Welcome to my little corner of the internet! On this blog we love the 80s, slashers, vampires and all things horror. Have a fun time perusing!
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Spooky season pixel dividers are by @strangergraphics, any other dividers are by the wonderful @saradika-graphics! The amazingly colorful TLB blog header is by @marnievanhelsing!
Fandoms I'm currently writing for:
The Lost Boys (1987)
Including: David, Dwayne, Paul, Marko, Star
Masterlist
House of Wax (2005)
Including: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair
Masterlist
Other slashers
Including: Thomas Hewitt, Brahm Heelshire, Jason Voorhees (coming soon), The Collector
Masterlist
Fred Hechinger characters
Including: Simon Kalivoda (Emperor Caracalla coming soon!)
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A/n: Not my best work, but I had fun thinking about this little idea with Jason :)
Word count: 1.9k
When you told your family you wanted to spend a few weeks of your summer at the cabin at Crystal Lake, they thought you’ve gone crazy. Your grandfather bought it forty years ago, but no one has been there for at least five. The tale of Jason Voorhees was well known around the surrounding towns, and the periodical killings of teenagers and unfortunate hikers has left its mark on the otherwise beautiful area.
Locals avoided the lake like it was something toxic, and although there were some daring outsiders trying to revive tourism from time to time, it almost always ended in a bloodbath. This meant that barely anyone visited the woods surrounding Crystal Lake. Which is exactly what you needed.
You wanted to get away from city life for a while, go somewhere close to nature where your overwhelmed mind could finally rest. The prospect of cleaning the cabin and doing some maintenance didn’t bother you either. The mindless nature of physical labor sounded greatly appealing after the monotony of your office job.
And so, you took off for Crystal Lake on a bright July morning. You rolled down your window as you drove, your fingers tapping out a tune from the radio on the steering wheel. You were in high spirits, looking forward to finally having some much needed alone time away from the constant noise.
At first glance, the cabin was in a surprisingly good condition. The door opened with a creak as you unlocked it, and memories flooded you about childhood and laughter, about summer days spent by the lake with your grandparents and running around in the woods with your cousins. Inside everything was how you remembered it. Except for the years old layer of dust and the cobwebs.
You spent the next couple of days airing out the rooms and the linens, wiping down every surface and sweeping the floors, fixing a few spots where it seemed like rainwater had gotten in. When you were done with the inside, you moved on to the outside, tidying up the small porch and setting out a chair where you could spend your evenings after a long day of work with a glass of iced tea or lemonade and listen to the sounds of the critters.
Between checking off tasks from your to-do list, you went on long walks in the surrounding woods. With the sun filtering through the leaves, the light breeze coming from the water and the complete lack of people, you felt your soul refresh.
There was just one thing. Sometimes, it felt as if someone was watching you.
You saw a shadow move in the treeline when you opened a window – just a play of the light as the wind moved through the greenery. You felt eyes on your back while you were chilling by the lake, soaking your feet in the cool water – it’s probably a deer being curious. You heard the suspiciously deliberate snap of twigs nearby as you were taking a stroll through the woods – your stressed mind being too used to city living and making you overly cautious.
You didn’t necessarily feel like you were in danger. Still, when you were sitting on the porch in the evenings, staring out into the trees shrouded in twilight shadows and imagining shapes into the darkness, you wondered about all those stories. About the boy who drowned because of the carelessness and cruelty of others and came back as something else. Some said he was a vengeful spirit, others said he was a zombie, many didn’t believe his existence at all. But some, the ones most people dismissed as drunks or crazy, claimed he came back as a man who wanted to clear Crystal Lake of everyone, good or bad alike, to bring peace to the woods.
You went to sleep pondering these thoughts. When you opened the front door early the next morning, there was still dew on the grass, the birds were singing, streaks of gentle sunlight were shining through the trees. And on your doorstep lay a small bouquet of wildflowers.
You were perplexed. Looking around, there was no sign of anyone, just the usual shadows between the thicker parts of the greenery. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you picked up the little arrangement.
You should have been scared. Clearly, you weren’t the only one on this side of the lake. But there was just something about these delicate little flowers, the stems slightly crushed, as if the hand holding them wasn’t used to such gentleness. It warmed your heart.
With a giddyness you haven’t felt in years, you looked out toward the treeline and shouted a thank you.
The next morning, you found another bouquet, left on your doorstep once again. The flowers were slightly different, but you recognised all of them from your long walks as wild species growing around Crystal Lake.
Other things seemed to change too. The strange activity that you dismissed as your mind playing tricks on you before started to look more and more deliberate. You saw a large shape moving in the treeline from your windows on many occasions. You also noticed it from the corner of your eye sometimes while you were out on a walk or down by the lake. When you were by the water however, it seemed to linger further away, like it wanted to stay far away from it.
Whoever your secret admirer was, they seemed content to just watch you from a distance. The closest they ever came to you was when you were asleep. That was the only time they felt confident enough to approach your cabin and leave a little gift for you each night. It was kind of endearing, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but wonder why..
Then one morning, you woke earlier than usual. The sun was just barely peeking over the top of the trees, casting a few thin rays of light over your bedroom’s hardwood floors, but the birds were already in a frenzy, singing to their hearts’ content. Your half asleep brain noted how you would never be able to hear such a thing in the city, and you snuggled back into your pillow.
Then, among all of the noise of the wildlife, you heard something else. You blinked your eyes open, concentrating on what it might be, and when you heard it again, it clicked. The creaking of the porch steps.
You sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. Slow footsteps approached the door, and by the groaning of the wood, it sounded like someone big was trying to move as quietly as possible. You tiptoed over to the entrance, heart pounding out of your chest as you reached for the latch. You had a feeling you knew who would be on the other side. With a quick motion you unlocked and opened the door.
In front of you, frozen mid motion, was a hulking bear of a man. You met his wide eyes through the holes of the hockey mask, and although you couldn’t see his face, he looked like a deer caught in a headlight. In his huge hand he cradled a small bouquet of wild flowers that he was about to place on your doorstep.
You took in the mask, the tattered clothes, the slightly misshapen dome of his almost bald head. You’ve heard so many stories at this point, you immediately knew who he was.
When you opened your mouth, he flinched back, as if he was sure you were about to scream. In contrast to his size, he looked surprisingly timid. It made something warm bloom in your chest.
Instead of slamming the door in his face, like he seemed to believe you would, you flashed him a reassuring smile, stepped aside, and opened the door wider.
“Come on in, Jason,” you said to him.
He perked up at hearing his name and stared, astonished, when you turned your back to him and walked further inside.
You had no idea whether he would follow. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, you heard him take a few tentative steps behind you.
“Please be a darling and close the door, will you?” you called from the living room and smiled as the now familiar creak of hinges reached your ear.
