#and the city that THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO VISIT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sequinsnstars · 2 days

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ fresh page, on the desk ݁˖ ⊹ ‧₊˚

JASON GRACE .ᐟ

ingredients; mason grace and cupcakes

fyi; gn reader who is roman but has no specified godly parent, timeline is messy but wtv, cursing, i reference media i like bc i’m self indulgent, silly little 4th wall breaking

notes; first fic hii, lmk ur thoughts! probably a series 👀 big thank u to all my fave pjo writers/moots for inspiring this 🫶🏽 @hopelesslyromanticshark @jgracie @cinemaconrad

wc; 1.7k

food mood; classic vanilla cupcakes. perhaps with a light chocolate frosting.

Cyclops Books was your safe haven.

After a long day of excessive criticism during training, it was the perfect place to allow yourself to relax your posture, if only a little bit. You loved your friends, yes, but sometimes you just needed a little break from it all. The entirety of New Rome was your third place. The somehow always-green grass and thriving flowers, the curved cobblestone streets leading to homes filled with laughter and warmth, the lingering scents of the bakery’s famous freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies – you could go on. Even Terminus couldn’t stop you from coming here as much as you were able to.

So why was it so off today?

As you took your usual evening stroll before dinner, you noticed that almost all the homes and shops had their bright white porch lights on and the usual soft, yellowed string ones were put away. Not to mention the lack of New Rome Elementary kids playing outside after school, or the fact that the usual cozy atmosphere felt tight and formal: the exact thing you tried to get away from by coming here. It even felt like the sunset sky was trying its best to remain a single organized color rather than its usual gorgeous, messy, watercolor-like self.

You tried not to think about it much as you entered your favorite bookstore. Your bookstore. It had been ever since your first visit years ago. It had taken a while to grow accustomed to camp. During the New Rome field trip for fresh campers, something about it drew you in. The warm hanging lights and the stacked bookshelves reminded you of a shop in one of the many cities you’d lived in. That one had always been your favorite. Tyson and Ella had welcomed you strongly that day, cheering, “New campers! New campers!” and shoving slightly burnt croissants in your face. After seeing all your favorite mortal books for sale, you decided it would be the first of many times you entered the place. It wasn’t long before you striked up a friendship with the two owners – they were some of your favorite people to see, plus, they let you pick out their store music!

(As of late, you’d mostly been playing the new Taylor Swift album.)

You opened the door, greeted with the familiar out-of-tune entry bells. Ella was curled up in her cardboard box, sleeping, but she peeked out when she saw you.

“Hello!” Her eyes lit up.

You smiled. “It’s nice to see you too, Ella.” According to what Percy had said about his first quest with Hazel and Frank, Ella was a lot more content now that she was with Tyson. You were truly happy for the couple, they had been nothing but sweet to you and they deserved all the good things coming to them.

She yawned and murmured, “Big event today. Tyse preparing in back. Back, back, back… Back to December. Taylor Swift. Speak Now. Now, now, now…” and promptly dozed off again. You let her sleep, heading to the romance section to hopefully find the new Emily Henry book. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought out of your mind.

You entered the next aisle, thankfully getting your hands on the last copy of Funny Story. You took another quick walk through the areas you normally shopped from, since the store almost always had copies of books before they were officially released. It was unclear how Tyson and Ella managed to do this, but you suspected it had something to do with all the excess time a certain son of Vulcan–sorry, Hephaestus–had been spending on his computer, finding passcodes for mysterious files.

Not that you were complaining.

You walked a little faster to the R section when you spotted Love of the Gods!, a packed adventure about three mortals, Peter, Annie, and Grant, stumbling upon an entrance to the Underworld at a Halloween party and pet sitting the three-headed dog, Cerebrus. Silently, you thanked Leo for saving you from the four months of wait time for the official release.

Heading to checkout, you picked up a few new annotation tabs and cute pens for when you started reading your new books. You peeked over the counter to see if Tyson had come back – you really were curious about what was happening today. You were about to head into the staff-only back room (perks of being friends with the owners) until you saw a rose-adorned china bowl filled with cupcake batter just by the door.

Ella’s birthday was approaching fast, so you remembered that Tyson was preparing. He’d told you that he was going to make some sweet treats in advance, as well as plan to surprise her with Eras Tour tickets and ask Taylor to play The Alchemy and You Are In Love as the acoustic set.

You were so not jealous that Leo and the couple had gotten to attend a listening party for The Tortured Poets Department as a thank you for that one time they went on a quest to retrieve an enchanted scarf from the monster James Gyllenborg. Who said that?

You were focused on the food in front of you, but if you’d looked up to see who walked in when you heard the door bells chime, you might have avoided the fiasco about to happen.

Your books were tucked under your arm so you could help Tyson out a little and start pouring the batter into cute heart-shaped molds. You filled two cups and were getting ready to start a third when someone shoved your back, hard. The two novels you were about to purchase fell into the batter bowl, now completely soaked. Your jaw dropped.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” mumbled a voice from behind you.

“Watch where you’re going,” you hissed. If it was another one of those annoying New Rome boys, you swore you were going to–

You turned around and saw a blonde boy wearing a black vintage varsity jacket, blue jeans, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. You would have brushed the matter aside and treated him like anyone else if you hadn’t seen the Imperial gold glasses, the scar on his lip, and that pair of electric blue eyes.

The same ones half the camp fawned over.

Holy Tartarus.

“Praetor Grace,” you said.

Jason tensed at the name. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

There was a bit of awkward silence, then he continued. “Every few months, either Reyna or I come here with the intention of doing shop inspections. Council work. Normally, we go in and introduce ourselves, but usually when I come here… is his name Tyson?”

“Tyson,” you agreed, still reeling from the shock.

“Yes. Him. He gets stressed out when I say I’m praetor, so I dressed a little differently this time, to say the least. I only hope he doesn’t know my face well enough to recognize me.”

So that was why he was out of his professional attire. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have guessed he co-led the camp. Oh gods, this must have been why New Rome was on edge today.

Jason peered over your shoulder to look at the bowl. His eyes widened when he saw the books. “Shit. Did I do that? I’m so sorry, I’ll pay–”

“No, it was an accident, it’s not your fault,” you interjected. You did not want to have to deal with the awkwardness of the praetor paying for you. Besides, Tyson didn’t mind these kinds of things too much, since you two were close.

Just then, said Cyclops walked out.

