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sidespart · 3 years

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The Fall of King Romulus part 4

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

“I will grant them handsome features and beguiling voices,” the maiden whispered, her own voice dripping with honey “that all who great them will be blessed from the meeting.”

“I told you it wouldn’t work!” Remus grinned smugly when Romulus was deposited back in in their room, their nanny shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Urghh.” Romulus whined as he hurled himself face first onto Remus’ bed, making his giggling brother bounce from the impact. “But it should have! It always does in the stories!”

What was the point of having a twin, Romulus wondered if they couldn’t even switch places to get him out of boring geography lessons?

Remus poked him until Romulus rolled over onto his side to pout at his brother.

“It’s because I’m better lookin’ than you.” Remus told him cheerfully.

Romulus thwacked him with a pillow. “We’re identical!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Remus grabbed a second pillow from the floor, “I’m still the cute one!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Are to – oof!”

The pillow fight soon descended into a wrestling match, their shrieks and giggles echoing through the bed chamber.

Eventually they ran out of breath and Remus flopped back down on the bed, his legs hanging over the edge. Romulus collapsed on the floor amongst the fallen pillows, batted Remus’ foot away from his face and gazed up at the family portrait hanging above their fire place.

They were identical. The artist had taken care to draw the crown prince a little bigger than his brother, closer to the forefront of the picture, but even so; their hair, eyes, nose - everything was the same.

Romulus glanced up at his brother, who was currently digging snot out his nose with every sign of enjoyment. Romulus gagged. They were not the same -Remus was gross!

Except.

Everyone said what a handsome young man Remus was growing up to be. How brightly his eyes sparkled. How confidently he held himself, even as a child. They never said that stuff about Romulus.

Remus shone, even when he was being gross.

“Your voice is better.” Remus said suddenly, snapping Romulus out of his sulk.

“What?”

“Your voice.” The older twin lent over the bed, staring his brother in the eye “It’s nicer than mine, ‘specially when you sing.” Romulus beamed, showing off his gap toothed smile. Their parents had hired teachers to drill both boys on the lute and harpsicord, but Romulus’ talent for singing was all him.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” Remus smiled back at him. He’d lost a baby tooth that week too – one of his canines, giving him lopsided fangs. “And you’re way better at crying.”

“What! Well – your feet are stinker!”

“You’re worse at pranks!”

“Well you’re worse at fencing!”

“But l I’m the best at tickling!” declared Remus and leapt from the bed, pinning Romulus with his knee whilst his fingers attacked his brothers armpits. The younger prince’s peals of laughter and cries for mercy were so loud nanny came rushing back to check on them, finding the future rulers of Notaleveale wrapped around each other on the floor, covered in dust and wearing matching smiles.

“I will grant them strength and creativity.” The mother smiled, she had a thousand eyes and all of them twinkled under the halls many candles “so that their rule will never be questioned.”

“Lord Venchi?” Romulus asked.

The royal treasurer, normally one of the more composed members of his father council, was pacing the entrance hall alone, what little hair he had left sticking up in all directions as he tugged at it.

“Oh, Your Highness!” The he gasped when he caught sight of Romulus, “oh thank goodness! He-“

Romulus sighed. “What has my brother done now?”

Romulus had spent the morning on a rare visit into town, missing the days council meeting. It was completely unfair - Romulus attended meetings almost daily, under Julius supervision, as part of his training to one day take over managing whichever aspect of the kingdom bored the future King Remus the most. They were mind numbingly dull sessions and it was only Julius’ steady glare that kept Romulus’ eyes open and his face attentive.

But today, visitors from the far south were attending. Which meant the session might actually be interesting. Which meant Remus got to go, and Romulus was immediately barred from entry. Instead, his father had asked him to represent the family at the ceremonial graduation of the latest batch of city watch recruits. So, instead of hearing tales from beyond the kingdoms borders, he had spent most of the day on a podium waving dispassionately at a crowd of braying onlookers.

It was always daunting, being around so many common folk. They lacked the decorum of the nobles at court. Whilst most seemed content to gape and sigh at him from a distance, there was always one who would shout out ‘my prince, look at me!’, ‘come here!’, ‘kiss my baby!’

Even with his fathers voice ringing in his ears – “no matter what you hear, stay by your guards side until you are back in the palace.” – Romulus had spent the day tense and unhappy, pinpricks of pain dancing in his skull. By the time he was allowed to speak he had quite forgotten his prepared speech and been forced to make up a quick poem on the spot. The crowd had seemed happy enough – the watch captain had tears in his eyes - but he knew neither Julius or his parents would be happy with his improvising once his guards had reported in.

He had hoped to get a few hours alone before the inevitable lecture, and were it anyone else he might have tried to sneak by without getting pulled into whatever chaos Remus had caused.

But Venchi was an old ally, one who had served his father wisely for years and who always took the time to compliment Romulus on his few measured contributions to the councils discussions, or to explain carefully any point he had missed.

He had also seen Remus at council. There shouldn’t have been anything left that the older prince could do to shock him to this extent.

“He-“ the old man looked like he couldn’t quite believe his own words, “He flipped the table.”

Romulus stared at him. The council table was ancient and enormous, made of a stone so old it’s real name has been lost. Moving it was impossible, the palace had practically been built around it.

“The Arkazeii ambassador is being seen by a healer.” Venchi continued, “but I believe his foot Is broken, I-“

The side door behind them slammed open suddenly, crashing into the wall with enough force to make the hanging portraits shake. “I said.” Remus roared, a snarl on his handsome face, “Leave me alone!”

His voice was so forceful Romulus found he had taken three steps towards the main door before he stopped himself, face flushing. The order hadn’t been meant for him. Julius, who had clearly been chasing after the young crown prince, was now openly glaring down at Remus, two spots of colour high on his cheeks.

“Your highness I must insist-“

“Seriously?” Remus cackled, “You’re insisting? Juju, honestly, I am not interested in what you have to say.” He barred his teeth at the King’s advisor, eyes wild, “If my father wants me he can come get me himself but if not you can go and -oh.”

“Hello Remus.” Romulus sighed, giving the shortest bow he could get away with, “I hear your meeting went well.”

Remus eyes narrowed “Hello Romy, have fun getting your butt kissed in town?” he slug his arm around his brother’s neck, adopting a high pitched, sing song tone in apparent impression of the townsfolk “Oh Prince Romulus, you’re sooo clever and handsome and perfect. Won’t you pretty please sign an autograph and let me suck your di-“

“Your highness, please!” Venchi looked disgusted “There is no need for vulgarity.”

“Aww hey Vee! Wow, your hair is really going, you know the balder you get the more you look like my ballsack? Romy – I’m serious, picture him with two heads” he held up his thumbs and index fingers and positioned them in front of the red-faced treasurer like a frame “I can’t be the only one that sees this.”

“You are.” Romulus snapped, shrugging his brothers arm off of his shoulders, “Did you really break the Arkazeii ambassadors foot?”

“The Arkazeii ambassador deserved it.” Remus snarled, good humour vanishing instantly. “They want to dig up Orenlla till it’s hollow. Use the rock to turn their sky black. Have you heard the stories outta that place? All the chickens are dying, ’s a travesty.”

“The chickens are- what? Just. Whatever. Not liking his trade ideas doesn’t mean you can hurt him!”

Remus eyes were always sparkling. Like a man on the brink of madness. “I can do whatever I want little brother.” He grinned at him with too many teeth, “you should try it sometime.”

“Your sons have all the makings of rulersss” the final fae smiled, her one golden eye glinting in the depth of her cloak. “My gift is for you. I give your children honestly and obedience.” She smiled sweetly, “May they bring you joy.”

“Your father is sick” Julius told him.

I know that Romulus thought but didn’t say. Watching the old man carefully.

They were in Julius practice room, at the top of the northmost turret, where Romulus had spent so much of his childhood.

“There is of course, still hope. And we have the finest healers, from every corner of the Kingdom.” Julius was pacing as he spoke, wringing his hands. It was profoundly odd, to see the old man so unsettled. But he had known Romulus’ father from when they were both boys. He loved him, as much as he was capable of loving anyone, and he loved the kingdom that he helped rule.

So Romulus found he wasn’t as surprised as he should have been with what Julius said next.

“Your brother cannot be allowed to take the throne.”

Since Romulus curse had been recognised, his parents had taken great pains to limit the brothers’ interactions, for both of their safety.

Remus could not keep a secret.

Remus was honest. He was honest at their mothers funeral when he’d announced to the mourners that she was ‘a bitch by anyone’s definition’ and honest later than evening when he’d sobbed into Romulus’ shoulder and cried that he would miss her.

He was honest when he announced to Romulus causally, over are rare shared meal, that he dreamed about killing him. “I’d do it with a morning star” he told him, slapping his spoon down onto the head of a roasted tomato and watching the red pulp fly about his plate. “Just like that.”

He was honest when he forced his way into Romulus’ room at night, shook him awake and told him, shaking, that the palace was haunted. That voices whispered to him from every corner - so loud that he couldn’t sleep.

He was honest when Romulus asked him, baffled, why are you telling me this. “I trust you.” Remus admitted, his voice thick, “You’re the only one I can trust.”

Just because he was honest, didn’t mean he was right.

Romulus gazed at Julius, his face carefully blank – a skill he had perfected over many council meetings.- and said “I don’t think you can order me to change our birth order.”

“No.” Julius smiled, and had the decency to look pained. “That’s not what I’m going to ask.”

In this room, Julius had tried every trick to strip Romulus of his curse. And when he failed, he’d dedicated himself to learning every possible way it could be exploited. In order to help protect him, of course.

“Sit there and listen to me until I finish.”

If Romulus didn’t hear an order in full, even if he could guess it, it could be ignored. As a child he’d sometimes escape his teachers simply by running away before they could give him the next task.

“The next time you lay eyes on your brother, kill him. Ensure no one can trace it back to you.”

Vague orders were still orders, and often more effective than those that were too direct. If he couldn’t prevent someone from seeing him, then he would have to kill the witness too in order to obey the instructions in full.

“Let no one know you did it. Tell no one of our conversation”

There was, by now, a long list of things Romulus was forbidden from talking about. It was one of Julius’ favourite orders to give.

“If anyone contradicts this order, ignore them.”

Contradictions were tricky. Normally the most recent order would take precedence, but often enough once the newer order had been completed, the old one would return.

“Do you understand me, Price Romulus?”

Romulus nodded and some of the tension left Julius’ shoulders.

He smiled at Romulus then, and lent over the bush back a strand of hair that had fallen across the young man’s face. He left his hand on Romulus cheek and gazed at him like he really was a kindly old mentor and Romulus his favoured pupil.

“This year, it will be the rise of King Romulus. You will be a just and fair ruler. I’ll make sure of it.”

***

As the second son of a King, Romulus future had never been certain.

His parents discussed it often. He should have become a commander in the army, or a leader of the church or married off to a neighbouring princess and become king in his own right. With all options too likely to lead to discovery however, it had been decided he would stay home, construct a reputation of studious detachment and become his brothers distant advisor.

Help him. Protect him.

Like Julius protected them.

Instead, Romulus ran away and became Roman.

Roman was loud and confident and sprouted poetry and song without hesitation. He basked in the attention from crowds and flirted with every pretty face who crossed his path. He worked and earned for himself and argued back with anyone who disagreed with him and never sat still if he could help it. He kept Romulus and his memories of home buried so deep sometimes he forgot he’d ever had another name.

Even so, there had always been, at the back of his mind, the paranoia of this day. When he would be found. Recognised. Forced back to Romulus life.

He just didn’t think when it happened it would be so embarrassing.

They’d reached a fork in the road. The Marquis paused and whipped his head from side to side, presumably checking for witnesses although it looked more like he was trying to shake water free from his ears. He stepped in front on Roman.

“You.” He enunciated slowly and loudly “Turn left. Okay? Le – e -e f -t”

Roman stared at him.

He had been kidnapped by an idiot.

With great deliberation he rested all his weight on one foot and turned left. And then kept turning, spinning in a circle a few times until the Marquis hissed “no!” and grabbed his arm.

And then dropped it immediately, wiping his hand on his sleeve.

“You. Just – follow me, alright? This way.”

Roman rolled his eye but did as he was told. The man could have just told him in the beginning to follow him to wherever their destination was, and Roman would have done so. There was no need to give him a new instruction every few paces. But if the Marquis – what was his first name? Romulus must have known at some point – didn’t know the ins and outs of his curse then Roman wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

They continued on, the Marquis stopping every three feet to stare at him, or repeat some instruction, or glare at a crumpled map in his hands. Roman despaired. Romulus had had a crush on this man.

At first, Roman assumed he would lead him towards the Royal Palace and present his find to the Princess or to whatever other Notalevealian nobles were already here for the coronation. But instead he tugged him away from the wider streets, back down hill towards the main sprawl of the city.

“Where are you taking me, villain?” Roman asked after twenty minutes of marching “because I’m pretty sure we’ve passed that street lamp three times already.”

“Somewhere where your little friend won’t be able to help you.” the Marquis muttered, glaring at the lamp in question.

Roman felt his heart freeze. His friend?

He supposed it made sense. There was no conceivable way they could have been followed in the woods. Not without Patton or Virgil noticing. The Marquis must have spotted him in the market and followed from there, which means he would have at least seen Logan, perhaps the others too since he had been at the tavern…

Although why would a noble be at the Stevangie street market?

He tried not to let his anxiety show on his face, puffing his chest out and summoning his most haughty glare.

“Listen to me, lordling, if any harm should come to them I will personally-“

“Them?” The Marquis stumbled, map fluttering to the floor. When he spun to glare at Roman his eyes were enormous. “How many are there?”

Roman blinked, haughty glare ruined by his genuine confusion. “Erm,” he tried “lots?”

The Marquis audibly gulped, but before Roman could even attempt to interpret that the man’s face brightened, his gaze caught on something behind Roman. He smirked, some swagger returning to his step.

“No matter.” He said and grabbed Romans arm, dragging him towards a nondescript building in the centre of the street, unlocking the door and shoving the bard through.

It was a bath house. The back entrance, perhaps, but the damp in the air and smell of scented soap was unmistakable.

Roman tried, in his sleep-deprived, underfed, over-stressed state, to come up with a reasonable explanation for this.

He had nothing.

“Why-“

“Shut up” The Marquis snapped. “Walk that way.” He pushed Roman down a long corridor, past arched doorways through which he caught a glimpse of the bathhouse proper, and into a dusty looking stairwell. He had produced a candle from somewhere, but the dim light did very little to illuminate anything as they gingerly picked their way down.

When they finally reached the bottom floor Roman squinted to see boxes and crates of empty bottles– a storage room? But he had no time to take it all in before he was being dragged through another pair of doors. Two more rooms and another set of stairs later and the Marquis finally stopped.

The room he’d led them to was hot and humid. Sweat dripped down Romans nose after only a few seconds. At first he couldn’t work out what the noise that filled the room was, until his eyes adjusted enough to see the tubes running from the floor to ceiling.

“You’re lucky to see this.” The Marquis had to raise his voice over the rush of running water to be heard “This room is a modern miracle – the lifeblood of the city!”

Steveange’s heated bath houses were famous. So much so even Virgil had heard of them, and he seemed to take pride in knowing nothing about the outside world. Roman had assumed the city must have been built on hot springs or some other natural source, but this was something else.

“The furnace is below us.” The Marquis explained, as he propelled Roman towards the back wall. “The pipes bring water from the river, it’s heated and pumped up and out to every bathhouse in the city.”

He grinned with something like pride as he tapped one of the pipes above Romans head, making it sing, “Arkazeii engineering and Orenllan iron. Lined with Orenllan copper of course…give me your jacket.”

“But. Notaleveale doesn’t trade it’s ores” Roman blinked rapidly, trying to remove the sweat from his eyes, as he shrugged out of his jacket.

Jacket was a generous term – it was a silken red thing, better suited to performances than travelling. But he enjoyed the way it billowed as he walked. The Marquis took it and without so much as a moments respect for the garment, ripped one of the sleeves clean off.

“Hey!”

“You’ve been away a long time.” the Marquis snarled, “you little fae touched traitor.”

Roman gaped at him, even as the man grabbed his right arm and began attempting to tie it to the nearest pipe.

“I used to look up to you” the Marquis continued, “you were everything a Prince should be. But you betrayed your father and put a curse of madness on your brother - all because of your own petty jealousy!”

He squeezed Romans wrist with enough force to leave bruises. And stepped back to admire his handywork. The silky material had no grip and it was painfully obvious the man was not used to getting his hand dirty. The resulting knot looked more like a bow. “You are no prince of mine.”

“Lucius.“ Roman knew he’d known his name. “That’s not true. That’s- that’s not even a clever story! Who came up with that?”

“Shut up.” Some of the panic from the journey had come back to Lucius’ eyes but it faded quickly “And don’t think you can scare me with my name, there is more iron in this room then anywhere else in the city.”

He grinned at Roman nastily. “Your little friends aren’t coming to save you.”

Roman stayed quiet, mind whirling. They thought Remus was cursed?

Well. He was. But not in the way Lucius seemed to believe.

They wouldn’t send a mad man to another kingdoms coronation would they? Had the seller actually been certain Remus was coming?

Tied up, exhausted and with a man who seemed to hate him glaring down, Roman started to giggle in giddy relief.

Lucius stepped back, looking unsettled, before reaching out, roughly grabbing Romans chin and shoving the remnants of his jacket into his mouth. “Stay here,” he told him, slowly and clearly “until I come back with your transport.”

He stood, taking the candle with him to the door. He paused for one moment before leaving, the flickering light illuminating a cruel smirk. “You had better hope I can arrange it before the furnaces come back on.” And he was gone.

Roman glanced above himself into the darkness, where his wrists were strapped tight to the currently cool metal. A rush of fear went through him, finally bringing him down from the giggling hysteria.

Alone In the dark, tried to think.

Roman was a bad friend. He lied to his companions as easy as breathing and took his own fears out on them.

Romulus was a bad prince. He had abandoned his kingdom and his subjects and allowed some sort of conspiracy to spring up in his wake.

But he was a good brother. Remus was alive. And he would stay that way.

After all, this afternoon he thought that Remus was here. That he would have to confront his past, escape the city, evade every member of the Notalevealian court and his own friends and steal a horse.

Now all he had to do was get out of this basement and outwit one idiot who could barely tie knots and hadn’t even thought to pat him down to check for hidden daggers.

Easy-peasy he thought, his eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion finally overtook him.

Part 5

#roman sanders #sanders sides #remus sanders #creativitwins #sanders sides fic #ts: fall of romulus #sidespart writes

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stardancerluv · 3 years

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Punishments

Part One

Summary: Some agnst as been building in Reader. Tonight it explodes.

Note: The last bit I posted with Punishments was the inspiration for this. It turned into something different. In this I want to show how reader can be strong and still in touch with her emotions while being with Roman! Very angsty at parts.

Eyeing your reflection, turning you let your dress twirl. It made you smile. You wanted to look good. Tonight, you were not going to just be his good girl. You were so tired of just sitting there waiting and hoping Roman would come over. Lately, you had jot even been able to sit with him when he had a meeting. They were scattered around the club.

He had barely sat with you this week and even less last week. You had grown tired of this new wave of negotiations and deals he was making. You understood why he needed them. You also knew how great they were for his slice of Gotham.

Sitting alone at his table made you just feel like an accessory. You’d sit there and grow tired hoping, he’d come over for a brief word or look. Otherwise, no one ever approached you except the waiters to take the occasional order. You had not agreed to be his girl to be just bought off with presents and rolling around in bed.

