#Rome armed to the teeth
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[wolf-shifter] Rome
wolf-shifter!Rome x human!Reader
Good to know: somnophilia, non-con, breeding, rut
Summary: Your best friend can't keep himself away from you anymore.
"Did I wake you up?" Your words are slurred when you break the silence of the quiet flat. The only sound is the traffic from the streets, filtering inside through the closed windows. A few cars pass by every now and again. Their engine rumbles through the air, echoing off the buildings.
Your back is against the wall next to the entrance door as your best friend kneels in front of you, trying to take off your shoes with a slight frown between his brows. His thick fingers can barely handle the delicate clasps.
"It's fine," he hums, pushing the shoes aside. "I told you to call me if you need me."
"Thank you," you reply, tilting your head back when he stands up and towers above you. Your makeup is a bit smudged around your eyes as you blink up at him sleepily. "You are a good friend, Rome. I love you."
The man just smirks at your words, tucking you against his side to lead you into his room. He knows the drill by now. You go out with your co-workers, drink more than you can handle, and call him to take you home. He helps you, of course, while listening to you repeat how much you love him until you fall asleep.
"I love you too, sweetheart," he replies, opening the door of his room and leading you inside until you sit on the edge of his bed. Your posture is relaxed and tired. You don't even move a muscle when you feel him starting to take off your clothes.
"Arms up," he says, and when you do, he pulls up your top until it's on a chair nearby. It smells like your perfume, smoke, and alcohol.
"Do you want a shower?" Rome asks even though he already knows your answer.
"'m tired," you hum, letting your eyes close while you are still in a sitting position.
"Of course," the man chuckles.
While he searches for a shirt you can sleep in, he can't help but let his eyes wander on your almost bare body. Your tits fill the bra into a nice cleavage, and your panties match.
"Hold up your arms for a second, sweetheart," he says quietly, feeling a bit annoyed when the thin fabric hides your body from his dark gaze.
"You can lay down now," he adds, helping you onto his bed and tucking you in. By the time he straightens up, you are already asleep.
Rome has known you since he moved into the city. You met at a coffee shop where you worked after college. He knew you were the one him after a glance and a sniff in the air heavy with the scent of coffee and you. It was love at first sight, except you put him into a friend zone, and Rome never figured out how to get out of it without ruining your friendship. So he stayed in that damn zone, hoping that one day you will confess his love for him or he will grow some balls to tell you the truth. Pathetic really.
After making sure the lock of his entrance door is closed and putting a big glass of water next to you on the nightstand, he climbs onto the bed, trying to focus on anything else but your closeness. You are bundled up in the blanket so much he can barely see the top of your head, and your light snores are muffled by the thick fabric.
His brothers would laugh at him for sure. Their little brother can't get the girl, so he has to wake up next to her with blue balls. How funny. They would never let this go. Idiots. All of them.
He glances at you one last time. He is, too.
Sleep takes him after a while, but his dreams are heavy and troubled. When he wakes up, it's almost morning. The sun is still hiding behind the horizon, but it's there. He turns on his back and groans. His gums ache and burns, his mouth open to lift the pressure off his teeth. Sweat glistens on his heated body. His fingers dig into the mattress under him, feeling his claws wanting to grow out. And his cock. He closes his eyes tightly to keep a pained moan in his chest. It's hard and heavy between his thighs. His erection pulses with each breath he takes, and his underwear is already ruined by the precum soaking the black fabric.
"Fuck," he grunts, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He has a hard time making his tense muscles move. The wooden ground feels cold under him. His skin feels too tight and too itchy.
Rome circles his broad shoulders backward a few times before standing up to get to the kitchen for some water. And maybe he should go out for a run. Yes. Some fresh air would definitely do some good.
The man is almost at the door of his room when you turn on your back on the bed, still sleeping. His eyes rake over your body under the covers. He almost forgot you were there. He was so busy with his wolf wanting to come out he didn't even notice you until now. But now, he can't tear his gaze away from you. You are so peaceful and pretty. Your hair is a mess, and your makeup is smeared around your closed eyes even more than last night.
"Fuck," Rome groans again. You shouldn't be here. Not when his rut is approaching and the wolf in him claws on the inside of his mind to get out.
He should force himself to walk away and call an Uber for you. He should wake you up and make you leave. Or at least, he should force himself out of the room. You shouldn't be here so beautiful and soft while his cock throbs with the need to fill you up.
Images of you pliant and warm in his arms flood his mind. How would you feel under his hands? Under his tongue? Around his...
Rome stares at your chest for long seconds, watching you breathe. You are deep asleep. You always black out when you drink too much.
He steps closer.
His large hands curl into fists.
Another step to the bed.
He shouldn't.
"Fuck."
The change of his body comes naturally and quickly. His skeleton transforms into something more primal, with firm muscles and dark fur all over his skin. He grows taller and stronger. The ache in his body lessens, but his cock between his legs still bobs angrily with each step he takes to the bed to get closer to your sleeping form. His claws grip the blanket, pulling it down from the bed slowly and carefully. He drops it to the ground, keeping his eyes on your bare legs. His t-shirt barely hides your panties, and he can see your nipples harden at the sudden change of temperature.
For a second, his attention wanders up to your face. Your eyes are still closed, and your breath is even. The man climbs up on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight. He hovers above your sleeping form, almost frozen. You can wake up at any minute, and there is no way he can explain the situation without you freaking out.
But it's too little and too late.
Taking a deep breath, his hand moves to his aching cock, his long fingers curling around the thick shaft. A groan escapes his open mouth, his long tongue lick over his upper teeth. His eyes wander down on your body, pausing at your soft tits and hard nipples before falling to your covered mound. His grip tightens on his erection, precum leaking from the dark pink tip. He throbs in his own hand, urging him to do something.
He saw you like this several times since you know each other. You are comfortable showing some skin even though it drives him crazy under the surface. The memories almost make him angry. So many times, he imagined you under him, moaning and crying for him while you were totally unaware of his desires and demons.
Releasing his cock, he reaches out for you. His touch is gentle and warm on your knees, gliding up on the soft flesh of your thigh. When you open your legs, he almost jumps back and out of the bed. Rome snaps his eyes up to your face again. You are still asleep.
It's so wrong on so many levels.
Now, that your legs are open, he can see the slit of your pussy through the thin fabric. Drool drips down from his mouth at the plump sight.
Maybe it's enough, he tries to convince himself. Just jerking off on the view of your cunt is enough until you wake up and go home. You won't know anything about it, and life can go on as usual. It's a lie, and the beast in him knows it.
His hand is on you again, caressing your thigh before sliding up to your panties. It's soft under his touch but does nothing but annoy him. His thumb moves between your legs, feeling the heat of your pussy on his own skin. His heart beats in his throat as he watches. Your clit is under his thumb, drawing small circles on the bud.
Rome doesn't have to wait long to feel your arousal in the air. It's thick and heavy, making him and his cock drool some more.
"Fuck!" He groans. His snout fidgets as he takes deep breaths from your scent. "You smell so good."
He moves closer, slowly, tentatively. He lifts his weight onto his arms at the sides of your body. His eyes are on your face again, watching you sleep while his nose almost bumps against your mound. A low groan rumbles in his chest. You are so close. So delicious. His tongue rolls out of his mouth, licking through your center over the fabric covering it. You are wet. He licks over your slit until your panties are soaked with your juices and his saliva. It sticks to your plump pussy.
"Let's take it down," he hums, hooking his long fingers on the side of your panties to pull it down and reveal your most intimate part. Your cunt glistens under the street lights that filter into his bedroom through the window.
The wolf-shifter's world spins around him once, twice, three times as he leans closer again. His snout rubs against your clit, taking deep breaths of your heavy smell. He lost control over his own body a long time ago.
"So pretty," he murmurs. Saliva drips down onto your wet center as he hovers above you. The sight fills him with satisfaction. You will smell like him. You will be marked by him. "You have such a pretty pussy, sweetheart."
Almost bursting with anticipation, he slides his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juices. When he flicks your clit, you moan into the dark room, making him freeze for long seconds. The sound escaping your mouth is hoarse and oh, so delicious. Your smell gets stronger in the air, but you don't move.
"Just a little bit more," he whispers, almost begging. He slurps on your pussy hurriedly, trying to suffocate himself in your cunt. His tongue finds your entrance, pushing inside your hot channel. He can feel you fluttering around his tongue, sucking him in for more. His whole body trembles as his muscles tense. Every nerve in his body is focused on you. Your smell and taste drive him deeper and deeper to the point he can't back away.
His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, leaking. His balls feel too tight, and his hips start to rock back and forth every now and again to find some friction. The knot at the base of his shaft grows with each second he spends between your thighs, munching on your cunt.
Biting off his own claw, he turns his attention back to your empty hole. His tongue slides into you easily. You are pulsing and fluttering until he adds his finger to stretch you out some more. For a second, you tense up, moaning again before continuing to sleep. He almost laughs. He could fuck you. You wouldn't wake up.
He almost cums when you clench around him. He scoops up your nectar with his tongue, gulping to burn the memory of your taste in his mind. Your breathing gets heavier, and a small, barely noticeable tremble runs through your body as you reach your climax. With his free hand, Rome has to squeeze his cock to stop him from shooting his seed all over you and the bed.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans, keeping his fingers in you, feeling your still squeezing walls. "Can you do that again? Could you cum on my cock, hm? Are you ready for it?"
It's madness.
He climbs above you, pushing your legs apart to have enough space for his slim waist between your thighs. His erection rubs against your folds, mixing his pre-cum and your juices together.
"God," he groans. "Fuck! So good, sweetheart. Your cunt is so warm. She wants me, love. She wants my cock inside. You know it, too."
Grabbing his erection, he adjusts the bulbous tip to your entrance before starting to push inside. He growls at the feeling of you enveloping him. You are warm and wet and perfect. His balls jerk and his knot pulses.
"That's it," he groans. "You are doing so good, sweetheart."
"Rome?" Your voice feels like cold water. His name on your lips is thick with sleep and confusion. "What? What are you doing?" Your question ends in a moan when he doesn't stop. He pushes his cock inside you entirely, stretching you out and filling you up.
"Shh, sweetheart," he grunts, panting. "It's okay."
"Rome?" Panic laces your voice. "Rome! Stop!"
"I can't," Rome replies, shaking his head, licking up on the side of your neck. Your palms seem small on his broad chest as you try to push him away while he still rocking back and forth inside you.
"Enough! Rome!"
"Shh," he tries to calm you again. His mind is dizzy with the feeling of you around him. Tight and warm, clenching with every movement you make. Your trashing under him almost breaks his cock off, but damn his whole life if he stops. "It's okay, love. Your pussy wants it."
"What? No! It's wrong!"
"No!" He growls. "It's not! I should have made you mine a long time ago!"
Despite your panic and anger, a moan escapes your lips when he thrusts inside you. Your pussy clenches around his shaft, soaking his erection. Rome reaches every sweet spot in you, driving you higher and higher.
"So good, sweetheart," he coos. His words fan over the side of your neck. "You feel it too, right? My cock stretches your tiny pussy. You squeeze on me so tight, I can barely move."
"Rome!" You moan his name, your fingers dig into the hard muscles of his shoulder. Your legs curl around his waist to keep him close. Pleasure flares through your body even though you know it's wrong.
"And you taste so good, love," he grunst into your neck. Your skin is wet from his drooling. "I ate your pussy while you slept," he admits. "I drank up your juices. You got wet so easily. Your pussy knew it was me."
They shouldn't, but his words fuel you more. Your hips move under him, meeting his thrust as your back arches from the bed.
"Rome! Please! Fuck!"
Seeing you so responsive wakes up something primal inside him. You want him, he thinks, shocked. You want his cock, his warm cum. His mark. He almost shouts with pain when he forces himself to kneel up and leave your warm channel.
"Turn around," he says but doesn't wait for your reaction. Grabbing your hips, he turns you on your stomach, tugging you into a kneeling position. Your ass rubs against his cock while he hovers above you and pushes your head down on the bed.
"Present yourself for me, sweetheart," he groans, rutting against your bottom. "Show me how much you want my cock like a good bitch."
"Rome," you cry his name, screaming when he enters into your pussy again. His hold is firm and hard on your hips as he keeps you in place against his pounding. He fucks your pussy with newfound vigor. Your juices flow down on your thighs, dripping onto the bed.
"Fuck!" Rome groans. "Your pussy is so good to me, sweetheart. She knows what she wants, and it's my cock. She wants me to fill her up and soak her with my seed."
His words clear your mind for a second. Your fingers grip onto the blanket under you. "Wait! Rome! Don't! I don't…!"
"It's okay, love," Rome groans, still fucking you. "You don't have to worry. I will take care of you and our pup. I will fuck your cunt until you are round with my child. I want to see your tits grow with milk and your stomach with our pup. Maybe I will always keep you pregnant and ripe."
Tears run down your cheek from pleasure and fear. Your body and your mind tell different things, and you can do nothing because of the spinning world around you. Your walls flutter around his cock, your stomach tightens into a burning coil.
"Take my knot, love," he demands. "Let me fuck my mate pregnant. Let me have this, love. Just open up your pussy for me, and I will do the rest."
There is no way you can fight against him. His hold on you is too strong and tight, while your limbs feel like jelly. He bullies your cock, filling you up to the brim.
Rome's whole world narrows down on your sweet hole as he forces his knot inside your wet pussy. Every nerve in his body bursts with pleasure when he is inside you fully, and he can't move without tugging and pushing you with the rhythm of his hips pounding your hole.
His growl shakes the walls as he cums inside you. He shoots into your hole several times until, even through the barrier of his knot, some still escapes your pussy.
"Ohgod!" You cry, shaking and jerking. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you reach your climax. You suck Rome for every drop of his cum he can give you. Your pussy aches and burns so deliciously that you can do nothing, but rock back against him for more. His chuckle is hoarse next to your ears when he notices what you are doing.
"It's 'kay, love," he hums, still keeping his weight on his arms. "My rut will keep me going for a while longer before I'm done with you."
"What?" You gasp, breathless. "We are not done?"
"Didn't you hear me?" He hums, pushing inside you more if it's even possible. "I won't stop until you are with my pup."
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#monster romance#monster x human#monster x reader#monster boyfriend#monster smut#meriad#werewolf x reader#werewolf x human#werewolf smut#teratophillia#monster lover#monster imagine#exophelia#terat0philliac
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prefacing this by saying I have absolutely no information on this period of history, but Rome was sacked and ultimately destroyed by Germanic tribes.
And naturally, the first thing I thought of upon learning that was Invader!König X Roman Maiden!Reader. Similar to your story, I’m thinking he decides to take the Reader as a trophy of war similar to his comrades. You and plenty of other maidens are tied up, thrown across horseback or across shoulders, and dragged off back to Germania. Depending on how dark you want it, König could wait for his little prize to want his cock, or he could have no patience at all and fuck her as soon as he gets a chance. Of course, he’s still somewhat of a gentleman, he’ll make sure she enjoys it, but like it or not his cock’s going in her.
I think this is an opportunity to lean even further into the barbarian König idea, with varying levels of darkness.
Save me dark barbarian!König... 🖤💋
CW: dark content, noncon groping, noncon cuddling, fear of SA, König's idea of hot sex is problematic to say the least, reader's level of enthusiasm/consent is ambiguous
He doesn’t care about your delicate sensibilities or noble background, he’s here to bring your Empire down and your weak men to their knees. It’s about time someone burned Rome to the ground; no amount of foreign perfume can cover the smell of shit in these streets…
But he won’t say no to gold or jewels, they might some day decorate his future wife's neck and wrists perhaps. Neither will he ride homeward without a slave to keep him warm. He hasn’t had a woman in months, the only thing closest to a cunt has been his calloused fist and he’s grown tired of that, nothing can compare with the real deal so a soft little female is exactly what he needs to keep him company when he and his warriors return North.
Your options are either freezing to death or crawling inside this giant’s cloak when he holds it open for you come nightfall, the voyage to Germania bringing with it the first snow and cold winds straight from Hades. You have no option but to go to this man for some body heat, the low rumble in his chest resembling the pleased purr of some untamed beast as he envelops you in wool and a hungry embrace.
He never speaks to you, only talks with his hands that roam all over your body as you cling to him with clattering teeth. Examining the wideness of your hips, the plumpness of your ass and tits, he serves himself a handful and some pinches as if he’s sampling fruit at the marketplace. Rubs your nipples between the pad of his thumb and pointer until you flinch from pain, mutters something pleased when he sees your skittish reaction. He won’t allow you to pull away however, not when you’re finally here, so back to his arms you go as he crushes you against his chest.
He’s amused at your attempts to both huddle closer and squirm away: why are you being so difficult when clearly, you want this too?
He saw how you looked at him back there when he was drenched in blood, that’s the reason he chose you. You’re sweeter than an apple, didn’t even scream when he swept your hair from your face to have a better look at you, you only eyed him with challenge when he inspected your lips, waistline and hips. A scared female would have avoided his eyes and begged not to be killed or worse, but you only lifted your chin and spat on his face, practically begging to get fucked…
And now you’re acting like you don’t want his cock while at the same time, you continue to stare at him like a deer in heat. If you don’t want him to fuck you then you should stop making him hard, but in truth König is only glad that he chose you out of all women. The ride back home won’t be dull with a fiery fox woman like you, he has to be careful that he doesn’t get bitten and bruised… How his men would laugh in the morning if they found out that the vixen he stole has made him hers, little teeth marks decorating his skin and betraying everyone your claim.
He would only be proud of you if you did that; women are quite adorable when they have some fire in them. But make no mistake, he won’t let you go no matter how hard you act like you hate him… Everyone here knows you want to jump on his cock; had he decided to inspect your pussy too while covered in your husband’s blood, he could’ve bet all his fortune along with his horse that you were already wet for him.
He could take you right now on this cold, hard ground, try to see how long it takes to make you wet and pliant. The only thing really keeping him from doing so are his men, no doubt wanting to see how a Roman lady takes their giant leader's cock. But he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you naked, let alone watching him fuck you, he'd have to kill them all afterwards...
So he settles for making his naughty little slave warm, and both of you a little breathless. He can find a more discreet place for you tomorrow, order a break or two to ease the heaviness of his sacks, the aching hard ons he’s had ever since he saw you. He has to be careful not to break you, and remember to kiss you on your neck, he heard that that’s the key to make women wet and willing.
You seem so fragile and frail when you fall asleep, finally surrendering to him, your body yielding and molding against his. In the morning, you whimper sweetly when he squeezes your now warm, plush body, and plants kisses on your face, your neck. You have no idea that the warriors are already mocking him for “making you wait so long”, that he has listened to stupid jokes all morning with you securely tucked inside his cloak. You bite him when he tries to come too close, all the brutes around you burst to laughter as he howls from pain.
Not feeling at all sorry for him when he rubs his neck and looks at you with drowsy curiosity, you rise and spit again on the ground as if you had just tasted something vile. He can’t stifle his smile then, your idea of foreplay is much more fun than what he had in mind…
And you aren’t flung over his horse, but actually get to ride it with him, the arm around your middle like iron as he keeps you as close to him as possible. You don’t know that he’s reluctant to take an unwilling woman, and that this preference makes him the laughing stock of the group. Neither do you know that König has already pictured you inside his hut, baking bread and scolding children like the firebrand that you are, giving him a naughty little wrestle and a fistfight every night before bed... Shuddering from want like you do now on his horse as he exposes your breasts to the approaching winter.
You are about to faint as tiny snowflakes land on your nipples, melting instantly as this man starts to fondle your tits. Slumping against his blazing form, you can do nothing but accept your fate as the horse keeps walking and the men around you shout and whistle at the sight of your breasts. The rough barks of your captor quickly end their excitement upon seeing your exposed tits, the whistles stop and the men turn their eyes quickly away from you.
The man behind you is now perfectly content, riding in the crisp morning air while pawing your breast with one hand and holding the reins with the other, his groin grinding against you with the movements of the horse, making it clear that he might soon stop this torture altogether and take you to the nearby woods for a quick fuck…
#barbarian!könig#dark content#spoils of war#historical au#tw: slavery#tw: dark themes#cw: dark content
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wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it -> cool about it [2]
in which: a son of Jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.
pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader
warnings: you guessed it! more angst and cursing!
word count: 6.4k
a/n: did not mean for it to be this long but, im obsessed.... no like u don't understand. so much to be said! inbox/comment to be added to the taglist!
one [two] three four
At least you had the comfort of preparing for war to distract you.