Soon, he appeared in the doorway, looking around with what you thought was curiosity at the sofa, the small, old tv, the neat little bookshelves and the little kitchen nook in one corner. He paused as he noticed your window sills. His head tilted to the side in wonder as his eyes wandered over the dozen mismatched jars and glasses, mugs and vases sitting neatly next to each other. They were filled with flower stems, some already wilting, others still fresh, basking in the morning sunlight.
You watched him from your kitchen counter, still in slight disbelief that he was even real. But there he stood, Jason Voorhees, a living campfire tale, in the middle of your living room. You noticed the scrapes on his rough skin, the wear and tear of his clothes – it was clear he was living somewhere out there in the woods, perhaps a small cabin of his own. If the stories you heard about him were true, he must have had a hard life, with no one but his mother to rely on, the only person who truly loved him. It filled you with sorrow for him.
“You brought those for me?” you asked, motioning to the flowers still clutched in his meaty hand.
He turned to you, then looked at his hand as if he had already forgotten those were there. Finally, he held them out toward you hesitantly with a move that was almost shy. You stepped closer to him. Despite what the stories said, you didn’t feel in danger around him at all. How could you, when he was looking so sheepish because the stems got a bit crushed in his hold?
You took them with a gentle smile. “Thank you, they are beautiful.”
Jason was beaming under his mask at your compliment, and your lips only curled up further. You took out one of the last remaining cups from the cupboard, filled it with water and gingerly placed the flowers in it. Then you stepped over to the window sill , scooted some of the other jars and mugs over to make room for one more. Once you added the new addition to your little collection, you stepped back to admire them.
You felt his looming presence behind you and as you turned your head toward him, Jason was staring at the flowers with the same wonder as before. When your eyes met, you could see a hint of caution returning to his gaze. He couldn’t believe just yet that you didn’t want to run away from him or hurt him. But at the same time, you saw a longing there, a desire to be handled with kindness for once.
You decided then and there that if it was up to you, he wouldn’t lack that kindness anymore.
I'm so glad that that truncated fucking ran-into-a-wall-at-speed tadpole-ass looking squirrel only lives in high altitude forests in Borneo bc this means I am extremely unlikely to encounter one in my day to day life. thank god
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the reason that wounds that break the skin hurt is because its always supposed to be dark inside your body and when your blood sees sunlight for the first time it gets scared. and that causes the pain. or maybe it doesnt
pretty dresses <3 long pretty dresses <33 asymmetrical line skirts <33 big poof skirts <33 pretty pretty dresses <33
MAKEUP OMG I went to cvs the other day for a lil makeup and. I kept asking my friends (they can confirm) if they wanna sponsor me buying out. All of it. Is sooo prettttyyyyyyyy
fun silly lil cast bonding <333 bonded casts <333 esp small ones <3 ten is the best number for a cast imo. Maybe up to 12 <333 Ive only been in two straight plays and both had ten person casts <333 sooo much fun
MY FRIENDS I LOVE YOU FRIENDSHIPS HI YAY I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUU ykwtfs:ijbalbtrhwtbwmatwp (plus other camp besties!! hiii)… wsfc + other high school friends…. middle and elementary school friends… my bffs (shosh + lux are splendiferous fun fact)…. cb & ts friends… tumblr friends…. random people I’m friends with…. I love y’all so much omg listen id genuinely like. Stay alive for all yall. My friends are one of the biggest/most important things on my wills to live list
damn it only five :((( but I have SO MANYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY but they ask for. Five things. Booooo can I say. 24??? Please 24 is very good number I am the colour 24 (the shade of purple I’m wearing rn + a nice warm gold)
ANYWAYS imma tag more than ten bc I wannu and also. Positivity is good !! Specifically non toxic !! Gratitude has many health benefits !! Yipppppeeee love y’all <3
@angelicm00nzdreams @heliorescens @oliverquary @nothing-special-i-guess @hypnopompic-decay @rusty-spooooooooon @callmemreep @emstheles @high-school-is-killing-me @sams-hyperfixations @slasheddream @hopelessplutonium @purpledinosaurdnd @luxthegenderlessblob @pottertheweird @monochromedevdle @stephanieyumyum @grisha-offical @notimportant173 @achilles-the-loser + literally anyone and everyone who wants to !!
1. my friends. These little shitbags (@philanthropicalsundog ) are the best
2. shows and movies. I don’t know how to function and live without them. These days especially kdramas but I also love anime and stuff
3. the sun. ☀️ it makes me giggle to myself like a madwoman. No seriously. My mood gets sooooo good I start laughing out loud because the things in my head just get too funny
4. caffeine. I don’t know why but that feeling of my heart racing is a high I chase every morning (I’m going through withdrawal… AGAIN)
5. dreaming. At night when I go to sleep I’m just so excited to see what I’ll dream about tonight. And truly, the dreams I have are like full-length movies— you could write multiple novels about the lore drop in my dreams
Honorable Mention to my therapist, my family, omega 3 supplements and the beautiful months of may and June for having such breathtaking skies!
I'm not a lot on Tumblr so I'll tag blogs I somehow have perpetually present in my mind 🎀 @momentsbeforemass @headspace-hotel @why-bless-your-heart @sorchaivy @cheerfullycatholic
Once again, here are some WIPs that I'm planning to work on in the near future. There might be some ideas I'm playing with that are not on this list, but at least it gives you guys a little overview of what you can expect to see in the upcoming weeks/months.
Set me free (Poly! Lost Boys x Fem! Reader)
During a girls trip to Santa Carla, California, you meet four strangers on the Boardwalk one night. Your friends think they are trouble, but you see them as something else - your chance to finally escape all your problems. And the promise of freedom and eternal youth is just too good to pass up.
Intruder alert (Poly! Lost Boys x GN! Reader)
When a group of drunk teenagers stumble upon the cave, they are in for a rude awakening. They thought the two boys at the comic shop were talking bullshit when they heard them say something about vampires. Oh how wrong they were.
Big bad vampire and his little witch Part 4 (David x Fem! Witch! Reader)
When you go on a week long trip without telling David, he is forced to face some feelings that have been growing in your absence.
You're a killer, baby! (Sinclair brothers x Killer! Reader)
You didn't exactly plan on your car breaking down in the middle of nowhere Louisiana. Especially not when you are dumping a body. Luckily, you happen upon a small town called Ambrose. When a group of college kids arrive just after you, you start to feel like the charming man from the gas station might be more of a kindred soul than you thought. And he's not the only one.
Secret admirer (Jason Voorhees x Reader)
Spending a few weeks at your family's cabin at Crystal Lake is exactly what your overwhelmed nerves need. Even if your family thinks you're crazy for it, even if there are rumours of a vengeful Jason Voorhees prowling the woods. You clean out the cabin, take long walks in nature and enjoy the quiet. Then you find a small bouquet of wild flowers on your porch one morning.