When the two you were alone, sure he would share his victories. You were very proud of him. You knew, he was of your victories too.

So tonight, you had decided to make plans tonight with your friends. A few brought their boyfriends. You could only hope, Roman would come over and join you all. That you knew was hoping for too much.

You smoothed your stockings a final time before slipped into your heels. As a final touch, you spritzed on some perfume got you when he went to Europe to seal some overseas deals.

Once in the club for a moment, you faltered. Your friends had literally sat at the table next to his usual one, thankfully he wasn’t at it. After some hugs and squeals of delight you sat down with them.

You kept an eye out for Roman and Zsasz but didn’t spot either of them. Soon, the waitress came taking everyone’s orders. She also slipped you a note. Smiling you took it.

You opened it and some of your friends giggled.

Am I not having my lovely girl at my side tonight? Was all it said in Roman’s usual script. Looking around you didn’t spot him anywhere.

“Uh oh, someone got a love-note from Mr. Crime Lord.” You shot that one friend a look but everyone, lost themselves in giggles. You could only sigh.

“He was just wishing us a good night.” Folding, the note tucked it away in your purse.

“Will the famous Sionis, be joining us tonight?”

You shrugged and smiled. “Maybe?” You were relieved your words didn’t come out as a squeak. “He’s been very busy.”

“Right. Says the next star on the Rogue Wives of Gotham.” More giggles bubbled around you.

“Look, guys if I wanted to be the butt of jokes I would have hung out with the staff.” You sighed.

One spoke up. “The staff? You have staff now.”

More laughter, came from a few of them.

“Hey guys, come on. Let’s cut her some slack.” Your friend wrapped James wrapped an arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “They’re only jealous.” He whispered in your ear.

You nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t we come here to have fun. Like dancing and drinking? I only see bad, corny jokes that could have come from a high schooler. So who’s dancing?” He suggested.

When they were distracted them, you snuck away. This was going to be tougher then you thought.

Honestly, at this point you barely into what was supposed to be your night and you couldn’t decide if this night out was worth it. You should have just faked a headache or something. But looking around, you couldn’t spot Roman anywhere.

Searching out the private ladies-room with a sigh, you went to freshen up. You were relieved no one was there. Only a few female guests that came to the club knew of this exclusive bathroom. With a fluff of your hair after a few moments, you walked out.

Moments later, you found yourself being snatched away. They were so fast, you couldn’t scream. But you felt the familiar feel of a gloved hand sliding over your mouth.

A dark snicker, filled your ear as he carried you to a shadowy hallway. Stopped when he reached the large mirror at the end of it. Despite the annoyance that prickled at you, seeing how the two of you looked, was incredibly erotic.

“Look at us baby.” His breath was warm on your throat.

He had managed to envelop you with himself; from the feel of his solid warmth and the scent of his aftershave caused a knot of desire grow in the pit of your stomach.

You watched in the mirror as his lips curling into a smirk, his eyes glinting behind you. It was almost too much. The longer he held you, the harder your heart began to beat and the more you wanted him. “My pretty girl.” He added close to our ear, then pressed a kiss on your jaw. You shivered in delight but then you were reminded of how upset you were and you managed to wiggle free.

You turned to face him. “What the hell was that all about?”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“Roman.” You tapped your foot.

As he tilted his head back the mirth dimmed till it disappeared from his eyes. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“What do you mean?” You crossed your arms in front of you.

“I wanted my girl would be at my side but she isn’t.”

“You have barely sat with me all week. I decided to have a night with my friends.”

“That’s great, I’m happy you have but you should have told me.” He pressed his lips together. “I would have canceled my meetings and perhaps let them see how charming,” He shrugged, continuing. “of a boyfriend I can be.”

“Make it happen.” You challenged, you ran your hands up his soft suit-jacket. You saw him waver where he stood. The longer it took him to answer you, the longer it hurt. “Don’t you want to make your baby happy?” You lightly pouted.

“I can’t just drop things. You know damn well, I have been meeting with some very bigger players this week. And I am tonight.”

“Great! Expand your territory or go meet them at the docks. See if I care.” Shit you almost immediately thought, you had not meant that, you immediately stepped back and looked down. “I I...I...” You tried to find the right words, you really did care. But you were very hurt and angry. You didn’t know how to tell him.

He slammed a hand on the mirror beside you, making you jump. “What did you fucking just say to me?”

“Roman, do you know how many times I felt like you could care less about me? Tonight, I wanted to feel needed, I wanted to be with some friends and be silly.” You pleaded, your emotions speaking. Your eyes met his, you shrank against the cool of the mirror as you saw blue flames.

“Fine go to those fucking friends who enjoy the perks of being with you or the ones I allow them to have.” He growled, leaning in you could feel his breath once again. His anger came off him in waves.

You had never been this mouthy. You felt sick with worry. “Romy,” You tried to soften things. Had you finally pushed Roman too far, you almost began to cry right there.

“Maybe you should take those ungrateful jerks to another club. I don’t know if I want them taking a table up in my establishment.”

You looked away, then pleading with your eyes, you met his fiery ones. Did he want you to leave too, you wondered. Your stomach was churning and before you knew what you were saying, everything you had been bottling up just came out. “I’ve grown tired of all the kisses on the cheek or the hand shakes while I sit there and you ignore me.” You cried.

“I am not ignoring you. It takes everything in me to not focus on you.” He rasped. “I only want my lips on you, damn it.”

“Certainly doesn’t feel like that to me.” Taking a breath, not sure if it would make you sick, but you spat the rest out. “Learn to not have me there tonight.” You finally said it so he wouldn’t have to. And you walked away.

“I will.” He barked. “Get out of my sight.”

You walked away but blinking you looked back, had he really just said that. Tears filled your eyes. You hurt so bad, you wanted to run to him, tell him how hurt you were; to say you were sorry. How you desperately wanted him to wrap you in his arms but he was gone.

You went up to the bar, you held up two fingers. “Two shots, Charlie. Please.” You ordered.

“Of what?”

“Roman’s favorite.” You desperately wanted to feel close to him.

He smiled. “Coming up.” Soon, he slid them in front of you.

You almost coughed up the first shot but you swallowed it down. You would never understand how he drank it. The second shot, was smoother and cut some of the ill feelings that churned in your stomach.

After, some looks from your friends which you ignored; you sat with them. Sipping at your drink that had been waiting for you, you tried to loose yourself into the conversations. You wrung your hands under the table. You debated, whether you should suggest leaving. But how could you do that.

“Is there any room for this club owner?” He chuckled. “Or should we grab a table in the VIP lounge?”

You looked up startled, there was Roman smiling that easy smile that always made you melt. At that moment, you felt like you could crumble right there. Some of your friends chuckled.

“Of course there’s room. Let, Y/N sit next to her man.” One said, you slid in so he could come to sit beside you.

A hush, came over the table as he sat down beside you, he placed his martini close to your empty glass. He gestured to the air and a waitress appeared.

His fingers, gently grazed your glass. He rose his eyebrows as he looked at you. “Want another?”

You nodded. “Yes, please.”

He smiled broadly as he looked at your friends. “You heard her. And bring us a bottle of champagne along with some glasses.”

Some of your friends tried to politely discourage him but you already knew that it would be at the table shortly.

“Don’t be silly. We all deserve something special.” He smiled broadly.

Conversations picked up once, it even flowed. You rested your hand on your thigh, so it would not shake. You kept on trying to catch Roman’s eye yet you noticed that he avoided it. Right as you thought, you could cry all over again you felt as Roman’s gloved hand slide over yours. He squeezed your hand, it made you relax.

******

The rest of the night had gone well. Everyone seemed happy. As you all soon stood and chatted before saying night, Roman had wrapped an arm around your middle. He held up his martini glass. “It has been great spending tonight with all of you.” He smiled broadly at your friends and finished his good bye to your friends before he nuzzled you.

“Meet me at the elevator.” Roman hissed in your ear, before pressing a kiss on your cheek. You shivered but nodded.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-susperia @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj

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littleoddwriter · 3 years

Note

Hiya! Do you have some time for a Zsaszmask with their son?(yes, yes, it becomes my guilty pleasure) when Andrew went for a date with his lover. As overprotective parents, they followed him to see what's going on? And guess what, Harley is in the area too to piss them off? Some humor and fluff would be nice. Thanks in advance and have a nice day (P.S: I prepare a little something for you!)

Don't You Trust Me? | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hey! I've always got time for these, because ngl, I'm pretty invested in this AU too, now. <3 I really hope you enjoy this! :) (P.S.: You are??? That's so sweet, aw, thank you! Can't wait. <3)

summary; see above.

notes; Swearing; Domestic; Kid Fic; Spying on their kid; Overprotective Parents; tiny bit of angst because Roman being Roman, I guess. (Andrew's partner is non-binary, btw. <3)

“Okay, I’m going then, dads. See you later, love you!” Andrew called to his dads from the door.

“Don’t stay out too late, Andrew!” Roman yelled back and got a muffled “I won’t” back, after which he heard the door fall shut.

Sionis stood next to his partner for a moment, frowning. Then he suddenly clasped Victor’s shoulder with such force that it actually startled Zsasz a little, “C’mon, Victor! We’ve got to follow him. Fuck knows what kind of person he is meeting with,” Roman proclaimed, looking determined as ever.

“Uh, no offence, boss, but he’s eighteen. I don’t think we should be following him, right?” Victor responded, looking at Roman.

“What? Of course we need to follow him! It doesn’t fucking matter how old he is. No son of mine meets up with someone I don’t know without supervision.”

“Haven’t you been unsupervised all the time when you went out as a teen?”

“Because my parents didn’t care, Zsasz,” he looked at him incredulously over the rim of his sunglasses, “But we’re caring parents, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, but I doubt my parents would’ve followed me on a date when I was eighteen and they cared, too,” Victor muttered.

“It’s the right thing to do, I know it. So come on! Do you remember where he said he’d go?”

After Victor nodded to affirm that, yes, he remembered that, Roman practically just shoved him out the door, so they could get in the Rolls Royce downstairs in record time. Honestly, Zsasz was still taken by surprise more often than not to find that Roman was the overprotective kind of parent. Not that he was much different; he just tried not to show it too much. He also tried to remind Sionis to do the same, because it’d be more dangerous if people knew that he truly cared so much about their son, but of course his partner disregarded that – although Victor guessed it wasn’t intentional.

“Do you know anything about this person he’s meeting? Because he told me absolutely fucking nothing,” Roman groused, and yeah, it was fair, he hated being left out on anything.

“Well, their name’s Cassidy, they’re nineteen, just started going to Gotham Academy, and Andy met them on the internet first. This would be the first time they actually meet each other as far as I know,” Zsasz responded dutifully.

He was able to really see the different emotions cross Roman’s face as he talked; first a raised eyebrow and an intrigued look; then an impressed nod; and then anger and anxiety, which he now displayed to their fullest. In a way, Victor could understand it, he too felt anxious over Andy meeting up with some rando from the internet, but he trusted him. Didn’t mean he had to be a fan of all this either.

“Has Andy told you those things?” Roman hissed, and for a moment, Victor really didn’t know if he should lie or not.

“Yeah,” he replied, deciding not to lie. It was no use, Sionis would have found out anyway, and then he’d have to deal with the inferno that was his rage and he really didn’t like it aimed at him.

“Fucking fuck!” Roman yelled, clenching his hands into tight fists, the leather squeaking a little, “Why doesn’t he tell me these things, Victor?”

He could only shrug, he didn’t know. Sometimes Andy just didn’t tell him things, and Victor guessed that was just how teens were. He couldn’t remember how he was back then if he was honest.

Roman scoffed, crossed his arms angrily and stayed silent until they’ve arrived near the café Andy would meet up with Cassidy. A public place was always good for such things, although still dangerous – especially in Gotham.

They parked a few streets away in an alleyway, where they’d leave the car and driver and then stay around the café to watch over their son. It was pretty straight-forward.

Across the street from the coffeehouse was an expensive clothes store, which they went into to stay hidden and still be able to see Andrew. As they stood near the shop window, Zsasz was the first to spot Andy sitting outside at one of the small coffee tables, smiling at his phone and looking around, every couple of minutes, respectively.

“Cassidy is late?” Roman asked quietly, looking at Andrew, while he was acting as though he was looking at the blazers they stood in front of.

“Hm, no, Andy’s just early,” Victor replied, a slight smile on his lips.

After a couple of minutes, someone came to stand in front of Andrew and he jumped up immediately, wrapping his arms around them. Must have been Cassidy then. Looking at them like this, Victor wasn’t sure this really was the first time they’ve met, but what the hell did he know anyway?

And then they kissed.

Zsasz could hear Roman’s teeth clank as his mouth snapped shut in an instant. Sure enough, when he looked over to him, he was clenching his jaw, an icy, piercing glare fixed at their son’s- date? Partner? Huh.

“Didn’t you say they met for the first time today?” Sionis asked through clenched teeth.

“That’s what he told me.”

“Does that fucking look like a first meeting?” Roman yelled, causing some people to turn around to look at them in shock – although they averted their gazes very quickly again, after noticing who they were.

“Not really, I’d say, no.”

“How can you be so fucking calm, what the fuck, Victor? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Zsasz shrugged, “You know how teens are, keeping their first relationship secret for a while and all.”

“I had reason to do that! He doesn’t!”

“Okay, hey, it’s alright. We’ll talk to him later, alright?” Victor tried to get Roman to calm down a little, putting his hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eyes intensely.

Sionis inhaled sharply, taking a few deep breaths and coming back down a little, “Yeah- Yes, ‘kay. We’ll talk to him later. Fine.”

Before Zsasz could say anything else reassuring, an obnoxiously loud, shrill, accented voice rang through the store, “Romy Baby!”

That Harley-Bitch. Great,that was what they both needed now.

Victor could swear that behind his sunglasses, Roman’s eye was twitching because of how irritated he was. And really, he couldn’t blame his partner one bit – he, too, was fucking annoyed by her mere presence.

“Miss Quinn, what a coincidence to meet you here. Right now, no less,” Roman said, his voice strained, just like the all too polite smile on his face. Zsasz hated that Harley caused him to hide like this.

“Well, I was just in the area and saw you through the window! ‘Course I had to come and say Hi, Romy! Oh, and see, Andy Baby is just across the street, too!”

“Which is entirely unrelated, of course.”

“Sure, sure! Is he on a date?” she gasped, “Oh, I should go say Hi to them as well! Maybe I should tell him that his two dads are spying on him. What do you say, Romy?”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell him that, Harley! He’s my son. I’m allowed to look after him.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know. It’s kinda weird of parents to do that. He’s eighteen, baby, let him do his thing in peace, huh? It can fuck’em up pretty bad if you don’t give’em their space, y’know?”

“I am! I fucking am!” Roman was stomping his foot on the ground as he yelled that and in all this time, Victor’s never seen him do that.

Harley just shrugged, waved at them and skipped out of the store and across the street within the blink of an eye, it seemed. Fuck.

Roman was in shock, looking at her going up to Andy, and Victor couldn’t say that he was any less shocked.

“That fucking crazy bitch!” his boss hissed quietly and stalked out of the store, too, Victor coming after him dutifully.

Zsasz felt such deep hatred for this bitch then and there, when they crossed the street and she wasn’t to be seen anywhere. And when they looked over to Andrew, he was looking right back at them. Shit. She set them up.

“Dads?” Andy called for them, frowning.

“Fuck,” they both muttered in unison and walked over.

“Hey, baby, we were just-,” Roman started, but Andrew interrupted him.

“Following me?”

“Well- We were just concerned. Not knowing who you were going to meet and all,” his partner defended himself, and fuck, Victor’s not seen him this- flustered, really, in, well, ever.

“Right. Uh, sorry, anyway. Cassidy, those are my dads. Dads, this is Cassidy, my- uh, partner,” Andy introduced them all to each other, red in the face and shrinking in on himself towards the end, getting increasingly more quiet with each word.

“Nice to meet you both, sirs,” Cassidy said, smiling gently.

“Pleasure’s all ours,” Roman smiled politely, putting on his faked friendly, diplomatic mask in an instant.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Victor just mumbled.

Then they stood there. Roman was staring holes into Andy’s date and Zsasz debated with himself if he shouldn’t just grab him and drag him back to the car, but Andy beat him to it.

“Could you please leave us alone then? Please? I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry.”

Roman nodded jerkily, “’Kay, we’ll go home. But if anything goes wrong, you call us.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, dad, I promise!”

That was when Zsasz really did take Roman by his arm and dragged him away before this went on any longer. He couldn’t bear it anymore.

Throughout the car ride, Roman had his arms crossed and was quiet, while he just frowned, pursing his lips. Victor wanted to suggest killing someone to get his mind off things, but he knew it wouldn’t go over very well, so he kept quiet.

Back at home, Roman sat down on his chaise longue, still with his arms crossed, and an even deeper frown on his face. He immediately went to work on making him a Martini. It might not solve anything then, but it usually calmed his nerves a little.

“I’m not a bad father, right?” Roman asked quietly all of a sudden, while Zsasz was still busy preparing his drink.

“No, you’re not,” he replied honestly, pouring the drink into its designated glass.

Then he walked over and gave it to Roman, who nodded in thanks.

“Why doesn’t he trust me then?”

“He does.”

“Really? Because last time I checked, he trusted you with the information of who he was going to meet. Not me!” Roman took a sip of his Martini, sighing shakily after.

“Look, I don’t know why he didn’t tell you, but I swear he trusts you just as much.”

His partner side-eyed him then and took another mouthful of his drink, “I don’t know, Vic. I don’t think he does.”

“Ask him, when he comes home,” Roman full on glared at him then, but Victor just stared back, “You know I’m right. If you want to be sure that he trusts you, ask him.”

“I hate when you make sense,” he muttered, “but fine, I’ll ask him.”

A couple of hours later, Andy finally came home, a happy little smile stuck on his face.

“And I’m back. See? I’m fine, dad,” was his greeting, which didn’t particular amuse Roman.

“Sit down, I need to talk to you,” he said – ordered – instead.

Andrew’s smile vanished pretty instantly, worry clear in his expression. “Okay? What is it?”

“Do you trust me?” Blunt as ever, Roman went straight to business.

Even after all these years, their son wasn’t quite used to it, visibly taken aback by the question, and Victor couldn’t blame him for it.

“Yeah, of course I do. Why?”

“Because you told Victor who you were meeting and I didn’t know anything. Although, granted, you also lied to him about this being your first meeting, so at least there’s that, I suppose.” Now he was just being snappy, which wasn’t anything surprising either, to Victor at least.

“Uh- Shit, sorry. Dad, I didn’t mean to- I meant to tell you, too. I-“

“Then why didn’t you?”

Andy shrunk in on himself, “Because I didn’t want you to forbid me to go. I didn’t lie to papa when I said that I’m meeting them for the first time.”

“You two kissed the second you saw each other! What the fuck, Andrew?”

“We’ve been a couple for a few months now, but only virtually. They’ve only moved here recently to go to the academy. Today was the first chance we had of meeting, I swear. It just felt right.”

Roman didn’t say anything for bit, just breathing heavily through his rage. Victor walked over to him, put his hands on his shoulders and massaged them firmly, helping to ground him. Yelling at Andy wouldn’t do them any good now, either.

“Alright. Fine,” he sighed eventually, brushing his hands through his hair, “Fuck. As long as you’re happy. I trust you to tell us if they do anything that makes you unhappy, so we can deal with it, ‘kay?”