Both you and Jason rushed in front of the bowl mess. You weren’t anxious about the books – it was the batter. If Tyson found out it was ruined, he’d be devastated.

You felt queasy seeing the grin on his face. How were you going to get yourself out of this?

“Friend!” he exclaimed. “Brought another friend… a boyfriend?”

Laughing nervously, you said, “No, not my–”

Jason took your hand in his calloused yet warm one and beamed at Tyson. “That’s right. The name’s Mason. I’ve heard all about this wonderful shop!”

What the fuck?

He looked at you, a hint of pleading in his eyes. Oh. You understood.

“Yes, he has, obviously.” You nodded hastily. “I just had to tell my loving, sweet, gorgeous boyfriend all about Cyclops Books!”

(Was it you, or did the praetor turn a little pink?)

He recovered fast, replying with, “Pfft. Says the most amazing, beautiful, and talented baker I know.” Jason moved aside to reveal what you’d been doing before he entered the store. At first, you panicked, but when you looked at the bowl and books, they were clean and separated, as if nothing had happened at all.

Tyson gasped. “Cupcakes!” He ran to clear items off the counter so he could move the setup to a better area.

“How did you do that?” You whispered out the corner of your mouth.

“Gravity acts on air. Child of Jupiter stuff and all that. I lifted the books out and transported the excess batter back into the bowl. Any remaining dust or bacteria I sent back into the atmosphere. I tried to direct it to the sewers. The cupcakes are fine.”

“Wow.” You were impressed. He’d gone that far for someone he barely even knew?

Tyson returned to pick up the baking materials and put them on the counter. He looked up with a bright expression. “Wait. Double date! Ella! Me! Mason! You! Pretty please?”

Um.

You were about to say no and tell him about getting punishment from Reyna – having to clean out Scipio’s stable for the whole week. It wasn’t a lie; you had been caught skipping out on training a few days ago. You were surprised Terminus even let you into New Rome, considering he was usually informed on who broke camp rules. But before you could respond, your new boyfriend did.

“That sounds perfect! This Friday at six? We could visit the cinema, maybe?”

Gleefully, the Cyclops clapped. “Yay! Good idea!”

“Great! It’s a date!” Jason smiled. He glanced at you, but you couldn’t read his expression. “I’ll pick you up thirty minutes early. I’ve got to go help out Cohort 5 now really quick, there’s a soldier that needs tending to. I’ll see you later?”

You stared at him for a few seconds before processing what he was asking you. “Of course. Totally. Yeah.”

He nodded and winked as he left the shop.

What just happened?

hope you enjoyed the meal!

thank you for your order and your waitress siara hopes you come again soon 💌

#signed by siara ♡#pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #jason grace #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson x reader

116 notes · View notes

grits-galraisedinthesouth · 3 days

Text

Show Up, Take Photos

The Meghans are global frauds. Every "good" deed, Every word & Every dollar is a GRIFT. "Nigerian girls & women" my arse.💔

Do they really expect us to believe that a global games event could ever be hosted by a country that repeatedly loses track of women & children? Harry and Meghan have the lowest of low in IQs but the rest of the world can see that THIS poverty tourism trip is yet another SUSSEX SCAM.

No country will send disabled athletes or veterans to compete in a country that cannot keep track of school kids. Shame on Nigeria's Defense Minister and all at Invictus who are involved in this fraudulent visit.

"Bring Back our Girls 2.0

"The abduction of the 287 children in Kaduna state on March 7, 2024 near the West African nation’s capital, is one of the largest school kidnappings in the decade since the kidnapping of schoolgirls in Borno state’s Chibok village in 2014 stunned the world. Analysts and activists say the security lapses that allowed that mass abduction remain..."

"One man was shot dead as he tried to save the students, school authorities said"

"The parallels between the two kidnappings have created more worry for parents, as even to this day nearly 100 of the Chibok girls remain missing."

BY CHINEDU ASADU

March 8, 2024

ABUJA, Nigeria (AP) — "Security forces swept through large forests in Nigeria’s northwest region on Friday in search of nearly 300 children abducted from their school by motorcycle-riding gunmen in the latest mass kidnapping, which analysts and activists blamed on the failure of intelligence and a slow security response.

The abduction of the 287 children in Kaduna state, near the West African nation’s capital, is one of the largest school kidnappings in the decade since the kidnapping of schoolgirls in Borno state’s Chibok village in 2014 stunned the world. Analysts and activists say the security lapses that allowed that mass abduction remain.

The victims of the latest attack — among them at least 100 children aged 12 or under — were surrounded and marched into a forest just as they were starting the school day, said locals in Kuriga town, located 55 miles (89 kilometers) from the city of Kaduna. One man was shot dead as he tried to save the students, school authorities said."

J-P Mauro - published on 03/14/24

"With no word from the abductors, the bishops are calling on the state to identify the kidnappers and save the hostages.

The remote town of Kuriga, in Nigeria’s Kaduna state, is still reeling after dozens of armed extremists kidnapped hundreds of students out of their classes in broad daylight on the morning of March 7. Worried parents are now calling for government intervention, after days without any word from the abductors. As of March 13, the children have yet to be found.

The AP reports that at least 287 students were abducted – with about 100 of them aged 12 or under – making it one of the largest kidnappings since the 2014 abduction of the Chibok girls, when 275 girls were taken from their school by Boko Haram.

The parallels between the two kidnappings have created more worry for parents, as even to this day nearly 100 of the Chibok girls remain missing.

The March 7 kidnapping saw children taken from the school just as the day was starting, at around 8 a.m.. They were herded into the forest. It took authorities several hours to respond to the scene and begin a search operation, but it is unclear how deep into the forest the kidnappers went.

Locals have suggested that the abductors belong to a group of bandits who have been terrorizing remote villages in Nigeria’s northwest and central regions.

14-year-old Nigerian girl could declared a martyr. Nigeria is one of the places of most intense suffering for Christians in our day.

Bishop Wilfred Anagbe of Makurdi has called on the government to intercede on behalf of the Christian population, which he said is being targeted by these attacks. Bishop Anagbe told OSV:

“The kidnappings, killings and destroying churches we are experiencing every day are aimed at finishing Christians. We are worried that despite such killings and kidnappings, the government has never arrested anyone. As a church, we now demand that the government act quickly to stop these vices that continue to dishearten people.”

I try hard not to hate anyone, but The Meghans sure know how to push the right buttons. 🤐🤬

Safety 1st: The UK is unsafe but African countries where Nigerian schoolgirls are kidnapped & Zika Zones for childbearing royals are no problem.