Season of the witch Chapter 3 (Simon Kalivoda x Reader)
If you guys have some ideas for Star x Fem! Reader, please send them my way! I would love to write more for her. I will be especially grateful if you send me some ideas for Star x Sunshine! Fem! Reader.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Brahms was sulking. The reason? You’ve barely said a word to him since yesterday.
He knew you were still upset with him, you made that pretty clear by the fact that you haven’t talked to him all morning aside from when it was absolutely necessary. Still, your lack of affection was slowly getting to him. He was angry about not getting your attention. And he was angry at the guy from yesterday.
It was all his fault. He shouldn’t have flirted with you, then Brahms wouldn’t have had to kill him.
He was the new grocery delivery man, substituting for Malcolm while he was on vacation, or so he said. Brahms listened as he introduced himself, commenting on someone so young and pretty living alone in such a huge house. Even when you told him you weren’t alone, he didn’t get the message. All the while he was bringing everything into the kitchen, he was bombarding you with smooth compliments and prying questions. You shut down all his advances, emphasizing that your boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate him talking to you like that.
The fool had the gall to look around with a cheeky grin, saying he didn’t see your boyfriend anywhere.
Brahms felt his blood boiling, protective rage consuming him as he emerged through one of his trap doors like a dark omen. This man wanted to take what was his. That was the only thought repeating in his head while he crossed the room in a few long strides. He made sure the guy got a good look at him as he choked him to death.
He only noticed the silence when he dropped the now lifeless body to the ground, his chest heaving. You were standing frozen, staring at the corpse lying in the middle of your kitchen. When Brahms turned to you, his eyes were dark behind the white porcelain of his mask. They cleared up when he saw the way you looked at him though. He took a tentative step toward you, head tilting to the side in question, but you stepped back, bumping into the counter. That’s when he knew he had done something wrong.
Now he wished he had given the guy a slower death. If he had just kept his mouth shut, if he had just accepted it when you first rejected him, then Brahms wouldn’t have had to kill him. And then you wouldn’t have gotten mad at him.
You proceeded to scold him for an hour, fingers running through your hair from the stress, throwing quick glances toward the body every now and again. You told him you could have dealt with him, told him that he can’t just decide to kill everyone that annoyed him.
Brahms didn’t take it well. He threw a tantrum, stomping around and knocking thing over. He didn’t understand why he was the bad guy, when it was him who made you uncomfortable and mocked him, him who was trying to take you away from him. He did you both a favor and got rid of the pest.
You watched him tire himself out, then walked upstairs and locked yourself in your bedroom. You couldn’t fully lock Brahms out, he could get in there if he wanted to – even you weren’t aware of all his hiding places and secret doors throughout the house –, but you didn’t want to. That closed door delivered the message just fine.
Brahms watched you from the walls for a while. You stayed lying on your bed, curled into yourself with your back to him. You knew he was there, but you didn’t let him see you. Still, the occasional tremble of your shoulders made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He hated it when you cried. When it didn’t seem like you were going anywhere, he left to get rid of the body. He went to bed that night sulking, angry that he couldn’t be snuggling up to you like he usually did.
He’s been following you around all morning, always lingering just a bit too close for comfort. For his size, he looked remarkably like a kicked puppy.
You were aware of Brahms’ stubborn lack of personal space. Now it seemed to have been amplified. To be fair, you’ve never scolded him so bad before. He wasn’t letting you out of his sight, always just a step behind you. You kept bumping into him as you did your morning routine, but he didn’t move away. He seemed determined to not let you ignore him.
But you did just that.
You were still mad at him. All night you kept having nightmares about getting a knock at the door. Sometimes it was the delivery guy, coming back from the dead. He would have ugly marks around his neck, his face discoloured and angry. He would lunge at you and choke you to death, just like Brahms did to him. And sometimes it was the police arriving to take Brahms away.
So you kept up the silent treatment. You managed it as you got dressed, washed your face, did your hair, as you put on coffee in the kitchen and made breakfast. It didn’t escape your attention that the body wasn’t where you left it yesterday. You didn’t know what Brahms did with it, but you didn’t really care. You were just glad it wasn’t there anymore.
You managed to ignore Brahms until you went to wash your hands. Then your eyes accidentally flickered toward him in the mirror. He was standing right behind you, looming over you. You could practically feel his breath on your neck. But what struck you was the sadness in his eyes as he watched you. He looked lost, like he didn’t know what to do with himself now that you were upset with him. He didn’t know how to deal with it.
You couldn’t ignore him after that.
It started with small things. You asked him to help you with drying the dishes, to hold the laundry basket while you folded the clean clothes into it, to help you wash fruit you prepared for a snack for both of you. He did everything you asked without a word of complaint.
Brahms hated chores. He never had to do them, his parents and their staff took care of everything his whole life. But now here he was, peeling potatoes. He was clumsy at it, but he worked with a concentration you’ve never seen from him before.
He really was like a giant puppy. Needy, whiny, but very eager to please.
You kept stealing glances his way, your chest warming every time he perked up when you said something to him. When you suggested he helped you cook lunch, he came right away. It was still tense between you, but as the hours passed, it became less and less suffocating.
You’ve been staring into space for the last ten minutes, your hand stirring the soup in the pot in front of you on autopilot. You were lost in your thoughts, contemplating everything that happened. You have been terrified since yesterday. You were upset with Brahms for what he did. But you were also tired of fighting. Seeing him so sad, hanging onto your every little word like he was afraid you would walk out the door the next second, it broke your heart.
You let out a deep sigh.
“Brahms,” you called, and a moment later you felt his presence behind you. He was so close you could feel the heat coming off him.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you yesterday, I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. But what you did was still wrong.”
“I’m not sorry,” came a soft voice, the tone just a bit defiant.
You closed your eyes for a second before continuing. “I know you’re not sorry for hurting him. But you need to understand that you can’t do something so reckless and dangerous. It can lead to a lot of trouble. They can take you away, Brahms, and then I won’t be able to see you ever again.”
Your statement was followed by silence. It stretched on for so long, you started to worry. Before you could turn around however, two long arms looped around your middle, pulling you flush to his chest. You felt the hard surface of his mask press against you as he nuzzled into the hair on the top of your head.
“I won’t do it again,” he mumbled, and you breathed a little sigh of relief.
“Good.”
He stayed like that, cuddling you from behind until you finished cooking, his hold on you just a bit too tight and possessive.
Content: canon-typical violence, mention of kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome
You get injured after a small breakout attempt ends in violence. Now that you're spoiled, you're convinced that he will get rid of you.
You messed up. You knew you did. And now you will have to pay for it.