A small smile stretched Andrew’s lips and both Roman and Victor couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Deal. Thanks, dad,” Andy said, got up, walked over and hugged Roman, “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to feel like this.”

“It’s alright. I promise I won’t follow you on your dates anymore. But I’d like you to keep some of my security nearby.”

“I can work with that,” Andrew chuckled, kissing Roman’s cheek, “I love you, dad.”

Roman kissed Andy’s temple and patted his arm. Then their son let go of him and also came up to Victor to kiss his cheek, “And I love you too, papa.”

“I know, love you too, Andy.”

He may have been eighteen at the time, but he was still their baby, that was for sure. Victor thought they did a pretty good job with him.

#kid fic #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfiction #victor zsasz #victor zsasz fanfiction #zsaszmask #zsaszmask au #zsaszmask fanfic #harley quinn #mlm ship #mlm fanfic #mlm fiction #harley quinn birds of prey #i hope this story makes sense i just wrote it while scratching myself into a mess and even after reading it through i have no idea #hfshskghsk im really sorry

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pikapeppa · 3 years

Text

Samson/Roman Hawke: Care

Some slice-of-life “fluff” and smut for @schoute‘s divine Romie Hawke and Sammyboi!

~7500 words; read on AO3 instead AND CHECK OUT THE ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE ART THAT KILLS MEEEEEE.

**************************

Roman was glaring at him.

This wasn’t unusual, really; scowling was her default expression. But it was a little unnerving to have her glaring at him while they were sitting naked in her bathtub.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem, Bird?”

She continued to stare at him in silence until the discomfort made his skin crawl. He frowned at her. “Roman,” he said loudly.

“What?” she snapped.

“What’s the bloody problem?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “There’s no problem.”

“You’re staring at me like there’s a problem.”

“I said there’s no fucking problem,” she said sharply.

He sighed. “If you say so.” He bent forward in the bath and scooped some water in his hands and splashed it over his head and neck, then lifted his head and smoothed the excess water from his hair.

“You’re making a mess,” she said.

He looked up. “Eh?”

She jerked her chin at his head. “You splashed water all over the floor.”

He made a little face. “Damn. I’ll wipe it up after.”

She folded her arms and said nothing more, so Samson decided to ignore her and continue washing up. He picked up her fancy glass bottle of shampoo and poured some into his palm, and he did his best to enjoy the vanilla-almond scent despite Roman’s unstinting scowl.

He lathered his hair thoroughly, being sure to wash the roots so she wouldn’t nag him. Then something made him pause — something in the bathtub.

Something pressing between his legs.

He swallowed hard. “Bird, your foot is on my balls.”

“So?”

“So… maybe you should move it.” He shifted a little awkwardly; even the gentle pressure of her toes was starting to rile him up.

“There’s nowhere else to move it,” she said. “You’re taking up too much space.”

He slumped slightly. She was the one who’d told him to take a bath with her. “You want me to get out? Is that it?”

She curled her lip. “No. Whatever. Why, do you want to get out?”

“Not when it’s all nice and warm in ‘ere. But if you’re going to use my balls as a footrest…” He trailed off; her foot was sliding along the length of his hardening cock.

She scoffed. “What, no more complaints now?”

He exhaled shakily and widened his knees. “Just don’t kick me, all right? Ah…”

She stroked his cock slowly with her foot, then gently pressed her heel into his balls. He grunted and curled his hips toward her, and she suddenly moved her foot away.

She huffed and settled her feet on either side of his hips. “Don’t be gross. I’m not going to let you come in my bathwater. Rinse your fucking hair.”

He exhaled, then shot her baleful look. “You’re a mean bloody tease, you know that?” He dunked his head and rubbed his hair until the shampoo was mostly gone. When he lifted his head from the water and slicked the water from his hair, he purposely splashed the floor a little more.

Roman sneered at him, and he gave her a mocking little smile before picking up the soap. “You’re not going to wash up, then?”

“I’m not the one who needs the bath,” she said.

“Then why are you sittin’ there?” he asked. “Should I be putting on a dirty show for you?”

She huffed and looked away. “No.”

He smirked and rubbed the soap on his chest. “Come on now, you don’t need to look away. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

Don’t need to ask me twice, he thought, but he kept that comment to himself; she looked about as brittle as the first layer of frost on a lake in winter, and if he goaded her any further, she might light a fire under his ass or something. Worse yet, she might tell him to get out of her bathtub and out of her house.

But her mother had just been murdered yesterday, and Samson wasn’t sure that it was a good idea for her to be alone. Why he’d decided that he should be the one to babysit the damned bird today, he wasn’t sure, but, well… here he was, so he supposed he’d make the best of it.

He started rubbing the soap on his arms. Then Roman sighed loudly. “Use the fucking washcloth,” she scolded. “You’re just rubbing the soap on top of the dirt.” She picked up the washcloth that was hanging on the edge of the tub, then held out her hand impatiently.

Samson handed her the soap, and she briskly lathered the washcloth. “Turn around,” she said.

He shot her a suspicious look, then gingerly turned around in the bathtub. A moment later, she was washing his back.

She rubbed the soapy cloth in a circular motion from the back of his neck across his shoulders, then over his shoulder blades and back toward his spine, and Samson breathed slowly as she washed his skin. Her movements were brisk but gentle, thorough without being rough, and he wondered at how the movement of her hands almost seemed practiced.

Her hands sank beneath the water to wash his lower back. Then she was scooping handfuls of water over his back and sluicing it away, again with those businesslike practiced movements as though it was something she’d done many times before, and Samson’s curiosity continued to grow, even as he enjoyed the unusual gentleness of Roman’s hands on his skin.

He didn’t get it. He didn’t get her. She was clearly capable of being gentle; this wasn’t the only time she’d treated him with tenderness in the guise of complaining about how dirty he was. But if he ever remarked on her gentleness or made an awkward attempt to be gentle in return, she snarled and shied away from him like a feral cat.

Less than a minute later, she was finished. “There,” she said. “That’s how you should be washing yourself. No wonder the fucking water is always brown by the time you’re done.”

He grunted. “I get it, all right? I’m filthy.”

“Not anymore. You’re welcome,” she said snarkily.

He huffed. Then, on impulse, he shifted backwards in the tub toward her.

“Hey,” she exclaimed. “What — what the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. He kept sliding back in the tub until he was between her legs, then boldly leaned against her so his back was flush to her chest.

“Seriously, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Having tea with the bloody Queen of Ferelden,” he retorted. “What’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re fucking trapping me in my own tub,” she snapped.

He sighed and adjusted the back of his head against her bony collarbone. “Just relax, all right? The water’s warm and it’s not that dirty. Just relax.”

She growled in his ear, but she made no more complaints. Samson closed his eyes and waited to see what she would do.

For a long moment, she didn’t move. She just sat there stiff and unmoving in the tub behind him, and Samson eventually wondered if she’d just stay sitting there like a golem until he moved.

Eventually, though, he felt some of the tension leave her body. Her thighs softened behind his hips, and he could feel her shoulders and her spine relaxing into the curve of the tub, and some of his own tension started to leave him in response to the softening of her body.

He breathed slowly, enjoying the soap-scented steam of the bath and the strange pleasantness of Roman’s body pressed against his own — not to mention the fact that she was letting him stay pressed against her like this. Honestly, when he’d decided to lie back against her chest, he hadn’t really expected her to allow it. Now that he was lounging against her in such an intimate way, he realized something odd: he’d never actually done this before. This lounging-and-relaxing business, that is. There’d been a few girls here and there before he’d joined the Templars, but none who wanted him to stick around for… whatever this was.

Not that Roman had asked him to stick around or anything like that. But she was also a strange case — an especially difficult case. Frankly, Roman Hawke was a bloody pain in his ass. She would never actually ask him to stay with her or to stick around. And unless she was demanding that he fuck her, he could never be entirely sure what she wanted from him. The most she would do is tell him she didn’t care what he did, and after knowing her for a few years now, he’d started to accept her I-don’t-cares as implicit permission to stay.

Or, in a situation like right now, if she wasn’t pushing him away and telling him to leave, he’d take it as a sign that she wasn’t completely disgusted with his presence.

She suddenly curled her arm around his shoulders and grabbed his chin, and Samson tensed at her sudden grip. Then she roughly rubbed his chin. “You should shave,” she said. “Your stubble is too long to be stubble anymore.”

“What if I was trying to grow a beard for the winter?” he said.

She clicked her tongue. “It’s not winter for another four months, you dumbass.”

“It takes time to grow a beard, you know.”

She released his chin. “Are you really trying to grow a beard?”

He shrugged. “Eh, not really. Why? You think I’d look worse with a beard?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t know. It’s your face, do what you want.”

Her hand was resting on his chest now — just resting there casually and not doing anything. He wasn’t used to her hands on his body unless they were having sex. Having Roman’s hand just laying there on his chest… He couldn't decide if it felt nice or just plain strange.

“I’ll shave,” he said. “Don’t want to hear you complaining about how I’m scratching you up when I’m going down on you.”

She tsked. “Thanks a lot.”

“Anytime, Bird.” He closed his eyes again. Roman’s arm was still loosely curled around his shoulders, and it was almost like a hug.

A sudden jolt tugged at the inside of his ribs. He swallowed hard and didn’t speak, and for another long and oddly peaceful moment, they just sat together in the bathtub with his back pressed to her chest and her arm draped around him.

“I’ll shave your stupid whiskers for you,” she said quietly.

Her lips were close to his ear, and a little shiver traced down his spine at the nearness of her lips. A number of snarky replies darted across his mind, but he settled on an honest question instead.

“Why?” he said.

“Why what?” she asked.

“Why d’you want to shave my face for me?”

“I don’t — I didn’t say I want to. I just said I can.” She tensed behind him as though to push herself up from the bath.

Samson grabbed her wrist so she couldn’t get out. “Wait.”

“Let me go,” she snapped.

“Just wait, will you?” he insisted. “I want to ask you something.”

“What?” she said impatiently.

“You’re good at this,” he said. “This washing business, the hair, the back. Why is that?”

She tried to pull her wrist from his hand, but he tightened his grip and doggedly pressed on. “You said it wasn’t from helping with your brother and sister. So what, then?”

“Let me go. Now,” she hissed, and she bit the edge of his ear.

He yelped in surprise and released her, then watched resentfully as she stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel on her way out of the bathroom. Once she had disappeared into her bedroom, he settled against the back of the tub with a sigh.

He shouldn’t have said anything. He should’ve known better than to push her. He took a deep breath and submerged himself completely in the tub, then slowly rose to the surface and pushed his hair out of his face.

He opened his eyes, then recoiled slightly. Roman was standing there in her silk dressing gown, and she had an open barber’s razor in her hand.

“Get out,” she said, and she nodded her head at the stool beside her. “Sit here.”

He exhaled slowly, then stood up and stepped out of the bath. “You’re not going to slit my throat, are you?”

“For fuck’s sake, no,” she said in exasperation. “I know what I’m doing.”

He pursed his lips but didn’t contradict her. He quickly rubbed a towel through his hair, then wrapped it around his waist and sat down on her stool.

She draped a smaller towel over his shoulder. A minute later, she started lathering his face with shaving cream.

He jolted, and she squeezed his shoulder. “Sit still,” she scolded.

“It’s hot,” he complained. “Why is the shaving cream hot?”

“It’s supposed to be hot,” she retorted. “Just relax.”

Her tone was mocking. He scowled and closed his eyes, and Roman continued to blot his face with the hot shaving cream, and it was… all right, it was kind of nice once he got used to the feeling of it. But she could have warned him.

He inhaled the faintly astringent scent of the shaving cream as she dabbed it over his upper lip. Then Roman picked up her barber’s razor. “Tilt your head,” she said.

He did as he was told. Her fingers rested delicately on his cheekbone, and she began carefully shaving away his whiskers with careful little strokes of the barber’s blade.

She shaved part of his cheek, then wiped the blade on the towel on his shoulder before continuing to shave his skin. “I did this for my dad,” she said quietly.

He opened his eyes and glanced at her. She was looking at her hands, but her eyes flicked to his briefly before returning to her busy hands.

“He couldn’t do it himself?” Samson said.

“Not when he was sick, no.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sick?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He died of… we don’t know what. Some kind of illness that just made him waste away. He couldn’t breathe by the end.”

“That’s…” He trailed off awkwardly, then tried again. “Sounds rough, Bird. Sorry to hear it.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “You didn’t do anything.”

Her tone was flat and brusque. They were both silent for a moment. Then, against his better judgment, Samson spoke again. “Did you… wash his hair too?”

“Yes,” she said.

And his back? Samson wondered, but his gut was squirming with discomfort now – discomfort for her sake. He knew Malcolm Hawke had died when Roman was about twenty, and now to imagine a younger Roman giving her own sickly father a bath and a shave…

He shifted uncomfortably on the stool. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her shaving him now.

She tsked and squeezed his shoulder. “Sit fucking still, Samson. I mean it.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, you know,” he said. “I can do it myself.”

“I said to sit still,” she snapped. “Just let me do it.”

He pursed his lips, but he did as she bade him and sat there while her razor moved delicately across his face. Her fingers were uncharacteristically gentle, just as they were when she washed his hair or his back, but now he understood where her gentleness came from.

He decided to risk asking her another question, since she was being so strangely forthcoming. “Why didn’t your mum shave him?”

She let out a humourless little laugh. “She couldn’t. Too overwhelmed.”

“Your mum seemed to get overwhelmed a lot,” Samson remarked.

She huffed. Then a flicker of emotion crossed her face — a complex mixture of anger and guilt and distress that made his gut twist.

Her mother had just died yesterday. He was being an asshole. He sighed. “Roman, I — Maker’s balls. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “Stop apologizing.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t—”

“I said stop apologizing,” she barked. “You didn’t fucking do anything wrong.”

“All right, all right,” he said hastily, and for a while, he said nothing more. Roman continued to shave his face, and by the time she was done, there was a melancholy sort of softness to her frown that made his chest hurt.

She dampened another towel with hot water and carefully wiped the residual shaving cream from his face, then eyed him in silence. He rubbed his face — damn, it really did feel extra smooth — then lifted one eyebrow. “So? Do I look like a brand-new man?”

“Yeah, actually,” she said. Then she turned away. “Get dressed and come downstairs,” she said, and she left him alone in the bathroom.

He sat there for a moment, surprised and a little dismayed that she hadn’t taken the opportunity to take a dig at him. She really must be feeling fucked up.

He quickly threw on some of Carver’s clothes that she’d left on the bed for him, then padded downstairs. She was in the kitchen, and she was pouring rum into two shot glasses.

He huffed in amusement and leaned his elbow on the kitchen island. “It’s not even close to noon yet.”

“I don’t give a shit,” she said. She pushed one shot glass toward him, then nodded her head at the spread of food on the kitchen island. “Eat whatever you want.”

He eyed the food. There was a tureen of what smelled like lamb stew, a platter of fragrant cranberry-studded scones, and a plate of fat red grapes and sliced Ferelden cheese.

He smirked. “You made all this for me? That’s nice.”

She scoffed. “Fuck off. Orana and Bodahn did it.” She downed her shot of rum.

“You expectin’ company?” he said. He popped a grape in his mouth.

“Fuck no,” she said. “I’m not seeing anyone today.”

He paused in his chewing. “You’re not?” he said in surprise. There was no way her crew weren’t going to show up at some point today. Was she really not going to see them?

She wrinkled her nose and poured a second shot. “No way. I don’t need company. I’ve got this bottle of rum.”

He watched her warily. The bottle of rum in her hand was more than half-full, and she wasn’t looking at him. Was she planning to drink it all herself?

He remembered how spectacularly drunk she’d been last night. Probably, he thought. He quickly drained his shot glass and held it out to her. “Here’s to hoping you can share, then.”

She looked at him, and something flashed across her face — a look that tugged at his heart, but it was gone before he could fully register it. Then she shrugged and poured some more rum into his shot glass. “Sure. Whatever. Stay and eat if you want.” She drank her second shot and poured herself a third.

He nodded and drank his second shot, and Roman immediately poured him another, but instead of drinking it, he picked up a scone and offered it to her.

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Eat it,” he said. “You’ll last the day better if you have something in your belly.”

She scoffed. “You’re giving me lessons in drinking?”

“Think of it as passing on the family wisdom,” he said wryly.

She gave him a more serious look. “Your parents were drunks?”

“My dad,” he said. “Or my mum certainly thought so.” He shrugged and took a small bite of the scone. “He was probably no better or worse than your uncle, for what it’s worth.”

She harrumphed. “That’s not saying much.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He took another bite of the fresh scone, then held it out to her.

She gingerly took it from his fingers, then shot him a guarded glance. “Your parents are… they, uh. They died a long time ago, right?”

“That’s right,” he said.

She nodded and picked some crumbs from the scone. “How did they… what happened to them?”

Samson sighed and leaned both elbows on the counter. “My dad was done in during a work accident. He did odd jobs here and there, general labour stuff — sometimes building houses, sometimes working down at the docks. The job that killed ‘im was a construction job, I heard.” He shrugged and selected a piece of cheese. “My mum was right pissed. She thought he was drunk at the time.”

“Was he?” Roman said quietly.

“No idea,” Samson said. “Probably.”

“Didn’t get along with your dad, huh?” she said, and she drank her third shot.

“I barely knew ‘im, really,” Samson said. “He didn’t spend much time at home.”

“And your mom?” she asked.

He shot a pointed look at the scone in her hand. She rolled her eyes and took a bite, and Samson picked up his shot glass. “I knew my mum well,” he said. “Too well, really.”

“No, I meant did she get along with your dad,” Roman said. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

He smirked. “You got that already, eh? No, they weren’t on great terms.” He downed his third shot. Frankly, his mother had hated his father. His only memories of his parents together were memories of fights, whether those fights were furiously whispered arguments or full-out shouting matches. Samson’s father drank too much, he was never home, he was drunk whenever he was home, he drank away half of his weekly pay… His mother’s list of complaints was a never-ending diatribe that somehow only worsened after his father died.

Roman poured a fourth shot for them both. “What happened to her?”

“She got sick,” Samson said. He shot her a knowing look. “Doesn’t sound too different from what happened to your dad, actually. She got a cough that just kept getting worse. Then one day, she just stopped breathing.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Fuck. That’s… it’s shitty, isn’t it? Watching that happen and not being able to fucking fix it?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I wasn’t there.”

Her eyebrows jumped up. “You — where were you?”

“I was here in Kirkwall,” he said. “I couldn’t make it back to Starkhaven.”

“Why…?” She trailed off, and her face twisted with anger. “Oh fuck. Had the Templars already kicked you out by then?”

He nodded and sipped his shot. “I hadn’t the coin to go back. Haven’t been able to say my farewells or nothing.”

She exhaled. “Fuck. That’s… that’s fucking awful. Fucking Templar Order.”

He shrugged. In truth, even years after his mother’s death, he still fluctuated between terrible guilt and even more terrible relief for not being able to attend his mother’s funeral.

He finished his shot and changed the subject. “Why couldn’t you do anything about your dad?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean magic healing,” he said. “You couldn’t do that for your dad?”

Her frown deepened into a scowl. “I can’t, no. Advanced magic healing involves getting help from spirits, which is a stupid fucking idea when you do blood magic.”

“Oh,” he said in surprise. “It… that healing stuff uses spirits, eh? I never really thought about it.”

“I have,” she said. “A lot.” She downed her shot and poured another.

“You have?” he said.

She gulped down her fifth shot, then looked at him. “I started doing blood magic when I was seventeen or eighteen. My father taught me about it, actually.”