Armor polished to perfection, swords sharpened, denarii in your pocket to pay for passage to the Underworld, should you meet your end facing an endless army of monsters that couldn't die.
Really, how Roman of you to seek the blissful nothingness at the start of battle.
You knew the exact number, down to the minute, of how long it had been since you had last seen Jason. But if someone were to ask you how many days Percy, Frank, and Hazel had been off on their quest, you would have stared at them blankly.
And even as you readied for war, your eyes had a glossy look to them, pinned on a fixed point just above the horizon.
"Don't let the legionnaires see you like this," Dakota had murmured in your ear as he adjusted the straps of your armor. You knew he had a point, but hated him for saying it, anyways.
What did it matter? The legionnaires had already seen you in hysterics in the camp center, tearing through the place in search of Jason. They wouldn't be surprised to see you were still not right, even with the promise of military glory.
But it didn’t change the fact that he had a point.
You were a centurion for a reason, and not just because the great Jason Grace followed you like a shadow. You needed to be strong and brave and ruthless, because that was what a Roman leader should be.
And the reason you became a centurion was apparent the moment you stepped onto the battlefield, New Rome at your back and your brothers-in-arms at your side.
See, the giants hadn't taken into account how much anger and fear you had bottled up inside you, uncorked with the first swing of your sword and spilling out over their armies.
Violence untethered, one of the now-retired centurions from the First Cohort had once described the way you fought. Brutal. Efficient. Roman.
And if you had been untethered before, when you still had Jason at your side—
The casualties on the Roman side were few.
You had taken a couple of big hits, but you welcomed the pain. The first actual bite of something other than heartache felt almost like a relief, like a promise that you were not trapped in a body that could only grieve.
The rest of camp may have been rejuvenated by Percy's retrieval of hundreds of Imperial Gold weapons, but all you could do was grit your teeth and limp back into the city.
The cries of 'Praetor!' that echoed after you, announcing Percy as Camp Jupiter's second leader, felt like they were twisting a knife in a wound long infected and left to rot.
Jason was praetor. Jason.
You liked Percy, you really did. He was funny—or at least, you would have thought so, if you weren't constantly looking for the next excuse to leave camp and search for Jason—and kind. He had Roman bravery, if not a little rebellious, which the Mercury in your blood seemed to enjoy.
Percy might have even been your friend, in another life. One when you had met him with your hand tucked in Jason’s, the son of Jupiter the levelheaded side to your double edged sword.
And at least you trusted Percy a whole lot more than Octavian.
"These... Greeks," Octavian hissed the word, lips curling in distaste. The day after the battle, still bruised and wounds leaking blood, you found yourself in the forum, dressed in a toga wrapped over your armor. You still couldn’t put too much weight on your ankle, and the shoulder on your shield arm was swollen. "You're an even bigger fool than I thought if you trust them."
You rolled your eyes, but bit down the dramatic gag. If Jason had been there, he would have been very pointedly ignoring you—because you had been guilty on more than one occasion of making more and more ridiculous faces in an attempt to make him laugh.
And after the third time you had gotten him to break his stony facade, Jason had implemented a 'no looking at you during meetings' rule, which he more or less succeeded in executing.
Or less, being the key words.
"Talking about fools," You murmured, and from beside you, Dakota jammed his elbow into your side so harshly, you almost yelped. In his defense, you hadn’t told him about the Cyclops that had probably broken your ribs, but you wished he hadn't hit you where you were so sore.
"Look, they're my friends up there." Percy gestured widely towards the open air roof as he spoke. You found yourself studying the skies, as if the flying Greek trireme Percy claimed would be arriving might suddenly appear out of thin air. "I trust them, and you voted me praetor. Doesn't that count for something?"
"It's something, alright." Octavian scoffed. You rolled your eyes again, almost growing dizzy with the movement.
A bad habit during meetings, Centurion, Jason had chastised you, once, with a smile so warm it didn't feel like a punishment. The two of you had just left the forum, still wrapped in your togas, your hand curled around his forearm as he led you through New Rome and towards a bakery you favored.
Wouldn't happen if you let me challenge Octavian to combat, Praetor, you had fired back, and in a moment of weakness, pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw before darting off ahead of him, giddy.
Soldiers, not lovers, you had to remind yourself. No matter how much you wanted, you couldn't force Jason to be anything he wasn't ready to be—or maybe what he just wasn't.
Octavian's watery stare landed on you, snapping you back to the moment like a rubber band pulled taut.
"I can hardly imagine you support this, Centurion? With Jason Grace gone—"
"Do not," You snapped, breath coming out in short, labored spurts. Violence untethered, indeed. "Neither I nor you get to decide who is praetor, and the spot was open—"
Your voice cracked. It tasted like a lie. The spot wasn't open. It belonged to Jason, just as your heart and tears and smiles did.
"—and Percy Jackson was raised to the rank after receiving glory in battle." You recited. You hoped it didn't sound like you had practiced in the bathroom mirror that morning, trying to make it seem like you believed it, even if you had. "I seem to recall a certain Apollo legacy cowering beneath my shield during the second Cyclops onslaught, don't you, Augur?"
And maybe it was a low blow, calling a Roman's battle bravery into question, but Jason had always been your bridge to your self-control.
"I—no—it—!" Octavian stammered, flustered, and Percy laughed. Dakota and several of the other centurions Octavian hadn't managed to blackmail or brainwash to follow him pressed their palms over their mouths to suppress their own chuckles, and even Reyna was struggling to bite back a grin. "You think you'll still hold rank as centurion, come the next election?"
He was threatening you, you realized, and you would have hauled off and socked him in the mouth, consequences be damned, if a shadow hadn't crossed over Octavian's head, darkening the whole of the forum.
Twisting your gaze up, heart hammering, you found a flying Greek trireme.
Percy was right.
And maybe he had been right about something else, too. Something you hadn’t dared to consider.
While Percy was dropped at Camp Jupiter, Jason might have been carted off to Camp Half-Blood.
Mercury swiftness blessed you once more as you took off, darting out of the forum before Reyna could finish saying dismissed.
There wasn’t much that could have stopped you, not even the bitter cold of crashing through the middle of a Lar.
You didn’t even bother pausing to shout an apology to Cassius, glowing purple and claiming to curse your bloodline for such an insult.
If you have been able to breathe, you would have told him your bloodline already felt a little cursed.
There was shouting, but you barely could hear it over the buzzing in your mind. You felt like you were going to vibrate out of your skin, eyes squinted, head tilted up, and fighting against the sun for even a glimpse of your missing half.
“Helmet on, fall in line,” Dakota tugged your arm, pulling you back to his side. You felt a little, a lot, frantic—felt desperate—but Reyna was already struggling to get everyone to fall in line, and she had given you so much leeway in the past months, that you stepped beside your fellow Fifth Cohort centurion.
“I left my—“ Left my helmet behind, you would have said, but Dakota shoved the metal piece into your hands. With buzzing fingertips, you placed on your helmet, adjusted the straps of your armor that were already perfectly done up.
Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Seconds ticked by like hours, limbs swimming through thick air like you were in a dream. From your spot nestled between Dakota and Paulette from Fourth Cohort, tucked under the hull of the flying trireme, standing behind Percy and Reyna, you couldn't see any of the ship's occupants.
But then they dropped a rope ladder, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Nails bit into your palms, your own fingers the culprit, and you forced yourself to stretch out your hands in an attempt to keep the bleeding to a minimum.
Jason, please, Jason, I need you, oh, gods, please—
It was like a mantra, repeating on a loop in your head. Tears stung at your eyes, overwhelmed by just the sheer possibility that your golden haired love could be so, so close to returning to you.
The first body began to climb down the ladder. A girl, with yellow hair dragged into a ponytail. In front of you, somehow, you heard Percy inhale sharply and you realized it must have been Annabeth.
The only person he remembered from his past life, until he had drank the gorgon's blood and gotten his memories restored. Unease trickled through you. There wouldn't be such a quick fix for Jason.
A second girl descended the ladder after Annabeth, with choppy brown hair, baggy clothes, and a wicked dagger at her hip.
You started to doubt Percy's theory. Maybe Jason hadn't been taken by Juno or Hera or whichever deity you felt like blaming. Maybe he was stuck somewhere else, alone, and hurting, and you were—
A purple shirt appeared over the side of the ship, atop a set of broad shoulders you could have recognized blind.
Jason.
Your Jason.
Home, to you, at last.
A gasp shuddered through you as he started to climb down the rope ladder and into New Rome. You started to step forward, but Roman training froze you to your spot as Reyna pinned you with a look that screamed 'don't break rank, not in front of Octavian,' which would never be enough to keep you from reaching Jason.
But still, you stalled.
It didn't mean you stopped staring, your eyes tracing his form from head to toe, trying to see what changed about him, what was still the same.
The scar on his lip, the sky blue eyes, the golden rays of his hair. It was exactly as you remembered, except for the hair, which had grown out just slightly. You liked it better, but you would never tell him. You knew how much he liked to keep it short, in regulation.
Look at me, please, you begged him in your mind, because you were forbidden to say the words. Another boy scaled down the rope ladder, but you paid him no attention. Jason, Jason, Jason.
It was dizzying. In all the years you had loved him, never had it felt so much like a compactor was pressing in on your chest.
Their group approached, four rag-tag demigods, three Greeks and a Roman. It sounded like the set-up to one of the awful jokes you used to tell Jason when you were stationed on guard duty together, just to pass the time and see him shake his head with a smile.
Reyna stood tall before you, strong and powerful and part of you wanted to push her to the side and race into the arms of your lost soldier.
Why hadn't he looked at you yet?
This was it, the moment you had been dying for, for months. When Jason finally came back to you, his eyes locking with yours, rules and regulations tossed aside as he wrapped you in his arms so tight your toes left the ground and his mouth slotted over yours, a kiss nearly a decade in the making.
Fear and emotion clogged your throat, and you had trouble swallowing around it. Didn't he see you? He knew you always stood between Dakota and Paulette, just to the right of the second praetor—his rank, formerly, now given to Percy Jackson.
But, there—his blue eyes scanned the row of centurions lined behind Reyna and Percy, starting with the First Cohort and making his way to you. Oh, how you were going to scream and cry and hold him later, all as punishment for making you worry—
Jason's eyes passed over you, carrying on towards Dakota like you were nothing more than another face in the crowd.
Fear and routine and fear of your routine were the only things stopping you from tearing off your helmet and slamming it into his chest, demanding to know who the hell he thought he was, scaring you so thoroughly for months and then acting like he didn’t know you.
But then you remembered Percy, and how he hadn’t been able to remember anything.
That couldn’t be right, no, Jason loved you. And maybe it wasn’t in the way you loved him, but hadn’t Hadlee, the daughter of Venus, gone on and on the other night about different types of love? You knew with a certainty you had never felt before that Jason loved you, even if it was only in the sense of friends.
The way fellow soldiers would die and bleed and get torn to shreds for each other.
You had gotten upset when he asked what else was there for the two of you to be. Now, you would trade every scrap of pleasure and freedom for the chance to be only soldiers with Jason Grace for the rest of time.
You pressed your arm tight against your side, elbow pointed in and poking at the unhealed, unchecked injury from the Cyclops. At first, you had refused to go to the medics because they were still all cheering for Percy to take place at praetor.
Then the pain just became a good enough distraction from losing Jason, even if it didn't really work.
These thoughts and more swirled in your mind as Jason introduced himself and the Greeks he had arrived with. Annabeth, Piper, Leo, Coach Hedge. The names meant nothing to you, but still you memorized them, because they were important to Jason.
He and Annabeth took turns explaining the quest they were on. You only understood half of what they were talking about, because every time someone other than Jason even attempted to speak, their voice was drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.
Gaea is rising. Giants trying to wake the earth mother. Need to go to the Ancient Lands to stop them.
You gathered enough to know that whatever was happening was bad. They needed Jason, your Jason, and the fate of the world was more important than the heartbeat pulsing in the tips of your fingers.
Wasn't it?
Miles and miles away, maybe already in the Ancient Lands, you heard Reyna's voice cut through the static.
Let's discuss over a meal, she had said, your stare watching the relief wash over Jason's face. You were certain no one but yourself noticed the minute reaction on his behalf. At least, you had hoped. We reconvene in the city proper for a lunch. Centurions, dismissed.
There it was, that permission you had been waiting for.
Your helmet was torn from your head before Dakota even had time to slouch, shoulders dropping from the stiff way he held them while in formation.
It clattered to the ground beneath you, and you might have even stubbed your toe on it as you stepped forward, desperate for proof that you weren't imagining things. Your soldier was home, gods praise, he was home and within arms reach.
The rank of centurions behind you remained still, anticipating the long awaited and bitterly fought for reunion between two of New Rome's finest, the two soldiers that rarely ever separated, but spent six and a half months apart.
You surged forward. Jason stayed still. You understood what was happening, but you wanted to pretend for a moment longer.
"Hey, soldier," You breathed, voice tight and eyes burning. You clenched your hands into fists, then splayed your fingers wide, stretching, desperate to reach out and touch.
But you were on very uncertain ground. You had to wait for him to make the first move, even if it killed you.
"If the legion weren't here, I'd kick your ass for making me cry." You settled on saying, knowing that he would understand just how much you missed him.
Once, during a particularly violent round of training, Jason had caught the underside of your jaw with the blunt end of his lance. Nothing had broken, which considering Jason's strength, had been both a shock and a blessing, but you hadn't been able to control the tears that sprung to your eyes and raced down your cheeks in pain.
I did this to you, he had lamented, torn between anger at himself and grief for having hurt you. His aching in his words had been nearly enough to get you to resent yourself for feeling pain. I should have been more careful. Next time, I will.
His hands had been cradling your face, turning in it ever so gently to the side to inspect the bruise already forming on your jaw. His touch on your skin had felt like too much, but now you were realizing it had never been enough.
Next time, I'll be faster, you had promised hooking your leg around the back of his and shoving into his chest, sending him sprawling backwards and landing square on his ass in a move that never would have been possible if he hadn't been distracted by your tears at his hand.
You had barely cried then. What would he say, now, learning of the hysterics you had been reduced to?
“Er, do I know you?” Jason asked, stammering, flush coating pale cheeks you could have drawn from memory.
The simple question felt like being dunked in an ice bath, then held under while your lungs filled with water. It had to be some cruel joke, some wicked nightmare you would surely wake from any minute.
Know you? Did Jason Grace know you?
The question was almost unnecessary. Laughable, even. Seven months earlier, if someone had asked that question, you would have cracked a grin. Jason would have been by your side, naturally, and been offended by the insinuation that he didn't.
And then he would have proceeded to list off all of your favorite things, in alphabetical order, organized by category.
The idea was laughable. He knew you. He had to know you.
“Jase?” It was pathetic, really, that that was all you could muster. A breathy, pained whisper of the nickname you’d given him when he was being stubborn about taking care of himself and you poked out your bottom lip to try and convince him to rest.
Most times, it worked.
Now it just hurt.
“Sorry,” He shook his head, darting a glance to the curly haired Latino boy wincing at his side, your stomach dropping to somewhere around Pluto’s palace. “I don’t remember, well, anything, really.”
How foolish had you been? Percy had remembered Annabeth, sure, but Annabeth was his girlfriend. What were you to Jason?
Just another soldier, like he had claimed the day he went missing.
Just another soldier. Only ever soldiers.
And the worst part was he looked genuinely apologetic. You wished he could have scoffed and waved you off, like some prissy, no-good asshole that turned up his nose simply because he was the savior of the world and had earned so much battlefield glory he practically reeked of it.
But that wasn't like Jason. No, not only did the jerk have to be the strongest, most strategic soldier you had ever had the pleasure of fighting alongside, he was also one of the nicest.
Holding open doors, comforting the new, young, arrivals, braiding your hair for you to keep it out of your face that one time the stomach bug had torn its way through the Fifth Cohort. You had spent thirty-six straight hours bent over a toilet, and Jason had been there through all of it.
I don't remember, well, anything, really.
But you had never just been anything to Jason. Sometimes, he looked at you and you could almost convince yourself that you were his everything.
Dakota, of all people, a little hopped up on kool-aid, came to your rescue. Knotting his red-stained fist in the back of your toga, he tugged you back into the line of centurions, using his body to block Jason from your line of sight.
And you would have expressed your thanks, if you had been able to express anything beyond total heartache.
“No one would blame you if you snuck out,” Dakota lowered his voice, ducked his head close to your ear, and that snapped you out of your stupor.
“And leave my legion?” You glared sharply at him, glad for an excuse to funnel out some of your anger, though you felt a little bad that Dakota had been your punching bag the last six months. Really, you owed him. “I don’t think so. I’m fine. Just… shocked. I’m good.”
Dakota winced. Usually, you were ace at lying.
Who tied Octavian’s shoelaces together?
Not me, you’d dutifully shake your head.
Who broke curfew and snuck into the city to retrieve little Julia’s stuffed teddy from Octavian’s sacrifice pile?
I’d never, you’d claim, aghast.
Who’s head over fucking heels, dizzyingly in love with Jason Grace?
Not my type, you’d hold a hand over your heart, scouts honor.
But a simple I’m fine?
Even Frank Zhang couldn’t pretend to not know you were lying through your clenched teeth, and he pretended like he had never found you sobbing outside bunkhouse after curfew one night, a few days following his arrival at camp.
How had Jason forgotten you? It didn’t feel real, but everything felt like too much.
Maybe Dakota had a point. Maybe you needed to get out.
"Come," Reyna ordered, breaking the silent tension that had been building as Greeks and Romans alike stopped to gawk at your conversation with Dakota. "Let's eat."
You picked your helmet up out of the dirt, a dutiful little soldier with lungs full of glass shards.
You were supposed to be strong.
You were supposed to be strong, but you were just a kid.
Ten years old to be exact. Tears stung at your eyes, burned their way up your throat. You could have vomited. You might have already.
You're a thief and a monster, the other kids at school had claimed, words like bullets as they lobbed pencils and crumbled paper and anything they could get away with at you.
A thief, you would admit to being. You couldn't help it, fingers moving almost of their own accord, always finding the easiest target, the shiniest reward. It didn't matter that you always returned everything you took. No one wanted to be friends with the freak that managed to lift the teacher's wedding band off her finger in kindergarten.
A thief, you were.
But a monster? Monsters were the creatures that clawed at your window at night. Monsters were the odd shapes in the grass your mother never managed to see. You weren't a monster. You were ten.
"Hey, we're not supposed to be back here."
The voice of another child cut through your misery, and you sharpened your glare to pin the intruder to his spot. You recognized him, because he was the type of guy that had called you names in school. Tall—for a kid—and built like an athlete. Tan skin, blond hair, blue eyes.
You were pretty sure his name was Jake Greene, or something.
"You're back here," You reasoned, waving a hand littered with scabbed knuckles around for emphasis. Here being the stretch of unwatched grass behind the Mess Hall, a little place you had discovered on your second day and realized it was secluded enough that no one could see you cry.
Now, a week in, you discovered that it was secluded enough that no one could see you cry, but Jake Greene.
He looked around uncomfortably, like he was just then realizing that he, too, was breaking the rules. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, as if checking for witnesses, before trodding through the plush grass to sit beside you, legs stretched out in front of him while yours were pulled tight to your chest.
You checked the ground quickly, relieved to find you hadn't actually vomited.
"I'm Jason. Jason Grace." He introduced himself, as if your eyes weren't bloodshot and face blotchy and cheeks wet with tears.
Not Jake. Noted. Now that you thought about it, you didn't think there was a Jake at Camp Jupiter. Not one that you had met, yet, at least.
You nodded, hoping Jason, Jason Grace would get the hint that you wanted absolutely no fucking part of whatever nice guy routine he was putting on. Even if he was one of the few to approach you since you had arrived, bloody and starved, at the camp's borders, Lupa and her pack deciding you worthy.