That’s the thought flashing in your head like a blaring alarm as you were dragged along the dark corridor. There was blood on your skin and your clothes, it seeped through the fabric of your shoes. Most of it wasn’t even your own. At least you thought so.
Your mind was in a frightened haze, your adrenaline still pumping in your veins in a frenzy. Images of gore and violence were chasing each other behind your eyes, the screams still echoing in your ears. You felt like you would never escape the stench of death that permeated that room. You couldn’t help the trembling in your knees, the sheer terror climbing from your gut through your chest and wrapping its cold fingers around your throat. You probably would have fallen to the floor, your body giving up the fight, had it not been for the gloved hand holding your arm in a tight grip.
Your gaze wandered to his back, looking over his wide frame, lingering on the laced up back of his mask. There was no hesitation in his movements as he marched in front of you, prompting you to hurry your steps to keep up with his long strides. But you could sense the tension underneath. You felt it like a prey senses the predator that’s ready to strike.
And he already did. The blood on your skin was proof of that.
Your Master was a scary man. He was a collector of people, an artist with a very specific taste. And if you were damaged or you didn’t satisfy his taste anymore, he had no qualms about discarding you like trash.
You’ve only been this close to him on a couple of occasions – one of which was when he first took you. But you couldn’t let your mind wander back to that time. You’ve erased it from your memory as best as you could. Otherwise you would have already gone insane. However, every time you’ve been around him, you felt his eyes – those dark, inky black eyes – bore into you. Like you were the only thing worth looking at in the room. Like he wanted to open you up to see how you looked on the inside.
There wasn’t much you could do to keep him pleased, you’ve learned that early on, but staying beautiful was one of them. He saw something in you that was enticing enough to take you for himself. That’s the only reason you were still alive. And so you did everything you could to protect that.
Now you’ve ruined that too.
Sure, what happened was out of your control. You couldn’t have stopped that guy from getting loose and letting out all those people, including you. He was probably counting on slipping out during the ensuing chaos. And chaos did follow, especially after your Master set his dogs loose on the small crowd. You tried to keep out of danger, cowering in a corner as people were torn apart around you. You even tried to climb back into your trunk, hoping that the dreaded thing would provide you with some shelter. But there was no use, you still got caught up in the violence.
It wasn’t your fault that you got injured, you would plead him on your knees if it would make a difference, but you doubted that would make him care. You were spoiled now, blood slowly trickling from the large gash on your arm. Like a butterfly with a broken wing. You tucked the injured limb close to your chest, pained whimpers leaving your pressed together lips as you stumbled after him. And every time you let out another sound of distress, his fingers around your uninjured arm tightened.
And yet along with your fear, your confusion was mounting too. You had no idea where he was taking you. He could have just ended your life back there with everyone else. Adding one more body to the carnage was nothing to him. Instead, when he discovered your trembling form huddled inside your trunk, clutching your bleeding arm, something changed in his soulless eyes. He took you away from that room covered in gore and death.
Maybe he was planning something especially amusing and cruel for you. You didn’t dare hope for anything else.
Eventually, he stopped in front of a dark door, and your stomach dropped. This was it. This was where you were gonna die. You willed your shaky legs to hold you as it closed shut behind you with a heavy thud, the sound of it echoing deep in your bones. He pulled you after him, sat you down in a chair, then disappeared in another doorway.
When you dared to look up and take in your surroundings, your confusion only grew. To your utter surprise, you were in a nicely furnished office. Pinned insects in glass cases decorated a large portion of the wall; from small, colorful beetles to butterflies and dragonflies of various sizes to hairy spiders. Dark shelves lined another side, but along with some books, it was mainly dominated by glass containers of living cockroaches, tarantulas and all kinds of creepy crawlies that most people found repulsing. You also spotted a record player tucked away in one corner, and you got the distinct feeling that your Master liked classical music.
The chair you were sat on was situated in front of a large wooden desk, with folders filled with sketches and notes placed haphazardly all over it. It looked like he was in the middle of looking through them when the alarm about the breakout sounded. You only chanced one glance at the drawings and immediately averted your eyes. You’ve heard about his passion for sculpting and contorting the human body in ways that no sane person would ever think of – seeing them on paper was something else.
You felt very much out of place here. You pulled your bleeding arm closer to your chest in fear of dirtying anything. You could only imagine what he would do to you if you did something so careless.
When you heard his heavy footsteps approaching, you averted your eyes to the floor once again. You heard a metallic thud as he placed something on the table, then came the click of clasps as he opened what you assumed was a box. You flinched slightly when he took your injured arm in his hand. You only raised your eyes once again when you felt the soft wetness of a towel dabbing around your wound. He cleaned it with practiced ease, his touch firm but gentle – more gentle than you thought him capable of.
From what you knew of him, your Master didn’t spend time fixing his pieces once they were ruined, he simply got rid of them. Instead here he was, tending to you like you were something special. You didn’t flatter yourself with believing that though.
He inspected the now clean wound with clinical care, then reached into the first aid box once again. Your eyes widened, a fearful sound leaving your lips when you saw the suture in his hands. His dark gaze found yours, the noise immediately dying in your throat. You didn’t dare flinch away when he took your arm and started sewing your flesh together.
By then, you were pretty sure he was not going to hurt you. If that was his plan, why would he waste time with fixing you up? The adrenaline and terror started to slowly leave your system; now you were just in pain, exhausted and above all, confused. A few silent tears rolled down your cheeks as your emotions overwhelmed you.
The task of cleaning you up seemed to calm him down as well. The tension in his shoulders lessened, and you could tell he was pleased you made his job easier by allowing him to move you as he wanted. When he was finished, he looked you over, his black eyes inspecting every scratch, every bruise, every little spec of blood. He stared at your face for a long moment, at your haunted eyes, the tear tracks running down your face.
When he reached out, you didn’t flinch. And when he patted the top of your head, stroking a gloved hand down to your cheek in a move that was almost affectionate, you leaned into his touch on instinct. He seemed pleased with that, as he gave you another pat on your head before pulling back.
Maybe you were somewhat special after all.
You knew he didn’t love you, not like a person anyway. More like a pet, something pretty to be admired, like an elaborate art piece. Still, you couldn’t help but relish his attention. You saw what he was capable of, and some dark, twisted part deep inside you decided it didn’t care. You would be his obedient pet, if that was what it took for him to like you. You weren’t even sure that it was simply about survival anymore.
There was something budding in you, like a broken, blood-soaked weed. Because you would be his butterfly so long as he looked at you like that. You wouldn’t even mind the pin stabbed through your chest so long as he handled you with such gentle care.
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This is a new Emperor Geta imagine based on a lovely anon request. I'm sorry its taken me so long to write and post this for you, I hope it's what you were looking for.
