the night enveloping you like the old friend it had once been.

You walked on, and on, and on.

The stench of the cells was almost indescribable. Piss, blood and fear. Geta breathed in the latter, let it settle in his chest, reminded himself of whose fear it was. Reminded himself that he was the one in charge.

The Praetorians stopped outside a specific cell, flanking him on either side. Macrinus was sat at the very back, spine pressed against the wall and chin held high. His skin looked sallow already from a single night, dark eyes peering out at him with pure hate.

Perhaps that would have disturbed Geta before. This was, after all, the same man who had pandered to him and fawned over his brother for several months now. How had he been so blind? How long would it have been before Macrinus plunged a knife into his back?

Somehow, none of that felt like it mattered anymore.

Geta leaned forward until his chest brushed against the grimy bars. "You have one chance to answer, master of lies."

Macrinus laughed loudly, smugly. "What poison did I use on your lady love?"

"Where is she?"

Macrinus paused, smile twitching on his lips before they pulled back into a fully-fledged grin. He clapped his hands together, letting out a bark of laughter. "She is gone? Truly? Well, I hope you don't mind my saying so, but I do wish she had chosen to go a day or two earlier. Might have saved me from all this trouble.”

Geta slammed his palms against the bars, the sound ringing throughout the dimly lit room. He observed Macrinus a moment longer before turning to the Praetorians. As much as Geta wanted to torture Macrinus himself, he had other priorities.

"See to him," he spat, "make sure he understands that this is not a laughing matter."

Geta was almost at the foot of the stairs by the time the yelling started. He lingered for a second, waiting for satisfaction to hit, but it did not. Instead his chest felt tight, uncomfortable.

Torturing Macrinus did not bring you back.

Part of him had known Macrinus had no direct hand in your leaving. Geta recalled your shiny, panicked eyes, the wobbly smile you had given him before going to bed. Fear of Macrinus, of others like him, had driven you to do something incredibly reckless.

It was something Geta almost understood - almost. Mostly he was angry and shaken by your absence. Understanding could come after you were returned to his side. For now there was only panic and the faint realization that somehow, at some point, he was going to have to tell his brother.

You spent the rest of the night curled up in the streets, as close to a fire as you dared get without drawing too much attention to yourself. When the sun rose you rose with it, stretching your arms above your head and brushing the dirt from the creases of your tunic.

There was nowhere to go, no-one to see. Aimless, you began to walk. If you stayed in one place too long you were certain the Praetorians would soon stumble upon you. You dragged your feet, kicking up tiny dust clouds as you trod on.

You supposed that eventually you would have to find employment elsewhere. The single pin you had kept would get you a bed for a couple nights as well as a few necessities. It was worth more than that, no doubt, but you would have to downplay it's value in order to avoid suspicion about how you had acquired such a thing.

Your hand drifted up to your hair, brushing against the pin you had buried in it. It would be hard to give it up and you were not ready. You swallowed thickly, barely noticing your own thirst, and continued on.

You stuck to side streets, avoiding the markets and stalls. The Praetorians arrived sooner than you had assumed. At first you were not sure whether they had been sent to look for you but when you saw them stopping merchants and children, grilling them with questions, you knew you had to be more careful.

Every corner you turned there was more of them. You squatted to press your hands into the rough surface of the street, running them over your tunic and eventually your face. Tiny stones stung as they rubbed against your palms but it felt necessary. It was likely they were looking for some fresh faced, well-dressed young woman rather than some rumpled slave.

Hopelessly, you drifted through the side-streets until deciding that it was maybe better to hide in plain sight. You rambled through the marketplace, keeping your body angled firmly away from any passing guards, pretending to examine the merchandise. You got more than a few dirty looks from merchants who probably assumed you were planning on stealing. You made sure to keep your hands in plain sight at all times, lest anyone kick up a fuss.

As the morning trickled by and made way for the afternoon, it became difficult to ignore the hunger brewing in your stomach and the thirst that was beginning to turn your tongue into an immovable object. Several times you thought about stopping, about trading your pin away, but the thought of drinking some untested wine or posca made you sick.

You had not expected this new aversion to liquid and it only served to make your life more difficult. Every time your throat itched with thirst you remembered Caracalla kneeling in front of you, forcing you to empty the contents of your stomach.

I could drink if they were here, you thought, leaning against the side of a building. There would be no need to worry then, because they would not allow any harm to come to you.