This one is feisty, you could have sworn the alpha wolf had snarled a grin at the older centurion who found you. Young, but strong willed.
You didn't feel strong willed. You felt like you missed your own home.
You had to remind yourself that your own home hadn't wanted you and your new home was a Roman military camp.
"Your father is Mercury, right?" Jason tried again, this time earning a sharp glare.
It was easier to be angry than it was to be vulnerable, wasn't it? Wasn't that why you always bit the hand that fed you, got sent to the literal fucking wolves at ten years old?
Jason Grace didn't flinch at your hatred. Hatred? That wasn't the right word. You didn't hate anything or anyone but the schools and teachers that had convinced your mother that you were too difficult to deal with, that you needed to be sent away.
Can I come back for Christmas, Mom?, you had naively asked, not understanding why your mother was crying as you rolled to a stop outside a crumbling, wooden house in Sonoma.
A week later, you wondered if your mother was still crying. Or maybe she was enjoying the peace of no longer getting calls from schools or policemen about you.
You wished you could wipe your hands clean of yourself, like Mom had. Maybe you would understand why everyone in your life always seemed happier after they had gotten rid of you.
"It's not so bad here, I promise," He tried, again, and part of you had to congratulate him for not giving up. You would have. "I cried, a lot, when I first got here."
"You?" The exclamation fell past your lips before you could help it, and Jason's own twisted into a victorious grin. He had a scar, on the side of his lips, shining pearly white in the sun, set against his skin.
"Me," He confirmed. Sure, you had just met the guy, had been calling him the wrong name for a week, but he didn't seem like the type to cry. "I did come here when I was two, though."
You didn't know whether to gasp or swat his arm in retaliation, so you did both, finally uncurling from the ball of fear and hatred you had woven yourself into.
"You're really good in training," Jason complimented, taking your childlike assault in stride. You nodded, picking a few blades of grass out of the ground, right at the roots.
"I used to fight in school," You offered, if it was that simple. But punching your bullies was a whole lot different than locking sword and shield.
In the bunkhouse, the boy in the bed across from you was a son of Ceres, the goddess of the harvest. Your first night, in an effort to make you stop crying, rambled on and on about plants. How to properly care for different crops, what too little sunlight did to a flower, and how a tree could be dug up from the ground, roots and all, and planted somewhere else to live a perfectly normal, perfectly long life.
You stared at the blade of grass in your hand, feeling very much like the plant, your roots floating in the middle of nowhere by the hand of some unseen, unforgiving god.
But maybe you could plant your roots, too.
"If I don't make it here," You whispered, little kid voice hoarse. "Then that's it for me. I don't have anywhere else. I'll have to live on the streets. I've done it, once. Made it a whole week before Mom found me."
Part of you regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. What had Lupa shown you about weakness? It got you killed. It got you punished.
But Jason didn't sneer. He pursed his lips in a thin line, scar shining even brighter with the movement.
"I don't know my mom," He confessed, suddenly just as weak as you. Frowning, you tried to figure out why he was saying it. Big, strong—at least to ten year old you—Jason Grace should not have been any kind of weak.
Nodding, you didn’t have anything to say. But you felt the connection build, just two weak children, forgotten by their mothers.
“But I know you,” Jason offered, the admission warming something in your chest involuntarily. And you knew in that moment that maybe you were scared, but you weren’t alone.
At least Jason Grace knew you.
You grinned, then. A far cry from the glares and snarls everyone else you had come across had received. The ones that even he had been victim to, at the start of the conversation.
"Well, Jason Grace," You stuck out your hand, and he clasped your forearm like a good little Roman. "You're never getting rid of me, now."
The smile he gave you in return was a little lopsided, and when he dropped your arm and glanced over his shoulder, you remembered that your not-so secret hiding spot was off limits.
"Just don’t tell anyone we were back here, please.”
If you had thought your mood was bitter before the trireme arrived, it was nothing compared to the sulking, sorrowful mess you currently were.
For starters, you had somehow been shoved and duped into the seat beside Octavian and across from Jason. You didn't really want to see either of them, at all, at the moment.
Secondly, and you may have been reading far too much into things, but the second girl the Greeks arrived with, Piper, was sitting entirely too close to Jason. You wished that you had a good enough reason to not like her, but with your rotten luck, Piper McLean had been an absolute sweetheart despite your best efforts to act like a dickhead.
And it wasn't like Jason had ever actually been yours, ever.
Third. The plate the sprites dropped in front of you was filled with all of Jason's favorite foods. You weren't sure if it was your will or the sprites that made it happen, but you felt like tossing it all away.
Maybe you would dump it in Octavian's lap. It might make you feel better. It certainly was worth a try.
Finally, there was one aching thought echoing inside your mind relentlessly. The last conversation you ever had with your Jason had been an argument. You had walked away from him, a little petulant, entirely unnecessarily. And you had lost your soldier boy.
Because the Jason seated across from you at the Dining Hall in New Rome was not the same one that wrote out your to-do lists for you on neatly lined paper, offering to tag along with you while you checked them off.
He was just Jason, not yours.
And that hurt far more than you cared to admit.
“Centurion, you must be ecstatic,” Octavian crooned, his sickly smirk pinned on you. You felt a whole lot of things, but ecstatic wasn’t one of them.
“How so, Augur?” You huffed, even though you knew it only invited trouble. Across from you, Jason and Piper clearly had one ear on the conversation.
"Well, you have been inconsolable with our dear Jason Grace missing," Octavian said, as if he really cared about you. More heads started turning in your direction, and you found your fingertips inching to do something that would really get you in trouble. "You were a mess, honestly. Looking like—"
"That's enough," Jason interrupted, even though he didn't have any memories of you.
At least he was still the same horribly perfect sweetheart he had been before he left. His months with the Greeks—all of them watching you with mixed emotions—hadn't turned him sour.
"Oh, you should have seen her, Jason!" Octavian was going now, flourishing in the attention and you hated him, hated him so much your cheeks burned as bright a red as the kool-aid trapped perpetually in Dakota's hip flask. "Crying, every night. She even has—"
"I said, enough, Octavian,"
"—has a key to your bunkroom!" The augur finished, and if you had been able to think of anything beyond your embarrassment or frustration or fear that you were totally, irrevocably erased from Jason's mind, you would have remembered Octavian's threat, earlier, before the trireme arrived. He was just exacting his twisted form of justice.
Embarrass me in front of the Senate, and I will destroy you in front of Jason Grace, you could practically hear him sneer.
"Wait," The Greek named Leo narrowed his eyes at Jason before darting them to you, a grin on his lips that screamed trouble. "Did you two use to date?"
"I don't know," Was Jason's clipped, short reply, his cheeks dusting pink as he fixed his attention on your face. He studied you like he didn't understand you, which was ridiculous, because sometimes it felt like you and Jason shared a heart.
"No," You grunted, shoving your plate forwards, glare fixed on the stupid cherry tomatoes rolling atop the porcelain that you despised and Jason adored.
"We never could figure out if that was the truth," Octavian slanted a look to you, smirking. "But I guess we don't have to worry about that now, do we Centurion? Since he has no memory of you, of—"
Faster than what would have been possible, if your father had been anyone different, you lifted the knife set beside your plate and slammed the tip into the wooden table, between two of his fingers. He screamed, and the plates on the table rattled.
Weapons were forbidden inside the Pomerian Line, but dinner knives were only utensils.
The whole table fell silent. And maybe the whole Dining Hall, had, beyond Octavian's spluttering and cursing and calling for your trial before the Senate for attacking an Augur.
And maybe if Percy wasn't glaring at Octavian, and Reyna hadn't been the one to slip you Jason's key, he might have had a case against you.
"Praetors," Standing, you bowed your head to Reyna and Percy, and though every muscle in your body screamed to pay the same respects to Jason, you couldn’t get yourself together enough to meet his eye. How could he not know you? "I request to be dismissed."
"I will come find you later." Reyna nodded, intelligent eyes shimmering with understanding, and you never realized just how much it hurt to be pitied by her. "We’ve got much to discuss."
"Yeah. Uh, lots." Percy nodded, looking between you and Reyna like he couldn’t quite figure out what he was missing. But then his attention snagged on Jason, seated across the table, and you saw it all—the understanding, the pity, the sorrow—pass over his face. "Wait—"
Annabeth jammed her elbow into his side, and you met her eye briefly. She might have been the only one who understood even a fraction of what you were going through.
But at least Percy remembered her, and he had loved her freely, before.
“Later.” You confirmed through clenched teeth, turning swiftly to try and find a spot far enough from Jason Grace so that his lack of memories didn’t hurt.
You weren’t sure such a spot existed.
Your feet carried you deeper into the city, walking past store after store. You couldn't stomach going into much of them, every bakery and café and bookstore holding some memory of Jason. Far more memories than he held, of you.
You weren't sure how much time had passed before you heard the first explosion.
And Roman training kicked in, instantly, as you raced towards the forum, where the Greek trireme was firing on your city, the one you had only just saved from and army led by a giant.
Fall in! You shouted, organizing legionnaires, your mind and your instincts at war. And you knew Greeks and Romans were at war, too. Protect the city!
You barely were able to glimpse the dark haired boy, Leo, manning the ballistae attached to the side of the ship before it took off, rocketing through the skies, even with Roman firepower slamming into the hull.
And as the trireme disappeared into the distance, fear tore through you.
Because you knew Jason. You knew he was on that ship, with his new friends. You knew he was sailing off with them, bound to a quest that meant saving the world, if what they said was to be trusted.
And you knew what came next.
Jason Grace, loyal to the end.
You were going to have to kill him.
a/n: did not mean to give reader such a tragic backstory but I kinda love it... im so curious to know what ur fav part is, bc I cannot decide. ty for reading this much and plz let me know what you think!
tag, you're it: @aezuria @tayswiftlovebot @bonnie-tz @folklorefantasies14 @sunshine-of-ur-life @irwinchester@bellamysnatblida @saph-nic @auroraofthesun1 @helloimamistake
#jason grace#jason grace fanfic#jason grace x y/n#jason grace x you#jason grace x reader#heroes of olympus#pjo#rays of sun#Jason Grace fanfiction#Jason Grace reader insert
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Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 1
Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)
Part 2; Part 3; Part 4
Description: You´ve just moved in a couple of weeks ago, trying for a new start. A brief encounter with your neighbor gets your endorphins and imagination going. What is it about the mask?
Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, a little pining
Word count: 1.917
A/N: Hi everyone <3 This is my very first Simon Riley x reader fic. I´ve written about several characters of CoD but Ghost was always kind of an enigma to me. I never knew how to make him the love interest. But and idea popped into my head after reading some characterization that made it much easier to write for him. So here you go :) Let me know if a part 2 is something you´d be interested in.
“Jesus fucking Christ” you swore as you tried your best to push your heavy apartment door open and balance your bag and groceries through the door. It was a struggle to say the least, but you were damned if you did second trips. Grumbling through your teeth you saw no other possibility than setting down your bag, holding the door open with your foot and grabbing your groceries a little more securely. Bending your knee, you gave your door a forceful push and slid through into your small hallway. Foregoing taking off your shoes you made your way into your open kitchen and set the heavy paper bags down on your kitchen island.
A sigh escaped you and you took a moment just to stand in your kitchen and take in the chaos around you. Half emptied moving boxes were strewn all around your living room, amidst not yet hanging shelves, plastic plants and several DIY projects. Another sigh left your lungs with a huff. Moving and starting anew had seemed like your only option a couple of weeks ago but now you dreaded the silence. You wanted this, ___, you thought. It was your decision.
Your new job was everything you ever hoped for, and training turned out to be smooth sailing. You loved it, you loved your apartment, even though it was far from being finished yet. But still, what you´d left behind still lingered in the back of your brain all too clearly at times. Especially when your heavy door closed behind you every evening and there was nothing but you, your DIY projects, an occasional phone call with your parents and then silence. Silence to wallow in, rake your brain and memories. Memories not even a good Podcast or music were able to drown out.
You weren´t as close with your colleagues yet as to be invited out to the pub after work but that was to be expected. The chances were good though. Maybe just a couple of days more and you´d have at least some kind of social interaction. One step after the other, you reminded yourself. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Your own impatience with yourself was yet again trying to make you feel like you´d made a mistake by moving. A humorless laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. Calm down, you thought. This is your life, your pace. Relax.
A couple of minutes later your food was stored away, veggies and salmon steaming away and finally you sat down on your couch, glass of wine in hand and Netflix on your TV.
“Bloody hell” you cursed as a shot of adrenalin set your brain into overdrive. Your bag. You jumped off your couch and hurried over to the door. Swinging it open with a yank you initially thought someone had put out the lights in the corridor. All you saw was black and not a second later you collided with something solid.
Shaking your head, you realized three things. It was 7 o´clock on a warm day in July, so it couldn’t be dark out already. Your hallway had several windows and yes, the sun was still out. The black wall you just ran into turned out to be a massive chest.
Heat was ascending your neck as you took a small step back and lifted your head to look at the face this quite impressive physique belonged to. What the…?
Before you stood a man, several inches taller than you, frozen in place with his arm lifted as if he was just about to knock on your door. He looked down on you with impressive, hazel eyes. Honey blond, tousled hair adorned his head, falling slightly onto his forehead, wet tips clinging to his temples and a bead of sweat disappearing behind his ear. But that was about all you could make out.
Seeing people wearing a facemask had of course not been an unusual sight for the last three years but he wasn´t wearing one of those surgical ones. His nose, mouth and chin were covered in thick, black material, even spanning over his cheekbones and disappearing behind his ears. When your eyes caught his again you saw them narrowing just slightly and one blond eyebrow ticking upwards.
Something wriggly moved inside your belly.
The man slowly lowered his arm, simultaneously lifting the other slightly, holding out your bag.
“This yours?” a deep, calm voice broke through the silence and the wriggly something inside you spread out towards your chest, down your arms and into your fingertips. You swallowed, trying to gather your wits again.
“Uhm…yes. Yes, that´s mine. Forgot about it” you said with a nervous laugh as you took it from him. He hummed deep inside his chest in understanding. The sound only letting your eyes snap onto his again trying to decipher if the squinting was an annoyed one or an amused one.
Amused, as it turns out. He took a deep breath, the black material of his running shirt as you now realized it was, stretching across the expanse of his chest.
“You know, that´s how you get your identity stolen. Or at least your wallet.” Yeah, there was no question now, he was grinning behind his mask, his tone mildly rebuking but not at all belittling.
A small smirk of your own crawled onto your lips as you cocked out your hip and nodded your head.
“You´re absolutely right, Sir. I´ll cuff my bag to my wrist from now on so this inconvenience shall not occur to you a second time.” You want to be cocky, mister? Fine with me.
Your answer made him chuckle. It was short but genuine. One hand in his pocket he stepped back slightly and only now did you notice the heat that his body had emitted. With one last narrow of his eyes, making the edges crinkle ever so slightly he answered. “Not an inconvenience, Miss. Have a good evening.” He nodded once and walked away to your right.
“Y-you too” you cursed the way your words tumbled. To your surprise he halted in front of the door next to yours and your heart jumped into your throat as he took out his keys. Your eyes still fixed onto his side profile (you still couldn’t really make out any features), he gave you one last look before opening his door.
“And thank you” you rushed out.
He only lifted one hand to give you a small little wave that seemed way too juvenile for a man of his stature and closed his door.
Kind of shellshocked you turned around yourself and let your door fall shut behind you. Clutching onto your bag you didn’t even notice how long you were just standing in your hallway, trying to sort out the wriggling nerves. Who was that? Idiot. Your neighbor. Your neighbor that you´d never seen before. A man like him you´d remember seeing. There´d never been any noise from the apartment next to yours so you just thought it was either a very quiet tenant or one that only went there to sleep.
Sitting down on your couch again you stared at the wall behind your TV. He was behind that wall, doing…things. Existing. Why did that feel so exciting to you? Maybe it was just because that´d been your first real social interaction apart from talking to your colleagues?
Laughing incredulously at yourself you buried your burning face in your hands and giggled. No. No that wasn’t it and you knew it. It was stupid. So very stupid and weird and nerdy and…that damn mask!!
“Whhhyyyy…..?” you moaned grinning and rubbed your temples, finally letting all the pent up adrenalin and endorphins rush through your blood stream unstopped. What was it about men wearing those damn masks? Not being able to fully see their face. Having to find out what there was to them by just their actions.
The fist time you really thought you´d lost your mind was when you actually developed a burning crush on a literal tin can from the Star Wars universe. Oh yeah, sure. Give me a brooding, sarcastic, overworked loner with PTSD and give him a freaking child to protect. Watch him become a devoted, loving single parent. Of course! Yes, let me thirst after him. And did it stop there? Of course not. The pandemic hit and the lockdown had everyone in a chokehold.
The only chokehold you wanted to be in at the time however was one carried out by a video game character called Ghoul from “Call of Obligation”. Tatted up, burly, sharp, dutiful, loyal and fucking hot.
The only thing you were able to see of him? His eyes. Just his eyes and an occasional forearm here and there. Everything else covered in tactical gear and a scary facemask. God that character haunted your dreams almost every night. And now, you had his existing, breathing, heat emitting, real human equivalent living next to you. You felt your insides burn as another funny noise came from your mouth. There had to be something wrong with you. Why was half a visible face or even less, so damn attractive to you?
“Shit must be some kind of kink” you murmured to yourself as you reached for your wine glass.
Why was he wearing that mask anyway? People weren´t obligated to wear one anymore. Was it some kind of training technique while running?
Anyhow, you appreciated the encounter. Your mood instantly better even though the both of you hadn’t talked much at all. He seemed witty. Cocky almost and you liked that.
Emptying your wine, you put the glass back in the dishwasher and walked over to your bathroom when you heard it. The shower in the next apartment was running. Immediately you halted all movement and tried to not even breath. The situation seemed so delicate, like thin glass ready to break. You stared at the wall when something else caught your ears.
No. Did you hear this right? Was he…?
You walked carefully over to your shower and stepped in. Trying not to care about how crazy you must look at this moment, you turned your head to the wall slightly, closed your eyes and listened as hard as you could. There it was.
Low, melodic and absolutely captivating. Over the sound of the water hitting the tile you heard your neighbor singing. Your forehead hit the tile and you breathed as quietly as possible, marveling in the baritone sweetness that could be heard through the wall. All too soon, about a minute later it was over. The water was shut off, the singing stopped.
As if in trance you got your nighttime routine going and a couple minutes later, slid into bed. Knowing where his bathroom was now, you were positive that his bedroom had to be next to yours as well. You tried to hear more, but nothing else penetrated the walls. It made you glad actually. If you would be able to hear him in his bedroom, sleep would turn out to be an impossibility to achieve.
This way, you closed your eyes, got comfortable and let your thoughts drift and wander. Not long after, you were dead asleep. Your dreams yet again haunted, but now, the usual scary mask of Ghoul was replaced with a solid black one and instead of clawing at a fully clothed head between your legs, your fingers tangled into soft honey blond curls.
_____________________________________________________
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#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#x reader#cod men#cod fic#cod x reader#x you#cod mwii#x you fluff#eventual smut#simon riley smut#simon riley imagine#simon riley fic#ghost fic#ghost fanfiction#ghost x reader fic#neighbor au#strangers to lovers
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Wolves in Romé pt1
Desmond ran. His paws trotting on the stone floors of Rome, with the wind licking at his maw, he did not stop.
They were after him… the crazy furry cult.. the followers of Romu- Romunucu… or whatever Shaun had called them. They weren't so silly once they appeared to be real and very much after Desmond.
Desmond who had a tail and two furry ears and paws and a whole wolf body. Desmond who had woken down at the sanctuary that held that ugly armour, covered in fur, no longer human.
Did Rome even have wolves?
An arrow flew past him and he stopped his flashback with a sad inhuman yelp to keep on running. Didn’t these guys worship wolves, shouldn’t his species be considered sacred to them or something?
His paws slipped slightly on the smooth dirty stones as he took a left to an empty alley. He was glad it was dead of night, Desmond did not think crowds could handle a wolf running up and down the streets.
Another arrow flew past as Desmond tried to plan his route, he remembered that there was an entrance to a forest he could maybe get to if he took a turn two streets down to the left… or was it to the right? He never had to do this without the animus map on his right corner before.