Summary: Geta's marriage to (Y/n) is a decision he did not have a say in. Therefore he takes his frustrations out on her and acts cold to his new wife. But all she does is understand and do anything he asks, wanting to be a good wife . Even putting herself in danger for him.
Enjoy.
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Bright rays of light shone down in such great streaks that they burned when (Y/n) tried to open her tired eyes. The particles of dust floating all through the air sparkled and shimmered like tiny incandescent stars when the sun hit them just right. It made it hard for (Y/n) to focus.
A horrible thumping hammered against the inside of her head and when she tried to lift herself up off the cushion she had slumped against, her sense of balance became distorted.
(Y/n) realised with a grimace that during her sleep she had been biting down on her tongue. There was a dull ache in her jaw when the tension finally loosened and her muscles could relax and release that biting grip but her tongue felt like it was swelling and doubling in size.
Her jaw loosened again and her lips parted, emitting a frail gasp when she lifted her head and realised there was a cherub face staring down at her.
The girl looked to be young, probably a bit younger than (Y/n) herself and she had caramel skin and such wide eyes that seemed almost too big for her face.
There was a small basket in her hands and a rag sticking out of the top, cleaning supplies most likely. The basket was hanging down near the floor as the girl leant forward, analysing (Y/n) like she thought the Empress might well be dead laid there on the chaise lounge.
"Are you alright, Empress?" The maid didn't dare make a move until the Empress spoke.
She didn't want to begin dusting and trying to tidy the usually empty, isolated library in case she disturbed (Y/n). She might have been Empress for a few short weeks, but none of the servants would want to upset her. They didn't know what Geta would do if that happened and no one wanted to find out.
With a deep breath (Y/n) brought her hand up and rubbed at her eyes as she pushed herself to sit up and look a bit more lively and presentable.
There was an awful ache in her lower back, presumably from the way she had slept, and the blanket was half draped over her legs and half on the floor. There was her book laid neatly on the floor by her sandals.
(Y/n) wondered if she looked unruly, if she was a mess and if this was going to spread around the palace as an invaluable piece of gossip.
"Quite… I must have lost track of time."
Her smile was inviting and polite and she clasped her hands together on her lap once the blanket was tossed to one side. (Y/n) was rather surprised she had remembered to put a blanket here in the library for nights like this.
Her bare feet touched the floor and shivers rolled through her skin at the cold contact, but it proved to be useful in livening herself up. Her back straightened up against the cushions and she tried to look alert and presentable as she stared up at the maid who seemed to have calmed down a little. Clearly she had been shocked when she walked in here and found the Empress fast asleep.
And (Y/n) was certainly not going to admit that this was where she spent most of her nights and this was what she had come to call her bed since she had moved into the palace.
"Would you like me to tell the Emperor you were in here? He must worry where you are."
Everyone who worked in the palace knew how both Emperors could act. Most liked to avoid Caracalla in fear of his horrible mood swings, one moment he would be grabbing at them and playfully calling out to them and other times he would be screaming and launching ornaments in their direction.
Geta was the Emperor who no one conversed with, who people were uneasy around because of how precise and controlling he could be.
The maid clearly thought that the Emperor would be concerned that his wife had spent the night here in the library instead of in her room with him. She didn't want him to worry where his wife was or panic and think that something had happened to her when that clearly wasn't the case.
A flash of worry sparked through (Y/n)'s eyes before she managed to mask it and put on a calm smile that shone as brightly as the morning sun in the sky. Her hands clasped together in her lap, pressing down harshly into her thighs to stop herself from fidgeting or tapping too much.
She shook her head timidly, trying not to look overly concerned or eager. "Oh no, he- he will know I'm here, I- I'm always here."
"Very well."
(Y/n) certainly didn't need this girl going to Geta and telling him not to worry, that his wife had fallen asleep in the library. Because then he would have to put on a faux sense of concern and dismiss the maid. He would be irritated by the news because he didn't care.
He knew very well that (Y/n) hadn't spent one night in their supposedly shared bed chambers since their marriage, and he didn't care one bit.
Her teeth sank down into her lower lip when her mind cast back to that first night here in the palace and how it had turned out.
"This union wasn't my decision."
Was that a question? Was (Y/n) supposed to give a response to that, to agree or try and prove him otherwise?
Her eyes were as round as saucers, pupils blown wide and watching Geta with enough unease to make her look like a timid rabbit that was about to be slaughtered by the hunt.
She decided not to give an answer because she couldn't fathom any words to say that would be helpful. It wouldn't do to tell him that this hadn't been her decision either because he already knew that. This marriage was for the better of their two empires, this was to create an alliance, to forge a union that neither country could break.
It hadn't been up to (Y/n) and she had no part in agreeing to this marriage, it had been decided and she understood. Arguing the point wouldn't have done anything but antagonise her father. And (Y/n) knew almost nothing about Geta, she didn't know if he would be insulted or irritated if she stated that she didn't ask or at first want to marry him either.
(Y/n) settled for nodding when Geta looked in her direction, proving that she was listening but that she wouldn't antagonise him.
"I am tied to you for the good of Rome; I shall not be made to endure your presence in my own palace."
It took all of her willpower not to flinch at those words. Was she such a horrid person to be married to? Was her presence irritating or off-putting to Geta? Did it not serve any of his purposes to be married, and to be married to her?
Again, she chose to remain silent and not point out that she was also tied to him, for the remainder of her days, for the good of her home country and for the good of Rome which had now become her main home. Her main concern, her main nation.
This wasn't her idea or for her own benefit just like it clearly wasn't for Geta's benefit to be married to her.
Her hands fisted in her golden dress, the bangles on her wrists clanging together and holting when they caught the edge of her dress or the side of her hip. It was all she could do to stop herself from scrunching the fabric too tightly and causing wrinkles and creases.
She remained glued to the spot, staring at Geta's back as he faced the bed like he couldn't find it within himself to turn and glance at her when he spoke.
"Stay where you choose, do as you please."
(Y/n)'s lips parted but all that managed to come out was a quiet "oh," and nothing more.
The waft of Geta's hand in her direction made her want to take a step back, but her feet would not move.
Did he not want to consumate the marriage? Was this a ploy? If they didn't consumate the marriage then there would be ground for annulling the marriage. And (Y/n) would hate for that to be the case and for the blame to be placed solely on her shoulders.
There was no better match for her than to be betrothed and married to the Emperor of Rome. If this was annulled and she was said to be the reason, she might never find another match.
As much as the thought of lying with Geta intimidated (Y/n), it was a necessity she had wanted to get out of the way. This marriage would be firm, unbreakable. If she had a child then her place as Empress was secured and she wouldn't have to think or to worry about her future here and what any of this would mean for her.
Geta didn't want her around. (Y/n) hadn't been expecting this.