Team Sussex: Global Court Jesters

35 notes · View notes

letters-from-dekarios · 2 days

Note

Gale;

By the time this letter arrives in Waterdeep I will have already departed from Candlekeep. I have found several tomes relevant to your interests and have copied what I can, though given my inability to withdraw books from the athenaeum it may be wise for you to visit yourself.

We should return together, when you are free of your students.

You may tell Tara to stand down - I have been informed that my good friend Arnold the Dog already has an owner, and that if I try to smuggle him out of the city again neither you or I would be permitted entry in future.

Be grateful I prefer you to the dog.

To say that I have missed you would be an understatement. These few tendays I have spent within the library have been the longest I can remember.

I remain unsure that my research will be seen as adequate. I do not doubt your faith in me my love, though I am forever uncertain about what the world may think of an academic Bhaalspawn. I fear that you may be the only learned man who forgives me my lineage, and though I am not surprised I am…

Distraug-

Devast-

Disappointed.

We will be passing through Baldur’s Gate soon enough, I will give Jaheira your best. It will be strange to see the city without you beside me.

With all the love I have to give;

Dreuer.

P.S. if you try to trick me into using a filing system again I will start moving the bookmarks around in your books when you aren’t looking.

P.P.S. i look forward to seeing what part of you you inadvertently dyed purple. I have several ideas, none of them suitable to be committed to ink and parchment.

Loveliest Dreuer,

It pleases me greatly that you were able to find such information. Even the smallest of copied words is enough to begin another journey in my studies. I am sure it is plenty to begin with and will provide a good starting point to search for more if I ever have the chance to visit myself.

Once the summer sun rises and the students have taken their break, perhaps we can make the journey. I still have much to do, and much to prepare, but I can never pass down an adventure for the literary arts.

Tara will be pleased to know this! However, I have several questions as to how exactly you found out Arnold had an owner. If you risk my chance to visit the Athenaeum, I shall be thoroughly disappointed.

I have missed you greatly so, my love. The longer I spend within my books without your embrace, the more weary I become. Though I know you are safe, I only wish to be by your side.

Trust when I say that your lineage is likely the least surprising thing any academic society could come across! They simply judge others for where they cannot judge themselves. I understand your perception of it is and will forever be worlds different than my own, but you truly have nothing to become anxious over. I know you may hate that I would do so, for pride or ego, but I would use my name in a heartbeat if anyone attempted to discredit your research. I know, as well as any other person, how much effort you’ve put into this- if that doesn’t change the minds of even the most heartless, I’m not sure what will.

What matters the most is not what others think, my love, but what you think. Be satisfied with your works, and be joyous in your research. Only you can pave your path forward to academic achievements- and I know you well enough to have full confidence that you will accomplish all you set your heart to.

I’ll send coin for you to use within the city. I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Buy Jaheira a drink, or yourself something if you’d like. I have gone too long without spoiling you since you’ve been away, allow me to make up for it even in such a small dose.

The heart that belongs to only you,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

P.S. If you even think of moving my bookmarks I will force the Netherese orb back into my body and use it. [ there is a small angry face drawn next to the text to convey that he is joking. probably. ]

P.P.S. Now I am going to lock you out of the tower until it returns to normal. I shall also solely blame this on you for not letting me label things. This is why we need the filing system.

[ there is an half-inked feline paw-print stamped at the corner of the page, some small splashes of ink surrounding it, indicating Tara was very much a part of the process in writing the letter. ]

text reads: gale dekarios

22 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 2 hours

Text

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, birth control discussion, dirty talk, making out, lots of touching

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part Sixteen of Ink & Needle

You and Simon explore Edinburgh before heading to Johnny’s family farm in the Highlands. At the secluded cottage on property, you and Simon finally have the chance to be truly alone.

Chapter Fifteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Green grass. Fall rain. Endless gray sky.

Funny how the simple things, the things you don’t expect, can bring you joy. They ground you in a singular moment, capturing the present like a snapshot. Simon’s head is quickly filling with these pictures. They are consuming. Perfect. A calmness that he often feels just before the first sip of tea.

It took twenty minutes—and all of Simon’s willpower—to pull himself from your arms and out of bed this morning. He would have stayed but this is so much better. This is freeing. A complete separation from the stresses of his life. Since waking, Simon hasn’t thought about a single fucking worry all day.

No 141 Ink. No British Intelligence. No Kit Walsh.

Nothing.

Simon even forgot to care that he didn’t pack or wear a balaclava for this trip.

There has only been you.

You—who is the bright light in the dark that is his life.

It’s raining in Edinburgh, but that doesn’t appear to dampen your mood one bit. If anything, it makes you wilder, and Simon loves watching your intense satisfaction in everything you see around you. Right now, you stand in the middle of a cobblestone street, staring up into the cloudy sky, smiling at the soft rain as it lands on your face.

Simon is on the pavement, grinning like an idiot as you make your way back to him. Before you reach him, Simon presents his hand. You take it without question, the two of you effortlessly coming together.

It is natural. It is instinct.

The connection between his actions and his brain are so seamless, Simon doesn’t realize what he’s doing until after it has already happened. Each movement flows into the next, and it keeps the worries at a distance.

You are right in front of him. You are here and whole and all his.

Nothing compares.

With the rain, Simon sticks to indoor activities. The two of you linger in little trinket shops and old bookstores, explore winding streets, and watch the rain from café windows. You are curious, and this curiosity forces Simon to see the world around him differently. Simon always stops in Edinburgh when he visits Johnny’s family farm, but it’s just another stop to him. Nothing more.

At this point, it is routine, but watching you explore the city with new eyes gives Simon pause. It tells him to slow down, to consider that he can enjoy what’s before him as it is. Because watching you is shifting something inside of him. Not like a knife to the gut that twists and turns, but a healing with thread and needle and a tenderness that he can’t place but feels in his marrow.

When the rain stops and the clouds clear out, you and Simon stop for a sandwich before trekking up Calton Hill. Simon has seen this view hundreds of times. He stays back, allowing you to take it all in. There are other people up here—mostly tourists—but unlike them, you do not pull out your phone to snap photos. You simply admire, and inhale deeply, just living in the moment.

Simon does not interrupt. He does something he hasn’t done in ages.