He stared at her. “Your dad taught you blood magic?”

“No, he taught me about it,” she said impatiently. “He told me to avoid it — of course he did, he was brought up in a fucking Circle. But he taught me the basic principles so I’d know how it works. And one of the principles is that if you do blood magic, you should avoid healing magic because mixing the two can make you more prone to possession, since advanced healing magic invokes spirits.”

He gazed at her in genuine surprise. “I didn’t… I didn’t think of that.”

“What, they didn’t talk about that in Templar training?” she said snidely.

He shook his head, and she snorted. “I’m not surprised. Something the Chantry doesn't know about? Of course they teach you to be scared instead of fucking learning about it.”

He held up a hand. “Hang on, I need another shot.”

She looked at him. “You need one? Why?”

“If we’re going to talk politics?” he said dryly. “You bet I need another bloody shot.”

She smirked, and his heart did a little hop at the rare sight of a near-smile on her face. She must be getting drunk.

“Fuck politics, then,” she announced. “You were saying something about your mom.” She poured him a fifth shot, spilling some rum on the counter in the process.

Definitely getting drunk, he thought in amusement. If his gently spinning head was anything to go by, though, she wasn’t the only one.

“Maybe I’d rather talk about the politics,” he said.

“Too bad,” she said. “Tell me about your mother.” She took a big bite of scone.

“My mother…” He sighed and picked up his overfull shot glass. “She wasn’t fond of me.”

Roman swallowed her bite of scone. “Not fond of you? Why not?” She bit into the scone again.

He shrugged. “She thought I was my dad all over again. A useless layabout.”

Roman paused, then swallowed her food and frowned at him. “She thought that?”

“Must have done,” he said casually. “She called me that often enough.”

“But you’re not a layabout,” Roman said.

He gave her a humourless little smile. “I’m a beggar, Bird. Ask anyone and they’d say I’m the perfect example of a layabout.”

“They’d be wrong,” she said in a hard tone. “You’re not fucking layabout. You’re always thinking about shit even when you look like you’re just sitting around. Listening to people, picking up their secrets to sell for later. That’s work. That is your work.”

He looked at her, stunned by her assessment. She wasn’t wrong, that was what he was always doing, but she considered that to be work?

A little unnerved by her generous impression of him, he shrugged and lifted his shot glass to his lips. “Maybe I was a lazy layabout when I was young. You don’t know.”

“I doubt it,” she said. “You joined the Templars when you were, what? Eighteen?”

He swallowed the rum and lowered his empty shot glass. “Yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound lazy to me.”

He toyed with his shot glass and didn’t reply. Again, she wasn’t entirely wrong; he and his mother desperately needed the money, and picking up the jobs that his dead father had left behind hadn’t been enough, so Samson had joined the Templars for the steady salary. But there was another more selfish reason that he’d joined the Templars, too.

He briefly considered not telling that reason to Roman. She was the only person who thought he had any value, and if he told her how selfish he was, maybe she’d start thinking he was a piece of shit like everyone else did.

But his drunken tongue was already wagging. “I didn’t exactly join the Templars because of my work ethic,” he said. “I joined them to get away from my mum.”

Roman shrugged. “Mm. That makes sense.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by her casual response. “You think so?”

She gave him a knowing look. “You’re not the only one with a disapproving mother. Or whose parents weren’t on the greatest terms.”

He stared at her. In a single breath, she’d just told him more personal information he’d ever heard from her mouth.

She’d never said outright that Leandra didn’t approve of her. And she’d never anything about her parents’ relationship before. Samson had always assumed her parents had a good marriage since her mum was always whining about Malcolm’s death.

But how could Roman’s mum not approve of her? Roman had gone to the deep roads and brought back a fortune. She’d reinstated the Amell name and bought back this bloody mansion, all for her mother’s sake. What was there for Leandra to disapprove of?

At a total loss for words, he grimaced. “Well… damn.”

“Yeah,” she said. She poured them both another shot, then lifted her shot glass. “To dead mothers.”

A snort of laughter escaped him. She was so fucking vulgar sometimes. He lifted his shot glass as well. “To dead mothers, all right.”

They downed their shots. Then Samson chuckled and shook his head.

She blinked at him blearily. “What?”

“Ah, just…” He chuckled again. “Having a drink in their memory. Seems like it’s the last thing they’d want.”

She raised her eyebrows, then leaned back against the kitchen island beside him. “Shit. You’re right. My mother was always fucking nagging me about going to the Hanged Man.”

“Mine was always nagging my dad about the booze, too,” he said.

Roman looked up at him, and his heart did a little flip: her plump lips were curved in a small smile. “The fucking irony, huh?” she said. “Drinking in their honour?”

“Er, yeah,” he said blankly. To be honest, he wasn’t really thinking about his mother anymore. He was too preoccupied with the unprecedented sight of Roman’s smile.

She was smiling. Roman was smiling, and her arm was pressed against his, and the front of her robe was gaping a little bit so he could see that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She snorted a little laugh, and Samson’s heart stopped. Had – had she just laughed?

She shook her head and folded her arms. “We’re honouring their memory by doing the thing they hate. That’s… that’s fucking funny.” She snorted again, then started laughing in earnest, and Samson gaped at her stupidly.

Roman Hawke was laughing. Not a little huff or a tiny smirk, but a real belly laugh, and – Maker’s balls, he couldn’t think. She was laughing and she was pressed against his side, and her robe was gaping wide enough that he could see the edge of her nipple, and his head was spinning with rum and disbelief and a sudden burn of lust, lust that only climbed higher as she suddenly reached out and curled her fingers into his shirt–

And then he was kissing her. Or she was kissing him. Or – fuck, he didn’t know who had kissed whom, but she was sucking on his tongue and he could taste the sharp sugary flavour of rum in her mouth.

Without breaking their kiss, he abruptly pinned her back against the kitchen island, then cupped her face in his palms and kissed her hard. She twisted her hands in his shirt, and he nipped her lips and stroked her tongue ruthlessly with his own, and with every excited beat of his heart, he realized something unbelievably odd: she was allowing the kiss.

Roman was letting him kiss her. Before now, she’d always bitten him (or tried to) whenever he kissed her. But now, at this moment of drunken desire, it seemed that her guard was down.

He groaned and pressed his hips to hers, riled beyond reason by the rare treat of her unabridged kiss. He devoured her lips and twisted his tongue with hers and savoured the rum-soaked taste of her breath, and meanwhile his fingers were tugging at the loose belt of her dressing gown and pulling it open and sliding over the angular planes of her ribs—

He palmed her bare little breast, and she broke their kiss with a convulsive gasp. “Fuck,” she whimpered.

“Do you want to?” he breathed, and he kissed her again.

Her muffled moan filled his mouth. He twisted her nipple until she was writhing, then eagerly pushed his hand into her smalls.

She gasped into his mouth, and he groaned with longing; she was already wet, her slick warmth coating his fingers as he ran them clumsily between her legs.

He pinned her against the counter and buried his face against her neck while he stroked her pussy. She was already bucking against his hand, gasping through her parted lips as though his clumsy drunken touch was actually pleasing her, and despite his alcohol-muddled mind, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

Feeling cocky now, he kissed her again and slid one finger inside of her at the same time. She cried out into his mouth and arched into his touch, then bit his tongue.

He grunted in pain, then pulled away from her kiss and grabbed her throat with his free hand. “Don’t bloody bite me,” he gasped. “Don’t – just let me…” He trailed off distractedly; her eyes were unfocused and feverish, and she was grinding hard against his hand.

That self-satisfied feeling of lust fanned out through his body. He squeezed her throat gently and curled his finger inside of her. “This is nice for you, is it?” he growled.

She gasped and nodded. Samson delved his finger inside of her for a moment longer, then pulled his finger free and circled it around her clit instead. “If I was licking you right now, it would feel extra nice since my face is all smooth,” he murmured in her ear. “No scratching or anything.”

She gasped and dug her nails into his chest through his shirt, and the faint hint of pain pushed his lust even higher. He petted her clit and nipped her neck, then pressed his lips to her ear again. “You’re going to come all over my hand, Bird,” he crooned. “And when you come, I’ll fuck you good and hard.”

“Why won’t you go down on me?” she demanded.

“I think I’m too drunk,” he admitted. “I can’t do a proper job of it.”

She scoffed. “Coward.”

He shot her an affronted look, then turned her head to the side and bit the side of her neck. She cried out and bucked against his hand, and he bit her once more before pressing his lips to her ear again.

“I’ll show you who’s a bloody coward later,” he hissed. “Now come on my fingers.”

“Don’t — ah — don’t tell me — what to — f-fuck, ah!” Her face twisted with pleasure, and then she was shuddering with rapture, her fingers gripping his shirt and her eyelids fluttering in the throes of her pleasure, and Samson vindictively enjoyed the sight of her climaxing on his hand exactly as he’d told her to do.

Without releasing her throat, he leaned in and kissed her again. When she parted her lips to bite him, he bit her lower lip instead.

She yelped in pain, then pushed his hand away from her throat and stared at him, and he smiled mockingly at her. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” he said.

She stared at him without speaking, and Samson watched delightedly as her expression became heated and intense. She suddenly reached down and rubbed her hand over his pulsing groin.

He gasped, and she started plucking at the laces of his trousers. “Fuck me,” she demanded. “Come on, fuck me now.”

“Where?” he panted. Frankly, he’d fuck her right here on the kitchen floor if she wanted, but somewhere slightly more comfortable would probably be… well, more comfortable.

She was clearly of the same mind. “Anywhere,” she blurted. “Anywhere, I don’t… there, the table.”

He blearily followed her gaze. There was a round table for four at the back of the kitchen, the sort of table that kitchen servants would sit at while eating their meals.

He looked at her. “You sure–”

She shoved her hand into his trousers and wrapped her fist around his cock. “Fuck me on the table,” she ordered.

Fuck, her hand was so warm and tight around his cock. “All right,” he blurted. “All right, all right.”

She released him and strode over to the table, then sat on the table and spread her legs. “Come on, get over here,” she said.

For a split second, he just stared at her. Her robe was splayed open, showing off the rosy peaks of her nipples, and her smallclothes were soaked with her own desire.

Damn, he thought stupidly. A second later, he was standing in front of her and pulling out his cock while shoving her legs wider with his other hand.

He pumped his fist along his length. “Pull your smalls to the side,” he grunted.

She reached for his cock. “Don’t tell me what to–”

He grabbed her wrist. “Bird, just bloody do what I ask for once,” he said in exasperation. He shoved her hand down between her own legs. “Pull them to the side, come on.”

She finally did as he’d asked, hooking her fingers into the fabric between her legs and pulling it aside, and Samson stared greedily at her slickness, dizzy with booze and desire and his own good fortune.

He braced one hand on the table and thrust into her, and they both gasped at the desperately-needed joining of their bodies. Samson grabbed her hip and tilted her closer to the edge of the table, then thrust into her again and dipped his head low to take her nipple in his mouth, and then he was fucking her fast and suckling her nipple at the same time.

She bucked her hips to meet him. “Harder,” she gasped.

He wasn’t sure what she meant. Fuck her harder, or suck her nipple harder? He supposed he had better do both just to be safe.

He dug his fingers into her ass and bit her nipple and slammed into her, and she cried out and arched her spine toward him. Spurred on by her obvious pleasure, he sucked her nipple hard, then released her breast and sank his teeth into the juncture of her shoulder and her neck, and all the while he was slamming into her in a hard and driving rhythm, driving his own insistent pleasure higher with every frenzied thrust.

He dragged his tongue along her neck and bit her throat, and she whimpered. “F-fuck,” she gasped. “I — I kind of miss your scratchy whiskers.”

He burst out a rasping little laugh. “You’re such a contrary bitch.”

“Shut up,” she panted. “Bite me again.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said mockingly, and he slammed himself in deep again.

She cried out, then released the crotch of her smalls and clawed at his shoulder, sending a delicious streak of pain across his skin. “Come on, come on, I want you to bite me!”

He stopped thrusting and reached down to pull the crotch of her smalls out of the way. “For Maker’s bloody sake,” he complained, and he thrust into her again before biting her breast.

She sobbed and slid her fingers into his hair, but to his surprise, she didn’t pull or scratch his scalp. She was still bucking her hips like a wanton little wildcat, but her fingers were oddly gentle in his hair and on his neck, curving around the back of his neck and gripping him without digging in, and for some reason, the gentleness of her hand was making his heart pound.

He dragged in a breath, then cradled her neck firmly in his free hand and pressed his forehead to hers as he fucked her. Her lips were an inch from his and he could feel the rum-scented heat of her breath across his lips, but he didn’t try to kiss her; he just fucked her in a hard driving rhythm with his forehead pressed to hers and her slender kiss-bruised neck cradled in his palm.

“I’m going to come soon, Bird,” he grunted.

“I know,” she gasped.

He stroked her jawline with his thumb. “I’m — I’m going to fill you with my come so it soaks into your smalls.”

She nodded eagerly, and her lips brushed against his. “I know, I know, just do it,” she moaned.

He breathed hard, dizzy and breathless from the nearness of her mouth. His orgasm felt like it was ready to burst from his skin, and her mouth was so close to his, barely a hairsbreadth away, what if — what if he, while he was coming, what if he – would she bite him if he kissed her? But fuck, he really wanted to…

His climax suddenly burst. Reckless and overcome with pleasure, Samson kissed her while he came. He thrust into her and hungrily stroked her tongue with his, and — oh Maker, Maker’s balls, Roman was licking his tongue and kissing him back.

For the second time today, possibly the second time ever, she was actually allowing him to kiss her, and her fingers were running through his hair in a smooth caress, and his heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was trying to escape his rib cage altogether.

He petted the back of her neck and slanted his mouth firmly over hers. Then Roman gripped his hair and pulled him away.

He stared breathlessly at her flushed and frowning face. His cock was still pulsing with the tail-end of his rapture, and his entire body felt like it was tingling and floating, and… Maker’s fucking balls, he’d never felt this way before. He felt stunned but euphoric, as though he’d been struck in the head but in a good way, even though that made no bloody sense.

Must be drunker than I thought, he told himself. He released her neck, then slowly pulled out of her and tucked his cock back into his trousers. “Where’s… um, your household staff. Bodahn and the others. Are they…?” He trailed off awkwardly. Damn, he should have thought of this before he’d shoved his hand into her smallclothes.

Roman adjusted her smalls and slid off of the table. “They’re here somewhere.”

“Oh,” he said. He scratched the back of his head and guiltily eyed the table. “Should we, er…”

“Yeah,” she said. “They already think I’m an asshole, though, so this doesn’t change anything.” She retied her robe, then pushed past him to get a wash rag and some soap from the kitchen sink. She wet the rag in hot water and lathered it up, then stumbled back over to the table and started wiping it down.

Samson watched her for a moment before speaking. “You’re not an asshole, Bird. Not always.”

She shot him a disparaging look. “Yes I am,” she said. She turned back to the table and continued to clean it, and as he watched her scrubbing the table as though she was doing penance, he was struck by a weird urge to walk up behind her and wrap her in his arms.

Don’t be stupid, he thought. She would shove him away if he tried.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and folded his arms. When Roman finished washing the table, she rinsed the table with hot water and wiped it dry, then wandered over to him.

She leaned against the opposite counter and folded her arms too. “Well? Are you leaving now?”

His belly dropped with disappointment. “Do you want me to leave?” he said.

She shrugged and brushed a stray piece of lint off of her sleeve. “I don’t care. Do what you want.”

He studied her carefully, then lifted his chin. “What if I said I’m staying here tonight?”

She shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.”

“And if I wanted to take a piss in your fancy bathtub?” he taunted.

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be fucking disgusting.”

He huffed in amusement. “How about…” He nibbled the inside of his cheek, then took a chance. “What if I said I was staying here for the rest of the week so I can sleep in your fancy bed?”

She eyed him for a second, then looked away. “Stay if you want. I don’t care.”

I don’t care. She was always saying this, and it was so fucking frustrating.

He reached out and tugged her arm, and she stumbled toward him. “Hey, don’t pull,” she complained.

He ignored her complaint and dragged her against his chest. “What if I said I’m going to sleep here from now on so I can have my way with you whenever I get the urge?”

She stubbornly folded her arms, but Samson noted that she didn’t try to pull away — and that her cheeks were turning pink. “Good luck with that, you cocky asshole,” she retorted.

“Roman,” he said seriously. “Do you want me to stay?”

Her cheeks were red now, and she was positively glowering at him. “It’s — whatever. Stay if you want. I told you, I don’t care what you do.”

He sighed loudly. “You’re a bloody pain in the arse,” he complained, and he kissed her.

She nipped his lip, then pushed him away. “I’m going back upstairs,” she said. “Eat what you want. Or bring something upstairs with you, whatever.” She strode toward the kitchen door without looking at him, and he watched with a mixture of fondness and frustration as she walked away.

Once she was gone, he leaned his elbows on the kitchen island and popped a piece of cheese in his mouth. Bloody Bird, he thought. She was like a tornado, pulling him in a hundred different directions at once with her anger and her defensiveness and her constant cursing. But then there were these moments of peace and stillness with her — moments where she was just a little bit soft, when her hands were tender and her voice was calm. Those moments when they were sitting together in silence, or having a drink and a chat, or lying in her bed in the aftermath of their torrid sex: those moments were precious, more precious than any moment he’d ever had with any other person in his life, and in those fragile moments, Samson knew, deep down, what this really was.

He knew what this was, even though he’d never had it before or felt it in this way for anyone else. He knew what this was, and at some level, beneath Roman’s sneering words and her whatevers and her I-don’t-cares, he was sure that she knew what it was as well.

He’d be damned if he would be the one to say it, though. He’d made a damned fool of himself enough times in his life, thanks very much.

He slowly ate another piece of cheese. When he was finished, he went to the cupboard and took out a large plate, then piled the plate with scones and cheese and fruit.

“She’d better eat this,” he muttered to himself. With that threatening thought, Samson left the kitchen and went to join Roman in her bedroom.

#samson #raleigh samson #samson/hawke #samson x hawke #romanson #pikapeppa writes

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lucidpantone · 3 years

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Druck is objectively better than all remakes at making a pointed effort to do better with their pic reps. They actually take in the feedback of their audience and try to execute a better product. There are problems with druck and 80% of it is the fandom. Ofc all remakes have issues tho, so ppl should chill. Druck fans unapologetically shit on other remakes while, wtfock fans and skam fr fans have the courtesy of slyly getting their digs in there. It's quite amusing to watch from the sidelines

this is super long but for you anon.

So I think we need to look at these three remakes as what I call the og period and the original period because they do change alot once they get more freedom some for the absolute worse. Ok so lets talk first about the OG periods. To be perfectly honest s1 in all these remakes are just ok. Jana & Jens are a bit unbearable but Jana as a whole is fine and am happy she doesnt end up with Jens. Same with Hanna and Jonas they aren’t unbearable per-say but I am also not gushing over them but I do like Jonas being a heart throb music man sometimes but once again they dont burn into my core but am happy they reunite. Love Emma and love Yann just not together its that simple. S2 is where we really start to see the difference. Charles is the devil so I hate skamfr s2 and like really Manon stays with him??? ughh why?? Daphne is right at almost bursting into laughter when he talks about doing philanthropy. Ok bruh....sure. Winterberg is fine I dont hate them and I dont love them they are just okay to me. S2 happens to be wtfock best season so its kinda hard to stack them up because this is the best they ever looked. All of the s3 for all these remakes are good. To say they aren’t would just be nonsense some are better then others but all are above average. Now S4....... well well well. What can we say the elusive goldstar Sana season is yet to be made (I will say the script for Italia s4 is fantastic, THE SCRIPT).