With a sigh, you pushed off of the building. You could hear the sound of playing children ahead and followed it, curious. A long time had passed since you had played in the street with your friends as a child. Even then it wasn't something you had been allowed to do often, thanks to your father.

You thought again of the child you might be carrying. What kind of life would they live? Out here, with you, there would be poverty but also joy. You would not be the type of parent your father had been. You imagined yourself as your mother, gentle, reassuring. You missed her now more than ever and mourned over the loss of any advice she may have been able to give.

Your own situation was vastly different to hers but a mother's input could be a valuable thing. You could not imagine how she had lived all those months when you were still small, still fragile. How she had protected you from your fathers quick temper, you did not know.

You imagined your own child and whom they might resemble. Already you felt fiercely protective over a being that may not even exist. A pang of guilt stabbed at your chest as you thought about Geta and Caracalla, distracting yourself with thoughts of what kind of fathers they may have been.

You rounded a corner and almost collided with a running child. Their speed almost took the pair of you to the ground but you managed to steady yourself, the beginning of a smile playing on your lips.

"Sorry!" the child said, offering you an apologetic grin before speeding off.

You watched as he darted about with his friends, playing some game that you had not seen since your own youth. You settled back against a wall and watched, amused.

Palatine Hill was calling you. The emperors were calling you. There was an ache in your bones that was not caused by an ailment that could be cured with medicine.

How had you come to yearn for the two people who you had once feared? You thought back to that day in the kitchens, the way you would have done anything to avoid their attention. Now their eyes were no longer on you and you felt their absence more keenly that anticipated.

The palace had always been a home of sorts. It had kept you fed, clean, clothed. All of that felt like nothing compared to the way you had felt beside the emperors or between them in bed. Fear had given way to something that was, in some ways, scarier.

It was not just fright for your potential child that had made you walk from their room earlier. Only now could you admit it, admit that your own blossoming feelings had sent you reeling and running scared.

How could they not? If you were to admit to how you felt, things would change. You would have to acknowledge that, despite the way they treated those around you, despite the terror they brought upon the citizens of Rome, Caracalla and Geta had clawed their way into your heart so viciously that you were not certain you could remove them without causing yourself physical pain.

"I am a fool," you whispered to yourself, "a selfish fool. Minerva, grant me your wisdom. I need it now, more than before.”

Once again your eyes were drawn to the children. Your hand settled on your stomach again as your mind clouded with thoughts of the emperors.

Geta had said your child would be heir, future emperor or empress of Rome. Maybe it was naive to believe him, but you did.

Geta and Caracalla could be cruel, vicious, despite the tiny changes they had made in the last few months. But your child would not only have them - they would have you.

You knew yourself to be kind, compassionate, empathetic almost to your own detriment. What would Rome be like if she had a ruler with these qualities as well as the necessary strength and decisiveness? A ruler who did not have to fear for their life because they were beloved by their people?

Your mind began to race with hope as you gnawed on your bottom lip. You struggled with trusting your own choices, but something about this felt right.

For once you saw Rome for what she could be, rather than the harsh reality of what she was. You saw yourself with the emperors, safe and content, belly swollen with the future of Rome. Your closed your eyes, let the image sink in. There were countless risks but the rewards were plenty. Not just for you but for Caracalla and Geta. For the people of Rome.

All you had to do was believe that they would protect you and your child. And had they not done that thus far?

You loved Rome for what she was, despite her flaws. You loved your emperors in the same way.

With a shaky breath, you turned and began to make your way back to Palatine Hill. There was no way of telling what reception you would get but you felt certain that you must face it regardless.

Caracalla was disturbingly quiet.

After an hour had passed and there had still been no sign of you, Geta finally told him. Your clothes and jewelry had been discovered not long after and Caracalla sat with them now, fingers opening and closing around the fabric.

Geta had had them brought to Caracalla's rooms where they could discuss you privately. The tale of your escape was slowly unwinding. Your disguise, your lies. Geta had briefly felt mildly impressed; that was, until his focus turned onto ways to make sure you would never be able to do such a thing ever again.

"Macrinus has killed her," Caracalla rasped, "he poisoned her -"

"No, brother," Geta knelt in front of Caracalla, allowing his own fingers to brush your stola. "It was her own terror that made her flee - but she is still here, in the city. She will be back."

Caracalla rocked back and forth, mouth working furiously as his hands tightened into fists. Geta got to his feet, recognising the signs of an outburst waiting to happen. Geta also wanted to shout and scream - he could not resent his brother for doing so.