From his coat pocket, Simon removes a small sketch pad and pencil. Finding a comfortable spot in the wet grass, he starts to sketch, allowing the graphite to lead. Simon sketches, simply existing, until you turn your back to Edinburgh and extend your arm to him, fingers wiggling in invitation.

Simon is the one that moves, taking your hand instead of you taking his. Again, like all the other times today, you step into his space, molding to him as if you’ve always belonged there. Bending down, Simon brushes his lips against the crown of your head before departing.

The drive to Johnny’s family farm up in the Highlands is peaceful. You sleep most of the way, and Simon doesn’t wake you until he pulls into the drive. He parks off to the side next to the tarp-covered quad and shuts off the car. Simon promised Johnny he’d check on the place before heading out to the cottage at the edge of the property.

Simon gently places his hand on your shoulders and squeezes. “We’re here.”

You stir, eyelids blinking slowly before opening fully. Sitting up, you yawn and glance around, realization dawning. “This the place?”

“Cottage is elsewhere. Stopping here first. Promised Johnny I’d look in on the place.”

“You mentioned no one would be here.” You have the passenger door open before Simon can hop out and open it for you. He comes around the front of the vehicle as you shut the car door. “Are we checking on the animals?” you ask, hopefulness in your tone.

Simon chuckles. “Absolutely not. Think I know how?”

“No,” you reply automatically, laughing. Your grin is infectious, and Simon cannot help but match it.

“You have so little faith in me?” he teases, placing one hand above the passenger window, creating a barrier between you and the house.

Simon leans in and grins when he receives the reaction he wants. You’re flustered and sweet, your gaze darting from his face to his chest in embarrassment.

“Never,” you murmur, lips parting slightly.

Your pupils widen and Simon has to swallow down a growl. Just a few more minutes, and the two of you will be where you need to.

Simon pushes off from the car and nods toward the house, walking backward. You follow, clearly eager. The main house is single-level, rectangular, and made of gray stone. The cottage is similar but boxy, housing a single room instead of several.

Approaching the front door, Simon begins lifting the edges of rocks that make up the flower bed with the toe of his boot. Usually someone is always here when Simon comes for a visit and all that’s required is just a knock on the door. But whenever the farm sits empty, a key is placed under a rock, and it is a hunt in finding where it is. The key is never in the same place twice and Johnny always forgets to remind Simon where it might be located.

A flash of metal catches Simon’s attention. He overturns the rock and bends down, snagging the key, jostling the rock back into place with his boot. Simon slides the key into the lock, and the door gives. Simon enters and you follow on his heels.

Simon loves this house. It’s cozy and comfortable. A true home. He’s spent many Christmases here, sleeping on the lumpy sofa and stuffing his face at the large wooden dining table. Hesitantly, you step forward as Simon tosses the key on the kitchen counter.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you ask, turning in Simon’s direction.

Simon shakes his head. “Just checking that windows are locked. I’ll walk the exterior after.”

You nod, slipping your hands into your coat pockets, strolling further into the house. Simon starts in the interior room before moving on to the bedrooms and bathroom. Everything is secure. Nothing is out of place, but the lock in the main bedroom is loose.

“Simon,” you call out. He tenses slightly at your raised voice but you don’t sound nervous or afraid.

Cautiously, he reenters the main room. You’re standing in front of the fridge. When Simon appears, you glance at him, the corners of your mouth turning upward into a bemused expression.

“What is it?” he asks, suddenly apprehensive.

Your head slowly swivels back to the fridge and that is when he notices a small piece of paper attached to it by a magnet.

“Simon,” you begin, reading from the paper. “I’ve stocked the fridge with all your favorites. Harold is taking care of the animals. Heard you’re bringing a lady friend. Hope you bring her at Christmas.” You turn back to Simon, one eyebrow arched in question.

Bloody hell.

The next time Simon sees Johnny, he’s strangling him.

“It also says to strip the bed before we leave if we—” you glance back at the note, “make a mess.”

Johnny, you’re a dead man.

Simon nearly chokes at that last bit. “It doesn’t say that,” he grumbles, striding forward to snatch the note off the fridge. Simon turns the paper over, revealing a familiar sprawling cursive. That is Johnny’s mother’s handwriting. He reads over it and then crosses his arms over his chest, staring you down.

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as you giggle uncontrollably.

“You’re fucking done,” he says, pointing in your direction before folding the paper and stuffing it into his pocket. Simon tries to keep a serious demeanor but utterly fails. He’s grinning too as he rummages around for the toolbox under the sink.

After fixing the lock, Simon takes a lap around the perimeter of the house. Finding nothing, the two of you return to the car and head out to the cottage. It isn’t far and the dirt road that leads to it borders the pastures.

The cottage is a near replica of the main house. It too is made of stone with a small flower bed out front.

“Is this where we’re staying?” you ask as Simon opens the boot and removes the bags.

“You like it?”

“It’s lovely, Simon.” Your gaze softens. “Thank you.”

His heart stops and then melts, becoming liquid in his chest. “We both needed a break.”

You nod. “We did.” Your glance at the bags hanging off his shoulder. “I can take mine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, pushing right past you and to the door.

You are not lifting a finger this entire trip. Simon won’t allow it. If you need anything, he will provide it.

Simon has the key in the door before you can form a protest. You’re grumbling behind him, but Simon ignores you, pushing open the door and stepping inside. Slowly, Simon slips the bags off his shoulder and places them at his feet.

Like the main house, the cottage is old. It’s seen two world wars, rebellions, and invasions. While the exterior hasn’t changed much, the interior has been updated to accommodate modern amenities. It consists of one large room and a small bathroom. Across from the entry door, on the other side of the room, is the hearth. It is the focal point of the room, and other than some general upkeep, it hasn’t changed since it was first built. Simon could comfortably crouch inside it and still have room to move.

Simon can build a fire in it, but he cannot fucking cook with it. Johnny’s mother certainly passed on her knowledge but it never stuck. Thankfully, there’s an actual fucking oven. The kitchen area itself is relatively small with limited counter space and a small fridge. Next to that is a tiny breakfast table that segways into a little sitting area with an armchair and sofa that seats two.

Directly inside the door to Simon’s left is the bathroom, and to his right is the bed. Its wood frame is weathered but sturdy.

“This is where we’re staying?” you ask softly, as if you don’t believe it to be true.

“Until Wednesday,” answers Simon, suddenly nervous.

Do you like it? Is it enough?