She had expected to be his wife like any other marriage. To have to lie with him whenever he wanted, to have to constantly try her best to please him, to remain at his sides at all times like a prize. She thought they would be engaged in conversation, that she would spend most of her time around him. In the very least she had expected to share a bed with him like she had been repeatedly told when everything was discussed with her and she was told what was expected of her.
But antagonising her new husband wasn't going to do her any favours and (Y/n) didn't want to upset him because she didn't know what his reaction would be or what he would act like if he were irritated and upset.
It would be best all around if she agreed with him and let Geta make the moves and approaches. She could follow his lead and let him set the pace, that way there would be no problems or arguments.
He seemed to realise she still hadn't moved, for he turned and looked at her with arched brows and slight annoyance dwelling within his eyes.
"Go. It's of no concern to me where you spend your time- as long as you don't entertain other men."
It didn't sound like he cared very much. Perhaps he wanted this to be a marriage on paper and nothing more. But then if it was nothing more, wouldn't people begin to talk? Wouldn't they notice that the couple spent no time together, that (Y/n) wasn't staying in her own bedchambers with him. And if she had no child, they would certainly speculate and think something was wrong with her, that she was barren.
She could see in his eyes that he had said that last part because he didn't want this to be known. He didn't want news spreading that they weren't a proper couple.
(Y/n) would never dream of going with another man.
She was married, she understood the sanctity of this marriage. If she were to sleep with another man and someone found out, then it would be an act of treason on her part. There was no consequence of Geta being with other women, but (Y/n) couldn't. She was supposed to produce an heir to the throne and that heir had to be legitimate, it had to be Geta's child and no one elses.
Perhaps he would change his mind soon, maybe he just needed time to adjust to this new situation. And (Y/n) would do whatever he asked of her.
She would become a better wife for him, she would make him happy, make this union worked in any way that suited him.
They had a lifetime together to make this work.
With a nod of her head and her hands still clasped in front of her, (Y/n) bowed and began to step back. "Of course, goodnight Emperor."
Curiosity burned within Geta's eyes as he watched her leave the room. She didn't even bother to go to the trunk in the corner of the room that had been brought in this morning containing most, if not all, of her things.
She didn't take anything with her. She didn't stop and tell him that she wasn't going to be shunned or dismissed like one of the servants.
And he noticed, more as an after-thought than anything else, that she had such a sweet voice.
***
Excitement coursed through (Y/n)'s veins and made her lighter on her feet that barely seemed to touch the floor as she glided through the halls.
Her eyes brightened like flames were burning within them when her sights set on Geta and the little entourage of servants and guards following after him.
He was going to the colosseum, and (Y/n) was permitted to go with him. Of course, he had only asked her because the people of Rome would be very suspicious if their Emperor's new wife wasn't seen by his side whenever he made his limited public appearances.
(Y/n) wasn't sure whether or not Geta would be fine with her going out into the streets of Rome without her, whether she took some guards with her or not. He might not want her going out without him, he hadn't really said, and (Y/n) wouldn't do anything that would upset her husband. She had remained inside until the times he called on her and said they were going out.
When they went out they stood side by side, sometimes he took her hand and kissed it in a display of public affection to appease the people. They sat close together, they shared carriage rides, and that was as much intimacy as they would have.
(Y/n) was simply grateful to be around Geta, to be by his side and allowed to venture out of the palace walls with him.
A hint of confusion pooled within Geta's eyes when he looked to his right and saw his wife approaching him. His wife for all intents and purposes of Rome, and no more.
She was always smiling when he saw her, always so eager to be by his side and leaving the palace. Always happy and joyous and kind, so incredibly kind to any servants who talked to her. Anyone would think she were one of the low born people of Rome who had been allowed to live among the royals. It always surprised Geta.
He noticed the way that she greeted him too. How she nodded her head and dipped into a curtsey to him.
"Good morning, I trust you are well."
For the life of him Geta couldn't understand why she was being so kind, and to him of all people. It wasn't like they were in public yet, being observed and watched by the people and expected to be somewhat loving and share a certain sense of intimacy together.
"You don't have to do that, you're not one of them." His eyes made a sweeping glance towards the staff hovering around them.
There was no need for (Y/n) to curtsey and show him that level of respect. She wasn't a maid, she wasn't someone who always had to wait for him to speak to her before she could talk or even look at him.
(Y/n)'s eyes cast down towards the marbled floor for a moment while she and Geta fell in step beside one another.
"The Emperor deserves respect, especially from his wife." Was the tepid response she gave in that sweet tone of voice that almost irritated Geta because why was she so understanding?
He glanced sideways down at her through narrowed eyes. "And you respect me?"
"Of course I do."
Her response was instant, no time given to think it over because she knew the answer and she knew it was true.
It didn't matter how cold or unsure or arrogant Geta was when he acted towards her. He was her husband, and (Y/n) would always afford him the respect that he was due. He hadn't been cruel towards her, he didn't shout or raise a hand or embarrass her in front of anyone, so she would never do that to him either.
Each time she saw him she would smile, she would nod or bow and speak kindly to him because they were married, and she was supposed to respect Geta above all others. She didn't need to be so formal and kind to him, but she would because that was how she was taught to act. That was how she wanted to be, how considerate she wanted to act to the man she was married to.
How would she be a good wife if she turned away from him or didn't talk to him at all or gave him a snotty remark? How would any of that help their situation and make things better?
(Y/n) wanted their situation to improve, and all she had was time and her personality to win Geta over and prove she could be a better wife. She would be the wife he wanted, even if this marriage hadn't been decided or chosen by either of them.
Surprise swirled through Geta's mind as they began walking. He didn't think she would be so considerate towards him, not with how he had shut her out and how he didn't want her presence around him except for formal events and occasions such as this. He knew he didn't deserve her respect, and he couldn't fathom why she would still give it to him.
Silence blanketed around them as they gracefully walked down the corridor aiming towards the huge wooden doors at the end.
As they walked in tandem, (Y/n) glanced to her left when a small clinking noise caught her attention.
Geta was fiddling with the golden cuff bracketing his right wrist and forarm. It was a lovely item, intricate swirling designs, polished and bronzed to perfection, and the metal was strong enough that it could give a concussion to anyone Geta saw fit to whack with his forearm if he were defending himself for example.
The clasp at the side didn't seem to be doing up properly, and clearly it was irritating him because the cuff was loose and sliding down his wrist towards his hand.
With her lips pressed together into a thin but gentle smile, (Y/n) tentatively reached out for him.
Her left hand braced under his forearm near his elbow to keep his arm elevated and let him rest his arm in the palm of her hand. While her right hand secured over the cuff and pushed down so she could twist the clasp and lock it into place. The touch was barely there for more than ten seconds before the work was done, but it was the most intimate Geta had allowed her to be with him of her own accord. The only touch she had initiated between them, and he didn't push her away.