When he had awoken in the early hours of the morning he had, at first, been so deliriously happy it made his head spin. He had you by his side and Macrinus in a cell. Then he had felt the space between him and his brother, felt how cold it was, and had felt sick to his stomach.

It had taken five minutes to locate the Praetorian who had gone with you to the infirmary. Like the fool he was, he had still been waiting for you despite nearly three hours having passed. Much confusion had followed and it had taken several more hours to uncover the details of your escape. By that time you could have been miles away - but still in the city. Geta was certain you were still in the city.

The idea that you weren't made his breath short and his palms sweaty so he refused to think about it.

Caracalla shot to his feet, your stola a limp ball of fabric in his fists. "We must execute those who were stupid enough to allow her to slip away - start with that Praetorian! Start executing people and she will certainly return!"

Geta wanted to do just that. He ran his tongue over his pale lips, deep in thought. If there was someway to guarantee you would return, Geta would execute a hundred Praetorians without a second thought.

"There are Praetorians in the city now. I am certain they will return her to us, brother," Geta gripped his brother's forearms and shook him. "The gods will see her safely returned."

Indeed, the man would be dealt with, but Geta had decided on sending him out to look for you instead. His own desperation to keep his life would ensure he did a thorough job.

Caracalla slumped foreword, resting his forehead on Geta's shoulder. "How could she do this? I thought - I thought -"

Geta ran his fingers through Caracalla's hair in what he hoped was a soothing motion. "It has already been done, we need not dwell on it now. If - when - she returns, we will deal with it then."

Macrinus would pay for his part in all of it. His part and more. That was certain.

Geta’s lack of anger towards you had taken him by surprise. All he felt was a frantic desperation to see you, to have you tucked safely at his side. Consequences be damned - you had to be here to face the consequences and you were still nowhere in sight. The afternoon was passing by and you were still not here.

Caracalla let his head fall back, blazing eyes darting around Geta's face. "She will never leave this place again."

Geta laughed, near-hysterical.

“Never,” he agreed, “never.”

A group of Praetorians spotted you once you were within two miles of the palace. You recognised Consus and he, in turn, must have recognised you.

The surrounded you on either side, boxing you in as you walked the rest of the way to the palace. There was a sense of relief in the air but no-one was entirely relaxed. The reaction of the emperors was on the forefront of everyone's mind, you were sure.

You may be punished. You accepted this with your chin held high. Still, you would do your best to explain your feelings and motivations, however rash they seemed. Stomach churning, you marched on and tried to ignore the wobble in your knees.

Maybe you were being entirely too hopeful in thinking they wouldn't physically harm you. No matter how hard you tried to imagine it, you could not see either of them raising a hand with the intent to hurt you. If that was to be your fate, well, then you would deal with it.

For the first time since it had all began, you felt a sense of control. You had chosen to go back. You had been able to see beyond the emperors and get a sense of your own feelings without being distracted by wandering hands and sharp eyes.

The palace winked at you in the setting sun. There was no feeling of impending doom or terror. You felt resolute, ready for whatever may happen after you entered that building.

There had been no plan, no thought out plot to deceive. Only a sense that you had to get away, like a trapped animal gnawing off it's own limb. Your mind had been well and truly clouded. By the attempts on your life, thoughts of an heir, the emperors.

Now you felt as though your mind had had a chance to clear some of the debris from the last few weeks and it had left you wanting. Wanting them.

The Praetorians became tense as you entered the palace. The entire place was on edge, as though it was seconds away from coming apart. It was hard to believe this was your doing. You would address that gnawing feeling of guilt later, after you had righted your wrong.

The Praetorians did not stop. They urged you on, closing in tighter around you as though you might slip away. Their nerves were affecting your own. You ran your tongue over your bottom lip, internally cringing at the dryness you felt. To have your confidence slip from you now would not do.

They took you to a place you had not been before. It was similar to other parts of the palace but you did not recognise it. You stopped at the door, pressing your hand against the intricate carvings and letting the edges bite into your palm. Hesitant, you glanced at the Praetorians.

They shuffled even closer. Leaving again was not a possibility, even if you wanted to. Despite their tough demeanor you could see the pleading in their eyes. You nodded, partially to yourself, and pushed open the door.

The room was an office, smaller and more formal than the one in the emperors' chambers. The desk sat on a slightly raised platform and was decorated with objects, many of which you had never seen before. The most interesting was a globe, golden and polished in the sun that was streaming into the room from the huge window behind the desk.