Simon cannot see your face. You’re turned away from him, walking further into the room. He stands awkwardly near the door, and the only thing in his head is how much he desires your approval. This trip isn’t much, but it’s something.

When you remove your coat and shiver, Simon’s response is immediate. “I’ll start the fire.” Grabbing the wool blanket off the bed, Simon unfolds it and holds it at your shoulders for you to accept.

This time, Simon finally sees your face, and the softness in your features dissolves any doubts. You are happy, and when your gaze meets his, Simon is momentarily lost, delving into your endlessness.

And yet again, Simon’s movements do not register until he is already reaching for you.

He drapes the wool blanket over your shoulders and then wraps you up in it, pulling you against his chest as he does so. Simon does not ask. He does not hesitate. There is no trepidation when he claims your lips. All Simon knows is that he wants this, wants you, and you are here with him.

No one can take you from him.

You open, and Simon advances. The second your taste finds his tongue Simon knows that he’ll slaughter anything and anyone who attempts to steal you away.

They will only know the shape of his fists.

They will only know the flavor of lead.

Suffering will be their sleep and their memory upon waking.

You are too good—too fucking sweet for Simon—and yet he’s never giving you up. Will never drop the addiction. If you leave, Simon can only follow.

The kiss deepens, your fingers finding the back of his neck. You’re smaller than him but you still try to show a bit of force. It’s cute how you’re pulling on him, telling Simon you crave more. Eagerness is pumping in your blood, and Simon is ready to explore that need. To understand and match it with his own.

He wants to fill his lungs with it.

Breathe you in so deep you’ll leave scars.

While Simon would love nothing more than to remove everything beneath the blanket, he needs to warm this place up and put some food in your belly.

Reluctantly, and with harrowing effort, Simon pries your fingers away from his neck. You whimper in response, and that sound goes straight to his dick. The sudden rush of blood is what snaps Simon out of his haze. When he draws back and notices your puffy, pouty lips and blown pupils, Simon nearly submits all over again.

But even that is not enough to completely shatter him.

“You’re distracting me,” he mumbles.

Your smile is gentle. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

Simon reaches up and runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “Curl up on the sofa. I need to grab wood.”

“Let me help,” you say, tugging on his jacket.

“Rest. I’ve got this.”

Your palm goes flat against his chest before dropping away. It leaves a lingering warmth behind. Backing up, you plop onto the couch, bending forward to remove your shoes. Simon turns away quickly, running his fingers through his hair as if that will calm his racing heart.

He retrieves wood from the pile on the south side of the house, stacking it all next to the hearth. Removing the correct tools, Simon sets to work. It won’t take much to warm the room, and Simon gives just enough life to the fire to take care of other tasks. Given the right conditions, the fire will do what it needs to on its own.

Opening the fridge, Simon snorts. Johnny’s mother truly did stock it. She not only prepped for dinner but left plenty for breakfast, lunch, and afternoon tea. Amongst all that are various snacks.

We won’t need to leave at all.

That is what Simon ultimately wanted, and it’s exactly what he’s receiving.

Simon begins heating the small oven and selects one of the prepared meals from the fridge. Johnny’s mother even left a couple bottles of wine and a small bottle of scotch on the counter. While Simon loves a strong drink, he prefers Kentucky bourbon, but he won’t turn down what’s freely offered.

By the time the two of you finish a bottle of wine and dinner, it’s dark out. Simon shutters the windows, cleaning up the cutlery and wine glasses before joining you on the sofa. The old thing sags under his weight but it’s comfortable, and you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his arm.

Simon doesn’t feel anything but contentment. He’s like white linen hanging on a clothesline under the summer sun. No cares. No worries. There is nothing but you and him and this cottage for the next few days.

Shifting in his arms, you look up at him, your chin slightly digging into his shoulder. Simon glances down at you, and without hesitation, places his large palm against the side of your throat, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

“Ready for bed, love?” Simon means sleep, but that idea utterly vacates his brain when you swing your leg over his thighs. Still keeping his hand on your throat, you move from his right side to his lap. The wool blanket is still around your shoulders, and it falls open slightly as you raise both hands to rest against his chest.

“Simon.” His name on your tongue is honey-thick. “You know what I want.”

“I know,” he says, because it’s what he wants too.

Two months. Two months since he first saw you standing in the doorway of 141 Ink. He thought you a phantom, an illusion of the mind that happens to him sometimes. But you were real that day. You were real and fate brought you to him.

Simon has waited three fucking years for you.

And he’s going to make up for every missed second.

His hand drops from your neck only to settle on your hips. Simon squeezes, filling his grip with you, imagining when there will no longer be a barrier between his skin and yours. It’s what he’s been thinking of, what he’s been wanting, but that’s not the whole picture.

You are more than what you can offer him physically, and while that is the final piece, it’s not everything. Simon adores your kisses and kind smiles. He loves your silly jokes, and the sense of peace that comes with your presence. The instinct to protect and possess is a constant thing. It sits in the back of his head and between his rib bones.

A model relationship isn’t something Simon knows. He grew up with violence and made a career of it. Every person Simon has ever engaged with on an intimate level have always been quick and efficient affairs. Simple need fulfillment. Nothing more.

But this? With you?

It’s so much more. It goes beyond the bounds of reason. It is suffocating as much as it is lifegiving. There is no doubt in Simon’s mind about how he feels, only beautiful truth.

Your hands venture away from his chest. One comes to a rest in the muscled dip where his neck and shoulder meet. The other is low, nearly in his lap, toying with the end of his shirt like you want to delve underneath but aren’t sure if you should.

“Do you want me?” you ask, and Simon hears the gentle break.

Do you truly think he’ll reject you?

“Always,” he answers. “Constantly.”

Simon’s hands slide up to your waist, holding tight, drawing you closer. Your head tilts in invitation and Simon matches your movement. The connection is electric and yet completely comforting. This feeling is a tangled web of warmth and anticipation. It courses through Simon’s veins until it buzzes in the tips of his fingers.

Again and again, Simon is lost in you. The craving is unending. You press in, roll your hips, and Simon snaps. Breaking the kiss, Simon grasps the nape of your neck. The gasp you release upon separation heats his blood.

“We need to talk first,” he says.

You whimper and try to return to him, but Simon’s grip is firm. He doesn’t want to deny you this but the two of you need to discuss protection before anything continues.

“Listen to me, love,” coos Simon. Your gaze goes from his lips to his eyes. “If we’re doing this, I want no barriers.”