Desmond howled suddenly as pain shot through his back leg.
He got hit…
One of them had to hit eventually but damn it hurt. He took a sharp right, eyes blind in pain and crashed muzzle-first onto a dead end.
The kicked puppy noises that left his inhuman form were pretty sad.
“There you are finally! Come here doggy”
3 cackling shadows came over him as he backed into the end, laid low, teeth bared, snarling.
Desmond knew he was fucked. His new wound was hurting and he was tired, he didn't think he could take all three of them with these odds but at least one would come down with him if he did.
One of the cultists, the one at the front, stepped up holding his sword between them to put distance between his very biteable arm and his sharp teeth. Desmond barked at him and bit the air… teeth clanking in a clear sign of step the fuck away but the man only grinned.
“We have been waiting for you little pup, come on now don't make this hard for us. Romulus is not the most patient…”
Desmond only snarled and growled back again, thunderous rumble from his chest never stopping as the other man swung his sword around his face.
Suddenly, a landing shadow on the clothesline above them caught the corner of his eye. As he snarled and dripped sylva everywhere for his life he could see the shadow shift and move right above the other two wolf furries slowly, like a predator eyeing its catch.
“Come on you stupid dumb mutt…”
The sword's tip slashed at his muzzle and Desmond's attention shifted back to his main threat as he growled once more, his snarl fully on display as he started tasting blood from the dripping wound. Oh, how he wished he had his gear.
Busy with keeping the sword in his line of sight, Desmond only saw a glimmer of metal before the two men staying behind, laughing at his desperation, crumbled onto the cold stone road behind his main attacker. There was no other sound as Desmond saw his savior rise from the bodies that cushioned his fall and make his way over in small steps.
If he had lips he would have the biggest grin right now.
“Why don't you leave the poor dog alone Amico, I’m sure we can find a lady that is more of your…taste”
Ezio spoke.
Desmond knew that voice as if it was his own.
The remaining follower whipped his head around and Desmond saw his opening.
He lunged at the man's arm holding the sword, bringing the man down in a scream with his soft arm in-between his very sharp teeth. They slammed down to the hard ground in a roll and the man, to his credit, managed to land a punch on his nose, kicking him onto a stack of empty crates. Desmond would have been madder if he hadn't taken a chunk of the man's flesh between his blood-soaked muzzle as he was thrown across.
The man's agonized screams filled the alley and left as quickly and abruptly as they started. Desmond could not see what happened from where he was thrown into but he could guess where one or two pointy metal objects could end up in a screaming man on the floor.
When Desmond could get the dirty cover they put over the half-rotten crates out of his eyes and tangled limbs he saw Ezio leaning over the man with a chunk of an arm missing.
Ezio turned his head to where he was lying down, wiping his blades on the dead man's robes.
”You poor thing must have been scary to get chased by these lunatics.”
Yes, it was.
Desmond stayed where he was, breathing heavily as the adrenaline slowly started to leave him.
“Let me look at you little pup… I think I saw his sword hit but it's too dark.”
Desmond huffed what was supposed to be a snort when he saw Ezio slowly get on his knees, hand stretched out, crawling closer over to where Desmond decided to lay inside the old broken crates.
“Come here Cucciolo…” snapping his fingers, he whistled.
He whistled. He didn’t think Desmond was actually a dog…surely. It was dark but he was clearly larger than a village dog with way sharper teeth even in pitch black.
“Come on I won't harm you~”
Yea, I, might harm you!
If he had been a regular wolf that is, Desmond thought.
Another whistle and Desmond gave up trying to teach Ezio common sense.
“There you are mi Bello…” Crawling under the boxes and bits he could see Ezio take in his size. “You are a bigger thing than I thought huh, couldn't see much at this hour but not a puppy I recon…”
Yes… He was very much not a puppy. Desmond rolled his eyes as he stopped in front of Ezio shaking his coat to get rid of bits and dust. Moonlight on his fur the assassin was now finally able to get a real good look at him.
“Definitely not a puppy… oh boy… Not even a dog are you?”
The hand he held in front of him wavered a bit, clearly wasn't sure if he wanted to keep the limb so accessible now that he knew the animal in front of him wasn't the friendliest of spiciest or a man's best friend.
Ezio wanted to laugh, Desmond also did because why the fuck was Ezio Auditore alone in an alley at night face to face with a wolf he rescued from some crazed bastards. And why was his arm still out!?
“H-how about you don't hurt me?”
Of course, only Ezio would try to bargain with a wild animal. Stubborn dumbass, but this was a better scenario than having Ezio put him down for a rampage a wolf could cause on the streets.
As the man tensed further, Desmond trotted closer with his eyes on Ezio. His hand was still but he could see from Ezio's face how much he wanted to move it away.
Once again, stubborn dumbass.
He heard the man take a sharp inhale as he brought his wet nose to his palm, he waited a bit sniffing mostly for show and for Ezio to let go of the breath he held. Slowly, placed his maw onto the open palm, his blood-soaked fur dirtying the man's gloves.
“No way…”
He looked back up to Ezio to find the man's eyes twinkling with glee he had never seen in any memories he watched. Tilting his head into the palm Desmond felt the man finally get the courage he needed to start petting him as his fingers twitched between his sticky fur.
“Leonardo is going to lose his mind… Pazzesco! I am petting a real wolf…”
He wouldn't be alone, Desmond was losing it for sure. Well, he had been losing it actively since the animus but becoming a wild animal in the 1500s Renaissance? I think he got to a point past therapy on day one of Abstergo kidnapping.
He was a wild animal in Ezio’s Italy…. He was getting pets from THE Ezio Auditore in THE Renaissance.
“Who's a good boy~ Look at that tail wag!”
Oh god, and his tail wagged….
Desmond turned his head to look at the betraying limb but when he did the twist bumped his back leg right onto Ezio’s knee. He jolted in a yelp as pain shot through him, he had almost forgotten he had an arrow to his glute.
“Oh Cucciolo... wait a second boy”
Desmond stayed in a low whimper as Ezio dug into his pouches. Getting bandages and a flask, he looked over to the wolf with sympathy.
Lips pressed flat Ezio spoke in a teasing tone his face did not reflect ”Facciamolo… we are going to make a little deal you and I” He placed a gloved hand to his own chest “I promise to help you heal…” then pointed at him…
Desmond looked into his eyes unimpressed as Ezio tried to bargain with, again, a literal wolf. He hoped his animal face was expressive enough to get his point across.
“...and you have to promise not to bite, Capisce?”
His hands scratched at his ears and Desmond had to admit it felt nice, like a relaxing massage on just the right spot. “This will hurt, I am sorry.” Then the same hands moved slowly toward his legs. Desmond knew Ezio talked from experience when he said his warning.
God and he couldn’t even have alcohol to ease the pain that was about to come!
Ezio’s eyes darted between his wound and his face a few times.
He was clearly expecting to be bitten.
Then again what wild animal would not if you yanked an arrow out of them? Desmond could not blame him really for thinking of his limbs when he was making a chew toy out of one a minute ago…
Ezio's hand closed around the arrow shaft in a gentle pressure.
Both of them took a deep breath.
“Please don't bite me!”
Yank.
Desmond was not proud of the voices that came out of him…
#there are infact wolves in rome#its italys national animal lmao#well probobly not in rome rome but... italy has em#It is aslo Turkeys national animal so twinnnns#fanfic#assassin's creed#desmond miles#ezio auditore#this took longer than I thought lmao#poor desmond always ends up blacking out at the end of my fics huh
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i love your writing! can i please request some more softdom roman? with any prompt you want.
thank you ♥️
perfect for me.
softdom!roman x gn!reader
— gender-neutral anatomy, gender-neutral nicknames, only pronouns used are you, etc.
summary: he doesn't usually take any breaks at work, but you can take as much of his time as you want, especially after you've been so good to him. you were always his favorite stress cure.
warnings: slight financial dom, office setting, semi-public, teasing, unprotected sex, messy, creampie, cock warming, a bit of performance anxiety.
Please, reblog if you like my posts!
His mind was always busy, thinking about his work and all the upir stuff that was happening to him, but you were that little anchor that kept him going. You kept him feeling loved and secure, always calmed by your soft hands and words of affirmation. No matter how tough life was, just a glimpse of your smile could make his day better.
That's exactly why the moment he started to feel overwhelmed, he called you a little before midnight, asking you to visit him in his office. You were so worried the moment you heard his exhausted voice, almost begging you to use his card to pay for your taxi. And so you did, not even half an hour later you texted him you were waiting by the elevator.
He was so happy you were there for him, the moment you stepped into his office, he turned around in his chair, smiling ear to ear as he watched you lock the door behind yourself.
"Oh, baby... Look at you!" he said excitedly as he spotted your outfit. It was one of many that he had bought for you during one of many of his shopping sprees. Seeing the way the soft fabric wrapped around your body so perfectly made his heart melt. "Come here, love."
You giggled as you felt warmth spreading over your cheeks, walking over to his desk. Before you could even think about protesting, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling his face into your soft tummy.
"Are you okay, Rome?" you asked, fingers slowly playing with his hair just the way he loved so much, nails gently scratching the back of his neck. He murmured something in response, palms slowly kneading your hips.
"Yeah, I'm just a little tired, y'know? Needed you here." he explained while resting his chin on your stomach just to look into your eyes. You smiled at him and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
You weren't even sure when the soft, gentle pecks on his face started trailing down his neck, your fingers lingering over his clothed shoulders and chest, messing with the buttons of his shirt.
His breathing became heavier but shakier, quiet groans leaving his mouth every time you teased his exposed skin with your teeth, gentle hickeys suckled over it. Feeling the way your knee rested between his thighs, placed on his chair, makes him feel like he has his whole world above him.
"If you keep going, I might not..." he stopped with a gasp as you pressed your knee over his bulge, allowing him to slowly grind against it. The chair squeaked as he got up, your knee still between his legs as he pushed the papers aside. Proud smirk on his lips as he pulled your body to sit on top of his desk.
His body moved automatically, spreading your legs to fit between them, a low chuckle left his mouth when you threw your arms around his neck. You shifted, tilting your head to make space for his yet-cold lips to leave kisses the same way you did for him.
Roman's hands gripped your hips as he pulled you closer to the edge of the desk, your crotch pressed against his as he purposefully avoided your lips. You tugged on his hair, whimpering into his ear as he pulled your shirt up, thumbs caressing your nipples under the material.
"R-Roman..." you moaned, feeling him gently bite into your exposed shoulder. He looked at you, eyes already glistening with lust, as he smiled at you. Nodding his head, he pressed a kiss on your cheek, smirking as you tried to reach his mouth with yours.
"You want a kiss, doll?" he asked, feeling the way you arched your back against his digits. Slowly rubbing and tugging on your sensitive buds. You nodded your head eagerly, legs wrapped around his waist. "Use your words... Say 'Please, kiss me, Roman'. I know you can..." he whispered encouragements into your ear, a little high-pitched whisper so similar to the way you plead. Vibrations of his voice send shivers down your spine.
"Please... Kiss me, Roman." you whined and he proudly kissed your lips. Fast pecks slowly turn into passionate making out against his desk, bodies grinding against each other while you claw at his belt, trying to unbuckle it.
He chuckled at your miserable attempts, quickly pulling your wrists away to help you. Your movements are rushed, clumsy, and fueled by the adrenaline that the idea of being discovered like this brought you. Roman's palm started rubbing your clothed sex, patting it slightly through the material, just to hear your little mewls against his lips.
His trousers fell to the ground with a clank of his belt, you softly palmed him through his boxers, focusing your thumb on the wet spot right above his slit. All this pent-up stress made him desperate, and happy at the same time – happy that he had such a loving little toy that was always there for him whenever he needed it the most.
He couldn't wait any longer, almost ripping his shirt off his body, staring at your hands flimsily pulling your own pants down. He can't keep his eyes off of you as you get yourself prepared for him. Not only that, but he praised you, tracing your inner thighs with his fingertips as he witnessed you moving your fingers in and out of your tight hole. Spreading them around with the addition of spit to help with the slight soreness.
"All this just for me, huh?" he asked, kissing your temple as he stroked his cock, precum covering your smooth skin. Roman never cared about how messy you got, it never bothered him. Sometimes, though, it worked like fuel to his actions. Getting him so eager to finally make you feel good, to hear your soft moans again.
This time, you were in his office, legs wrapped around him as if you were scared he was going to move away any second. But he wouldn't ever leave you like this, exposed and vulnerable. You were his and to his eyes only.
His nature took over, pulling your thighs apart as he slowly slid inside, feeling your walls already clench around his leaking tip. He groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, his eyes focused on the spot where your bodies connected.
"Am I... doing okay?" you asked, panting above him as you tugged on his hair. The way his head jolted upwards to face you made you squirm in your seat. Slowly moving his hips, one hand on your thigh, the other cupping your jaw. Not harshly pulling towards him, just softly holding it as his greatest treasure.
"You're doing so good for me, baby. As you always do." He didn't sound upset, just slightly shocked that such a silly thing could ever cross your mind. His hips started thrusting into you a little harder, making your eyes roll and your voice crack. "So. Fucking. Perfect."
Soon enough, his palm covered your lips, muting your moans as he continued, kissing your neck and earlobe as he panted against you. Your hands focused on holding his torso close to yours.
The room was quickly filled with rhythmical sounds of flesh slapping against each other and the desk hitting the wall behind him, but he didn't even care at this point. He slowed down, seeing how overwhelmed you were becoming. You couldn't even look at him anymore, eyes closed shut, tears slowly pricking at the corners of your eyes as he pounded you.
His movements slowed down just to allow you to rest for a second, his forehead against yours as he pecked your cheek, asking if you were okay. Roman's hand moved down your body, easily finding your shoulder, then your arm until he found your hand, taking it away from his neck.
He kissed each one of your knuckles until you looked back at him. "Too much for you?" he asked worryingly but never stopped moving his hips. Your lover chuckled as you shook your head, grinding against him for even more friction. The way he kept hitting that sweet spot inside of you started to create a knot in your lower stomach, you couldn't allow him to stop now. So he didn't.
Roman found the pace that got you the most worked up, still hissing your hand as his eyes closed in the indescribable, almost overwhelming pleasure. Your bodies were caged together over his desk, above the documents that he was supposed to take care of.
His arm wrapped around your waist just to hold you a little closer if that was even possible. Your lips connected for the last time before those coils inside the both of you unraveled. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the way he painted your walls in his spend, claiming you yet another time.
He panted heavily, a string of saliva connecting your lips as they parted. Roman grasped your shirt, pushing his face against your chest to calm down, not pulling out yet. The warmth of your flushed bodies interlocked with each other always made him feel that maybe there was heaven for someone like him.
You spent the rest of your time in his office, straddling his lap as he sat by his desk. Leaving kisses all over your neck and shoulders, arm still wrapped around you as he worked. All that stress he couldn't bear was gone, replaced by his well-known post-sex kindness and care. Even when his mind was solemnly focused of his paperwork, his body still soothed you in the gentlest ways possible, despite him almost breaking you a couple of minutes ago.
masterlist | request info | kinktober 23
#kinktober#kinktober 23#kinktober 2023#dom roman godfrey#roman godfrey x reader#roman godfrey smut#roman godfrey#hemlock grove#fanfiction#gender neutral reader#headcanon#riri writes
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balcony. || Roman Roy
Pairing: Roman Roy x F!Reader
Summary: You're Roman's sad assistant, Roman is your comforting boss. There's something unspoken, too.
Word count: 1.685
The harsh autumn wind bites at the skin exposed by your party dress, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It's times like these where you curse yourself for your 'the jacket ruins the outfit' mentality. Sure, the moment you wanna go home you can step into a cozy Uber. But this jacket-less lifestyle doesn't support emotional breakdowns on balconies.
You're not sure why you feel the way you do. Maybe it's just life-- too much and too little, constant scratching and clawing just to get out of bed. Or maybe it's this dress, and the fact it just doesn't look as good on you as it used to look. Maybe it's the fact that you're lonely, no matter how much time you spend with others.
"Are you thinking of killing yourself? Because that's, like, lame." Your head turns for some reason, as if it isn't immediately clear to you that it's Roman. "Only a little bit," you weakly chuckle out, turning back to look at the view. Small lights blinking from high to low, desperate to shine through the darkness.
Roman wordlessly walks to stand next to you, although he turns his back to the view. He leans on the old, marble railing, hands tucked in his pockets for only a moment before he pulls them out again.
He's clearly nervous. Emotions aren't on the forefront for him, and the dysfunction of his upbringing definitely hasn't made him capable of handling yours any time, either. But his hands clasp and unclasp, his eyes blink rapidly, and with a single sentence he dives into the deep end.
"So are you, uh, okay?"
Your breathing stills at the question. Suddenly the cold air blows into your eyes, and now suddenly it's making you tear up. Damn the cold air for making you look weak. "Yeah, I just... I don't know," you mumble out, carelessly wiping your eyes, any make-up you had on now smudged. From the corner of your sight you can see Roman's eyes widen. His head starts darting around, like he's searching for something in the air, as he hesitates in his next actions.
He takes a single step. A small one, for sure, but the step is to get closer to you. One leg over the other, and now his arm is touching yours. "D'you wanna... talk?" You shrug, still mindlessly staring out in front of you as Roman struggles to think of ways he can show he does care about your feelings, even if he wouldn't outwardly admit it.
"Wanna be my therapist?" You laugh bitterly as you say it, to which Roman cracks an uneasy smile. "Sounds like a fun time, maybe even a little hot. Doctor, patient, stuck in a room for way too long," he tells you, carrying a nonchalant grin.
As always, he makes you laugh. "And a therapy couch to have crazy monkey sex on. I'm into it." Roman's grin grows at that, teeth peeking out as he finally turns to look into the night as well. "Soooo, what, is the party so bad you're considering suicide?" You roll your eyes at him with a light smile, which he happily reciprocates. "You're on the right fuckin' path, though, since their wine tastes like the aftermath of a grape juice enema," he groans out, eyes squeezed shut in faux annoyance.
With each smile you give him, he feels more secure. Like his feet are properly tied onto the ground, instead of floating out into the empty cold of space. "I'm just sad is all, Romes. Not about the shit wine, though, I haven't even had any tonight."
"Seriously? I thought that guy from the app company sent you a drink. He wanted to get into your panties bad, you do know that, right?" He tries not to come over as jealous, since this is your moment of vulnerability, but you can tell he is by the way he runs a shaky hand through his hair. All you do is shrug in response. "Didn't accept it."
He cackles, which makes you smile. "You stone-cold bitch. Poor guy's gonna jerk himself off as he cries, and you show no mercy?"
Another shrug from you, and another laugh from him. His laughter dies down quickly when he sees the change in your expression. There's a quiet somberness to it. The kind that brought him back to his childhood, uniforms and broken mirrors.
He hates that somberness on you.
"Seriously, what's up? You're all quiet and fuckin' depressed, it's giving me the heebie jeebies." Your head doesn't turn to Roman as you prepare to speak. You keep your eyes on the twinkling lights of the buildings far away from you. Twinkles of humans who are just as awake, and possibly just as solemn as you are. "It's these parties. They just kinda highlight my loneliness, it's... it's just a bit much tonight," you sigh out, head not moving an inch.
You don't bother looking at Roman's face. It's most definitely a melancholic one, eyes round and glassy with his eyebrows slightly knotted. "You have me," he mumbles out, and despite his weak attempt at making it sound humorous, you both know it fell flat. He's too desperate for you to acknowledge that for it to be funny.
"I know I do."
A silence falls between the two of you as you both stare out. Roman's arm is still flush against yours, a lick of heat that's so miniscule yet so warming to you.
He's thinking of something, anything, to say to you. Something that'll comfort you like you always comfort him. But how can he copy the eye contact you make across a room, or the hug you always give him where you squeeze his shoulders extra tight? Nothing he could say could ever carry the nurture your perfume carries for him.
"You don't have to say anything, Romes, just... be here with me?"
Roman stills. His hands stop fiddling, and his eyes stop darting around, searching for an anchor point to help him stay ashore. He lets out a heavy sigh, before grabbing your hand and tugging you with him. "C'mon," he mumbles, not daring to look at your expression, "let's go home."