Geta stood there, alone.

His back was to you but you knew he was aware of you. You could see it in the hunch of his shoulders, the way his thumb was rapidly swiping back and forth over the cup he was holding. You swallowed and it was audible in the still room.

Finally, Geta turned to face you. His face was white with layers of make-up, already dark eyes smeared with kohl. The colour contrasted with the red of his eyes. This was how you had always pictured him, before you had ever gotten close enough to see what was beneath.

"Explain."

You wove your fingers together and tried not to make it look like the nervous gesture that it was. His lips were pale, bloodless, and you levelled your eyes on them as you began to speak.

"I had never considered what it is, what it really is, to be emperor," you admitted. "Not until that man tried to kill me and even then - I thought only of myself and why it was happening to me."

Geta was listening intently. You took it as a sign to continue.

"Then, there was the mention of an heir, and I became aware of the fact that I would have to guard more than just my own life," you blinked hard, letting the words spill out. "I thought I could live with people wanting to kill me - but people wanting to kill my child -"

Geta set his cup down. "You were worried for the life of our child? A child that we cannot even be sure you are carrying?"

"Not just that," you raised your hands, "but you and Caracalla! I am aware that there have been attempts on your lives before but it seemed that my presence was spurring these people on. If they could get to me, they may have been able to get to you!"

Geta pressed a hand to his forehead and began to laugh bitterly. "You have no idea the pain you have caused today, and to say that you did it because of us? It is difficult to believe."

"It is the truth," you said stiffly. "I left because I - I love you. I came back for the same reason."

The words sat heavy in the room. Instantly you wanted to take them back, scoop them up and swallow them and let them marinate inside you a while longer. They felt too fresh, too raw, and you wanted to protect them for just a bit longer. You kept your eyes trained on the floor, mortified at your own forthcomingness.

The sound of draws opening and closing piqued your interest but you could not bring yourself to look up. Only when Geta's feet appeared in your eyeline did you dare to life your eyes from the floor.

He held out his hands and you gasped. In each one was a perfectly carved child, petite and mischievous. You recognised them immediately. Romulus and Remus.

"I had these made," Geta said quietly, "after I saw that old carving you have been carrying around all these years. It was a wolf, was it not? I thought you might appreciate these additions."

You could hardly speak. That day felt so long ago now but you remembered the way your wolf had clattered to the floor, the way Geta had snatched it up and examined it with curious eyes. You had been embarrassed to see him handle your tattered old toy.

You reached out to touch them but Geta pulled back, nostrils flaring. "If you accept them now, you cannot take it back. They will be yours and you - you must not abandon them. Ever. No matter how good you believe your reasoning to be."

Your lashes fluttered against your cheek. "I would never."

You held out your hands and let Geta place the children into them. He closed his fingers over yours and squeezed tight until the pain was almost too much. You did not pull away.

He pulled you close until your chest was pressed against his. "You have been unimaginably reckless and there will be consequences."

You did not have it in you to be scared anymore. "I understand."

"Those will come later," he said, staring down at you. "You love me?"

"I do," you breathed.

Geta brushed his nose against yours. "I shall have you say it a thousand times. As punishment."

"I shall take this punishment without complaint," you offered a tentative smile.

"As you should," Geta pinched your waist. "I love you. There, it is not such a difficult task."

You pulled away, clutching the carvings to your chest. You could practically feel your eyes shining. Geta's eyebrows scrunched together as he observed your disheveled appearance. He poured you a cup of wine and you drank it gladly, hardly even pausing to consider the danger.

"Drink it all," he instructed, "and then you must see my brother."

Authors Note - hint: he wasn’t just talking about the carvings.

For those who think Reader got off lightly - it’s not over yet. Rough makeup sex anyone? And she is also about to have guards practically wedged up her ass and will never spend a moment alone again ever ever ever

Geta is also just happy that Reader came back - especially since she did it by her own choice. This might build trust for normal people but he’s content to just make sure it neverrrr happens again

Please reblog, comment, like, etc! I struggled with this chapter and support is what truly motivates me ♥️

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#eyes of the gods #fred hechinger #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #joseph quinn #emperor geta x reader x emperor caracalla #caracalla x reader x geta #caracalla x reader #geta x reader

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totally-not-your-babe · 18 days ago

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The comparison I have just made…..

#fred hechinger #I cannot unsee it #They are the same

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totally-not-your-babe · 19 days ago