He remained still and frozen against her, watching with narrowed eyes as she helped him without being asked and without wanting anything in return.
Her fingertips ghosted across the back of his knuckles, causing shivers to ride beneath Geta's skin all the way up to his shoulder. And when the touch was gone, his arm suddenly felt heavy and hollow at the same time, moving back to hang limply at his side as he stared down at (Y/n) without saying a word.
"The colour matches your hair," (Y/n) whispered quietly, still looking at the cuff on his wrist which had been long forgotten by Geta.
Once they were through the great doors and descending down the steps, (Y/n) curled her left hand around the crook of Geta's elbow so she could stand close to his side and keep up with him. Their pace was slow and matched and she couldn't resist gliding her thumb across the crease of his elbow which seemed to make his breath catch in his throat.
She looked so happy, as if she had been a caged animal finally allowed outside, Geta thought as he looked down at her out the corner of his eye.
Such a radiant smile.
***
This felt like one of those days where (Y/n) would rather be back in the palace than out here on the streets of Rome.
That being said, she was pleased to have another visit outside the palace walls. Another morning where she could venture further than the gardens and see more sights and come across the people that were now her people, her subjects.
Being out here was such a difference to being cooped up in the library which had become (Y/n)'s home since moving into the palace after marrying Geta. (Y/n) knew she was lucky that her father had chosen to have her tutored the same as he did his three sons, she could read all the texts in the library and was fluent in Latin and able to write her own ideas and notations if she pleased.
She didn't know what she would have done if she couldn't read the endless books in the library which she presumed the twin Emperors had rarely ever visited or looked upon.
Her days were currently being spent in the library, being there when Geta needed her for formal occasions and outings such as this, wandering the gardens, and being by her husband's side for meals. For the pretense of a normal marriage union.
They had been out for a while now, visiting a temple and seeing the people, and that had been all well and good, but (Y/n) was ready to go back. She was ready to be away from the crowds that were starting to push and shove to get closer to them. Wanting to see them, to either admire or despise them. Either shouting praise or words of vile origin.
As usual when they were out in public like this, (Y/n) had taken to curling her hand around Geta's elbow. Nothing elaborate and if he ever shrugged off her touch she would back away immediately, but he didn't. He seemed to understand she was trying to be an attentive wife, trying to give that impression to his subjects that his wife was loyal, she loved and respected him and wanted to be by his side.
Her steps had fallen out of line with his and she was a pace or two behind him with her right arm stretched out so her hand could remain curled lightly in the crook of his elbow.
(Y/n) couldn't help but fall behind when she was looking at all the people crowding round. She could see people from afar pushing to get closer and the odd flower being thrown at their feet. A generous act that she couldn't reciprocate or show gratitude for and collect the flowers because clearly Geta was a man on a mission, and he wasn't stopping for anything.
Each time that someone shoved their way closer and got a step further towards them, (Y/n)'s skin bristled and she was sure that she could feel Geta tensing beside her. He was looking around too, but he was looking towards his right whereas (Y/n) was looking in the other direction towards the thinner sea of people crowding them.
The guards leading their little entourage and the ones following a close distance behind them were brisk and rather closed off as if they were tuning everything out and trying to move forward whilst ignoring the crowds.
They were close to the carriage now that would take them the rest of the way back to the palace.s
Quickening her steps, (Y/n) tried to fall back in step with Geta but she faltered when something seemed to catch her eye on her left.
A shimmer reflecting the bright midday sun, a glistening light as if a star had fallen from the sky and landed right in their laps. The sunlight bounced and refracted and made (Y/n) blink furiously to stop herself from feeling blinded. That dazzling light came closer and attracted all of (Y/n)'s attention, though it felt like she was the only person who could see or focus on it.
And upon seeing what was catching the light, her blood ran cold and dread dwelled in the pit of her stomach.
A blade.
A blade too short to be classed as a sword, but long and angled and not something (Y/n) would call a simple knife. A dagger, perhaps.
Whatever specific weapon it was, she could see the arm raising to the level of their chest. Hand tightly clasped around the handle of the blade, venom in their eyes, teeth ground down and lips pulled back into a snarl. Feet hitting the floor as he set into a lunge, and his target was made impossibly clear.
Geta.
He was going to attack one of the two Emperors; he was going for the Emperor that was more of a threat, the one that couldn't be controlled or subdued.
"Emperor Geta." That voice was dark, gravelly and coursed with venom that made (Y/n)'s entire core tremble.
"No!"
She was moving before she could stop herself, before her mind could really fathom what she was doing, what she was about to do and what the consequences would be.
Geta turned, exasperation written across his face when (Y/n)'s hand was no longer hooked around his elbow and she suddenly flung herself in front of him. He had no idea what she was doing or what she was up to and it made his chest tighten with an unusual sense of anxiety.
Everything happened so quickly, but Geta could see every little detail as if time had stopped just for him to allow him to get a grasp on the situation.
He saw (Y/n) stand in front of him, he felt her hand shoving at his chest roughly pushing him backwards to get him out of the way. And then he realised what she was obscuring from his path; he saw a blade cross her skin.
He watched the blade swipe across her front so quickly that he actually wanted to believe that the blade hadn't touched her skin at all but had simply caught the ruffled layers of her flowing dress.
That clearly wasn't the case when Geta watched a sparkle of red begin to blossom like petals of a flower bud opening up right before his eyes. It stained the purity of her white gown and churned Geta's stomach.
As soon as (Y/n)'s body started to crumple forwards, as soon as she looked like she were about to drop to the floor, Geta bound his right arm around her abdomen and yanked her back. He didn't know where his own force had suddenly come from but it didn't seem to matter. He pulled with enough force that (Y/n)'s feet almost left the floor and her lower back was moulded up against Geta's abdomen as he curved his chest around her as if becoming a shield for her.
Words tumbled past his lips in a flurry. Calling for the guards, for help, for someone to get that man back and keep him away from the Empress.
What did he employ these men for if they couldn't even protect him or his wife?
None of them had been quick off the mark. Why had it been (Y/n) who had seen what this man was up to? Why was she the only one who had moved, who had done something and tried to protect Geta when that was not her job, not her role or her concern?
"Oh Gods!" He spat, venom dripping from his voice as he twisted to the right and pulled (Y/n) along with him so she was out of the way. "Get him secured!"
He could feel (Y/n) trembling in his arms as the guards finally seemed to get the derranged man pinned on his chest and stomach on the floor. Dirt stuck to the corners of his mouth where his face was scraped down into the floor and the dagger lay disposed at his side, blood sticking it to the sand coating the floor while his arms were detained behind his back.
The rest of the guards crowded in around the couple, clearly realising that they had to do something- they had to do their jobs- and make sure nothing else happened to them.