Skamfr s4 was a mess and ridiculous and Druck’s s4 was lazy and harbored accents of prejudice all over it.Both seasons undercut their woc and both miss the opportunity to write deep meaningful stories that explored the societal struggles of muslim women. Skamfr s4 just happened to really just shows us their colors but honestly am not shocked this is skam the micro racist decisions are all over the verse. TBD on yasmina season.

NOW......this all changes when we talk about the original seasons because this is when we see the shows on their own and also we get to see if they have been listening and absorbing the fan commentary or not. So let’s get the obvious out of the way wtFOCK was an absolute mess and maybe the worse season ever created in the skamverse the only thing that made that season even slightly bearable was the Moyo arc which I hear it actually continues in s5 so in a weird way s4 is actually about Moyo since his story continues but we already know thats only because if the fans saw Kato on the screen for a matters of seconds the volcano of hate would explode. I despise how Noa has become the pseudo main of s4 but didnt get the credit. It kills me they did this to him. Maining Romi is the worse mistake ever made by any remake and thats just fact. Now do I want to see a newgen out of wtfock? hmmmm ask me after s5 but am leaning towards probably not but am on the fence. Now skamfr .....let me say this one thing skam fr is nothing without their cast. Talk about fucking talent. Those kids can act their ass off but their writing is atrocious. s5 could have been good they had all the ingredients but the writers bomb it. S6 once again flavie amazing the writing a shit show. S7 lucie was amazing the writing was better but still needs work I think it pretty obvious skam fr is going to step into the thunderdome and finally do what no skam has done before and main bilal but should I really applaud it taking 8 seasons and 35 plus skamverse seasons to get here??? Probably not, but since no one else is gonna pull the trigger I wish them well and at least skamfr listen and lamifex is super rich in diversity and they are honestly a fabulous newgen. They are such a ridiculous squad but god I love them and Jo is an angel. Please please skamfr please write a good story for a brown boy I beg of you!!! Now druck s5 all I can say is Bravo!! If skamfr is their cast then Druck is their writers. That s5 season is a fucking beast. Thats how you write an original skam season. They also listen the cast is super diverse. The girl squad feels natural and their age I actually like that the insta squad are problematic as fuck and happen to be queer. Like just cause your a gay baby doesnt mean you arent an ass. s6 for me personally was ok maybe its unfair of me but I expect amazing writing out of druck and s6 to me was not their best. It could have been amazing they touched so many topics but never deeply explored them and I wanted more for fatou. Also def got the vibes at the end they were panicking on who to main next season so everyone got a little plot thread but that also distracted me from fatou but I love the Mailin plot it was really smart and done well. I didnt hate her but boy did she bug the shit out me.That how you write modern day racism and white privilege. I just wish Ava’s plot was spread more onto fatou they were moments but i wanted more. So I guess I do think out of the original seasons druck s5 is the best. Nora being white didnt matter because she was written well but i do think Tiff being the main out of skamfr wasnt the best choice but then seeing Lucie act am like ok i get it but honestly I expect that from that cast they can all kill it so why not let someone else be the main and not tiff. BTW druck’s cast is good too I just dont think they are as good as the skamfr cast on the acting front but they are some members that are very very good. Like you said because Druck does listen I hope they listen to the honest criticism of s6. I know some people are like its the best ever but like its not....am sorry s5 was way better then s6 and that makes me sad because i want my black girl magic.... I do expect s7 to be good because when the writers for druck have the room to take their time they always kill it but I also feel like they are about to pull a Tiff on us and main Ismail(plus constantine as the side plot) but if I trust anyone with not fucking it up its them. Concerning the fandoms I live off tag and I do that for a reason. The fandom tags are alot but the druck one is almost hostile and honestly you would love the show more if you didnt interact with it. The skamfr tag is hilarious because they are no anti’s its just a bunch of arm chair critics making memes at how ridiculous the frenchies are but in away it makes the remake super fun because no one cares anymore. The wtfock tag has really high highs and really insane lows. When its low its really low so I have decided to live off tag. For those who haven’t..... god speed. Your brave souls!!

#lucidpantone anons #super long read but enjoy #excuse the million typos

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queenofgotham800 · 4 years

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Little-Big Fights (3-3)

(Roman Sionis x Reader)

Warnings:Gramatical Errors, Swearing, Blood, Hospital, Bit of OOC Roman, Angst

(A/n): I want to thank you all, for reading this story and voting, or rebloging the last chapter. It really means a lot to me. 💜

Part-1 Part-2 Part-3

You took a deep breath and the finger on the trigger moved, you turned the gun at his leg and heared the shot. It didnt killed him, but he backed up, screaming and his weight started to pull him down from the pier...

In second, that Roman slowly started dissapearing behind the edge, you ran to him, laying on cold and ground. With one hand, you caught his arm and with second; the hurted one, you caught iron railing of the pier, hoping you won't fall down with him. Storm, strong wind and rain didn't made it easier for you.

"Please don't let me fall," he was scared, looking in yours (y/c) eyes.

"I won't." you shouted to Roman, trying to pull him up. The view was scary enough for you, so when Roman started to turn his head down you mumbled, "No, no, no, don't look down honey." He didn't listen and looked underneath, just to see sharp iron debris, sticking dangerously from pier. His eyes widen from increased fear. You didn't even realized you called him honey. Since it was raining and your arm was in pain, his hand started to slowly slip from yours. He was also too heavy for you, and you couldn't pull him up without help. Roman saw the fear in your eyes, frowned and looked down again.

"(Y/n), you need to let me go!" he shouted through the wind. You didn't listen him, still trying to pull him up.

"Seriously, I don't want to pull you down with me." he said and you tightened the grip around his arm.

"No, I can't. I rather fall down with you," you felt how you slowly started to lose the strenght in arm. Roman smirked, "I always loved your stubbornness, but this is not the right time for it (y/n). Just close your eyes and let me go," Roman said while looking in your eyes fulled with tears. You were not ready for this. You were slowly letting him go, not becouse you wanted, but becouse you didn't had the strenght to hold him anymore.

Then you felt somebody kneeling next to you.

"Uh, can I help or is it personal?" Harley asked. When you heared her voice you sighed in relief, "Help would be appreciated now..."

"Romy I know, you just tried to kill my friend, but it seems that my other friend is in love with you," Harley started to speak to Roman and she gave him her hand. "I am not!" you said when you knew that Roman is safe as Harley started to pull him back on pier. "You are. Yeah, at first you shot him, which means that you wanted revenge, you got your revenge. And if you weren't in love with him, you would let him fall," Harley smiled and you frowned. Roman was already laying on pier and he screamed when you touched his leg. "And of course, Mister Queef Richards loves you too," Harley said and you lifted eyebrows as you heard the nickname. "Who?" you asked and watched Harley laugh, pointing at Roman. "Oh.." you mumbled, looking at his wounded leg. "I mean, he has your ring, he didn't wanted to pull you down with him. I would never ever thought that this man can love, but you," Harley made a dramatical pause, catching your shoulder, "you have such a nice personality, that you are changing him to better person," she smiled at you, pulling you to hug. "Thank you," you said, "Thank you so much," you smiled.

"I think you should check on him," Harley said and then you turned back to look at Roman who held his leg in panic. You walked to him, still keeping some distance.

"Thank you.." Roman frowned and mumbled.

"You don't have to thank me, I did it for my friend (y/n)," Harley said and dissapeared with Cassandra Cain-who watched all this from distance- in fog.

After weird quiet of staring at eachother wounds you asked, "Did the bullet came through? Or is it still there?"

"It looks like it came through," Roman said and groaned in pain.

You kneeled down to him, "Give me your shirt."

"What?" he asked and put down his suit. "I need to stop the bleeding," you said with serious expresion and he nodded. You didn't saw his body whole month, but you could say he gained bit of weight. This month you just fighted eachother, had big arguments over little things or big things. This moment was a welcomed change for you both, even when Roman was bleeding.

You took his shirt, pushing it to the wound, pulling out your old phone.

"What are you doing?" asked Roman, "I am calling ambulance," you said, refusing to look at his blue eyes. He tried to take your phone from your hand.

"And what are you doing?" you asked, pulling it away from his reach.

"I don't want to live without you. I can't live without you," he said and you tilted your head in disbelief. "No, just stop. You can't be like this," you scolded him and then sighed, "I'm gonna call the ambulance, there is no way that i am letting you die, after saving your life."

"(Y/n), please," Roman cried and you didn't knew if its becouse of the wound in leg or in his heart.

"No!" you shouted. After calling ambulance, you could not stand the fact, that he is crying and you hugged him. "Just stop crying, you know I hate to see you like that," you pulled him closer and he burried his face in your shoulder. "She was right," Roman mumbled and you pulled him away, "Who?" you asked. "Quinn. When she said I love you," Roman said, holding your cheek.

"Why..Why are you doing this to me," you said through tears, "Just one day without you and you nearly killed yourself. I dont want to think about things that would happen if I weren't here." you caught his hand on your cheek. "You probably wouldn't get shot, I am sorry and I quite understand why you shot me," he looked on your arm, worried. "I am so sorry, (Y/n)."

You lifted his chin and looked at bruises on his face, some of them were still bleeding.

"Please, I'll stop flirting with others, just please come back. I need you so much," Roman said and put down ring from the chain. "I..I..Roman, I mean, are you sure? This month we were just arguing. I love you so much, but I can't be with you, if you don't like my presence," you said, looking on the ring.

"I am sorry for this month, (y/n), for everything. I didn't gave you my attention, i was mean to you... I fully deserve this," Roman pointed at his leg. You took a deep breath, you never saw him sad like this and it was breaking your already broken heart. "I.. forgive you then," you said, taking the ring slowly from his shaken hand. When you had it on finger, you smiled through the tears and Roman kissed you and hugged you again.

Sun was rising, but rain was still falling down on Gotham.

"I love you so much," Roman whispered in your ear, and you felt how his hands felt down and he felt down too, laying on the cold pier with closed eyes.

Last thing he saw was the sunshine in your eyes. Your beautifull eyes fulled with tears. Your voice screaming his name. He didn't felt the pain going through his leg. Everything was calm and dark... "(Y/n)..." he whispered

Then, he saw light. Lights were flickering against his face. He was still alive, slowly breathing, but still alive. Then Roman closed his eyes again.

He heared you, singing a familiar somg to him, felt your hand tangled in his hairs.

"(Y/n)?" Roman said, and he was surprised how weirdly his voice sounded. You smiled at him, giving him cup with water. "Roman, honey," you caught his hand and sighed in relief, "How are you feeling?" After that, Roman remembered at his leg, looking down to it.

"It hurts," he said touching the cast. "I am sorry, i didn't meant to shoot you that badly," you said.

"No, dont be sorry," Roman mumbled and sat on hospital bed.

"Doctor said you have to have it like two months maybe..." you sat next to your husband.

"Two months? Wait what does it mean?" Roman looked on you, concerned.

"Well, it means you have to rest. I will take care of you," you said giving him kiss on cheek.

"Oh, i would like that," Roman smiled.

You missed this version of him. Of course, he could be brutal and cruel, but he could be also soft, but only for you. You cupped his face, which was still bruised and covered in blood, since doctors refused to clean him. Either they were afraid of him or they hated him.

"Doctor also said you can go, when you wake up. Honestly, I just want to go, hospital is bringing me some old memories which I would like to forget," you said and Roman wanted to get down from bed, but you stopped him. "No, no, no, wait here, don't move," you said and ran outside his room for something. "Where do you think i would go?" he smirked. Alone, in that room he was afraid too, but then you came back with wheelchair.

"Looks like I've got new driver after all," Roman smiled and you helped him to sit there.

1 month later, Black Mask Club

You were standing in middle of the club, dressed in fancy dress looking on guests dancing under stage, having fun. At first if was hard to take care of the club, but you somehow managed it. After that, you came upstairs to Roman. His leg was slowly healing, but he was still in wheelchair.

"Hey babe," you came into dining room, where he sat, reading newspapers.

"Hello, how are you cutie," asked Roman, while giving you soft kiss.

"Good and so is the club," you said pulling the wheelchair to bedroom.

"I have some news," Roman said while you helped him to dress up to his pajamas. "Tell me then," you smiled and opened wardrobe to find yours too. "I sold the warehouse, there was just lots of ugly memories and..." he didnt finished the sentence becouse you kissed him.

"I have some news too," you smiled and caught his hand, slowly placing it onto your belly.

"Wait.. I.. I am.. I am going to be a father?" he asked, cupping your cheeks. "I am going to be father," Roman laughed and kissed you. That night, you were both cuddling thinking about the name for baby.

#ewan mcgregor #black mask #the black mask bop #the black mask #black mask x reader #Roman sionis #roman sionis x oc #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #birds of prey #ewan mcgregor fanfiction

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mobius-prime · 4 years

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221. Sonic the Hedgehog #153

Oh god, is Sonic, like… okay? Is he all right up there? What horrific manner of trouble did he get himself into this time to have his face become deformed like that? Also, I like how this cover implies that Sonic is being hunted down by someone shooting lasers or something, when literally nothing even close to the sort happens within the issue. I know it's perhaps getting a bit stale to point out every time the cover art doesn't reflect the stories inside, but dammit, it makes me laugh so I'm gonna keep doing it.

Songoose (Part 1 of 2)

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Jason Jensen

Eggman has a new agenda to enact. He's offered Nack the Weasel a large sum of money in exchange for assassinating someone very important within Knothole, and despite Nack's apparent reservations about waltzing into a place where he's wanted for quite a few crimes, he seems pretty jazzed to accept the offer nonetheless. Within Knothole, Sally has arranged a mock battle training exercise between the Freedom Fighters and the Chaotix to strengthen team bonding and combat skills, and oversees the training along with General D'Coolette, discussing the various combatants' strengths and weaknesses.

Uh oh, that doesn't sound good. In fact, at that moment they get a call from the king and queen, still halfway around the world, and apparently the king is also exhibiting similar symptoms to the general, prompting Sally to muse on whether their illnesses are related. She wonders if they should cut their trip short and return home, something which the king is against but the queen tentatively supports, but the conversation is interrupted when suddenly, the general seizes up and then collapses onto the ground. That's… probably not a good sign. Worse still, "Antoine" doesn't even seem to care, though of course we know why.

So this is actually a plot point that's kept up throughout a lot of subsequent issues - apparently, Tails' crush on Fiona is still going strong, despite the fact that he literally "fell in love" with a robot duplicate of her which had nothing in common with the real her. It's honestly a very weird detail to seize upon, as while Fiona being a real person and a unique character in her own right is interesting, and the fact that she's joined the Freedom Fighters even more so, Tails trying to like… flirt with her and become her boyfriend is just a bizarre place to take it, especially considering the age difference. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know it's not uncommon for a kid to end up with a crush on an older teenager, but multiple writers from here on out write Tails as being actually infatuated with her and unable to "let her go" after her robot duplicate broke his heart. It just doesn't feel like Tails to me and it's frustrating, to say the least. But anyway, moving on, everyone agrees it's a good idea to go to Mina's concert tonight and disperse. Sonic catches up to Fiona and tries to explain that Tails looks up to her, but she just makes a snarky comment about Sonic being one to talk about respect given how he acted the other day towards her - yeah, apparently he still hasn't told everyone that it was his evil double flirting with all the girls. Also, we never actually saw Evil Sonic come on to Fiona before, but I guess it just happened offscreen. She then admits to him that she hated him for a long time for leaving her behind in Robotnik's prison camp all those years ago, but changed her mind after seeing him sacrifice himself for the planet during the Xorda invasion, making her realize that he never left her behind on purpose. Aww, that's actually nice! Fiona has the potential to be a really interesting and complex character, and, well, honestly she's one of my favorites of the later comics, so I'm glad to see her getting more screentime.

That night, Sonic and the others show up backstage at the venue to give Mina a friendly pep talk before her show. She hugs Sonic, thanking him for the encouragement, and Ash immediately becomes very jealous and butts in to remind everyone that he's Mina's boyfriend and band manager and that she needs to go to the stage now, prompting a clueless Sonic to wonder what his problem is. However, Mina's performance actually kind of reveals that Ash has a good reason to be suspicious of her interactions with Sonic, as the sappy, lovey-dovey lyrics of her songs all reference the color blue in various ways, and are clearly influenced by her previous infatuation with Sonic. But things aren't as happy and peaceful as they seem, as a suspicious figure lurks in the crowd…

So Mina was Eggman's target, huh? Strangely enough, Nack, with a totally clear shot to the stage, misses and hits a tree several feet above and to the side of Mina. Like, it's not even played off as "oh, he was trying to make the tree fall on her, or someone bumped his elbow" or something - he just straight up misses for no reason, sets the tree on fire with the blast, and then tries to make a run for it. Some assassin you are, especially considering your alternate name is Fang the Sniper! Sonic, Bunnie, and Ash immediately race onstage to check on the startled but unharmed Mina, and Bunnie focuses on putting the fire out while Sonic races after Nack, catching and knocking him out easily. Nack wakes up hours later in Knothole's jail, where Sally and Sonic attempts to question him on his motives, and he decides to be all flippant and act like it's no big deal that he was caught, as he'd rather spend some time in prison than ruin his "cred" by giving up the name of his employer. I'm sorry, Nack, but what freaking cred are you even talking about? Like what, are you gonna go around telling prospective employers that your skill set includes missing a target forty feet away, setting a random tree on fire, and then immediately getting arrested? Sally merely points to the cell across from him, where he's quite perturbed to see the three other weasel associates who helped him kidnap her a year ago, and she invites him to go ahead and spend his time in jail sharing space with them after he knowingly left them to take the fall for his failed plan. Of course, he spills the beans on Eggman immediately.

Well… I suppose that's not even out of character for Eggman, considering his original counterpart also hated music. Sally decides to assign Sonic as Mina's personal bodyguard for now, while the other Freedom Fighters keep an eye out at the next night's concert to make sure nothing comes near Mina. Ash isn't pleased at all with Sonic being close to his girl, and stomps off, with a bemused Sonic commenting to Mina that he's pretty sure her boyfriend doesn't like him. Gee, what gave you that idea, Sonic? Sally's caution is warranted, however, as back in New Megaopolis we see Eggman preparing his next plan of attack in the wake of Nack's abysmal failure - he's rebuilt Heavy and Bomb, and is ready to sic them on Mina! Man, it's been a while since we saw those guys, huh? Now that I think about it, after they got reprogrammed by Eggman before, Sonic just kind of straight up killed them when they tried to attack the royal family, and no one seemed upset about it at all. Well, maybe with them back, they'll get a chance to be freed and find redemption… or maybe the writers still don't care and they'll get fridged again. Guess we just gotta wait and see!

Fairy Tale (or the Adventures of Pirate Sally)

Writer: Romy Chacon Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Josh Ray

Wow, it's been quite some time since we last had a "telling a bedtime story based on real events in the storyline to kids" episode, huh? Apparently, Rosie's three young charges have caught a bad cold, and as she brings them medicine to try to help them sleep they all start begging for her to tell them a story. She's reluctant, claiming she's not good at stories, but relents when they persist in asking. She invents a magical world of pirates and wizards, where the "Elfen Fox" falls onto "Pirate Sally" and "B-Bot's" ship, having had one of his two magical tails stolen by the "Rogue Assassin," who doesn't really live up to her name if all she's doing is going around stealing things. Man, what is it with wildly ineffective assassins this issue? Pirate Sally and B-Bot decide to help out the fox, and along the way meet their new allies Ant the Foole and the Blue Knight, who help them defeat various baddies based on the main villains of the comic's storyline. Finally, they make it to the Evil Wizard Kintobor's lair, whom they fight against as a team and help the Elfen Fox take back his missing tail.