The middle of your brow creases in confusion. “You have me, Simon. Completely.”

Simon shakes his head. His left hand falls away from your waist and slides over the curve of your ass, dipping between your spread thighs. Pausing, Simon cups your pussy and your eyelids flutter with pleasure.

“No barriers,” he repeats, pressing slightly until you make a sound in your throat that shoots a bolt of need to his dick. “That’s what I want.” Your gaze darts over his face, but you don’t say anything.

The silence is excruciating, and he needs an answer. “Do you want that?” he asks, even as the uncertainty of your answer bites at his resolve.

If you say no, it’s not a big fucking deal. Simon packed an entire box of condoms for this very reason. Whatever you decide, he’ll respect it, but he just needs to know. Because whatever you tell him, the two of you will need to make a plan moving forward.

Simon will fuck you bare. He wants you dripping with him. To see it between your legs and know that you belong to him.

“Simon.”

“Tell me.”

“Yes.”

Fucking hell.

“Yes, what?” he prompts.

“I want you,” you breathe. “No barriers.”

Simon removes his hand from between your thighs. “Are you sure, love? Don’t say yes just for me.” His fingers tighten slightly on your neck, and your eyelids flutter in response. “Not looking to put a baby in you.”

Not yet.

The unspoken words hang in front of his eyes, and Simon freezes.

Fuck.

Not yet. Not. Yet. Why the fuck did he think that? Why is his head even considering that as an option?

Because it’s true, even if Simon has only given the idea a few seconds of consideration. When Amelia showed Simon the photo of you holding Lillian, he couldn’t help himself. He imagined the small infant as yours. The one he’d have with you. Wanting a child is not something Simon has ever entertained, but then again, he didn’t have you in his life.

Pieces of him—pieces that were nothing more than scattered fractures—are beginning to reform. They’re finding each other, fusing, collectively forming the image that is Simon.

It is happening.

Slowly. But happening.

He is finding himself in the void.

“Is that something you want?

Your question pulls Simon right out of his silent musings. He considers his next words carefully.

“It’s on the table.” Because it is, but only if you want it. “In the future,” he amends, making it clear that is not what he wants at this particular moment.

Even if he did where would the infant go in his flat? There isn’t any fucking room.

You simply nod and say nothing. Simon senses an unease radiating off you but he’s not entirely sure why and it’s unclear if he should push the topic.

“You on birth control?” he asks, deciding it’s better to receive verbal confirmation.

“I am,” you reply.

Simon sighs audibly and squeezes your thighs. “Good.”

You smile coyly. “You’re very sweaty all of a sudden, Simon. Are you nervous?”

Simon swallows and his salvia sticks in his throat. He coughs, almost chokes. “What?”

“Your cheeks are flushed.” The backs of your knuckles graze the line of his jaw. “Haven’t seen that before,” you murmur, almost as if you’re speaking to yourself and not to him.

“Come here,” growls Simon, pulling you in for a kiss to cover up whatever has caught your attention.

You giggle, playfully swatting at him, only to soften with each lingering kiss. Your muscles relax, and you melt into him, lengthening and deepening each meeting until you’re pliant in his arms again.

This is how it should be.

You become absorbed in him, and Simon revels in it. All this time, all these years, Simon believed his need for you was entirely one-sided. But with you in his lap, and your hunger flaring hot, Simon understands that you just as desperate.

Squirming, you tug on the front of Simon’s shirt as if you can pull him closer. “I want you inside me, Simon.”

You say these words against his lips, branding his flesh with your desire. Sweet victory roars beneath his skin like an animal. Simon is going to fuck you senseless. Take you over and on every possible surface.

“How, love?” he replies. “Use your words.”

When you answer, it is with shaky breath. “No barrier. Want you. Only you, Simon.”

Using just his hold on your neck, Simon draws you back to him. The kiss is chaste, more of a whisper against skin. “Can I come inside you?” Simon flexes his hips upward, rubbing his growing need against your covered pussy.

Your own hips answer back, arching into his touch as you beg. “Please.”

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs as he gives you what you need.

Why are these kisses so much sweeter? So much more addictive?

Simon craves another the moment the last one is done, as if the second they stop he’ll lose them forever. This desperation makes a home in his stomach, filling him with a smoldering demand to completely possess every part of you. Like a feral beast, Simon awakens, seeking his meal.

Without losing his hold on the nape of your neck, Simon removes the wool blanket from around your shoulders. He discards it to the side, not caring where it lands. Returning to your mouth, Simon seeks and tastes until everything within him shatters.

He is made of splintered bones, and you are the adhesive glue that will fuse him back together. To achieve that, Simon needs renewal, a blessing of your flesh.

Your top and bra are only simple obstacles. They surrender to him easily, and neither of you gives either item a second thought. It is meaningless now.

There is only bare skin against bare skin.

Simon’s palm explores, running up and down your stomach to the valley between your breasts. Everything is touched. Everything is savored until his blood roars in his ears.

Groaning, Simon forces himself to release that lovely mouth. He aches until he finds you again. Simon’s head dips, lips brushing against your throat. The kisses he leaves along the line of your neck are simple things that slowly shift and ebb, transforming into playful nips that turn to claiming bites.

Your fingers find his hair, threading and tangling, pulling slightly until Simon growls. The hold you have on him is pleasurable as much as it borders on pain. He moves lower, and it’s an odd fucking angle, but Simon doesn’t give a shit. Every inch of you deserves his mouth. When his lips skim just above your right breast, you instinctually lean back, giving Simon better access.

Simon runs his tongue over and around your nipple. You shiver in his arms, fingers lightly digging into his scalp as he teases it to a hard peak. Once stiff, Simon switches to the other, giving it just as much attention.

But it is not enough.

Sliding his hands to the backs of your thighs, Simon lifts you up as he stands. Your arms immediately lock around his neck as your ankles cross behind his back. The fact that he doesn’t need to instruct you in this pleases him.

Simon travels from the couch to the bed, and this one action reminds him of Riot Room when he lifted you in the air and bounced you on his cock. He was observing the expressions on your face as you watched him enter and exit your body. Witnessing that was fucking bliss.

He’ll do that again. But not yet.

At the edge of the bed, Simon eases you down onto the comforter. While your legs come to the bed, your hands take longer to retreat. Your fingers linger, nails lightly dragging across the back of his neck and then down the front of his chest.

Simon lets you have this.

But once you completely fall back onto the bed, Simon’s resolve is absolute.