There's something far too domestic about how he texts his driver with one hand while the other one holds onto yours. Like you're not his underpaid assistant, or his closest friend, but instead his partner. Your mind floods with images of his apartment flooded with your things, and Sundays together in bed.
The two of you weave through the crowd. Roman speaks for the both of you every time someone tries to speak to either of you, probably to ask why you're leaving so early. He simply throws a 'fuck off' their way as he continues leading you to the exit.
The taxi is somehow already standing there. "Let's ditch this shitty granny orgy," he chuckles out. He's clearly just as nervous as you are about the implication of whatever is happening now, but he doesn't hesitate in sitting snugly against you in the car. You let your head fall onto his shoulder. A heavy sigh escapes you, the kind that felt like it had been in your lungs for years.
"Just so you know, I didn't do groceries." You huff out a small laugh. "I told you to start doing them though," you mumble against his shoulder. His head falls to lean against yours, digging his nose into your hair. "I know, I'm just really fucking stubborn, like, all the time," he mumbles back.
This makes you laugh a little harder. He laughs too, content in your proximity to him. It felt right, sharing body heat. The car stops, and as the two of you step out Roman grabs your hand again. He doesn't let go, not even when unlocking his door.
Your hands disconnect to let Roman remove and hang up his jacket. He scurries to his bedroom, leaving you to take in his apartment. You've been in it plenty of times, but never like this. Never in a way that made it feel like home.
Roman returns, already changed into a sweater and loose pants. He hands you some clothes, as well, head nudging you towards his bedroom. "It's all oversized, because my pecs are fucking huge and stretch my clothes out," he jokes, flexing his muscles as if he can't hear his blood flow in his ears.
With a sheepish grin you head to his bedroom and change. You try not to dwell on how constant Roman's scent now is, or how you're pretty sure he uses the same fabric softener as you. Instead, you call out his name, thoughtlessly throwing yourself into his bed.
He bites back a quip, and silently enters the bed to lay next to you. It's like there's no air in the room as you lay your head on his stomach, your arms carefully wrapping around his waist. Gently, he strokes your hair, other hand swung over you, keeping you as close as you can be.
Roman's body stiffens at the first sniffles. Your tears roll down your cheeks, but you don't let out any sobs. He pulls you up, and tightly wraps his arms around you. Only when your head is buried in Roman's shoulders, you let out a strangled cry. You convulse in Roman's hold, shivering despite the warmth he's giving you.
"Hey, it's okay, I'm here," he whispers as he keeps his hold on you strong, lightly rocking from side to side. There's a lump in his throat as he listens to you gently weeping. You, out of all people, shouldn't ever have to feel this way.
As you quiet down, only letting out the occasional hiccup, Roman lightly pulls you to look at him. He cradles your face with his hands, shakily wiping your wet cheeks with his thumbs as he tries to think of anything to say.
"If you need a salary raise, let me know."
A hoarse laugh escapes your throat. You smile through your tears, and Roman smiles back.
"I think I'd like that."
#roman roy x reader#roman roy x you#succession#succession hbo#roman#romulus roy#roman roy#female reader#succession fanfic#hbo succession
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ENDEARMENTS ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD
GENRE ➺ fluff, established relationship
WC ➺ 1.4k
SYNOPSIS ➺ lockwood doesn't understand why you bend when he uses terms of endearments on you.
DISCLAIMER ➺ implied non-brit! gender-neutral! reader. + usage of an assortment of pet names (they usually call each other 'bee')
NOTE ➺ to any brits out there—yes, us normies are heavily affected by 'darling' and 'love'. thank you for coming to my tedtalk.
He knew that he shouldn't abuse his power like this but he didn't have much of a choice. You had been ignoring him for the past five hours . . . over serving your morning coffee in the wrong mug.
Lockwood was a brave guy. You, alone, had the ability to make him scared of approaching you. He hoped for the best when he had strut up to you in your reading chair and wrapped his arms around you.
You stiffened in his arms but he persevered, placing his chin on your shoulder. He saw your lips turn taut, ready to frown and shoo him away, until...
"I'm sorry, my darling. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
He wasn't sure whether it was the apology or the overplayed endearment, but you had laxed in his hold. Allowing yourself to lean into his chest and kiss his cheek.
"It's okay, bee. I'm not mad anymore."
He had a hard time believing that, but when you put your book down to give him full body hug? He forgot all about his worries.
—
It wasn't everyday that Lockwood allowed himself a vacation. So, when you won a free trip to Rome, you had to bring him along.
What you didn't expect was for him to be so enthusiastic about living the tourist life. He had even bought a camera for the sole purpose of capturing your moments.
Travi Fountain was something you've been dying to see for ages but a run-in with a scammer had soured your mood. You were cross-armed and pouty-lipped for most of your walk-about.
"Come on, bee, just one picture. You've been telling me about this place for months now," Lockwood reasoned. He took your hand, stubbornly holding on.
"I'm not in the mood, bee," you grumble, shaking your linked hands. He wouldn't let go of you, even if you tried.
"We'll see about that."
"What was that?"
"Nothing," he said sweetly, then raised the camera to his eye; adjusting the focus to capture you, your linked hands, and the opulent fountain. "Smile for me, angel."
The frustration on your face melted, giving way to a timid smile that instantly brightened your face. He wasn't content yet. Lockwood was trying to coax his favorite smile out of you. "My love, I need you to show your pretty teeth, please. Oh— yes, smile just like that. That's exactly what I was looking for."
He mirrored your radiant smile. He couldn't help it. He took a few more shots and basked in your laugh for a few more glowing moments before lowering the camera.
"You got what you wanted now, Mr. Lockwood," you stepped closer, clearly in a higher spirits. You even pressed a chaste kiss on his chin as he viewed the photos.
"That, I did." He grinned, skin golden from the sinking sun. He placed a gratifying kiss on your temple then one on your knuckles. "You're perfect as always, my darling."
He should have taken a photo of you then, all red-cheeked and sun-kissed, but that would have to be a memory just for him. He had no qualms about that.
—
"You should be asleep," he tutted. His voice was low but his tone was reprimanding. Beneath that was a hint of petulance, like a child that didn't get his way.
You worked in the dining room under a lamp you had bought from a yard sale, like you routinely do. Not usually at ungodly hours like this. Judging by his pout, he wasn't pleased.
Lockwood had gone to bed hours ago, expecting you to follow soon after. Now, the hours were closer to the morning and your side of the bed was still cold.
You looked up, giving him a weak smile to try and placate his attitude. He looked so soft with bed-disheveled hair. You could see a sliver of pale skin as he lifted his shirt to scratch his belly. You absolutely melted while he softened at your sunken eyes. Only you could look so cute and sleep-deprived at the same time.
You lifted your notes to show him how much research you'd covered. "I can figure this out. I feel it. Just a bit more."
"Angel, baby," he started towards you. The terms had caught your attention. Your body faced his and your hands fell away from the case files you sprawled all over the place. "you need rest."
"I still have energy," you replied. You tried to resist his charms but you ended up giving in as he held his hands out.
He helped you to your feet, keeping one hand entangled with yours and the other drifting to your waist. With a sleepy smile, he requested: "Dance with me, my heart."
Lockwood claimed he didn't have much of a voice but, that night, he carried a tune like he was made to. The melody of 'Once Upon A Dream' drifts about you as he waltzed you across the kitchen, seducing you into a state of calm.
Your heart soared, you hummed along and you found yourself falling into the abyss that was Anthony Lockwood. As time danced on, you stepped closer and closer; your feet began to slow, and you finally set your head on his shoulder. Slowly but surely, he lulled you to sleep.
When your eyes fluttered shut and your weight shifted, he brought a careful hand under your knees and picked you up. With the litheness of a feather, Lockwood took you to bed and blessed your head with a kiss before he turned out the lights. He wished you a wonderful dream then drifted off himself. Content to be resting with you in close proximity; Your hands curled into his shirt to keep him close while his slipped under yours to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.
When the sun broke through the curtains, he made sure to cover you with his frame and uncharacteristically asked George and Lucy to take the morning off so you could catch a few extra hours of sleep.
In his groggy haze, his hands drifted higher beneath your shirt, resting on your upper back to pull you even closer. You tucked your head under his chin, and, in that moment, all was well in the world.
—
It became clear to him how weak you were to his endearments.
You nearly dropped your morning coffee when he called you 'my darling'. You tripped on air when he asked you to pass him a note after he called you 'my love'. Your face did an endearing sort of pout when he called you 'my heart'. But he found that you're weakest when he calls you, "dearest."
Your attention was snapped away from your favorite book. Your eyes swirled with question and also elation—like a child on Christmas day. A smile was on your lips for no apparent reason and he couldn't help but smile back.
"Yes, bee?" you inquired innocently, your rapt attention on him. You looked every bit like a fantasy come to life, and you hadn't even brushed your hair. It's was a blessing that he could capture your heart with a simple term.
"Nothing," he said, smile growing. "You just look beautiful, heart."
He took the space beside you. You leaned into his side like it was second nature. His arm draped over your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder, ready to read along with you.
"Thank you," you replied. After a moment of contemplation, you add, "dearest."
It felt like an arrow was shot through his heart. His vain attempt to back a kiddy giggle was the least of his worries. It striked him then, why smiling seemed to be your first reaction to an endearment. When they came from you, it made his heart do ludicrous things. He was weak for you, and by the looks of it, he was too far gone to turn back.
Not that he would turn back. He'd like you to call him 'dearest' again. Preferably, for the rest of his life.
NOTE ➺ He's been haunting me lately. I've already have another fic in the works—he won't leave my mind!!
Any who, feel free to leave feedback and don't feel shy to reblog!! Bless the world with more thoughts of Anthony Lockwood ✨
⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡
#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄#i've keep thinking about him its getting unhealthy#anthony lockwood x reader#anthony lockwood x you#lockwood x reader#lockwood and co fluff#lockwood and co fanfiction#lockwood & co. x reader#anthony lockwood fluff#anthony lockwood fanfiction
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hey, could you make one of estelle finding out that percy and annabeth are demigods? thank u so much i love your works <3
*Okay, I kind of struggled with this one because I don’t feel like they’d hide it from her. I feel like it would be one of those things she’s always known. So, after a lot of thinking, I finally came up with this. Hope you enjoy!* Also, reminder, still closed to prompts, just catching up on a few old ones I hadn't gotten to yet.*
Demigods
It happened during spring break of his freshman year of college. Percy had come home to New York, catching a ride with Hazel on Arion, since she was visiting Camp Half-Blood as part of the two camps’ exchange program. Hazel was going to be spending a week at the Greek camp and Malcolm Pace was going to be at Camp Jupiter for a week. Annabeth had stayed in New Rome to work on a project for one of her architecture classes and to hang out with her demigod brother, who she hadn’t seen in a while. Percy had to admit he could understand the appeal, since the main reason he’d wanted to go to New York for a week was to hang out with Estelle.
His one-year-old sister was thrilled to see him. She squealed, patted his face, grabbed his nose, tugged on his ears and hair, and slobbered all over his cheeks and chin in an attempt to give him kisses. Basically, it was an awesome greeting.
The next day, he volunteered to take Estelle to a nearby park, to give his mom and Paul a break. The first part was fun. He pushed Estelle on the swing, grinning back at her when she gave him a drooly, three-toothed smile, her chubby legs kicking excitedly. Then he sat her on his lap to go down the slide. Estelle squealed so loudly that at first he was afraid she was scared, but then he realized she was laughing.
So they went down the slide about seven more times.
Everything was going well. Percy was having a great day with his baby sister. Even the weather was cooperating; it was a sunny, warm, early spring day, the trees just starting to be touched by green.
And then, as they turned the corner a few blocks from their apartment, Percy pushing Estelle in her stroller, he froze.
Skulking in an alleyway, flexing their muscles, were two Laistrygonian ogres. For one moment, Percy thought maybe he could slowly back away unseen.
And then their eyes fell on him. One glared, one grinned, and both pushed away from the alley wall and started moving towards him.
Percy cursed in his head, even as he reached for Riptide and, in the same move, stepped in front of Estelle in her stroller.
“Hey, guys,” Percy said, trying to keep his voice casual even as he palmed Riptide, still in pen form. “How’s it going?”
“Better now, Perseus Jackson,” one of the Laistrygonians rumbled. “Babycakes and I have been hoping you would reappear.”
Percy cursed out loud this time as he realized it was one of the ogres who had attacked him years ago during gym class. And, apparently, the monster’s girlfriend, who was still glaring at Percy.
“Do you know how annoying it was to have to wait for Joe Bob to reform?” Babycakes crossed her meaty arms, which were tattooed as thoroughly as her boyfriend’s.
“Probably really annoying,” Percy agreed. “Sorry about that. Anyway, great to see you all again, I’ll just be on my way—”
“I don’t think so, Perseus Jackson.” Joe Bob grinned, showing his crooked, stained teeth. “We were just trying to decide what to do for lunch. And then here you are.”
“And you brought a baby,” Babycakes cooed. “I love babies.”
Percy’s skin crawled. His own voice came out like a growl. “No one touches my sister.”
The Laistrygonians laughed and prepared to charge. They never got the chance. The moment they threatened Estelle, rage rose like a red hot wave in Percy’s chest. With a metallic shink, Riptide appeared in his hands. He leapt forward and, in two swift swipes, he dispatched the giants. They barely had time to look surprised before bursting into piles of monster dust.
“Enjoy Tartarus,” Percy muttered. It wasn’t something he’d normally say, after having been there himself, but he didn’t have any sympathy for monsters that threatened his sister.
Behind him, Estelle gurgled. Percy turned to look at her, Riptide still in his hands. Estelle was smiling and drooling as she chewed on her hand. When she saw him looking at her, she squealed happily and held out her arms. Percy scanned the street, but when he didn’t see any additional threats, he capped his sword, slipped the pen back in his pocket, and reached down to unbuckle Estelle from her stroller. His hands were shaking when he picked her up. She didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she babbled and patted his face. Percy managed a smile. “Come on, Estelle. Let’s get home before we run into any other problems.”
His mom and Paul were still out when Percy and Estelle got home. His little sister started to whine as soon as they got in the door, so after Percy had shut, and locked, it, he bounced her on his hip, which she usually liked. But Estelle wasn’t having it right now. So Percy changed his hold until he was cradling her against his shoulder. Estelle nuzzled her face against his shoulder and one small hand gripped his shirt as she continued to whine. Percy patted her back, then, cuddling her against his chest, headed to the kitchen to make her a bottle.
After she fell asleep while drinking her bottle, Percy stayed on the couch, just holding her for a while. Even though he’d dispatched the monsters easily enough, the fact remained that, just for a minute, his baby sister, his fully mortal baby sister, had been in danger. Because of him. And that wasn’t a good feeling.
Finally, Percy stood up, Estelle fast asleep in his arms, and carried her to her crib. Giving her a featherlight kiss on the forehead, he laid her down and tucked her in. Then he headed across the hall to the bathroom and closed the door. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he turned on the shower and used his powers to arc the water, letting it catch the rays of late afternoon sunlight coming through the window, creating a rainbow. Tossing in a drachma, he said, “Oh Iris, goddess of the rainbow, accept my offering. Show me Annabeth Chase at New Rome University.”
The rainbow shimmered. A few moments later, Annabeth appeared. Luckily, she was alone, sitting at her desk in her dorm room, absorbed in sketching. The sunlight coming through the window made her blonde hair glow. Percy watched her for a moment, already feeling a little better. But finally, when she didn’t look up, he said, “Hey.”
Annabeth jumped. When she saw him, though, an easy smile crossed her face. “Hey, Seaweed Brain.” The smile faded, though, as she studied his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Had a little bit of a run-in with some Laistrygonians.” He told Annabeth about what had happened, how he’d been on his way back from the park with Estelle, how the monsters had surprised him, how he’d dispatched them with no problem, but how he couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling in his stomach quite as easily.
“I just—” Percy ran a shaky hand over his face and through his hair, “I just can’t get past the fact that Estelle was in danger because she was with me.”
Annabeth tilted her head, as if thinking. Her gray eyes were intense as she’d listened to his story, but now they softened as she said, “I have a slightly different take on it. I’d say Estelle was never really in danger because she was with you.”
Percy shook his head. “That sounds good, but it’s not true. If they’d gotten the jump on me or something—”
“Percy.” Annabeth’s voice was a little more stern. She leaned forward on her desk, closer to the I-M. “You once blew up a volcano. Not to mention lots of plumbing over the years. You don’t think you could blow up a New York City water main to wipe out some monsters if Estelle was in danger?”
Percy took a leaf out of her book and rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, probably, but that’s not—”
“That’s exactly the point, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth’s expression was earnest as she locked eyes with him. “I’m not letting you beat yourself up about this one. Could something potentially happen to Estelle that would be absolutely out of your control? Yes, possibly. But would you do literally everything in your power to keep her safe? Absolutely. And you have a lot of power to call on, Percy. More than you even recognize sometimes. Your little sister is as safe with you as she’s going to be with anybody. Trust me. I know you.”
Percy blinked hard and cleared his throat. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” He managed a smile at his girlfriend. “I believe you.”
“Good.” Annabeth returned his smile. “I am sorry that happened, though. It sounds like a scary moment.”
“It did scare me,” Percy admitted, running his hand through his hair again. He exhaled. “Just more to lose, you know?”
“I know.” Annabeth raised her hand, just barely touching the Iris-message, so that it looked like her fingers were melting into the rainbow. Percy raised his hand to hers and it almost seemed like their palms were touching, even three thousand miles apart.
Naturally, Estelle chose that moment to start fussing from her crib across the hall.
“Uh-oh,” Percy said. “That might be my cue.”
“Give her a kiss for me. I love you.” Annabeth blew him a kiss. “Enjoy your visit, babe. It’s going to be okay.”
“Thanks, Wise Girl. Love you, too.”
Percy did feel better, even as he swiped through the I-M and Annabeth’s image faded. He turned off the shower, then headed across the hall to Estelle’s room. She was standing up in her crib, hair nap-mussed, whining around her pacifier. But when she saw him, her entire tiny face lit up and her pacifier nearly fell out as she smiled. Percy felt a pang in his chest, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.
“Hey, Estelle,” he said as he crossed the room to scoop her up. “Good nap?”
She burbled happily to him and Percy couldn’t help grinning.
He kissed one of her chubby cheeks. “That one’s from Annabeth.” Then he kissed the other. “And that’s from me. I love you, Estelle. And I’m always going to protect you. Don’t worry about that.”
His baby sister tugged on his ear and squealed. Percy figured she got the message.
“Let’s check out the kitchen,” he told her. “I think there’s a jar of mashed carrots with your name on it.”
He kissed the top of her head as he carried her down the hall. Annabeth was right, he couldn’t totally control every situation. But he would always do everything in his power to keep his little sister safe.
#pjo#fanfic#percabeth#percy jackson#writing#fanfiction#ff#stories#request#annabeth chase#CLOSED TO PROMPTS#I'm just catching up on old ones
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Hiii mate, could make a request where the reader is a singer and write a song for her ex (the player you want or if difficult to choose could be Jill roord) and you decide if makes a happy or sad ending (the song: if you love her by forest blakk)
If you lover her
Jill Roord x reader
Jill tried to take a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut so she didn't need to see the big headline of the article she just read.
"Y/N Y/L/N releases single - old lover or new heartbreak?"
It was only a seven lines long article, trapped between an Interview with Taylor Swift and an advertisement for Harry Styles new tour.
Even though she knew that this was a terrible idea, she opened YouTube and searched for the new song.
The moment she head the soft voice again, singing the first line of the song, a million different thought rushed through her head.
Memories of old days.
Days that were almost forgotten.
And in the last coroner of her heart she could remember the feeling she had back then.
"Take it. If she gives you her heard don't you break it."
She felt tears forming in her eyes.
"Let your arms be a place she feels safe in"
Man she could remember the many times, she laid in your arms, feeling safer then at any other place in the world. Her head pressed in your neck, or resting on your chest. Forgetting the world around her, just relaxing.
"She always has trouble falling asleep."