I actually love this story, entirely because of the way the kids just start roasting Rosie's storytelling skills as soon as the whole thing is over. Hey, look on the bright side Rosie - now that they're preoccupied with coming up with a way to fix your terrible story, they won't be pestering you for more anytime soon!

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 153 #writer: karl bollers #writer: romy chacon #pencils: ron lim #pencils: art mawhinney #colors: jason jensen #colors: joshua d ray

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ludi-ling · 6 years

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(Just a little Valentine’s day Romy fanfic with accompanying fanart done during my commute today. Happy Valentine’s!

PS: It’s set after the current Rogue & Gambit miniseries. Even if I don’t know what the hell is gonna happen in it XD).

***Valentine’s Day***

She didn't often take time out.

There was always something occupying her, teaching or superheroing or mentoring or shopping or organising or hanging out with friends... Training and sparring and conferring with teammates over strategy, policy, PR and legal issues… And then tied up with that was study, keeping up with case law, preparing the classes she'd taken, marking assignments and doing student benchmarking...

Really. It'd been a long, long time since she'd had some downtime, since she'd found a moment to wind down. Honestly, she was wound up so tight these days, she was beginning to fear she was on the verge of losing it.

"Take some time off," Kitty had said to her. "Go on vacation."

And she'd scoffed and said:

"But I'm needed here."

"Rogue," Kitty had said in that headmistress voice she was becoming so accomplished at using, "you're no good to us on the verge of a mental breakdown. You need some time to relax, to reset yourself. When was the last time you took a holiday?"

She'd stared blankly at the wall. For the life of her she couldn't remember.

"See?" Kitty had piped up pointedly. "Look. Take a break. Go somewhere nice. Somewhere you can relax. Bermuda. The Seychelles. I went to Lisbon last summer. It was gorgeous. And everyone speaks awesome English. You'll love it!"

She'd frowned. Somehow she didn't feel she was allowed to relax. How messed up was that?

"I dunno, Kit-Kat..."

"Rogue," came the severe reply, "Go. That's an order."

"Oh yeah? Or what?"

"Or I tell Gambit you need some time off, and get him to book you both on a dirty weekend away."

Well, that had sealed the deal. She stomped off in a huff, and once she’d got back to her room, she booked herself some holiday. Three days – not too long, but enough to keep Kitty from making good on her threat.

A few days later and here she was.

Valle Soleada, standing in front of the house Irene had left her.

It was a long time since she'd been here. She'd half considered selling it, or renting it out, but for some reason she never had. Standing here, on this lazy California beach with the sun pounding down on her, she was reminded why. There were few places she'd truly felt at ease, at peace. Some of the happiest moments of her life had taken place here, moments that now seemed so bittersweet. It was that bittersweetness that had made her reluctant to return, that had kept her away so long. But now... She was glad she was back. She felt liberated, free from all the cares and responsibilities that came with all the superheroics that were her business.

She gave a little smile to herself and walked the wooden steps up to the veranda. She felt in the pocket of her denim cut-offs for the keys and unlocked the door. When she stopped inside the vestibule she was surprised at how fresh and inviting everything seemed. She paid a maid to come and take care of the place every week, just to keep it in a liveable condition, with the intention of spending more time here than she actually did. She didn't regret the decision now.

She dumped her bags in the hallway and immediately went straight out the back door and onto the beach. A warm sea breeze hit her, the sound of the waves washing over the shore a glorious soundtrack that she realised she'd missed. How many times had that sound lulled her to sleep at night as she'd lain in the warmth of his embrace?

She half frowned, half smiled. The memories were pleasant yet... irritating. Irritating because they were so damn perfect, and she'd been stupid enough to let perfection go.

Things change, gal, she told herself sternly. But some things didn't, and trying to make sense of the stew left behind was something she'd never been particularly good at.

She gave a sigh and headed back indoors. She was wondering now whether she could brave heading into certain areas of the house, but she figured she was a big girl and if she didn't face this now she never would.

So she picked up her bags and climbed the stairs up to the bedroom, and gently opened the door.

She'd slept in here once since they'd left. She'd taken some time out after the whole Legacy thing, trying to re-orientate herself. After one night she'd moved to one of the guest bedrooms, finding the ghost of his presence a distraction from the purpose of her visit. It hadn't changed much since then. The maid did a great job keeping everything dust and dirt free. A light fragrance filled the air and she realised her housekeeper had left a cute little bowl of pot pourri on the dresser. She laid her bags down on the bed and peered into the closet. Her leathers were still hanging up in there, and she gave a wry grimace. Somehow, it felt like a different person had worn them.

She wasn't sure where his old X-Treme uniform was. She'd definitely seen him wearing the boxing boots once or twice since, but the rest...

She shook her head and closed the closet, moving on.

The curtains were closed and so she went on over and opened them up, throwing the window open too while she was at it. The room was suddenly filled with light and air and the scent of the sea, and she breathed it in with relish.

That was when she heard a sound. Floorboards creaking down the corridor.

Her senses were immediately alert, and she crossed the room back to the door, the adrenaline kicking in, her muscles getting ready for a fight. The footsteps were suddenly right outside the door, and she was just about to yank it open when it swung right open and slammed into the wall with a bang.

She gaped.

In the doorway was Remy LeBeau.

"R-Remy?!" she exclaimed ; and she might've believed this was all just a dream until he cried in exactly the same tone of voice:

"Rogue!"

"I thought you were in intruder!" they both said at the same time, which shut them up for a few seconds.

She glared at him. Standing there in sweatpants and a T-shirt with bleary eyes and a bedhead. It was clear she'd literally just woken him up.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him testily, cross that he'd spoiled her vacation yet again.

"On vacation," he answered in an equally sour tone - he was probably thinking the exact same thing.

"So am I," she huffed. "And this is my house."

"So?" he grumbled. "I got here first. Got everything unpacked and I stocked up the fridge and all. So I ain't goin' nowhere, if that's what you're suggestin'."

She growled. There was no way in hell she was leaving now, not for his benefit.

"Fine," she said. "Just... Just don't ... Get in my way. Okay?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Oh right. I'm the one should be sayin' that to you, chere. You're the one goin' round makin' noise and spoilin' my beauty sleep."

"It ain't my fault you're such a light sleeper!" she groused. "I could drop a pin and you'd hear it! Remember that time when--"

She quickly caught herself mid-sentence. He saw the look and smirked.

"No need t' say it, petite. I know what you're thinkin'."

She blushed. The only things to come out of that little incident had been the discovery that Gambit could not be handcuffed to a bed without being woken up (one accidental little jangle of the chain had had him sitting bolt upright in a flash), and a couple of days worth staggering around because all sorts of unmentionable muscles were unbearably sore.

"Look," she began, chastened out of her bad mood by the memory. "Truth is, I came here to unwind, to have a little space to myself for a couple of days. I was kind of expectin' to be on my own... But I ain't gonna throw you out on your ear, Cajun, and it's nothin' personal. Just... lemme have my own space and we're good. Okay?"

With him, honesty was always pretty much the best policy - ironic, considering the trouble he had with it himself. He put up his hands with an agreeable little smile.

"A'right. I'll keep outta your hair, if that's what you want. Don't wanna get in the way of your 'me time'."

He backed off slowly, but the smile on his face told her he wasn't being sarcastic. After the turmoil and angst their relationship seemed to have been in recently, it was a welcome relief.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"No problem." He half turned to leave, before adding with a pointed look at her: "Yah need anythin', I'm in the guest room down the hall. Where Sam used t'stay."

And with that he left.

-oOo-

After that it was useless to have any ‘me time’. Not because she found his presence off-putting per se, but because she was trying to analyse everything.

She wondered why he was sleeping in Sam’s old room and why he was even here at all. She wondered why seeing him here had rattled her so much and why she’d been so defensive. Since their time in Paraiso things had been… good between them. The last thing she’d wanted to do was spoil that.

It was just that he had endless ways of catching her unawares, of getting up under her skin without even meaning to.

Truly, she’d come here to be by herself. But she felt guilty now for insinuating that him being here offended her. She didn’t want him to think that, because it wasn’t what she felt. The past few weeks things had changed between them, for the better… And she didn’t want to lose that. It just felt… weird… not to be slapping away his affection at every corner because of her own fears, her own inadequacies, and really… He hadn’t even offered any affection. Even if she secretly knew that he was always offering it, with a simple glance or a smile.

Besides, she couldn’t stay cooped up in here like this, not in their old room. It was only bound to make things worse.

So she sighed and left, headed out and down the corridor to the guest room. She gave a knock and when she heard his “come in!”, she entered.

She was surprised to see he was packing.

“You’re leavin’?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He didn’t look put out by it, contrary to expectation. “Figured it’d be best. You’re here for some space, and I’d just get in the way.” He folded up a shirt and put it inside his duffel bag before standing straight and glancing at her. “Don’t look at me like that, chere. I ain’t angry ‘bout it. Just don’t wanna mess up your vacation. Or mine, neither.”

That stunned her.

“You think we’d mess up each other’s vacations?” She couldn’t help looking a little hurt at that. “Remy, honestly… You don’t haveta go. I’m sorry I sounded so… pissed off back there. I didn’t mean it.”

He regarded her a moment, apparently turning her suggestion over in her head.

“Rogue,” he finally spoke with sincerity. “We can both kid ourselves that you and I are gonna stay in this house and not disturb one another, but seriously. You and I both know that ain’t gonna happen.”

She chewed on her lip. After what happened in Paraiso, he was probably right. The only thing was, she didn’t think she’d mind so much anymore.

“Well, where’re you gonna stay then?” she asked him.

“Oh, Paint and Jack’ll let me sleep on their couch, if I promise to babysit their kids.” He paused and glanced at her. “You remember Paint and Jack, right?”

This time she was really offended.

“Of course I do!” She pouted. “Yah mean you’re still in touch with them?”

“Well, yeah. I pay ‘em both a visit every time I’m down here. They always ask after you. Keep on goin’ on about seein’ you on the TV wit’ your Avenging friends. I tell ‘em you’re doin’ great. Although most of the time, I don’t really know.”

There was a little bit of bitterness in that statement, but in truth she’d barely heard it. Something else he’d said had caught her attention.

“Wait… … You said ‘every time you visit’… … How often do you actually come down here?”

He shrugged, going back to his packing.

“Once every couple of months… For the same reason you’re here. To get some time out. To be alone. To get a little perspective. To remember.”

The last was lightly delivered, but said a lot more than any of the other stuff. She swallowed a breath. She was both touched and humbled to hear him admit that he came here often, and that a part of him came to remember what they’d shared here. She was affected even more so that he’d maintained a life here, kept their old friends and probably hung out at their old haunts. It made her feel like she’d run away from just another good thing in her life, like she’d thrown away yet another something that could and should have made her happy.

“Okay,” she finally said in a small voice. “Well, I’ll feel better knowing you’ll be stayin’ with friends… I don’t wanna turf ya out…”

“Rogue,” he spoke firmly. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. Take some time out, relax. God knows you need it. Just promise me you won’t do no work, okay? I jes’ know you brought those kids’ assignments wit’ you. If you take ‘em out, I’m gonna steal ‘em and hide ‘em somewhere you can’t find ‘em.”

He’d said it to make her laugh, but all she could manage was a faint smile.

“I won’t, Remy. Promise.”

Her ears were starting to rush and her heart was starting to pound, and it was becoming way too much for her to process, so she left.

-oOo-

She stood at the window of her room, their room, and struggled with herself.

Why had she walked away? Why couldn’t she be brave enough to open herself up to him and let him in? Still, after all this time and all the ground they’d recently covered?

You love him, she told herself helplessly. So go back and tell him. Tell him you don’t want him to go.

The thought had her trembling, had her stomach in knots. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed. She tried to talk herself into the thing she wanted most in the world. How hard can it be to reach for the thing that you want?

She’d almost psyched herself up to just go and do it when he got there before her. The door to their room opened softly, and quietly he crossed the floorboards and came up behind her. There was nothing so sweet or so comforting as the way his arms wrapped round her, the way he held her tight, the way he pressed his face into her hair.

And suddenly it was all bleeding out of her, the tightly coiled knot inside her was unwinding, and she was herself again, even if only for just a moment.

“D’you really want me to go?” he asked her, and she leaned back into him, shook her head.

“No.”

And they stayed just like that for a while, watching the seagulls circling the sky and listening to the lullaby of the sea, just as they’d always done.

“You do know what day today is, chere?” he murmured, brushing his lips in her hair. For a second she was nonplussed, until she remembered. February 14th.

“Aw, geez,” she muttered humorously. “Fate sure has a way of kickin’ me in the ass.”

“I dunno,” he chuckled. “I think fate brought us here, together, on this very special day, for a reason.” He propped his head on her shoulder. “Y’wanna work out what that reason might be?”

She twisted her head and gave him an arch look.

“Neither of us needs a reason, sugah,” she bantered back. “Except that I love you; and I’m pretty sure you love me.”

“Amen to that, p’tite,” he grinned; and they both laughed lightly before sharing the first of many kisses that night.

-END-

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kinkywwefantasies · 7 years

Text

Still The King

Pairing: Reader X Neville Rating: Explicit Length: 3.8k, long Neville said nothing for a very long time. Usually after big shows he was very chatty, but he usually retained his championship. Everyone was giving him a wide berth and sending him conciliatory looks. As if to say, "sorry" or "it happens" or "you'll win it back", but without the chance of getting their head bitten off by the Englishman. You sat next to him on the bus partly because he was a friend, and partly because it was one of the only seats left open. No one wanted to sit by the defeated king. To you, he seemed okay. He said hello when you sat down. He was showered and cleaned up. He was crushing candy on his phone. He was just a little quieter than usual. His temper was notorious in the locker room, and if he were going to lose it, tonight was certainly the occasion.

You sat next to him in the relative silence of the bus as you all waited to leave. It seemed the bus was almost full. Just waiting for one or two more people... oh God, oh no... Enzo. The bus was waiting for Enzo. "Hey, Nev," you said, seeing that Neville was sitting on the aisle seat. Too much access to Enzo if that was indeed who you were waiting for. "Can we switch seats? I drank a half gallon of water back stage. I'm gonna have to pee a lot." "Oh, sure," he said congenially. He even smiled. You were beginning to think he lost his mind with the title. Like he had snapped but wasn't showing obvious signs yet. "Hey, have you listened to this podcast? Is it worth downloading?" He asked, showing you his phone. "Are you okay?" You blurted, catching the attention of Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns. They were paying close attention to Neville as well. "Yeah," he chuckled. You saw Rollins and Reigns exchange a concerned look from the corner of your eye. "I-" Neville noticed the other two watching your conversation and lowered his voice to talk to you alone. "I'm actually feeling pretty good." "Have you lost your mind?!" You hissed, becoming angry just out of confusion. "No. I finally figured some things out." He said. You went over his words again, thinking you'd misheard his Jordy accent. "Look, I'll tell you more about it when there aren't so many prying ears around." He said looking directly at Reigns. "Y/n," Reigns said. You looked at him, still slack jawed and wide eyed. "You okay?" "Yeah, Roman... thanks for asking." You said, sitting back in your chair. "I'm just fine." You put your ear buds in and just stared at the chair in from of you for the next half-hour. Enzo boarded, the bus started moving, and everything was relatively normal. Then you realized Neville kept looking at you. You could feel Neville's gaze on you here and there through the ride. At first, you thought he was trying to gauge your reaction, but he continued to look at you. You adjusted in your seat nervously. The man next to you had clearly lost his mind, and now his attention seemed to be locked on you. He would go back to looking out the window for a while, but his gaze always found its way back. Then he tapped you. You took out your ear buds and looked at him. It seemed like whatever he was going to say got caught in his throat when you turned to him. In the moment, all he could do was look at you. "Were you... going to..." you said, realizing the way he was looking at you. The way his eyes moved over your features. The way his eyes lingered on your lips. "Say something?"

"Do you care if I'm the champion?" He asked seriously. "Of course I don't," you said honestly. "I only care that you're happy. You're my friend, Nev." "Could I ever be more than that to you? More than a friend?" He whispered, looking over to Reigns and Rollins to make sure they weren't listening. "Like... like your girlfriend?" You asked, feeling a blush come over your face. Until tonight, you hadn't even known he was interested, but the more you thought about it, the more things started making sense. The way he smiled at you, how the seat next to him was always open for you, how he texted you goodnight and good morning... how had you missed it? How had you not seen the obvious? The more you thought about it, the more you liked the idea of you and Neville. He was attractive, strong willed, passionate... "Sure, like a girlfriend," he said. You could see he was breathing hard and his eyes couldn't stop moving. His fingers fidgeted on his arm rest. He was nervous as hell over this question. It almost made you smile, but you didn't want Neville to think you were mocking him. You would never do that. Well, not in a serious way. "Well... What do you think?" He asked, as you took too long to answer. He took your hand in his and you looked down to where your fingers had automatically wrapped around his. "I mean, yes? But, it's..." he was staring at your lips again. "A new idea..." he leaned closer to you. "For me." You closed your eyes as Neville was about to kiss you when you were interrupted. "Hey! Here we are! Ontario, California! Man, I love to be in Cali. Am I right?!" Enzo was already standing to get off the bus and basically screaming as everyone around him slept or had private moments.

"Shut up, Enzo," Reigns grumbled from his seat across the aisle. "What!? I'm not allowed to be excited? I'm the new champ! Look at this belt!" Enzo said, waving the Cruiserweight title in your direction. You looked to Neville as his hand tightened on yours. His jaw was set hard and you could see his anger building. "Dude, Enzo, seriously. Shut your big mouth. You're being extremely disrespectful." Rollins added to Reigns' objection as he kept an eye on Neville. "What?! I'm just happy! Can't a guy be happy about a title win?" Enzo's stupid smiling face was floating over your seat now. Neville was locked on him like a sniper. "I mean, it's ugly right now, but I'm gonna fix it up." Neville let go of your hand and you could feel how coiled he was becoming. Ready to snap. "Enzo, enough!" You said, losing your temper before Neville did. You stood from your seat and put one foot toward him. "You won. Don't rub it in." The grinning Jersey boy turned to you, and wagged the title at you. "What are ya gonna do? What are /you/ gonna do if I keep talking about these, uh, see these right here?" He asked, pointing to Neville's side-plates, "These hideous side-plates?" He antagonized you both. "What are ya gonna do, y/n?"