He doesn’t demand or ask.

Like your top and bra, Simon simply grabs and tugs until you’re in nothing but your underwear. His fingers trace up your bare legs, stopping at your thighs momentarily before his hands drop away.

You’re fucking beautiful like this. A banquet. A feast he’s about to gorge himself on.

Leaning back on your forearms, your bare chest is completely exposed, breasts pushed forward in his direction. Your nipples are still hard and raw from his mouth, and Simon has to bite back a groan at the sight.

There is plenty of time to enjoy all of you. Simon needs to get a fucking hold on himself before he pushes your legs wide and buries himself without a thought for you. His blood is electrified, buzzing until it bounces around in frenzy, attempting to convince Simon to claim you until there is no doubt who it is you belong to.

He needs to slow the fuck down. Wednesday is the day the two of you return to civilization, and neither of you are leaving this cottage until then. There is only him and you and this bed.

Slowly, Simon returns his hands to your legs. He begins at your ankles, roaming up your shins and then your knees, sliding down your thighs to stop at the band of your underwear. He considers them a moment and then roughly fists the fabric. In two quick tugs, Simon has them down and around your ankles.

“You don’t need these,” he says, tugging one last time and tossing them aside.

Much better.

Your lips part and your thighs quiver. Simon’s mouth salivates from that alone. All this time, and you crave him just as much. Pride swells in his chest with the knowledge that you want to be here, and that you want this with him.

“What about you?” you ask, nodding toward Simon.

Here you are, naked and on your back, and Simon hasn’t taken off a single fucking thing. His mind was too focused on stripping you down than thinking of himself.

To answer your question, Simon reaches behind him with one hand, grabbing the collar of his shirt. Yanking it up over his head, Simon tosses the shirt to the side, leaving him in only his jeans and black socks.

“Better?” he asks, extending his hands outward slightly.

You nod, pink tongue darting out just before you nibble on your bottom lip.

Simon draws his hands back to his sides, turning them into clenched fists as a small tremor hits him causing his hands to shake. He’s worked up, and his cock fucking aches, but no matter how much he’d love to spread you wide to pound into you, your pleasure is just as important.

You’re not taking anything until you’re prepped and ready for it.

“Spread those gorgeous thighs for me,” he commands through clenched teeth. Simon watches as you part them slightly, but it isn’t nearly enough. You’re still hidden from him.

“More,” demands Simon, desperately needing to see that sweet pussy.

Again, you part your legs further, feet sliding across the bedding, but it’s still short of what Simon is after. He needs to wide. Completely open.

“No. Like this.” Simon slides his hands between and forces your thighs apart until he can see fucking everything.

The sight of you steals the oxygen from his lungs.

You are glossy. Slick. Wanton.

Fucking hell.

Simon is going to devour you.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf

@miaraei @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @childofyuggoth @glassgulls

@wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @creamwhxre

@pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem

@enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus

@josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82

@no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties

@darling006 @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @carma-fanficaddict

@beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21

@makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @mudisgranapat @heeheehoohoohahahihi

25 notes · View notes

asherbakugou · 3 days

Text

When You Become Friends | He Falls For You

Jiang Kai | Kai Kalama

Kai impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for Reader to emerge from the doors of Ninjago City College. His amber eyes scanned every person who came out from the doors until he saw her.

They were wearing all red, which made him smirk as a blush colored his cheeks, with black heels and panta to tie the outfit together. It took Reader a second to find him across the street and for her to begin to make her way through the crowd.

"I'm surprised you actually waited," Reader mused, lips twitching upwards.

"How could I not escort such a lovely person home?" Kai asked, winking as Reader shook their head.

"Flirt."

"Only for you."

Reader did not know how true that was, did not know that Kai had completely stopped flirting with other girls even when she wasn't there.

Rolling their eyes, Reader turned and began to walk, leaving Kai to stride after her long strides. Grinning smugly, he dropped an arm over shoulder, eyeing them nervously from the corner of his eye to see if they were okay with it.

When his arm was left to rest upon her shoulders his smile grew as he held himself taller.

At their house, they sat with glasses of wine and chatted about their respective days.

The entire time Kai could barely keep his eyes off of her, listening intently though his mind wandered everytime he looked to her lips. Their voice was gentle, calm, the soft melody of light rain and sunshine shining through the clouds. When it was his turn to talk, Reader gave him their full attention, asking questions when things confused her.

He was falling for her. Not just her looks, but her.

Zane Julien

Zane smiled gently when he saw Reader practically bouncing towards him, satchel swinging with their movements.

"Zane!" Reader called, throwing her arms around his neck in a quick hug. When she pulled back, Zane privately wished she hadn't.

She had to tilt her head up a little bit to be able to look him in the eyes and it always set his wires alight. "It is good to see you again, Reader."

"It's good to see you too. So, where too today?"

"Well, a new exhibit opened at the museum about the prehistoric animals of Ninjago. I believed it would be something that interests you, but if not–"

"I'd love to go!" Reader blurted out, shrinking back into herself when some strangers looked at her wierdly. "Sorry. But I'd love to go. Come on."

Grabbing onto his wrist she tugged and he allowed himself to be led as she happily gave out every piece of information she had on prehistoric animals, which was a surprising amount.

While normally Zane would have cut off anyone else to remind them that he was a Nindroid, and as such, knew such things but coming from her . . . It was far more interesting hearing it from her than pulling up the information on his database. The rest of the day, Zane was hesitant to call it a date, he watched as Reader bounced around from display to display to take pictures and read the little plaque's full of information.

He adored the way her eyes lit up as her mind ran with hundreds of ideas for her art. He was falling for her, her mind, her creativity, everything.

Cole Brookstone

Cole sat at one of the tables of Fairy Tale, waiting for Reader to finish up the last little bit of organization for the next day of work. Smiling, Reader emerged, sitting across from Cole and pushing over a cup of hot cocoa for him.

In their own hands was a London Fog, their personal favorite.

"So how was the store today?" Cole asked, leaning forward a little.

"It was good. Miya's getting more confident in herself, even dealt with a customer before they could get too loud and rowdy," Reader said, waving a hand.

"I'm glad she's settling in well."

"She still can't believe that the Earth Ninja comes to visit, sometimes just to see lil' ol' me," Reader teased, voice low and pleasently husky making Cole swallow. Their gaze was lidded but focused, exhaustion showing.

"Well, I come for the cake too."