The stressful days, packed with training, recovery, games and media stuff, we're getting more. At night, when she was laying in bed, the thoughts in her head just wouldn't shut up. The only thing that really helped here, was when she could sleep with her head on your chest and focusing on the sound of your heartbeat.
"And she likes to cuddle, while under the sheets"
Cuddling was for her, like the most intimate thing ever. More than kissing or having sex. From the outside she looked like a hard and funny person but inside she was actually a massive softy. And she loved just laying on your bed, hidden under the sheets and cuddled close to you.
"She loves Pop songs and dancing"
Jill loved the many dances you had, when she just randomly put on a playlist and started to swing her hips until it became a full dance while singing loud to the music. And she did that in the most random moments, while cooking dinner, making breakfast, brushing her teeth, getting dressed or just when she was bored while working out.
"and bad trash TV"
Oh yes, the many night you spend awake, or the many rainy days you two spend on the couch, watching whatever was on TV. Sometimes she would turn off the sound and make her own dialogs to the scenes.
"There's still a few other things"
"She loves love notes and babies"
Since your older sister already had two children and you were the godmother of both of them, you spend a lot of time with them. And Jill loved them with all her heart. The older one, Jenny was five years old when you broke up and loved soccer and everything that was related to the Frauen Bundesliga. The younger, Christoper was only two at the time and he loved Jill and Jill loved him.
"And likes giving gifts"
From every, really every place they played, she brought something with her. A expensive bottle of wine, from Rome. A scarf with little Eiffel towers on it, from Paris. A cookbook for Tapas from Barcelona and a red wool sweater from Sweden. And so much more, she loved gifting things to you.
"Has a hard time accepting, a good compliment."
"She loves her whole family, and all of her friends."
There was nothing Jill loved more than her family and her friends where part of her family, her team too. And she would do anything to protect her family.
"So if you're the one she lets in. Take it. If she gives you her heart. Don't you break it. Let your arms be a place. She feels safe in. She's the best thing that you'll ever have. She'll love you. If you love her. On days when. It feels like the whole. World might cave in. Stand side by side. And you'll make it. She's the best thing that you'll ever have. She'll love you. If you love her like that."
Durning the refrain she felt tears running down her cheeks, of curse this song could be about anyone. A person you had dated before her, someone you dated after her, but deep in her heart she knew it. She knew that this song was about her. About your story.
Kiss her with passion
As much as you can
"Kiss her with passion, as much as you can."
She remembered the lots of kisses you shared, she loved kissing you. And you two had so many different ways to kiss. Soft and slow, with love, passionate and heated. Something else in every situation. Morning kisses where different then good nights and they where different then good luck kisses or kisses after a match. And of curse there where the kisses that you shared in spicy situations.
"Run your hands through her hair, whenever she's sad"
Jill remembered the night, they got kicked out of the European championship. You where with her the whole time, letting her cry in your arms and comforting her through the whole thing.
"And when she doesn't notice, how pretty she is, tell her over and over, so she never forgets."
It was probably one of the things you said the most to her, every day after she got dressed, after the matches when she was so sweaty and feeling dead she almost couldn't believe it.
And then again, the refrain. Jill already knew that she loved and hated that song at the same time.
As it ended, she quickly closed YouTube and opened google, searching for your next concert.
It was only two days until.
And before she could change her mind she bought one of the last available tickets.
----
After the last song, one about a couple getting married and spending there live together, people where throwing roses at the stage.
It was the moment you allowed your self to take a last look at the crowd and then you noticed her.
Standing in the middle, not screaming or celebrating, just standing there, smiling.
In her blue LFDY Hoodie, that you bought her so many years ago.
She looked down at the rose in her hand, a white pice of paper tied to it, before she threw it on stage.
Like after every show you picked up some of the roses, hers too, before saying "Good Night.", and leaving to go to the backstage rooms.
"Y/N the-"
"Not now." You cut your manager Brian off and walked into the room you used as a room to get ready and if you needed some alone time before the shows.
You gave him the bouquet of roses, only keeping the one from Jill, before closing the door behind you.
"Y/N, I know you don't like second chances, but please let us talk. We're staying at the same hotel, I'm waiting at the bar. Love J-"
She was right, you hated second chances.
But there was so much that you wanted to say to her.
You regretted that break up so much.
You both did.
You two never really had a fight until that one night.
It was a rainy night in London, Jill came home really late.
And from the moment she walked through the door, you knew something was up.
"I got offered to play for VFL Wolfsburg." she explained, you knew what that meant.
She was going back to Germany.
And you couldn't do long distance. It was already hard when she was away with Arsenal and you hated the days when she was away with the National Team.
You just had signed a contract with a producing company in London for two more albums. You couldn't leave that.
Without really talking about it, you two knew this was the end.
And by the time of summer, Jill had moved out of your shared apartment. With all of her stuff.
Her cloths, her sneaker collection, her soccer stuff, even her coffee machine.
It was like the live had moved out with her.
---
You hurried to get back to your hotel and refused to talk to anyone about what was up with you.
When you arrived at the hotel bar, you scanned the room, searching for her when you noticed a women sitting at the end of the bar.
There she was.
"Hey." You said and she turned around, she had changed into a black suit, making her look even more beautiful.
"Hi." she answered and it felt like haven, hearing her voice again.
"Can I?" You asked, pointing at the chair next to her.
"Yeah of curse, what do you wanna drink?"
"A Coke please." You answered and she ordered it for you.
"How are you?" she says, after the barkeeper placed the drink in front of you.
"I'm good. Any you?"
"Yeah me too." she says.
You open your mouth to say something but she cuts you off.
"Y/N. I don't wanna do small talk. I came because I need to talk to you"
"About what?"
"The song, If you love her was it about me?"
"Yes." you say, unable to form proper sentences.
"Why?"
"I....I thought it would help me to get over you but I cant. I'm still so in love with you."
"Oh Y/N." she sighs, happy that you still feel that way but also sad.
"I'm sorry that I left, I'm sorry that I didn't asked you to try it with me."
"No I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just let you go, I should have fought for you." you say and she nods.
"I know that there is nothing, that I- that we can make to, just get back to this moment, but I would be willing to start over with you." she says and softly slides her hand on top of yours.
"Me too, I want us back."
"So, everything is on beginning now." she says and you nod.
"I'm Y/N." you induce yourself and hold your hand out for her.
"I'm Jill, nice to meet you." she answers, laughing.
#jill roord#vflwolfsburgfrauen#frauen bundesliga#arsenal wfc#jill roord x reader#oranjeleeuwinnen#oranje leeuwinnen x reader#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso#lgbtq#wlw
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How the Marvel men treat you on Valentines Day
pairings Tony Stark x reader
warnings none, teeth rotting fluff, implied smut
masterlist
Tony would definitely surprise you with a trip to one of Europe’s cities. Paris, Rome, London, doesn’t matter, he will choose whatever you like the most. You will stay in an expensive hotel, penthouse of course, of which’s balcony you have a stunning view of the city. On Valentines Day you would find a note on the bed from him, lying on top of a little box. “Meet me at 8 in the lobby, love, Tony” And as you open the box you find a beautiful new dress in your favorite color in it. Of course, you try it on and it fits perfectly. As you step into the lobby you immediately catch Tonys eye and he smirks at you. “Hey, love. You look stunning” His hands on your waist, pulling you to him and pressing a soft and loving kiss to yours. He then extends his arm for you to take and together you go to a fancy restaurant. After a nice evening, the two of you return to the hotel. At first you enjoy the view of the night skyline, his arms wrapped around you from behind, a glass of champagne in your hand. Tony starts to softly kiss your neck, and finally he takes the glass carefully out of your hands and makes you turn around to look at him. He looks you deep in the eyes and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “I love you” he whispers before putting his lips onto yours. I think we all know how this is going to end.
#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel x reader#fluff#marvel fluff#avengers#mcu#ironman#iron man#tony stark fluff#tony stark#tony stark smut#tony stark x reader#tony stark imagine#valentines day#valentines day fluff
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Insufferable Arsehole (When In Rome) Part 10 - Step Into Your Skin
An: so I know it's a long time in the waiting but here's the new chapter of Insufferable Arsehole... Taking a little break seriously brought my love back for this series, thank you to everyone who continually supports me, I love you. This next part of the series is titled "When In Rome" hope you enjoy - Lou
Warnings: smut, fluff, mentions of tattoos. Bit long? 🤣
Series Masterlist
Previous part
Rome is heaven, everything about it from the heat, the sun, the views, the vibe, is perfect. Matty had planned the whole thing, Lou going with the flow and following the man she loved. He had managed to book their villa for a week and a half, both wanting to go home at some point and see their families.
Matty was watching Lou from the kitchen window, she was lying by the pool on a sun lounger, clad in a skimpy black bikini that left hardly anything to the imagination. But he didn't need to imagine, not when he had her right there, officially his girlfriend and more than willing to do anything he wanted.
Sunglasses rested over her eyes, and he watched intently as water droplets glistened on her skin in the sun, skin which had darkened far quicker than his. Skin which was already loitered with purple bruises after being attacked by his desperate and aching mouth.
His eyes wandered over her tattoos, landing on the box tattoo above her wrist, directly opposite his own. He didn't notice the huge grin resting on his face as he looked at her, but he was the perfect picture of a man in love. He felt his heart fluttering as he looked at her, he felt like he was flying, no, he was soaring, swept up in everything that was her and he never ever wanted to step back onto the ground, not when soaring felt this good.
Condensation on the glass of the iced coffee he had made her, dripped against his hand, stirring him from his daydream. His feet carry himself to her, leaving the confines of the kitchen, which backed onto the garden which was huge and had a beautiful infinity pool. He immediately feels the heat flush against his body, his bare chest which had just cooled down beginning to form a sheen. His shadow casts over her body as he stands above her.
She removes her sunglasses, smiling up at the man as he offers her the coffee with a smile.
"Thank you my love" she says, sitting up to take a sip, practically moaning as the coffee hits her tongue, the ice cooling her down almost instantly.
Her hand finds his as he still stands, staring down at her, mouth agape slightly. Her now cold mouth places a soft kiss over his knuckles, silently thanking him again.
"Jesus Christ I need to go for a swim to cool off" he says, not referring to being hot because of the weather. She giggles up at him, knowing the effect she had on him, and it's only worsened when she takes her bottom lip in-between her teeth, making the man grunt. His hand grasps her chin gently, thumb plucking her lip from her teeth, calling off the attack before he speaks.
"You're killing me here love" he says and she shrugs at him.
"I'm not doing anything" she says innocently. He chuckles at that, jumping into the pool. She giggles as he hits the water, causing a big splash, the water covering the deck and attacking her too. Little did he know she was suffering too, watching the way his tanned chest glistened in the sun, tempting her to run her palms over the muscle.
She laughs at him as he emerges, curls now soaked and sitting flat against his head as he flicks them back.
"What did I do?" She asks, her hands held to her chest in an attempt to shield herself from getting soaked.
"Nothing. Just being you love and it's killing me" he says, swimming over to the edge of the pool, she stands from her seat, coffee left by the lounger. She lowers herself so she's sat at the edge of the pool by the time he swims to the edge. Her legs part to accommodate him as he rests his arms on her thighs, her hands coming to play with his wet hair.
"Think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said" she murmurs, pressing her lips to the top of his wet head as his arms wrap around her waist, dampening the skin. His hair now smelt faintly like chlorine but she could still smell his clear and inviting scent.
"I love you" he mumbles into her skin, cheek flat against her stomach, before it's moving again so he's lips can peck at the skin.
"I love you too" she says, pressing lightly against his chin so he's looking at her.
"You might as well not be wearing this though love" he says, pulling the fabric of her bikini bottoms before letting them go so they snap against her hip.
"Hmm... Take it off then" she says to tease him on purpose.
"Fucking hell" he groans at her words, head snapping backwards as she laughs loudly. His palms are flat either side of her thighs then, pushing against the surface until he rises slightly, arms flexing as he presses his lips to hers. It's a loving kiss, not rushed despite her words which tempted him.
"It suits you being here.... By the pool, or reading in the garden... Just sitting there looking pretty" he says as he lowers himself again.
"Yeah? Like doing everything for me?" she laughs at her words but he's nodding below her, hooking his arms around her.
"Id do anything for you" he says and although he's words are intense, she knows them to be true.
"I would for you too Matty. Absolutely anything"
"Yeah?" She nods "how about we go inside and get you out of whatever this is?" He asks, hooking his finger into the side of her bikini bottoms, letting it slap back to her hip again. She nods hastily, jumping up from the pool and running inside, giggling as the curly haired man chased after her, dripping in his wake.
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She was covered up in a shirt of his now, the buttons undone as she sat with her guitar in her lap.
Matty was in the kitchen, being domestic and cooking them dinner. She could hear him humming along to something, she laughed when she heard a clatter or heard him swear, usually having to call out an "I'm alright don't worry!"
"Matty come here a second please" she shouts out, hearing his bare feet hit against the tiles not a moment later.
"You alright my love?" He asks, cooking utensil in hand. She nods at him and he places a peck to her mouth.
"Will you listen to this a second? Tell me what you think?" She asks and he nods, placing himself down on the sofa opposite to where she's sat.
He hears her begin to play a familiar melody: the one she began writing when he saw her on the stage before that show.
When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind
He broke his own heart and I watched
As he tried to reassemble it
And my momma swore
That she would never let herself forget
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love if it does not exist
His heart aches at the words, desperately wanting to just take away the guitar and hug her, to let her know she had him now and love, it really did exist. Theirs was strong and he truly believed it could conquer all. He never really felt like that before, love before her was something that occupied his time, made life a little less shit and a little more bearable. But with her, her love, it was everything, it was the air he needed to breathe, the music to his ears, the blood pumping in his veins.
But darling, you are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
Her eyes find his and if he wasn't just a bit too realistic he would've thought time slowed. She was singing about him.
Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways to make it alone
Or keep a straight face
And I've always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable distance
And up until now I had sworn to myself
That I'm content with loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk
Matty feels his heart yearn for her. The words she sung were beautiful, and they told him everything he had always wanted to know. About her parents (very briefly and he still wanted to know more) about how love was for her before him.
But you are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
I've got a tight grip on reality
But I can't let go of what's in front of me here
I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream
Her voice picks up and he notices how for the first time, her eyes flutter close. He sees a single tear fall from the corner of her eye and his breath wavers and he feels a lump in his throat, especially when her eyes reopen and peer into his. He can see how she's bearing her soul to him, he sees it and he knows it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
And I'm on my way to believing
Oh, and I'm on my way to believing
She sang the song he had heard before, but she sang it completely now. He finds himself with tears in his eyes and she's quick to place the guitar down, pulling him into her and cradling his body in her arms. He didn't need to ask, he knew it written for him and somehow he realises just how much she loved him. He had never been loved this hard before, this fiercely, and he had a feeling she hadn't either.
His voice is quiet when he finally speaks, not whispering but hushed.
"Love..." His voice trails off, not knowing what to say.
"You don't have to say anything... Just tell me if it's bad" she says but she knows by his reaction that it's not.
"Lou it's a beautiful song" he murmurs, looking at her now as he cradles her face gently.
"Scared it's a bit too personal to share..." She says, voicing her worries to the man she loved.
"I think it's truly beautiful and people will love it" he says, smiling widely now.
"Yeah I'm sure you'll love that a song about you is out there... And a love song at that" she says, both confirming that the song was indeed about him but also insinuating that she's written about him before.
"Does do something to my ego love can't deny that" he jokes, the both of them lightening the mood.
He wants to ask her about her parents, about the love that she's experienced in her life, but she reminds him that the food is left unattended and he reminds himself to ask another time. She joins him in the kitchen, to help when needed but to mainly watch as he cooked.
The way his arms flexed as he stirred the food in the pot has a sighing happily. A cooking apron rested around his bare neck, it was too hot to wear a shirt so he was just adorning a pair of swimming shorts and the apron.
"You look awfully domestic matty" she says, making him turn to look at her.
"Yeah? Like it?" He asks as he returns to the task at hand.
"Love it" she confirms making him smile. He lowers the heat of the food so it simmers as he walks over to where she's sat, stepping between her legs as she wraps her arms tightly around his waist.
"I love you" he says, making her smile, leaning up to meet him half way in a sweet kiss.
"Try this" he says, returning to the food, turning it off before bringing a spoonful to her mouth. He watches as she blows gently on it to cool it down, before he slides the spoon into her mouth. He groans as she moans upon tasting it, the act isnt supposed to be sexual but god it was. The spoon finds it's way out of her mouth and his mouth falls open slightly as she licks her lips.
"Jesus Christ Matty. That's heavenly" she says, surprised at his cooking skills. He doesn't say anything and she frowns up at him, asking him what's wrong.
"You're going to be the death of me, fuck the food come here" he says, throwing the spoon the side with a clatter before pulling her up from the chair and throwing her over his shoulder. Again she's surprised by his strength and all she can do is giggle as he carries them up the stairs.
--------------------------------------------------------
"My mum and dad loved each other loads, but my dad had his own struggles and he didn't really deal with them when he was with my mum... he didn't ever let her see him in a vulnerable way" Lou explains, lying on her side next to Matty, who was listening intently to every word she said. He had finally asked her about her parents and the love she grew up around.
"My mum got to the point where she couldn't live with him when he was like that... She realised she couldn't fix him... He had to do that himself" she explained.
"Eventually my dad got better, opening himself up to me, allowed me to see him in that way... And then he met Mia's mum and they had mia... And my mum found her partner..." She explains and Matty nods.
"How did it impact you though?" He asked, knowing there was more to he told.
"It kinda fucked me up... Wasn't their fault though... I seemed to always get into relationships with guys who were emotionally unavailable... Ones who got me to fall for them and then kept me at arms length... After a few times I just began keeping myself at a distance... The only love I really knew, before you to be honest, was always unrequited" she finally explains, confirming Matty's theory.
"Every single one of them were absolute fools for not loving you... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me" Matty says, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth, pulling her closer to him, his back flush against the bed as she rested on top of him.
"I love you" she murmurs against his mouth.
"Thank you for telling me all that" he says and she smiles at him.
"I want you to know everything"
"I want to know everything... And want you to know everything about me too" he says, his words making her smile widely because that's all she's ever wanted, to know him, fully know him. Years worth of horrible relationships with guys she didn't really want, were all made worth while, because now she was with her person, the person she was always supposed to be with.
"You were made for me, you're my person" he says softly and she nods at him.
"You're my person" she says, kissing him again, the both of them smiling at each other. Matty gently presses against her shoulders until she's against the bed, he repositions himself so he's hovering over her, holding himself up as his eyes wander over her. She usually would feel vulnerable like this, him watching her as she laid there, not a single item of clothing covering her. She felt completely bare, physically and metaphorically, but she didn't feel vulnerable, she couldn't, not with the way he looked at her like she was his entire world.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen" he says, the most beautiful thing, thing. Because she was more beautiful than any person he had ever laid eyes on, more beautiful than any flower, sunset, sunrise, more beautiful than any painting could even attempt to capture.
"I'm never going to love someone as much as I love you" he admits, her heart fluttering at his words. She feels his words in every part of her, she feels the effect he has on her brain, clouding every corner of it, painting it with beautiful shades of him. She feels the way he fills her heart, filling it so much it almost hurts, it hurts when she's without him, but luckily he filled it enough that he was still there, even when he wasn't. She feels the way he makes her hairs stand on end, her senses heightened, she feels the way every word he says has her core fluttering, longing for that sweet release only he was able to grant her.
She feels the way her pupils dilate when she sees him, vision narrowing, he defined the phrase "tunnel vision" because no one even existed when he was in the room. Every single part of her longed for him, never wanting to be without him, knowing that the thought of being without him, would destroy her, so she simply pushed it away, not even needing to think about it, because it simply wouldn't happen.
"Good" she says leaning up to place her lips to his, the man trying with all his willpower not to lower himself onto her.
"Because I don't plan on ever being without you" she says as he pulls away from him, him chasing her mouth with his own, enveloping his tongue with hers.
----------------------------------------------------------
They stand at the foot of a tiny shop, wedged in-between a rustic looking bar and a coffee shop. The tattoo sign hung above the frame, slanted, the lights flickering occasionally. The shop was situated about 2 minutes away from their villa and Matty saw it on the first day of their trip, insisting they had to get tattoos.