Both arms stayed glued around (Y/n)'s waist and Geta was sure he could feel her trembling hands gripping his forearm like she was trying to keep herself attached to him or hold herself up.
They moved in tandem, conjoined and clinging together as Geta guided and practically dragged her to the right, aiming for the carriage that would seclude them away from the rest of the world, away from the rabble and give them some privacy and safety.
"Up, up."
Despite the urgency in Geta's voice, (Y/n) could hear something else lying underneath, something softer, something levelling on concern as his hands shifted to her hips and he helped to get her up into the carriage.
"I want a healer at the palace when we get there. Now do what you're supposed to and make sure nothing else happens to my wife or me." There was a maddening look in Geta's eyes and fury laced through his words that spat at the guards like they were nothing more than the grit on his shoes.
They weren't here for appearances or to look appealing to the people of Rome, they weren't here for fun or for something to do. They were supposed to guard the Emperor and anyone close to him. These men were supposed to use their weapons if necessary to keep the people at bay, to stop anyone from harming them.
And they had become slack and allowed the Empress to come to harm and do their jobs for them. That was not acceptable.
As soon as Geta clambered up into the carriage, he slammed the door shut behind him and let his body slump down into the seat opposite (Y/n). The carriage was small enough that even sitting opposite one another, their knees were touching. And if Geta leaned a little closer, his breath would fan across (Y/n)'s face.
He took ragged breaths, pupils blown wide and lips dry and parted as he sat forward and reached out for (Y/n).
At first his hands ghosted across her dress, pushing the torn pieces of material to one side until the strap that had been hanging on her left shoulder suddenly slid down and hung over her chest instead. With the material now loose and at his will, Geta parted it so he could see the wound hiding beneath.
Not a deep thrust from the blade, more of a slice across the skin than a deep puncture wound, which was relieving. But the blood was still soaking into the dress just beneath her collar bone and no doubt it would be causing her pain.
Shudders crawled beneath (Y/n)'s skin when she felt Geta's hands suddenly reach forward and cup her face. His touch was so intent, so fierce and desperate yet he still managed to hold her with some restraint, with some knowledge that she was tender and he didn't want to hurt her.
His thumbs were pressing into her cheekbones and his fingers were touching the tips of her jaw near her ears. He tilted her head until she was looking at him, no ability to look anywhere else but into those dark eyes that were desperate for answers.
He leant in close until their temples were almost touching and (Y/n) could feel the end of his nose so close to brushing hers. Their faces had never been this close before; their lips never this intimate or about to touch.
"Why?! Why would you do that?"
Her blank eyes stared back at him like she didn't understand the question, but it only aggravated him further until he felt like shaking her head in his hands to make her listen and understand what he'd said.
"You could have gotten killed. You- Gods, you do not stand in front of me and take a blade for me. Do you understand?"
Under no circumstances did Geta ever want her to do that for him again. He didn't deserve that. He wasn't the kind of person who should be saved by people like (Y/n). She was pure, she was kind and loving and someone he had mistreated badly. He didn't deserve her kidness or a sacrifice like she had just tried to give for him.
Taking a leap of faith, (Y/n) reached a shaking hand up and curled her fingers around his wrist, holding his touch against her face. Wanting to make sure his touch stayed right there, cupping her face in his hands that she didn't want to part from her skin.
This was the closest they had ever been, and this touch was extremely comforting to (Y/n) right now. She didn't think Geta was the kind of person who could give such confidence and comforting embraces, but now he was holding her, she never wanted this touch to leave. It made the shaking in her system die down and the rapid hammering of her heart simmer down just a little.
"The… the people, Rome need their Emperor, not me."
What kind of person would (Y/n) be if she just stood there and let someone hurt her husband? Hurt the Emperor of Rome? (Y/n) could never rule in his stead, she couldn't make decisions or challenges or lead Rome to glory, that would never be allowed. The people needed their Emperor and if something happened to him, if someone hurt him there could be an uprising and outrage throughout the city.
All (Y/n) had done since she married Geta was try to understand him, try her best to go along with whatever rules he set and try her best to be a good wife, a better wife. That included looking after him and trying to save him from situations like that. Even if it did put herself in harms way.
Geta couldn't understand that logic.
He found himself taking a deep breath as he shook his head as if disappointed in her, but he wasn't. He was simply baffled by her.
"I don't deserve a sacrifice like that from you- especially not from you."
He's been cruel.
It was only now that this was all dawning on him. (Y/n) hadn't asked for this marriage either, she hadn't chosen this the same as he had no choice, but she had been understanding.
Geta had told (Y/n) to leave the royal chambers, he didn't want her there with him during the night, it was his space, his privacy that he wanted to protect and keep strangers out of. He hadn't made other accomodations for her and he didn't know where she ventured off to every night instead of coming to their room and demanding that she stay because it was rightfully her private space too. She hadn't argued with him when she had every right to, and he never gave her any gratitude for that.
He told her he didn't want to be around her, and she didn't push him. Each time he called to her to join him on events and days like this, (Y/n) was right there at his side where he wanted her to be. And she never questioned him.
She didn't get upset, she didn't argue or make logical points with him. She didn't talk badly about him or spread gossip through the servants- which Geta knew now that she had every right to do so if she wished. (Y/n) had kept up the pretenses that everything was the way it should be.
And now she has just stood in front of him because she thought her sacrifice was justified, that the people need him more than they would need her.
"But you," he brushed his thumb delicately across her lower lip and suddenly found himself resting his temple gently and longingly against hers. "You deserve gratitude; a thousand apologies from me. You're my wife, and I haven't treated you as such. That changes now."
His lips touched hers then. Gentle enough that if (Y/n) had closed her eyes, she would surely have mistaken the touch for the gliding of a feather across her lips.
Just as soon as the touch was there, it was gone and replaced with the feeling of Geta's hand leaving her face and curving around to cradle the back of her head. His fingers weaved into the intricate styling of her hair, letting her temple rest against his shoulder while his other arm curved around her waist.
He almost pulled her off her seat and onto his lap with how close he held her to his chest, as if he thought that if he let her go then she might vanish or become seriously harmed again.
(Y/n) found herself winding her arms around his back, fingers scrunching into the soft silky fabric of his robes and her nose inhaled his scent that did wonders in calming her down.
She could just about hear Geta muttering how sorry he was into her hair, and she held him back tighter, glad to be in his arms and feel like a properly married couple for a change.
This was a lasting marriage, this was something that couldn't be undone or changed and (Y/n) wanted to make the most of it. She wanted to make Geta happy and be happy and content by his side. She wanted to have a happy life and a good marriage, because it was the only one she was likely to have.
This might not have been a marriage of choice, but it could be moulded into one of love and contentment.