"I will punch you in the face," you hissed. "Sit down, y/n," Rollins advised. "And Enzo, you should listen for once." "Oh no! I'm scared." Enzo mocked as he collected his things and headed toward the front of the bus. No one else had moved they were watching this play out. "The tough little girl is gonna hit me!" "I'm serious," you growled. "Listen to the woman," Reigns advised. "I'm not worried, Romie. She probably only hits as hard Neville, and that wasn't a problem for me, was it?" That was it. You were done. You marched straight up to Enzo. A chorus of "don't" and "stop" followed you down the aisle of the bus with a few "get him"s thrown in. "Wait-!" Was all Enzo said before you popped him good. Right in the mouth. Your fist screamed in pain, but it felt so good to hit him that it didn't matter. And the way his head flew back, his horribly bleached hair following in glorious fashion, was a memory you'd cherish. "Y/n!" Neville was behind you, grabbing your waist just a second too late. "Fuck! My lip!" Enzo cried from the floor of the bus. There were some cautious giggles and a few full out laughs. And lots of clapping. "Told ya ta listen, dumbass," Reigns said from behind you. "This is all your fault at this point. She said she would hit you, and you kept going." "Whatever." Enzo grumbled as he stood up. "I got a title to improve." He spit then left to a chorus of boos. Reigns, Rollins, Neville and you were the only people that had moved. Nev was still holding your waist. You turned to him. "I can't believe you hit him for me," Neville said. You put your hands on his shoulders and gazed in his eyes, barely aware that the whole bus was watching you. "That's what girlfriends do," you told him before leaning up to kiss him. And holy cow, did he kiss you back. "Aw!" You heard Bayley squee from beside you. You also heard a "get it girl!" from Nia. When you opened your eyes again you saw Reigns, Rollins and the rest grinning and clapping. "Guess I'm a crowd favorite tonight," you whispered to Neville as you hugged. He laughed. "Always been my favorite," he said. "Sorry you lost to that jackass," you replied. "Let me make it up to you." "Yes, please," he chuckled. "And let's get some ice on that hand." "Yeah... ow."

***

Just as you and Neville had finally pushed Sami out of the hotel room to go stay with your roommate, some one knocked on the door. You thought it would be Sami to recount the whole ordeal again, and tell you and Neville how you two were a cute couple again, and how he was happy to stay some where else, but it was someone from HR. "Miss y/l/n?" He asked. "Yes," you said, knowing what this was about. Someone with a big mouth told on you. "I'm here to discuss the incident that happened on the bus earlier," he said. "Is it true that Enzo Amore provoked you into a physical response?" "He was antagonizing her," Neville said, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. "Yes, that's what I've heard," he said. "Mr. Reigns said you gave fair warning to Mr. Amore, but what you did still counts as assault." He said, looking down his nose at you. You felt yourself curl into Neville in shame. You knew you shouldn't feel bad about what you did, but his attitude made you shameful. "Look, can this wait until tomorrow?" Neville asked, stroking his thumb over your side to comfort you. "Well, I'm just here to tell you Mr. Amore won't be seeking your suspension or termination. This is an official warning. If it happens again, you will be fired." He said. "Have a good evening." And then he was gone. "Woah," you said, looking to Neville. "Why would Amore let me off the hook like that?" "He knows if he didn't, I'd beat his ass," Neville shrugged like the answer was obvious.

"Oh really?" You smiled at him. His serious face broke and you realized he was joking. You pushed him back into the room until he was backed up to the bed. Giving him a gentle shove, he fell back onto the mattress. "Yes," he breathed, looking up at you as you crawled over him. "Maybe he's scared of me," you said, ghosting your lips over Neville's cheek all the way to his ear. "I /am/ the one who hit him." "You did," he said, moving your hair off your neck, placing gentle kisses on your skin. "And it was very sexy," he whispered to you, making you shiver. "You're sexy anyways, but that was especially hot." "Mmm," you hummed in appreciation of his words, "why was that so sexy?" "You're a passionate woman," he said, before rolling both of you over. You gasped as he found purchase on top of you. He had expertly maneuvered between your legs. "I intend to bring that passion out."

"Please do," you sighed as he started kissing your neck again. His lips found the perfect spots to cling, lick, and bite. One of his hands in your hair. The other on your side. Your body needed more attention than that, so you took his hand from your side and placed it over your breast. "Fuck," he cursed. Then his lips attached to yours, pressing insistently so they would open. He slid his tongue between your lips and you moaned, arching into him. "Jesus, y/n, you've no idea how much I've dreamed of this." "I don't," you replied, taking a handful of his shirt in an attempt to get closer to him. Your other hand was wandering down his back when you came across the dimples in his lower back. "Christ," you said before you could stop yourself. You'd never been with a man as fit as Neville, and your genuine reaction had been to curse. Neville chuckled. "You like those?" You smiled and blushed, turning your face to the side. "Yes." You said, running your fingers over the definition in his back. "Oh, then you'll like this," he smiled, pulling his shirt over his head. He revealed his gorgeously sculpted torso and your mouth watered. You pushed him back so he would sit up. Then you began kissing his chest. He chuckled at that, so you gave him a playful bite. That earned you a moan, and you smiled. "You like pain?" You asked, giving a nip at the top of his abs.

"Not usually," he groaned. "I like the way you do that, though." You continued down his body at a slow pace, and he breathed harder as you got closer to his waistband. "That's enough," he huffed as he pushed you back down. His hands moved to your shirt and pulled it over your head. Then to your jeans. Your bra and panties didn't match, but it didn't matter a single bit. "You're gorgeous." "Aw," you said. "Thank you." "No, thank you... for sharing yourself with me. I've wanted you so long. Since I first saw you, actually." He said, planting kisses on your tummy as he reached under you to unhook your bra. "The first day you showed up at WWE, I thought I was seeing an angel." "Aw, Nev," you giggled. "You're making me blush." "I know," he smiled, caressing your face. He kissed both of your cheeks, then your nose, and then your lips. "I just needed something to push me to finally say how I felt." He confessed. "Like... losing your title?" You asked, holding his face so he would look you in the eye. "Yeah, kind of. I take a lot of self worth from work, and I know that's bad. I need to focus on my personal life, too. So when I lost something professionally, I wanted to gain something personally or else..." "You'd go crazy," you finished for him. He nodded. "So, am I like, a consolation prize?" "No!" He said, holding you closer. "Not at all. I just needed the push. I just needed a good enough reason to go for it. I was... scared to say something. You could have said no, and I would have lived with it. If you turned me down, well, it was already a bad day anyway." "So, I'm...?" You didn't know what to make of that.

"You're more treasured than any material object in the world," he said, kissing your nose. "More than the Universal Title?" You asked. "Definitely," he said, finally pulling your bra off. His facial hair tickled the sensitive skin of your breasts as he placed kisses on them. You arched into his attention. "The Crown Jewels?" You moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple. "God, more treasured than that." "The Hope Diamond?" You asked as his fingertips slid under the elastic of your panties. "Garbage compared to you," he said. His lips connected with yours again as his fingers found your core. He knew just where to touch to make you gasp and moan. "Fuck that feels good," you moaned, and he responded by pressing his erection to your thigh. His fingers worked magic as he rubbed against your thigh for his own relief. "Oh, stop!" You cried. "Not yet." "Stop what?" He asked, freezing in place. His fingers still making contact with your dripping core. "I want to come with you inside me," you sighed. "Not right now." "You can do both," he whispered, fingers twitching and making you shiver. "Plus, I want you soaking wet when I take you." You mewled helplessly at his words. He moved his fingers again and your whole body jolted. "Is this okay?" He asked.

"Yes," you gasped. "Yes! Keep going, Nev. Yes." Your whole body shook as you came to Neville's soft touches. He kissed your temple as your relaxed beneath him. You could barely move in your blissful state as he pulled your panties off, leaving you completely exposed to him. "God, you're so beautiful," he said in awe of you. He undressed all the way as well and laid beside you. "I can't believe you're here... that this is happening." You rolled on your side and smiled at him. "Believe it." You kissed him quickly as he rolled you on to your back. "Ready?" He asked. His chest heaved with barely contained excitement. His pulse pounded under your finger tips. His pupils were blown wide. Making him wait any longer would be torture, so you replied quickly. "Ready," you said. He leaned down to kiss you as he pushed his hips forward. You reached between the two of you to help guide him in. He was the perfect size. A little longer than most but not too wide. Neville went slow, letting you enjoy the sensation of being filled with him before fucking you in earnest. It felt incredible. You were slick enough to avoid tears even though it had been a grip since you had sex. Your pulse pounded in your chest as you listened to his groans of pleasure, gripping his shoulders, his arms, his ass, just to feel more of him. He kissed the side of your face as he went deeper and deeper finally bottoming out. You moaned in desire as you felt him fully seated in you, and he rested there for just a moment. "You feel like heaven," he sighed, running a hand through your hair, bringing your face to his for a deep kiss. "You feel amazing," you moaned, pushing your hips up toward his to get some friction. That was enough to get him to thrust again. It felt like he was made for you as his dick slid over your g-spot again and again. "Nev! That's perfect!" "You like that?" He asked, speeding up. "Yes!" You said, gripping his shoulders harder as you got closer to release. "That's it!" "No, no," he said, pulling out of you. "Not yet." "Nev!! Please!" You cried as he rolled on to his back next to you. "You want it? Come work for it," he grinned, patting his thigh. He was beckoning you to climb on top. You obliged Neville and started riding him. If you thought it felt good when he was on top, then this felt amazing. "Yeah, baby," he encouraged. "Ride me like that."

You put your hands on his spectacular chest and closed your eyes as his hands fondled your breasts. He occasionally let out a stuttered sigh, sounding completely lost in pleasure. You looked down to see him looking up at you. A blush high on his cheek bones, eyes glazed over, and locked on you. It was intense. His hands moved to your hips as you chased your own pleasure, giving him just as much in return. "I'm close, Nev," you moaned, grinding even a little more. God, it felt good. "Come, baby," he told you. "Come for me." "Uh! Yes," you cried. "Baby, it feels so good." You said, leaning your body flush to his. "You feel so good." "Jesus, so do you," he said, thrusting up into you as well. You began shaking, twitching, as you got closer, and he could feel it. "Yes, go on." He said, gripping your hips harder. "Ah! Neville!" You screamed, falling over the edge. Your insides squeezed him as you came hard around his perfect cock.

"Oh God," he said, rolling the two of you over quickly. He began slamming into you, prolonging your orgasm and racing toward his own release. He groaned deeply as he pumped into you a few more times, and then stilled over you. He took heaving breaths as he held you close. "Oh my God, Neville," you said, running your hand through his hair. "Oh my God." "I know," he sighed, holding the back of your head to cradle you to his chest. "That was amazing." You pushed him back a bit, and he settled beside you. He didn't take his eyes off you for a second. You continued to comb your hand through his hair, lingering around his temples. "You're still a king," you whispered to him. "Title or not." He smiled. "You think so?" "Absolutely," you said, propping up on your elbows for a kiss. His hand slid into your hairline as he kissed you back, slowly and passionately. "How's your hand?" He asked. "Oh, I forgot about it, so it can't be that bad," you smiled at him sleepily. Coming so hard, and twice at that, drained your energy in an inviting way. "Good," he said, pecking your lips and then standing up from the bed. You made a small noise of disappointment. He smiled at that. "Sorry, I want to wash up a bit."

"I want to cuddle," you moaned, smiling back. You knew he'd be right back, but you just didn't want to be separated from him right now. "We will," he said, putting a knee on the bed to lean over and kiss you again. He went to the bathroom and the shower turned on. You snuggled into the hotel mattress. Mind becoming foggy. Then a thought crossed your mind, and Neville came back. "Are you a good guy now? In the ring?" You asked. "Oh... I suppose?" He said, sliding under the covers wth you. Washed up but still naked. You noticed he brought you a warm wash cloth, and smiled in gratitude. "Yes, I should think so." "A good guy with a temper," you giggled, subtly cleaning up, and tossing the wash cloth. "I dig it." "A righteous king," he said, pulling you to his side. "And you shall be my princess."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," you sighed, breathing in his scent as you rested your head on his chest. "I rather like it too," he purred, looking very sleepy himself. "Get some rest, princess. Tomorrow is going to be a big day." "Yes, sir," you purred. "Oh, now /I/ like the sound of that." He chuckled tiredly. "We will definitely explore that later." "Promise?" You said, curling into him further. "Absolutely."

#adrian neville #neville imagine #reader imagine #my content #my stories

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stardancerluv · 3 years

Text

Punishments

Part 3

Summary: Reader finds out something very interesting about Roman. And he realizes something about having Reader in his life.

Note: very angsty but ends well. Very early in their relationship. Takes please amongst the chapters of Creative Fervor. Oral!Female receiving, fingering. Also I include this under Punishments because Roman get angry at reader.

Left to your own devices in the room Bruce gave you to work in and the hours flew by. Pausing to stretch you realized how late you had been working. Shit, you muttered to yourself. You were supposed to be there for Roman tonight.

You quickly packed up your stuff and quickly made your way to the foyer. Pulling your phone out, you looked down, you saw that Roman had called and you missed some messages. You felt horrible.

You stood there a moment, trying to text Roman or Victor so someone could come and get you. No one answered.

“Is there a problem Miss L/N?” Asked the ever sweet and patient Alfred.

“I’m fine.” You squeaked.

“Miss L/N, Master Wayne would say the same thing with grass stains and scraped knees, I know other wise.” He gave you a warm smile.

You giggled and shook your head. “I bet.” You smiled. “I was trying to get a hold of Romy, I mean Roman to send the driver over. He’s probably in a meeting.” You pressed your lips together.

His smile wavered but remained. “I can drive you back sweetheart.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. You can’t be taking a taxi this time of day. Give me but a moment.”

“Alfred, really?” He nodded. “Thank you.”

When he disappeared you tried again. But he still wasn’t answering. Your heart sank. Quickly, you slipped into the bathroom, that was nearby on this floor. Your heart sank further. You literally looked like you had been working all day. Your hands were caked with pencil and pastels dust. There were smudges here and there on your face.

You tried to clean up a bit but it only worked a bit. Sighing, you went back out to wait for Alfred.

“Y/N, I completely forgot you were here. I would have told you to head on home.”

You smiled up at Bruce. “It’s ok, its my fault. I completely got distracted.”

“One of those nights, I got tied up myself with a slew of phone calls”

“On your way to function tonight?” He looked incredibly sharp in his black suit. You knew from what you read about him time to time he liked to show up late and leave early.

He shook his head, “Tomorrow.”

“Ahh.” Looking past him, you saw Alfred pull up. “We can talk later and settle when it will be good for me to come back.”

“Yes, definitely.” You smiled. “There’s Alfred, you have a good night.” You added.

“Oh,” He smiled. “I’m coming with!” His tone was light. “I haven’t been to Roman’s in forever, I could use a drink and perhaps him and I could catch up. And of course, I have to apologize to him for keeping you so late.”

“You don’t have to, Roman knows I lose myself in my work.”

“Well, then just a drink could be nice.”

“Ok.” You tried to sound enthusiastic. You knew Roman was not particularly fond of him.

******

You walked into the main entrance to the Black Mask with Bruce.

“Bruce, I can’t possibly go any further in looking like this. I will be right back.” You said hurriedly and turned to so you make a dash for the elevator.

He grabbed your arm, you shared a look. “Y/N, you look fine.”

“I can’t possibly, and well, I want to.” You honestly didn’t know what else to say.

“If you insist.” He finally let go of your arm.

You relaxed in the elevator, Roman’s cologne hung in the air. It meant one of two things. Either he was just in it, or he needed more cologne the usual since had just gotten back from the docks handling something. He always felt the stench of being down there would cling to him. Or both. Oddly, just that first sniff and helped you to relax. Bruce was honestly now putting you on edge.

*****

You practically ran to the room you were getting used to sharing with Roman. He let you keep somethings there. Recently staying there was becoming more and more frequent.

Finally with Roman’s fine soaps you cleaned up nicely. Sometimes, it was the little things but finding your brush next to Roman’s comb made you smile after your long day. You ran it through your hair a few times, before going to the closet where you gasped.

Baby,

Huge meeting tonight. Find me.

Bought this for you while I picked up my brand new cufflinks.

You’re beautiful.

Damn, he really could be sweet and do the most unexpected things sometimes. You unpinned the note then slipping it on and a pair of heels, you went downstairs to search for Roman.

******

He brushed his sleeve aside. You were still not there. He shifted in his seat, I’ll he flapped his suit jacket, his anger was making him hot.

Gesturing, he motioned for Zsaz, he would not wait any longer. He would make him go and get you from Wayne manor. He checked his phone. Finally, there was a message from you, it pulled relief from him.

“Boss?” Zsaz whispered.

As he was about to read it when he heard the murmurs of the people in his club. He looked up and swallowed down the anger that almost erupted from him like a volcano when he watched as Bruce Wayne walk in.

“What is he fucking doing...” His voice trailed off when he saw you. Then he watched as Bruce grabbed you. He watched as unease blossomed on your paint smudged face. “Get the girl to grab me another fucking drink.”

“Boss?”

He looked up at Zsasz.

“Fine, its just..never mind. Should I have her grab one for Y/N too?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

This was the most he had to drink in well, a while. He did not like how out of control it usually made him feel. Usually a drink was enough to take the edge of his anger. Not tonight, not with you at Wayne Manor. He thought he could handle it.

But everything came flooding back. Is that what caring about someone did, well now he was angrier then he had been in a while. He could still see the unease that had sashed across your face as you looked up at Bruce, he wondered why.

“Roman, my dear friend.”

He gritted his teeth, slid from his seat and turned to the voice. A huge smile was splashed across his face. “Bruce, it has been too long.” The two man shook their hands. “Please have a seat.”

******

Once the elevator opened, you kept your eyes peeled. Where could Roman be. Your heart lifted when you spotted him.

You let yourself swish over to him. You were eager to show him pretty you were in the dress. He had chosen such a lovely dress.

Bruce saw you first and slid from the booth, and Roman slid shortly after. Both gave you smiles.

“Baby.” Roman said softly, and moved so he gave you an ever so brief embrace and something that could barely be considered a peck on the cheek. You had seen him give guests firmer kisses.

Before pulling away you could smell the strong scent of martinis. That was so unlike him. Worry grew in your stomach.

“Look at you. You cleaned up so nicely.” Bruce remarked as you slid into the booth beside Roman.

“Thank you.” Under the table you reached for one of Roman’s gloved hands. You wanted to grab it, give it a squeeze; simply you wanted to feel close to Roman. What he did, hurt deeply. He put your hand on your thigh and moved his hand away.

You tried to swallow down the painful lump that formed in your throat.

“Y/N, I was just telling Roman how we were both distracted with work. Or I would have sent you home sooner.”

You nodded, your voice had vanished.

“I tell her all the time, she works too hard.” A tight smile was across Roman’s face.

You looked at him, his mask for business was up. He had never worn it in relation to you. You didn’t like it. It made the hurt felt grow.

Bruce appeared to soak it all in. All of this made you want to cry and scream. Roman could be formal in front of you towards whomever he was meeting but not wanting your hand, the sorry excuse for a kiss. You could just throw up, you felt ill.

At the moment all you wanted to do was go upstairs, change and go to your loft. You would try and sleep all of this pain off. You could thank him another time, maybe. A half an hour or so later, you had long since zoned out and was on your third drink as they verbally fenced each other when you finally got up.

You turned sharply well, as sharply as your drinks would let you. “Bruce, I’ll call you.” You looked at Roman. “Good night.”

“We will miss your company.” Bruce replied lightly, you did not let him grab your hand.

“Another time.”

“I’ll be up soon.” Roman quickly said.

“Right.” You nodded.

*****

Once upstairs, a tear finally fell from your eye and obscured the note Roman had scrawled out to you earlier.

“You got fucking nerve.” Snarled a voice behind you.

You turned to him. “Oh?” You’d get your belongings later. You were in no mood. “And what does that mean? You said yourself I lose myself in my work, and I do.” You grabbed your purse, you came around from behind that side of the bed. You didn’t want to leave but you were too upset to stay.

He grabbed your arm, you wiggled against his grip and gave up.

“You didn’t fight against Bruce grabbing you.”

“Because he is my employer. Well, you didn’t want my hand earlier.” You spat out. “I am very upset.”