Matty's eyes are covered in a pair of Truman, black-ish glasses, he wears a pair of black denim shorts and white (and slightly sheer) white shirt, the sleeves of which are rolled up. She was wearing a white milkmaid-like summer dress, which was quite short and revealed the skin of her tanned legs and chest, her collarbones shining, tempting his eyes to look at the swell of her breasts picking out of the fabric. She thought he looked fit, he thought she looked ravishing
"Matty... This looks dodgy as fuck" she says making him laugh, eyes flicking from the sign to the man squeezing her hand. She watches as his cheeks stretch into a smile, his arm hooking around her shoulders, pulling her into him, pressing his lips against the side of her head.
"Come on love, gotta live life on the edge" he says, the words mumbled into her skin.
"If I get some infection because of you...." Her words trail off, her threat cut short.
"You'll be fine come on" he says pulling them into the shop. The bell above the door rings and an oldish looking man comes to greet them, a tanned man with black and grey hair greets them with a smile.
"What a beautiful couple!" He exclaims and the two smile. The man pauses, looking at Matty as he takes his glasses off, for a moment they think he's going to recognise them but the man laughs.
"You look like a rockstar!" Is all he says and it makes Lou chuckle.
"What can I do for you?" He asks and Matty's eyes find Lou's.
"I know what I want but I don't want you to see yet" Lou nods and Matty smiles.
"I'll get my son to come to you" the man says, his accent thick. He shouts in Italian, and seconds later a tanned man with black hair similar to his enters the room.
"This beautiful lady wants a tattoo" he says and the man comes towards her, smiling at her. He's arms are covered in tattoos and his eyes are piercingly blue. He's attractive, not that Lou even notices because she's too busy staring at her boyfriend who's talking to the man and being led away.
"What can I do for you?" The man asks and she proceeds telling him what she'd like.
The man applies the transfer onto her skin, complimenting her other tattoos as he does. His hand touches the box tattoo, complimenting the artwork.
"What's it for?" He asks and she smiles.
"It's for a band" she says simply, smiling at it.
"A logo?" She nods.
"You in the band?" He asks, accent thick.
"Yeah... Yeah I'm in the band" she smiles, a huge smile that makes the man smile too.
"That man had the same yes?" He asks and she nods again. He begins tattooing her.
"Your boyfriend?" He asks again, eyes momentarily flicking up to hers before focusing back on the gun, hands moving with precision.
"Yeah..." She says, the smile unwavering from her face.
"A lucky man" he says and she hears Matty speak from behind her, making her turn her head.
"I am indeed" he says as he bends down, their lips meet in a kiss
"That was quick, let me see" she says as the man continues, she's so used to the feeling now having had so many done, she's completely uphased.
"Later" he says, hiding his hand, she raises her eyebrows but let's it go.
"What are you getting?" He asks and she shakes her head.
"It's a surprise don't look" Matty turns his head at that, instead looking into her eyes instead of her arm where the ink is being applied.
"You truly are a beautiful couple" the younger man says and they both smile again.
"Thank you" Lou says and Matty nods, agreeing to the sentiment.
The man continues his work for a few more minutes, wrapping the tattoo. The couple both pay, thanking the two men before leaving the store.
They walk back to their villa, Matty holding her to his side. When they get back he's immediately asking to see the tattoo. She smiles as she takes the wraps off revealing it to him.
He sees two dates itched into her arm and instantly smiles at the sight, tears appearing in his eyes.
One date was the first date they joined them on tour "the day that changed my life" she says, earning her a kiss from the man. He looks down at the other date "the day I asked you to be my girlfriend?" He asks, she nods. They kiss again before they're hugging each other tightly.
"Fuck I love you" she's begging to see his now and he reveals his left hand, removing the tiny bit of cling film that wraps around his ring finger. She feels tears spring to her eyes now when she sees her initial itched into the skin.
"Matty..." She's full on sobbing now, and he pulls her into his embrace, their mouths attach. He forces them to pull apart, needing to say what he needed.
"I've got you in my life now and I'm never letting you go. You've got me forever and I know we haven't had many discussions about what we want in life... Maybe we won't get married or have kids... But I know I want you, forever" he says and she continues to cry at his words.
"Matty that means so much to me" she looks at the letter again, resting nicely against his ring finger.
"Do hope to make you my wife though" he says "wouldn't have got it there if not" they laugh then, lips pressing against each other quickly.
"Yeah?" She asks and he nods, sealing his words with a kiss.
"And one day maybe I'll fill that belly with babies" he says, hands resting over her stomach which warms with desire for him.
"Yeah?" She asks again, eyes coming to find his, darkening as they look at him, lip in-between his teeth.
He nods and she smirks "we could practice that bit" he laughs at this and pulls her into him.
"Kinda wanna be buried in-between those beautiful thighs of yours, will you let me do that love?" He asks and she's nodding eagerly up at him, mouth taken up by his not a second later.
It takes him no time at all to have her spread for him on the bed of their holiday home. He's buried in-between her thighs, glorious tongue lapping her up, her hand laced in his curls, tugging at the strands. He groans into her pussy, making her back arch. She holds the dress she was wearing around her waist so she could see him.
"oh fuck Matty" he loves the way his name falls easily from her lips. He smirks and nips at her clit, making her wince "Matthew" she warns.
"Sorry love" he smirks at the way she calls him Matthew again and delivers a calculated swipe over her clit as an apology.
"You're so good" she truly means it, head before him was mediocre at best but he... He has her seeing stars as soon as he gets his mouth on her.
"Taste so good love" he says, truly a starved man, searching for gold and by god does he find it. The way she's clenching around his tongue lets him know she needs more so two fingers find their way into her sopping cunt, instantly curling and hitting her gspot.
"fuck I'm going to cum Matty" her back arches impossibly more, almost giving her whiplash.
"cum for me darling' he says, latching onto her clit and sucking harshly as his fingers relentlessly curl into her. Her juices coat his chin as the wave breaks, pleasure coursing through her body until she's spasming, thighs closing round his head. She pushes his face into her cunt, unaware she's doing so but he moans into her, loving how harsh she was being.
"fuck" he moans into her, euphoria clouding all her senses. Her hands are gripping his hair tightly and slowly her grip loosening, on both his hair and her dress. Her thighs open as the fabric falls around his face.
"that was fucking hot' he says as he comes up to meet her lips with his. She tastes herself on his tongue as she sighs, still coming down from her high. She's quick to undo the zip of his shorts, pushing the denim down his legs, taking his boxers with it.
She grabs his hard member, delivering a few strokes, making him moan loudly, lips peeling off hers.
"fuck" he says as he looks down to watch her manicured hands stroke him, thumbing at the tip until his hips are thrusting into her hand.
"off, off off" she says as he other hand pushes against the fabric of his shirt. The man leans back, her hand still clasped around him as he shrugs his shirt off. He comes back to her, forehead resting against hers again as he watched himself disappear into her hand.
"Fucking hell" he says, mind snapping back to when he was a teenager, in a similar position to this, expect it was his own hand wrapped around himself as he thought about her.
"Really need to make love to you now" he says and his eyes find her darkened ones.
"yes please" she says and he smiles down her, groping her chin and thumbing at her lips. Despite his words he doesn't rush his movements, his eyes wander down her body, tugging at the fabric around her waist until her tits are spilling out of it, his mouth immediately wrapping around the peaked bud. She gasps and her hand falters around him, Matty slowly thrusts into her hand, wanting the pleasure but not wanting to spill over the edge.
"Fuck you're so perfect. My beautiful fucking angel" he says as his mouth attacks her nipples. His hand drifts back down to her legs, his fingers teasing her once more.
"Can't believe you went all day without wearing anything under this dress.... Just waiting and ready for me to fuck you yeah?" He asks, dark eyes finding hers.
"Always ready for you" she says, attempting to pull him forwards and into her but the man stops her.
"Please Matty... Please fuck me" she begs and that's enough for him so he slowly threads the head of him into her wet hole, the two of them sighing out in harmony.
"oh god you're so perfect. My perfect fucking girl. So good to me" he spews, forehead falling against hers as he watches her take him, until his pelvis is flush against hers. He grinds against her, holding myself close to her, letting her adjust.
"Move please" she says, and Matty is snapping forwards into her then, his thrusts deep and slow, hips moving attentively.
"Oh god" she moans, back arching off the bed just to be closer to him. His hands clamp around her waist, holding her to him.
"Not god love... Just me" he says, or should I say moans. She laughs but the noise is quickly replaced by a moan when he hits her gspot. He feels the way she flutters around him, clamping around him, nearly milking him for what his worth, causing his hips to stutter momentarily before he's continuing his purposeful movements.
"That the spot love?" He asks and she nods rigorously, pulling yet pushing him all at once.
"Need more love?" He asks, knowing her body like the back of his hand. She nods again, and he grunts as she clenches around him again.
"Flip" he commands, his tone changing slightly. She does as she's told and is quickly resting on her stomach. Matty grabs a pillow and places it under her hips before he's pulling her backside up by her hips.
A scream tares through her as he thrusts back into her. The angle forces him to hit her gspot with every thrust, the woman beneath him moaning into the pillow.
"Don't hold back on my account love" he says, his hands gripping her hips harshly now, the sting against her skin blissful. There's a cockiness to his words but she truly doesn't care, she's grown to love him when he's like this, and she knows one way which will have him losing his mind: by stroking that ego of his.
"Matty" she moans, although it's muffled against the pillow.
"Let me hear you love. let everyone know who's fucking you" he says, hips moving fast and hard into her, his skin slapping against hers. Her head tilts backwards and he sees tears of pleasure coating her cheeks.
"You're made for me Matty" she says. He watches as the words tumble from her mouth, her glazed eyes daring to flutter close but they stay open, trained on him. Her words have his movements faltering for a split second before he's relentlessly pushing and pulling from her.
"fuck.. you're beautiful. So fucking perfect - fuckkkk" he says, grunting as she begins pushing back into him, the push and pull of their movements intensifying their pleasure. She gasps out in pleasure, fluttering around him, eyes snapping shut as her back arches, clear signs that she was close.
"Come here, need you close" he admits, tugging her upwards until her back is flush with his chest.
"So perfect" he says, smearing his lips against her back.
"Fuck you're so good Matty" she says, feeling his cock twitch inside her, his ego clearly enjoying the compliment.
"Yeah? Tell me how good" he says and she goes to speak but he pulls out, easily maneuvering her body until she's on her back again, he thrusts back in before she even has time to miss him.
"No one fucks me like you Matty" she admits, "I'm going to cum, you're going to make me cum" she says, grasping his face in her hands, lips smearing against his. You're going to make me cum, those wo words almost kill him, but he couldn't think of a better way to go, buried in the girl he loves, the one girl he's always loved, the love of his life.
"Come with me Matty" she says, voice airy and ethereal.
"Oh fuck" he says, his body giving in at her words, hips stuttering forward as he cums inside her, her core squeezing around him as she cums too.
"I fucking love you" he says, laughing as he fills inside her, so content and happy with her.
"I love you Matty. So much" she says.
Note: I know it's long sorry.... Hope you enjoy though. Love you - Lou 🫶🏽
#the 1975#the 1975 fanfic#matty healy#matty healy x reader#matty healy fan fic#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy smut#matty the 1975#matty healy fic#matty healy fluff#matty healy imagine#matty healy fanfic#insufferable arsehole matty healy series#the 1975 smut#matthew timothy healy#matthew healy#matty healy series
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Fifteen years // Suite Life Series
Summary - November 16 2023. Cody waited fifteen years for this day.
“And we still can’t eat at one of the 8000 Italian restaurants we’ve passed because?” Zack droned, strolling at a leisurely pace compared to Cody’s practical sprint across the cobblestone lined streets of Rome.
For a 31-year-old man who still didn’t work out much more than his yoga stretching allowed, Cody was making ground. What was even more miraculous was that Cody was able to convince Zack to go to Italy with him simply to eat in the restaurant.
Then again, it didn’t take much for Zack to be convinced to do anything Cody asked him to do when money was involved. With Cody moving forward in his career in politics science and Zack enjoying his own lot in life running and owning his own construction company, Cody did sometimes still feel a need to protect Zack from the world. And when Cody said he had the two-person reservation to take Zack on—which surprised Zack as it seemed like something his brother would want to turn into a romantic dinner sort of thing—and would also pay for his tickets because “you owe me” from the last time they were there.
Zack had simply laughed and agreed to the deal before reminding Cody that he could afford everything himself, but it was, “Too late to take it back. And, by the way, I want a first class ticket. My damaged body needs to stretch out.”
“You’re brain damaged, but okay,” Cody replied begrudgingly.
And it wasn’t like things had been bad between them, sure, they got on each other’s nerves since they were born. But having gone into separate careers there weren’t many times Zack and Cody were able to spend a lot of time together so they opted to make it a brother trip, culminating the end of the week in Rome at the restaurant.
And while it had been a good trip, it was clear Cody’s eyes were on the prize.
He pumped his arms in a steady fashion, eyes planted firmly on the line that stretched in front of him. The line he couldn’t wait to stand in. To move forward in. To get inside the best restaurant he’d ever stepped foot in fifteen years before.
But this time, oh this time…
This time he was going to taste it.
He was going to taste the food he’d only dreamed about for as long as he could remember. Where he would finally understand what everyone meant when they said the food was worth it. Not like I don’t already know, Cody’s smile waned slightly as he eyed his brother, who moved to stand in line behind him. I had to watch and listen to Zack talk about this food so long and now it’s my turn.
Cody’s grin was infectious.
Enough so that Zack side-eyed him, leaning away. “Dude, I think you’re taking this a little too seriously. I mean, it’s just foo-“
“—Don’t you finish that sentence!” Cody snapped. He moved along with the line as it went forward. It was moving pretty quickly. A good sign the restaurant was still in good standing, able to get people in and out in an orderly manner. “I’m getting that Manicotti whether you want it or not.”
Zack held up his hands. “I’m just saying…give me a choice between manicotti and cowboy-ghetti and I’m picking the cowboys.”
Cody turned to Zack, holding up his hands as if to strangle his brother, gritting his teeth. But stopped when the line moved forward enough so that they were right up at the front. There was a young man standing behind the host podium holding onto a tablet. He briefly glanced up at Zack and Cody when they arrived before posing his finger over the screen.
“Order number?” He asked.
“Oh…” Cody waved a hand, his lips curling into an almost smug smile. “I have a reservation. Right here!” He pulled out his phone and illuminated the screen. He pointed to the date and time on screen. “See, November 16, 2023. 7:30pm!” He slapped it onto the table in front of him. “So…show us our table my good man.” He patted the man on the shoulder.
The man continued to stare at him. “You don’t have a reservation.” He finally said after a moment, as if silently questioning if Cody were serious.
“I assure you, I do.”
The man took in a breath through his nose. The breath that anyone who worked in customer service would recognize. The breath of ‘This isn’t going to end well’ before he said gently yet firmly, “I assure you, you don’t.”
“Bummer.” Zack arched his back, stretching. “I could really go for a pizza cone…” He trailed off, eyeing his brother when Cody turned a fierce glare his way.
“I’ve been waiting to eat this food for fifteen years, and I’m not going to miss it!” Cody growled through gritted teeth.
Zack waved his hand in front of his face. “Okay, but you clearly missed brushing your teeth this morning.”
“What is going on here?”
Cody’s eyes lit up the moment he spotted Chef Gigi. She had grown older in the last fifteen years, streaks of silver at the temples of her hair, pulled back into a bun. Nevertheless, it was still her. She had the same no-nonsense expression he remembered from his youth. “Chef Gigi! You remember me?”
“Yes, I remember all of the ones that are desperate to get into my restaurant,” she replied. She turned up her nose, looking down at them. “And destroyed my star and my sauce with your…antics!” Her gaze shifted over them. “Why are you causing a line?”
“I-I-I-I’m here for my reservation,” Cody stuttered. He grasped the letter and thrust it towards Gigi. Zack continued to watch with only mild interest. “See? You gave it to me fifteen years ago.”
Gigi looked over the reservation, nodding to herself. “You’re right, I did give you that reservation fifteen years ago.” The smile on Cody’s face was bright enough to illuminate even the darkest cave. But it was then snuffed out when she continued with, “But with the COVID pandemic we were forced to shut down for a while. And despite the loss of our revenue, we found our customers were still coming back and we were making more money from our delivery options and had switched to that. Now you have to place your orders in advance or else you won’t even come close to tasting my food.”
Cody’s jaw dropped. He looked to Zack who scratched the back of his head, not looking too worse for the wear. Completely unbothered, actually. Completely unbothered that Cody’s heart had just been ripped out and stepped on. “B-b-b-but, okay…” He took a deep, calming breath. Yoga was really proving to be helpful in times like this. “We can place an order.”
“That’d be nice.” Gigi nodded.
“Can we place it now?”
“We’re booked up until 2038.” Gigi gestured towards the increasingly disgruntled people behind them. “See the line?” With that, she waved them off and disappeared back into the restaurant.
Cody’s jaw dropped. Eyes widened. Breath hitched. He’d cry if he was able to even muster up the tears. His entire body was frozen, stuck. Memories of that exact same conversation from fifteen years before swirling through his head. The excitement of getting that reminder email of the reservation he’d placed years before. The anticipation on tasting that tangy tomato sauce, the radiant ricotta, the creamy cheese of the--
“Mmm.” Zack’s humming broke Cody’s depression. He slid his hands into the pockets, barely glancing at the stunned expression on his twin’s face. “How do you feel about Mexican?” Cody slowly turned his incredulous glare to his brother. Zack shrugged. “I’m not really feeling Italian.”
THE END
#the suite life on deck#november 16#november 16 2023#cody martin#zack martin#suite life of zack and cody#by: riley#you had to have known i was going to do something for this#it was also a good exercise to get back into their heads#i giggled while writing this#suite life
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The Tenant of Wildfell Hall - Chapter 38, “The Injured Man”
This chapter - the one where Lord Lowborough learns about Annabella and Huntingdon’s affair - is extremely interesting to me in relation to some of the things I learned in an undergrad history on Britain. (CW: Discussion of sucide.)
Starting in the 1700s, and continuing into the period when The Tenant of Wildfell Hall was written, there was a strong push among the growing middle classes for moral reform, and one of the things it targeted were vices that were specifically seen as common ones of the upper class: gambling, drunkenness, duelling, and suicide. The last one seems strange to the modern eye, but one element of its context was the image of the aristocrat who got badly into debt through the first three vices and killed themselves to escape disgrace (‘disgrace’ meaning ‘behaviour considered unfitting to the upper class’, like having to do work to earn money), to which the middle class were in effect responding “what, so you think an honest day’s work is literally a fate worth than death?”) The rest of the objection to it was the same as the objection to duelling: that both treated the balue of human life lightly. This was a sharp turn away from the older upper-class culture: the idea of suicide in dire straits as a virtue went back to Ancient Rome (and earlier, but I think Ancient Rome was the big reference point), and duelling had long been considered a necessary hallmark of the honourable man.
Lord Lowborough’s part in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (which is deeply within the 1800s-British tradition of moral-didactic literature) is that of a man who has been tempted by all of these vices (as well as by drug abuse), succumbed to some, but ultimately refused all of them, and this chapter is the culmination of that. Earlier in the book Huntington laughingly tells of his friend’s earlier struggles and temptations, and how Huntington and the rest of their club urged him on in them and tempted him back whenever he attempted to quit: how Lowborough was first financially ruined by his gambling addiction, and then (in a striking example of addiction displacement) turned first to alcohol and then, as a displacement of alcohol, to laudanum to numb his unhappiness. He had ultimately managed to quit both, and married Annabella in hopes that marriage and domestic happiness could keep him on the straight and narrow. And he does actually stick with quitting them.
This chapter is the conclusion of that, and stands out for how different it is from the treatment of duelling in other (relatively) contemporary novels. In Sense and Sensibility, there’s a mention of Colonel Brandon fighting a duel with Willoughby over Willoughby’s seduction and abandoment of his ward; Elinor Dashwood does not exactly approve, but neither does she strongly object, and it narratively adds a certain romantic and dramatic gloss to Colonel Brandon. It is not treated as a vice, but as a difference between female/male and civilian/soldier values (and moderated by the fact that it waa apparently a matter of form, and Brandon was not trying to kill him, as indicated by the lack of injury):
“we met by appointment, he to defend, I to punish his conduct. We returned unwounded, and the meeting, therefore, never got abroad.”