Reader barked out a laugh, shaking their head. "You should've seen her face when you devoured a full cake in less than 5 minutes. Oh, she came running back to tell me and I thought somethin' was wrong with how afraid she looked. I come out and its just you, devouring a cake in one sitting."

Cole vividly remembered that interaction and rolled his eyes affectionately as his cheeks colored.

"No need to be embarresed, Cole," Reader soothed, reaching to pat his hand. "It was funny, and not in a bad way."

Cole felt his grin grow. Reader was attentive and so direct that they rarely let misunderstandings last, and they were constantly checking on those around.

"Meh, I've had worse."

"Worse?" Reader raised an eyebrow but did not pry, though they were curious. Cole didn't mind and happily dove into one of the many stories he had.

Reader watched him so softly that he could practically feel himself melting. He was falling for the person who had no problem telling him the truth, never letting him fall into his own thoughts.

Jay Walker

Jay bounced in place as the line to the rollercoaster moved slowly forward. Reader, on the other hand, groaned, bored from having to wait in line so long when all she wanted to do was get on the rollercoaster.

"So, how'd Lloyd's new engine come out?" Jay asked, still bouncing on his toes.

Reader grinned, happy to talk about her baby, "Well, Nya came to pick it up last week so Lloyd could test it, and the video she sent . . . Dragons! It was going so fast, and the turns he made were so smooth! I was so proud of my baby!"

"Congrats! I wish I could've seen it," Jay complained, genuinly a little sad that he hadn't.

"Well, I've always got new projects and I wouldn't mind a test partner," Reader offered, grinning. Jay lit up in delight.

"You're kidding!"

"No way! Why would I kid about that?!"

"How many in your party?" The lady at the gate asked, looking bored to tears.

"Two," Jay answered, so she pointed to the first row.

Trying to hide their twin squeals of excitement they both bounded towards the front row, bouncing together as they waited for the next coaster to come in.

"Oh, this coaster is supposed to be the fastest and largest in Ninjago," Reader said, spitting out fact after fact that Jay was quick to build on.

"Yeah, they replaced the old track cause it got less popular."

Climbing in, the bar was pressed down over them until they were firmly wedged inside.

Jay happened to glance over at Reader, whose cheeks were flushed from excitement, eyes wide in anticipation, and could his heart stutter as his entire face went bright red. He didn't know he could fall for anyone again, especially after Nya.

But looking at Reader, who always let him be himself, instead of scolding him for being innapropriate at times of crisis, he knew he was falling for her. Falling for her looks, her quick wit, and her humor.

Lloyd Garmadon

Lloyd couldn't stop his eyes from flickering over Reader, whose legs were thrown into his lap as she read a comic. He'd hesitantly rested a hand on her calf but she hadn't reacted in any way, content to flick through the comic in her hands.

Unfortunately he hadn't been able to focus on his comic, to focused on how pretty Reader looked sparawled on the couch of their tiny apartment with the sun shining around them like a halo.

"You know, if you didn't want to read your comic, why'd you suggest we just read," Reader teased, peering over her comic at him. He sputtered, face growing red as her smile grew bigger. Unable to keep it in any longer she busted out laughing, dropping her comic onto the coffee table. "I'm kidding, sweets."

Sweets. A nickname that she had begun using after watching him inhale a bag of gummy bears in less than 2 minutes. Everytime it rolled off her tongue, he could feel his cheeks heat up.

"Well, I didn't know what else you'd wanna do."

"Well . . ." Reader glanced to the side, pursing her lips in thought. "We could watch a scary movie."

"A scary movie? Hehe, good luck finding one that will scare me," Lloyd said, poofing out his chest. "I've seen all the spooky and scary in real life, nothing'll scare me."

The wide grin probably should have made him nervous but it just made his heart pound. Swinging her legs off the couch she headed over to her bookcase full of movies, searching for a specific dvd.

Annabelle.

An hour later when he was practically tucked into her side as he stared at the screen in fear, he couldn't even be dissapointed in himself. Reader had happily invited him to cuddle, so now she was tucked against his side, head on his shoulder as his head rested on hers.

Reader had, of course, laughed at him but her teasing had gone no further, simply offering him comfort. She'd even offered to change the movie but he didn't want to lose any more dignity than he already had.

Not that Reader would see him less. But he wanted to impress the girl who'd begun tugging at his heart just by smiling at him.

Morro

Morro quietly stepping into the bakery, finding Reader waiting for him already. Her gaze was on the same spot it always managed to fall on. The spot where Anya had been shot just over a month ago, losing her life in an effort to get away.

"Reader," Morro murmured, grabbing her by the shoulder to escort her out. Since the incident, Morro had felt indebted in a sense to at least check up on the girl who witnessed the murder of her coworker and friend, but it had grown into a friendship. Somehow.

"Sorry," She whispered, leaning into him slightly. Morro hummed, keeping an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

"How's your week been?"

"Difficult. I think I'm gonna switch to a new therapist," Reader admitted, glancing up at him.

Morro frowned, "Why?"

"He's just . . . He makes me uncomfortable and-and I know that they're going too but I can't . . ."

"If he does anything," Morro rasped, the nearby winds picking up in a quick demonstration that made Reader smile.

"I know. You'll kick his ass," Reader giggled, leaning up to press a sweet kiss against his cheek. Morro turned his head away a bit to hide the flush of his face.

Since they'd begun hanging out, Morro had learned how physically affectionate she was, something he'd never had any experience with.

"Come on," Morro grumbled, disguising the warmth he felt at the affection. "Ice cream place or bookstore?"

"Ice cream, then bookstore?"

Snorting, Morro nodded.

Giggling Reader happily picked up the pace, excited by the prospect of ice cream and books. Morro couldn't help but watch Reader softly, not even realizing how his face softened.

Since he'd gone through the Rift he'd struggled with touch of any kind unless he was fighting but when it was Reader the touch felt . . . comforting. Plus she understood bounderies and could read him surprisingly well, so she always seemed to know when she could and could not touch him.

For the past week anytime he thought of her, her snile, her laugh, her eyes, his heart would jump. It had taken him days to truly understand what he was feeling. Morro was falling for Reader, quickly and badly.

#Ninjago #kai smith x reader #kai smith #zane julien x reader #zane julien #cole brookstone x reader #cole brookstone #jay walker x reader #jay walker #lloyd garmadon x reader #lloyd garmadon #morro x reader #ninjago morro #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago headcanons

24 notes · View notes