Elinor sighed over the fancied necessity of this; but to a man and a soldier, she presumed not to censure it.
In Jane Eyre, Rochester also mentions, in the past, having a duel with the man who had been sleeping with his mistress Céline Varens. As with Colonel Brandon, this isn’t regarded as praiseworthy, but it does give him a more dramatic figure.
“Next morning I had the pleasure of encountering him; left a bullet in one of his poor etiolated arms, feeble as the wing of a chicken in the pip, and thought I had done with the whole crew.”
In contrast, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall has Helen effusively praise Lowborough for refusing to fight a duel, in the teeth of his friends’ condemnation of that decision as weak and cowardly. It’s not mildly tut-tutting at duelling: it’s flipping the aristocratic script by presenting refusal to duel under circumstances that would normally prompt one as actively morally courageous.
[The first speaker is Hattersley, one of Lowborough and Huntingdon’s friends.]
“If you’ve the heart of a man, it would be the very ticket for you. It’s just this, my lad,” he continued, rather lowering his voice, but not enough to prevent me from hearing every word he said, though the half-closed door stood between us: “I think you’re an ill-used man—nay, now, don’t flare up—I don’t want to offend you: it’s only my rough way of talking. I must speak right out, you know, or else not at all; and I’m come—stop now! let me explain—I’m come to offer you my services, for though Huntingdon is my friend, he’s a devilish scamp, as we all know, and I’ll be your friend for the nonce. [This is Hattersley offering to be his second in a duel.] I know what it is you want, to make matters straight: it’s just to exchange a shot with him, and then you’ll feel yourself all right again; and if an accident happens—why, that’ll be all right too, I daresay, to a desperate fellow like you. Come now, give me your hand, and don’t look so black upon it. Name time and place, and I’ll manage the rest.”
“That,” answered the more low, deliberate voice of Lord Lowborough, “is just the remedy my own heart—or the devil within it, suggested—to meet him, and not to sever without blood. Whether I or he should fall, or both, it would be an inexpressible relief to me, if—”
“Just so! Well then—”
“No!” exclaimed his lordship, with deep, determined emphasis. “Though I hate him from my heart, and should rejoice at any calamity that could befall him—I’ll leave him to God; and though I abhor my own life, I’ll leave that, too, to Him that gave it.”
“But you see, in this case,” pleaded Hattersley—
“I’ll not hear you!” exclaimed his companion, hastily turning away. “Not another word! I’ve enough to do against the fiend within me.”
“Then you’re a white-livered fool, and I wash my hands of you,” grumbled the tempter, as he swung himself round and departed.
“Right, right, Lord Lowborough,” cried I, darting out and clasping his burning hand, as he was moving away to the stairs. “I begin to think the world is not worthy of you!”
Lowborough’s rejection of duelling is also a rejection of suicide (“and though I abhor my own life, I’ll leave that to Him that gave it”), and this rejection in spite of strong temptation is further emphasized:
I lay awake the greater part of [the night] listening to his heavy step pacing monotonously up and down his dressing-room, which was nearest my chamber. Once I heard him pause and throw something out of the window with a passionate ejaculation; and in the morning, after they were gone, a keen-bladed clasp-knife was found on the grass-plot below; a razor, likewise, was snapped in two and thrust deep into the cinders of the grate, but partially corroded by the decaying embers. So strong had been the temptation to end his miserable life, so determined his resolution to resist it.
Helen’s internal thoughts give further praise of Lowborough, and condemn the social values that make being cheated on a greater source of shame and condemnation for a man than cheating is:
"That man," I thought, "is an object of scorn to his friends and the nice-judging world. The false wife and the treacherous friend who have wronged him are not so despised and degraded as he; and his refusal to avenge his wrongs has removed him yet farther beyond the range of sympathy, and blackened his name with a deeper disgrace. He knows this; and it doubles his burden of woe. He sees the injustice of it, but he cannot bear up against it; he lacks that sustaining power of self-esteem which leads a man, exulting in his own integrity, to defy the malice of traducing foes and give them scorn for scorn—or, better still, which raises him above earth's foul and turbulent vapours, to repose in Heaven's eternal sunshine. He knows that God is just, but cannot see His justice now: he knows this life is short, and yet death seems insufferably far away; he believes there is a future state, but so absorbing is the agony of this that he cannot realize its rapturous repose. He can but bow his head to the storm, and cling, blindly, despairingly, to what he knows to be right. Like the shipwrecked mariner cleaving to a raft, blinded, deafened, bewildered, he feels the waves sweep over him, and sees no prospect of escape; and yet he knows he has no hope but this, and still, while life and sense remain, concentrates all his energies to keep it. Oh, that I had a friend's right to comfort him, and tell him that I never esteemed him so highly as I do this night!"
I feel that Anne Brontë was trying to make women’s rights - specifically, the right to 1) be treated as morally and intellectually equal to men, and not as either angels to inspire or delicate flowersto be preserved; 2) be taught the dangers of a bad marriage fully and frankly in order to avoid them; 3) leave an abusive marriage, and to have forms of abuse other than physical abuse recognized as abuse, and to keep custody of their children on leaving such a marriage; and 4) have some way of earning a respectable independent living upon leaving such a marriage - an integrated part of the wider moral reform movement, and both those threads are strongly present throughout her book. (In some respects this succeeded, at least insofar as the suffrage movement and the temperance movement were very closely tied together. It’s not always remembered enough that a huge element of the temperance movement was the right to not have your husband be drunk all the time (often leading to violence) and waste all your money.)
#the tenant of wildfell hall#wildfell weekly#anne bronte#helen graham#lord lowborough#cw suicide#tw suicide
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inspired by this post by @pain-after-dark hehe
—
the soft crackle of a lamp bulb coming to life lifted the spy up to consciousness. their eyes felt like lead balls, their shirt sticky and wet, the world not quite ready to abandon its murkiness and grow clear. sand was in their mouth and gallons of water filled their head.
"all right, lovely? can you hear me?"
cold fingers gently caught their chin, tipping their head up carefully. the sudden shock of temperature made them more alert. the ache in their body became more apparent. their wrists were sore and the wood of the chair they were tied to dug into their arms. the spy opened their eyes up.
the villain—their target—looked down hungrily at them, eyes raking down every inch of skin and muscle. they tugged the bloody part of their shirt that caught to their body up, and watched it fall back down with a wet sound. their lip curled. "ugh. you're too messy for your own good."
the spy said nothing.
the villain's palm dragged over the curve of their cheek, paying no mind to their bruises and cuts. "but blood looks good on you. it makes you look wild. uncontrollable." they wet their lips. grinned. "insatiable."
"speak for yourself."
the grin widened just a fraction and the villain leaned back. they looked immaculate as ever, pristine. untouchable. their fingers traced the spy's shirt collar. "i saw you, you know," they said. "long, long before you attempted to kill me. don't get me wrong--you're wonderful. i'm just too good."
the spy said nothing. the villain fixed their collar, set it straight, smoothed out the wrinkles. their fingers ghosted downward, over the blood, barely brushing their wounds. the spy clenched their teeth, bracing themselves for pain.
the villain's fingers gently traced the edges of their cuts. the spy breathed carefully through their mouth. "two years ago," the villain said, a little softly, "rome. you were wearing emerald green."
the spy choked.
the villain hushed them quickly, other hand taking their chin, thumb to bottom lip. "it's not your fault," they cooed. "you were a treasure. it would've been inevitable. the way you moved across the room..."
they couldn't help their shivering. the villain liked their pretty things to a sadistic degree—they liked the way they cried. the way they screamed. the way they begged.
delicately, the villain traced the tips of their fingers down to the knot of their tie. "you gorgeous thing," they whispered, awed. "you're amazing. it took me time, you know. to know you were spying. your work is flawless. perfect."
"i'm flattered." it did not come out strong.
their tie came undone in one pull. the spy swallowed down every rancid sensation clawing up their throat down. they needed to live. "wait."
the villain politely paused.
"why torture me? i'm good. i'm great. you said so yourself. you can—you can make me work. for you. it won't be good to render your favourite thing unworkable."
the villain tilted their head to one side, as if they were considering. they twirled the tie around their fingers. "haven't you figured that i thought about that?"
"you'd be an idiot not to consider it."
they laughed. they pursed their lips, humming. "honey, i think the blood loss is getting to you. i don't need your work." they moved to wrap the spy's tie around their mouth. the spy wheezed in a breath.
"there's better ways to do this—"
"hushhh," the villain whispered, dragging out the syllables, dissolving into a soft laugh at the spy's helpless look. "puppy-eyed. i think you might just be my favourite." they secured the gag with deft fingers and sauntered away to take out every little torture device they were going to use on the spy.
the spy pulled on their restraints until their wrists bled. every damn device glinted in the light, shined to perfection.
the villain laughed, taking in their expression with delight. "pretty thing," they said. "you'll look prettier when i'm done with you.
#this is kinda mid sorry#heroes and villains#villains and heroes#villain#villains#writeblr#whump#torture#spy whump#spy#spies#kyles.writing
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𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 || 𝐠. 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮
》 contains: language, description of jujutsu exorcism, workaholic reader, soft satoru, long dialogues
》 genre: light angst, h/c
》 wc: 2.4k
》 satoru gojo x gn!jujutsu sorcerer!reader
》 a/n: hello! i've been away for the past three months and i'm sincerely sorry for that. acads have been driving me crazy and took up so much of my time which made me incapable of writing something new. i've been in a toru brainrot lately so here's a little something for you all. lately, i found myself exploring relationship dynamics and common conflicts between couples so i hope you enjoy this, thank you for your continued support. ilysm!
》 reader can produce waves of cursed energy like gojo's red & blue. after exorcising a curse, reader can absorb the curse's energy and convert it into her own.
"emerge from the darkness, blacker than black. purify that which is impure," you muttered and watched as the skyscraper became covered with a veil, unseen to the outside world and ordinary humans. calmly walking up the stairs and tracing the powerful cursed energy inside the building, you played with the keys of your private jet. you were about to fly back to japan when you were called back to take care of a second grade curse lurking in the west end of london.
the sun was making its way up the sky, slowly rising and providing warmth to the city. it was a little past 11 in the morning. however, you knew well that the sun has already set in tokyo, and you needed to hurry up to make sure that the plans you made for your anniversary won't go to waste.
"for our anniversary, i will not forgive you if you aren't here by 12 noon. i could be asking you to be here at exactly midnight, but i know that you're in demand there. 12 noon exactly, or else!"
you chuckled as you remembered his words over the phone two weeks ago. you were well aware that you need to fulfill this request of his since you failed to come home for his birthday (for two consecutive years) and even missed out on other events wherein he needed your presence.
stopping at the seventh floor, you were faced with a spherical creature which had massive rings around it, resembling the planet saturn. it had numerous eyes decorating the expanse of it, and two large mouths with lots of sharp teeth. it was floating aimlessly, with a trail of tiny more spheres trailing behind it.
it looked like a biblically accurate angel.
you extended your arm and with a snap of your fingers, a wave of cursed energy in a shade of green emitted from the tips of your fingers, going straight to the cursed spirit. it burst from the impact and disintegrated to pieces. your eyebrow rose slowly when you were not able to absorb its energy.
huh? not yet finished? is this not the main body?
you walked closer to the tiny pieces of the creature and laughed in amusement as you saw thousands of tiny marbles charging straight at you. the scene was both funny and cute at the same time, but you knew that they were also quite dangerous.
without wasting any more time, you snapped your fingers once again, emitting another wave which lasted for seventeen seconds before the curse was completely exorcised. you absorbed its energy and stored it within you, beginning to convert it as you walked out of the building.
you got into your car and was about to drive towards the airport when your phone rang. you grunted and had the urge to ignore it when you saw the caller id. three more calls were made before you parked in a sidewalk and picked up the call.
"what is it this time, hara?" she was your assistant of some sort, has been taking care of your personal and professional matters ever since you could remember. you could hear her ragged breathing and panting over the phone as you can hear crashing sounds in the background.
"madame, my deepest apologies. i know you must be on your way to tokyo but, your assistance is greatly needed here in rome. there are several first grades who have gathered in the colosseum." she said quickly before the call ended.
your eyes flew to the clock which read 11:32 a.m. which meant that it was 7:32 in the evening now in japan.
you drove straight to the airport and made your way towards your private jet. it will take almost 12 hours to make it to tokyo, you needed to get going now to not upset your boyfriend and be there at exactly 12 noon, jst.
you sat down and waited for takeoff, leaning back on your seat. your phone rang once, twice, thrice. all from the same caller; hara.
gojo sat on the table, and varieties of food splayed out on the table. authentic japanese cuisine were plated elegantly, waiting to be consumed and appreciated. he played with his fork, twirling it on his fingers as the food began to go cold. his eyes glanced towards the clock, letting out a sigh as a frown made it way on his face to express his displeasure.
14:07. the clock read.
he grimaced when he heard the front door open, heavy footsteps slowly getting louder as it neared the dining area and with the cursed energy he felt, he knew.
you plastered a small smile on your lips and walked calmly towards him, attempting to hide the tiredness in your voice. you stood still behind him as he sat on the table, head not bothering to turn around, nor did he stand up to greet you.
bending down, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tilted your head, planting a soft kiss on his temple. you continued to hug him from behind, no response or reaction coming from him.
"toru... i missed you, so much. happy anniversary." you muttered softly to try not to startle him. with his back turned to you, you found it hard to gauge his mood and moreso his reaction. arms remained clasped around his chest while your head rested on his shoulders for a few seconds before you retracted and stood up straight, walking on the opposite side of him and taking a seat on the chair.
scanning your eyes across the table, you saw so much japanese food and most of it were your favourites or the dishes that you have been craving for the past year. your eyes flew up to gojo's which were trained on the plate in front of him. he refused to meet your eyes, his lips sealed shut.
he's upset. possibly even mad. or disappointed.
"i'm sorry. i was at the airport already at 12 noon yesterday but things came up at rome so i had to rush there. i was only able to leave at 6 last night. i'm really sorry, toru. but, it's only two hours, we can still do a-"
"only? only two hours? oh, it seems like your time isn't too precious when you're with me. do you not realize how difficult it is to even have our own private time, our own time wherein we can be ourselves? do i need to pay now for your time?" he spoke up and eyes flickered up to you. the blue hues of it laced with hurt and sadness, glossed by tears he was keeping at bay.
"why do you always have to be the most powerful? why do i always have to be the strongest? can't i just be your satoru? can't you just be my lover?"
his voice began to crack along with your heart as you saw a drop of tear escape from his eyes.
he was right, and you knew damn well he was not being petty like he usually does. your toru was really hurt and upset this time, and it was all because of you and your unrelenting dedication to your profession.
he, too, is dedicated. but he always found time for you.
how about you?
you took a deep breath and reached for his hand, holding it in you grip with gentleness, wanting to sooth what he felt at that moment. his eyes traveled down your hands as he bit his lower lip to prevent more tears from falling down his face.
"i have no excuses, toru. i'm really sorry that i arrived late and failed to fulfill your wish. i'm so sorry that i have been absent in this relationship for so many times. i haven't been putting as much as effort as you do, and i feel so much remorse for that. but, love, please allow me to make it up to you, to make it right, to prove myself worthy of your love" you said as tears brimmed at your waterline, threatening to spill out anytime soon.
he stood up and knelt by your side, pulling you in for a hug. "you don't have anything to prove, baby. whether it's the you right now who's a special grade, or the you from the past who struggled with black flash, i love you just the same, maybe even more with each passing day." he ran his hands through your hair.
"you had all the time in the world for me back then, i don't know how things changed, how your time suddenly became like a treasure i couldn't afford to obtain. when did it get so hard to give me your time?"
"i just, i just want you. not the special grade sorcerer you. just you. i just don't want to feel like i have to beg for your time, i don't want to feel like i'm a hindrance to you-" you cut his words off with a light kiss to his lips.
god, how have you neglected this man so bad to the point that he begins to question himself and his worth? your damage must be too much to make the great gojo satoru question his worth.
you pulled back and saw the vast ocean of his eyes which reflected all the love he has for you and all the love he can and will give to you. gojo satoru is a man full of love, if only you knew that and were willing to take it all.
"love, you never have to fight or pay for my time. it's always yours, no questions asked. i haven't been the best partner and i'm aware of my shortcomings. i will be better, i will be the best lover, toru. your best, your only one." you said in a hoarse voice which is a result of fighting back tears, before pulling him in for another hug, planting a kiss on his forehead before doing so.
"i'm never the most powerful with you, darling. i'm the most vulnerable when i'm with you. because, you are the source of my everything, i'd cease without you. i'm so sorry that i made you feel that way, hon. i never meant to, it was never my intention to make you feel unwanted and unloved. i never wanted to make you feel like i was out of your reach" you continued and ran your hand against his back, so as to comfort him.
"no force or cursed spirit could ever rip me apart from you. over my damned dead body. my heart is always yours, love" you reassured and continued to hug him firmly, to let him know that you are there, for him.
he sniffled and played with the ends of your hair, and you could already feel a pout forming on his face, making you smile lightly. he pulled away and stood up, pulling you up in the process.
he extended his open palm towards you and quirked an eyebrow, "passport?" he demanded and turned his head to the side. you chuckled and retrieved it from your pocket, handing it over to him.
"here you go, boss baby" you said lightly and he took it, looking to see if it was your current one. he put it in his pocket and crossed his arms, a pout evident on his lips.
"not leaving til i allow you. those damned higher ups keep sending you away to foreign lands. what if you find someone bet- i mean, why don't they go themselves!" he sulked and stopped at the middle of his sentence, realizing that he was sounding jealous.
you let out a hearty laugh which made his eyes sparkle with relief and joy. his eyes then flickered down to your abdomen. he took your hand and led you to the living room, making you sit on the couch. he walked off and returned a few second later with a first aid kit.
he sat down beside you and lifted your shirt. "stupid six eyes, i didn't realize immediately that you were injured" he muttered and began to replace the bandage on your stomach. hara have already tended to it on the plane, but you let your boyfriend do what he wanted to do, giving you an opportunity to study his features up close.
unable to resist, you pulled him close and kissed every inch of his face that your lips landed upon. he let out a contented sigh as his arms snaked around your waist. a loud ringtone broke the moment of serenity between you two. you glanced at the table where your phone lit up with a call.
Headquarters, Sydney
your eyes gazed up at satoru whose eyes were glaring at your phone, while his arms remained snaked around your waist. you let out a soft sigh and grabbed the opened bottle of yogurt drink on the table. twisting the lid, you emptied its contents onto your phone, which went silent after a few seconds as the screen turned black.
his eyes went back to your form and gave you a large grin.
oh no.
gojo satoru's back.
"so, what sweets do you have for me?" he said gleefully as he made his way towards your baggages. you snorted and followed shortly behind him.
"it depends, how will you pay me back? i spent a fortune on those chocolates" you replied with a laugh. he looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows and proceeded to lick his lips right after.
"ugh! satoru!!! ew! no candies for you!" you protested in disgust and began to hug your luggage which was filled with your gifts for him.
the rest of your anniversary were spent with laughter and bliss, finally feeling at peace and ease with your person. the fatigue you experienced the day prior could never amount to the happiness and relief that was blooming in your chest at the moment.
satoru's eyes glimmered with contentment and warmth, the icy blue hues softening whenever it landed on your figure. the wide grin on his face was not a teasing one, but one that was filled with genuine joy and love.
as you were both pressed up against each other deep in the night, your loud heartbeats clearly heard, you both knew that no matter how many hours apart you were, your hearts were as close as ever.
and you both smiled into the kiss, sealing a promise of forever.
© 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐑 2023 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms without permission. thank you.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk oneshot#jujutsu kaisen oneshot#jjk angst#jjk h/c#jjk hurt#jjk comfort#jjk x reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#gojo angst#gojo fic#gojo oneshot#satoru angst#by. kite#kite.writes#kite.oneshots#brightymir
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