“Really? You’re upset?” His grip tightened, you winced. “Well, I’m furious with you.”

“Why?” You honestly didn’t care, you hurt too much.

“If you were going to humiliate me, why not someone else. Why Bruce Wayne?” He replied back.

“What do you mean? Do you even know how I feel when I am there now, ever since I became your girl or at least was.” You swallowed, that last bit made bile raise.

“What the fuck do you mean?” He mimicked pulling you suddenly so close there was no space between you.

“Listen, I feel welcomed but simultaneously under scrutiny because I am, was your girl.” Saying the last bit broke a part of you. Blinking, you tried desperately to stop the tears that wanted to come.

“What ?” He growled.

“You know what I said. I don’t want to repeat it.” Your cried.

“Is that what you want?” His breathing became heavy.

“No!” You cried looking into those fiery blue eyes. “You barely kiss me when I got to the table and then you push my hand away. You must want it over, if you can barely touch me.” A few tears finally escaped.

“Because I was angry! All day you are working for a man I hate. Then you come back with him in tow.” He barked. “After not hearing from you all day, I imagined things. He grabbed you and you felt embarrassed. I could only assume,” He swallowed became familiar and that is why you rushed off to clean up.”

You looked at him. “Really? You imagined things? You thought that of me?”

“Yes! He is the most eligible bachelor in Gotham. He’s wealthy. Girls are practically lined up with their mouths open.”

“Roman, I can’t believe you.” You muttered, as you tried to hold onto the pain that spread through you.

You could not believe that he would think you’d do that. You were shaken to your core. You managed to finally wiggle free of his grasp. What you did next certainly surprised you.

Instead walking towards the elevator, where you should have done, but instead you went to his office. You went over to his bar, not really thinking you grabbed something you could drink. You twisted the cap off. How did you get to this? How did the two of you get to this? Where was the man you loved with a a great passion. You loved him which till then you thought only ever existed in books.

“Fuck. I...I..”

You turned to Roman, as you continued to down the liquid.

“He’s supposed to be so charming, so good.” He went over to you.

You finally pulled the bottle from your lips. “And to me he is none of that. Well he’s nice enough. But it is you I want. Or wanted.” You slammed the bottle down, could feel the drinks and downing this amber liquid did as it coursed its way through your body. You looked at him. “You’re the one with girls waiting in the wings to blow you.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, well.” He looked sheepish.

“Well, what? Your dancers who fucking hate me, certainly would love to suck on your cock, if you let them. You went over to him. You took off your heels, and despite the inches you lost you continued to look into his blue eyes. “Did I just happened to do it better then any of them? Is that’s why you keep me around with pretty dresses and little notes.” Tears were now streaming down your cheeks. You walked past him. Once in the hall you tore off the beautiful dress and let it fall onto the cold floor.

You went back to what had been your side of the bed, sitting down you grabbed your tshirt and pulled it on.

“Fucking stop.” The sharp edge to his voice, was like a slap. You stopped.

He came over. “You are going to listen.” He grabbed you by your upper arms and moved you so the two you were somehow in the middle of that massive bed. You knew you should probably just fight or leave. All of this hurt so much.

He straddled you, but somehow as he did, he managed to keep his weight off you. Yet he had still managed to keep you in place. You saw something had shifted in his eyes.

“I will never be able to give you the life he has. I could walk out the door tomorrow and never return.”

“I know.” You sobbed.

“So when I didn’t hear from you today first the worry came that maybe someone tried to do something against you.”

“Roman, Zsasz drove me over.” You simply said.

“Please, I have to get this out.” He sighed. “Then I remembered how growing up, I watched him get everything I had ever wanted. Loving parents, all the good grades, the friends. So I thought maybe, just maybe he finally made some grand gesture to show you that deep down he realized that he actually cared for you. And that everything else in my life you had melted and were going to go and be his!”

“No. Never.” You shook your head. “You’re the only one I want to be with.”

“Baby.” His face softened.

“Yes.” You managed to croak out. This was all far too much for you.

He shifted and he kissed you. After first you could barely kiss him back, it was all so much. You just couldn’t, but finally you did. You felt as his hands had moved from holding you in place to holding you, and you accepted it. It helped to melt the pain away.

“Help me take this off of you.” He breathed against your ear. Together you took off your t-shirt. Once it was off he slid down you pressing some kisses here and there. “And these, he paused.

“Roman.” You were so exhausted. “I’m not sure if I can.” Yes, you had grown excited but to have actual sex, you were not sure you could handle actually that.

“All I ask is you let me show you, my love but if not this way, there is another.”

You were stunned and well a little stunned. His voice was as rough, raw as you felt. “Ok, Roman.” You breathed.

“Thank you, now if you want me to ever stop. You tell me do not hesitate.” His face grew serious losing some of the softness that had come to the surface.

“I promise.”

With your help your panties, found their way to the floor beside the bed. Gently you allowed him to open you.

He met your eyes and then you felt him press an incredibly soft kiss on your mound. Your heart fluttered. “Roman.” You breathed. He only smiled and still meeting your eyes, you felt his tongue.

You couldn’t help but call out. It felt so good. His tongue moved and glided over all the right places. It wasn’t long before you arched and were just a mess as your pleasure took a hold. Reaching your fingers nestled in his dark strands.

Words, were impossible. Just sounds. Roman, had never been with you like this. It was amazing. You shook, as you did you felt a his tongue slipped in. It made you called out even louder.

Pausing, he met your eyes as he licked his lips. “Will you cum for me baby?”

Breathlessly you nodded.

“Good.”

He was between your legs once again. As you drew close you couldn’t help pulling gently on his hair but it only made it all the more intense as his tongue was simply amazing.

You called out which was a mixture of his name and a moan. He gave you a soft kiss. As he pulled back. You reached for him.

He smiled, “Just a moment.”

“Ok.” You breathed and trembled. You were completely wilted into the bed.

He came back not long after with some pajama pants laying low on his hip, he had no shirt and looked amazing with his rumbled hair. You watched a he took a sip of water from and glass. He crawled over to you. He pulled you close.

“How is my baby?”

“Amazing, you managed to say.”

“Good. But just wait.” He leaned in close. “I’m not finished. I want to kiss you but didn’t want you to think, I was making you taste yourself.” He kissed a place under your ear. “Will you kiss me?”

“Yes.” It was a hungry kiss. But it broke when you felt as be gently held and then cupped you. “My sweet tasting baby.” He whisperer. You shook in his hands. “So wonderfully wet. I love it.”

Soon you were a shaking mess. You clung onto him, as he made you cum and the quickly he did so again.

Once completely wilted in his arms his eyes met your eyes. “My anger, my past got the better of me and I can’t excuse it. But know, I only ever want is you.”

“Yes, yes me too Roman. I love you so much.” You had swallowed so you could talk. You were tingling all over from his touches, his tongue. “Roman,” you practically purred since it was all you do. “I want, I want to make you feel good now too. “

“Then kiss me baby and fall asleep in my arms. I want you in my arms tonight.”

“I would love to.”

Your lips met and you kissed. You could not remember when exactly. But you did eventually your eye lids, your body fell heavy and soon you did in fact fall asleep on his arms.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @captainjacklynmarie

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queenofgotham800 · 4 years

Text

Little-Big Fights (3/3)

(Roman sionis x Reader)

Warnings:Gramatical errors, Swearing, Hospital, Wounds, Angst and then ton of fluff :)

(A/n): Posting again cuz tumblr won't let me tag it... 😓

I want to thank you all, for reading this story and voting in last chapter. It really means a lot to me. 💜

Part-1 Part-2 Part-3

"Please don't let me fall," he was scared, looking in yours (y/c) eyes.

"(Y/n), you need to let me go!" he shouted through the wind. You didn't listen him, still trying to pull him up.

"Seriously, I don't want to pull you down with me." he said and you tightened the grip around his arm.

Then you felt somebody kneeling next to you.

"Uh, can I help or is it personal?" Harley asked. When you heared her voice you sighed in relief, "Help would be appreciated now..."

"I think you should check on him," Harley said and then you turned back to look at Roman who held his leg in panic. You walked to him, still keeping some distance.

"Thank you.." Roman frowned and mumbled.

"You don't have to thank me, I did it for my friend (y/n)," Harley said and dissapeared with Cassandra Cain-who watched all this from distance- in fog.

After weird quiet of staring at eachother wounds you asked, "Did the bullet came through? Or is it still there?"

"It looks like it came through," Roman said and groaned in pain.

You kneeled down to him, "Give me your shirt."

You took his shirt, pushing it to the wound, pulling out your old phone.

"What are you doing?" asked Roman, "I am calling ambulance," you said, refusing to look at his blue eyes. He tried to take your phone from your hand.

"And what are you doing?" you asked, pulling it away from his reach.

"(Y/n), please," Roman cried and you didn't knew if its becouse of the wound in leg or in his heart.

You lifted his chin and looked at bruises on his face, some of them were still bleeding.

Sun was rising, but rain was still falling down on Gotham.

"I love you so much," Roman whispered in your ear, and you felt how his hands felt down and he felt down too, laying on the cold pier with closed eyes.

Then, he saw light. Lights were flickering against his face. He was still alive, slowly breathing, but still alive. Then Roman closed his eyes again.

He heared you, singing a familiar somg to him, felt your hand tangled in his hairs.

"It hurts," he said touching the cast. "I am sorry, i didn't meant to shoot you that badly," you said.

"No, dont be sorry," Roman mumbled and sat on hospital bed.

"Doctor said you have to have it like two months maybe..." you sat next to your husband.

"Two months? Wait what does it mean?" Roman looked on you, concerned.

"Well, it means you have to rest. I will take care of you," you said giving him kiss on cheek.

"Oh, i would like that," Roman smiled.

"Looks like I've got new driver after all," Roman smiled and you helped him to sit there.

1 month later, Black Mask Club

"Hey babe," you came into dining room, where he sat, reading newspapers.

"Hello, how are you cutie," asked Roman, while giving you soft kiss.

"Good and so is the club," you said pulling the wheelchair to bedroom.

"I have some news too," you smiled and caught his hand, slowly placing it onto your belly.

#Roman sionis #Roman sionis x Reader #roman sionis x oc #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #birds of prey #the black mask bop #the black mask #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor

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mobius-prime · 4 years

Text

205. Sonic the Hedgehog #137

Robo-Dyne Systems

Writer: Romy Chacon Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jason Jensen

The Freedom Fighters have set out to go rescue Tommy from New Megaopolis. Sally expresses worry that she didn't tell her father they were coming on this mission, while Sonic is surprised that Sally has elected to come along at all given her anger with him for wanting to go on missions. She says that since Tommy is a childhood friend of hers as well she wants to be there to rescue him, and this is good enough for Sonic, who is just happy to have a hint of the old Sally back.

Nicole calculates a route through the buildings to the factory, and the team makes their way there, realizing that this is specifically a factory to produce lifelike robots when they see a number of said robots without their covering of skin and fur. Apparently Eggman is unaware that Robotnik tried this once before, and it was an abject failure. They make their way deeper in, and are shocked by what they see there.

They're discovered by a swatbot patrol, and Sonic leaps into action to fight while Rotor puts together a plan to electrocute the floor, thereby taking out all the swatbots. Sally swoops in to grab Sonic off the floor before he's caught in it, and makes a weird quip about hoping he's not embarrassed about being saved by a girl, which seems totally out of place considering their history. I mean, when has Sonic's personality ever included even a hint of an opinion of guys being better than girls? He has the utmost respect for Sally and Bunnie as valuable members of the team, and regularly encourages everyone around him regardless of gender. The only place I can even think of her getting this idea is during her year without Sonic, since her parents and the monarchy in general seem to be a bit more stuck in traditional gender roles. But regardless, Sonic and Sally get separated from the others, and Sally decides to trust Bunnie, Antoine, and Rotor to handle blowing the facility up while she and Sonic focus on saving Tommy. However, at the same time, Rotor finds himself and his friends being approached by… Sonic and Sally, who act like they've been searching all over for them. Rotor becomes suspicious when he notices Nicole isn't strapped to Sally's hip like usual…

The three take out the imposter Sally and Sonic, while the real ones have a happy reunion with Tommy, and both teams make their way to the facility's rooftop once the bombs are in place. They're tailed by a huge swatbot force, and have no way to get back to Tails and the Freedom Fighter Special, but suddenly…

The bombs go off as they zoom away to safety, and Sonic cheekily tries to pull a "See, being on missions isn't so bad!" on Sally. She huffs and reminds him that they still have to find a way to explain this to her father, which he admits he forgot. Ultimately, it still seems like she's upset with him, but they're no longer as cold as they were after the party when she slapped him, so that's good at least.

Mobius 25 Years Later: Trouble in Paradise

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jason Jensen

This story is a bit weird. Essentially, we follow both Sonic and Sally, and Knuckles and Julie-Su, through their mornings on the day of their families' get-together. Each page is divided in two from top to bottom, with Sonic's side of things on the left side, and Knuckles' on the right. It's an interesting and creative idea in theory, but in practice it doesn't work very well, as the conversations between both sides are very different and the action (well, "action") doesn't flow well if you try to read it page by page. It's actually better to read each side in isolation, focusing first on the left then the right. I'll just explain the conflict of each side on their own, and then show a page that manages to exemplify the conflict of both sides at once.

Sonic is reluctant to go on the trip because apparently he and Knuckles had some big fight last year that they're both still mad about, but Sally forces him to go along anyway. On the way there he's quiet, and Sally asks him what's wrong, and he decides this is the perfect time to voice his misgivings about being king. I reiterate - he's been king for over fifteen years now, even started a family in that time and been an active force in raising a future prince and princess, and never once given any sign of his unhappiness, and now suddenly he's deciding to make it known that he doesn't like his position. Sally rightly points out that he should have known what he was getting into when he married her, and while that explanation makes sense for this timeline, it's weak when you compare it to what we've actually seen in the comic's main plot. Present Sally has repeatedly rejected the idea of being her father's successor in the future, and though I can see her stepping up out of duty if necessary, it's clear that in the end, she doesn't actually want to be queen. Sonic meanwhile, as he points out, thrives on adventure and freedom, and isn't much of a leader in broad terms, making him a poor fit for king. I honestly can't see the Sonic we know putting his relationship with Sally over his own freedom. I really think that despite his deep love for her, if it came down to a choice between being railroaded into being a king, and being able to keep his freedom to go on adventures and do whatever he wants, he'd choose the latter. It just seems bizarrely out of character for him to somehow sulk his way through fifteen years of kinghood just to start complaining about it out of nowhere on the way to a dinner party with his now-apparent enemy.

Oh, speaking of which! On Knuckles' side of things, he finds himself being awoken by a worried Julie-Su, who is frustrated that he won't talk to her lately (gee, can you notice a pattern here? Every married couple in this timeline seems to have a weirdly unhealthy relationship with each other and it sucks). He evades her questions as they get ready in the morning, but eventually confirms that he's not at all pleased about Sonic coming over. He's also angry about whatever it is that happened last year, but turns out this isn't even what Julie-Su is worried about. She had already expected him to be hostile to Sonic, but she still feels like he's keeping something from her, so he tells her about Rotor's suspicions about the weather. He doesn't yet have enough information to tell her more about what's going on, but she merely reassures him that they'll get through it "as a family," and they head downstairs with Lara-Su and Abby to greet the royal family, who have just arrived at the door. And now, the promised example page:

You see how weird and disjointed it is to follow? Eh, whatever. The only important things we even learn in this issue are that Sonic is unhappy as king (shocker there), and that something happened between him and Knuckles a year ago that's made them hate each other, although there still seems to be something more to their enmity than we've been told. All together, this arc is dragging on insanely slow so far. I could literally condense everything we've seen into two, maybe three stories by cutting a lot of the unnecessary chatter and constant repetition of plot points we've already heard several times over. Like, yes, we get it Penders, the weather is bad. We already heard that the first forty-seven times you told us. *sigh*

One Part Ooh-La-La, and Two Parts Treachery!

Writer: Romy Chacon Pencils: Al Bigley Colors: Jason Jensen

So we've established that Antoine has had some strange changes in his personality while Sonic was away in space - namely, that he has become cold and distant, caring more about war than his friends, even Bunnie. One day, he's planning an acceptance speech for his promotion to escort for the king and queen while they're away from Knothole when he accidentally stumbles upon a note Bunnie had written him some time ago - all the way back when Robotnik had first been defeated, in fact. Antoine had received a letter from someone and was reading it when Bunnie came into the room, startling him. With an obvious guilty conscience, he tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, even fleeing the room and trying to hide in the forest, but when Bunnie caught him easily she made him explain what was the matter. He admitted that when he was a kid, there was a girl he had a crush on, Tatiana, and he did everything he could to impress her, including bragging about his exploits as a Freedom Fighter.

The letter he was trying to hide from Bunnie was, of course, from Tatiana, who had by now grown up and was visiting Knothole, wanting to see him now that they were older. Of course, at that exact moment Tatiana burst from the bushes and happily embraced Antoine, flirting heavily and implying she'd like to "catch up" over by the lake. Antoine greeted her graciously, but as Bunnie began to get jealous he rejected Tatiana entirely, pointedly putting his arm around Bunnie and mentioning that he was about to go on a walk with his girlfriend, leaving a shocked Tatiana behind. Once they were out of earshot, Antoine admitted to Bunnie that after Tatiana broke his heart before, he'd become scared of falling in love - until Bunnie came along and showed him what real love was like. This seems to be a bit at odds with what we saw before in the comic, considering he had an obvious crush on Sally for a while there - but regardless, Bunnie made him happy, and that moment was the first time he said he loved her. Aww, they're so sweet together! And thus, we come back to the present, where Antoine is rereading Bunnie's old note to him.

Ouch.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 137 #writer: romy chacon #writer: ken penders #pencils: steven butler #pencils: al bigley #colors: jason jensen

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mobius-prime · 4 years

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204. Sonic the Hedgehog #136

The Tommy Trilogy (Part Two): The Infiltrator

Writer: Romy Chacon Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Jason Jensen

It's been at least a few days since Sonic rescued Tommy, and in that time, he's invited Tommy to live with him, his parents, and Tails in their house. One morning, the house awakens without Sonic, as he was out overnight on a mission for the king. As Bernie serves everyone some food, Sonic walks in, completely exhausted from his mission. He scarfs down a plate of chili dogs and eggs (his favorite breakfast, apparently) and heads back to his room, with his parents disappointed in his rudeness by not saying thank you. Tails heads out to classes, as he's still attending school, and Tommy refuses any food, instead seeming much more interested in Sonic.

Jules glances around as he tries to make Bernie feel better, only to notice that Tommy has also excused himself without a word. Man, so much rudeness going around the Hedgehog residence today! Tommy quietly enters Sonic's room, where Sonic has passed out on his bed without even taking his shoes off, and his expression changes. The fingers on his hand peel back to reveal twin metal drills, and they whir to life, coming closer and closer to Sonic's unconscious head… and then Jules bursts in, having realized what was happening. Yeah, didn't think Tommy was actually alive and well, did you?

Oh, that's… that's bad. Sonic spins up and cuts through the Tommy robot's midsection, obliterating it before it can try to murder anybody else, and picks up his father's body in a panic. He and his mother rush Jules to Uncle Chuck, certain that he can repair him - after all, what might be a fatal wound on an organic being is just a matter of repair on a robot, right? Chuck examines Jules' body, but then to Sonic and Bernie's horror, sadly proclaims that even if he could fix Jules' body, the spark of life that made him a living person is gone - that Sonic's father is… dead.

…but ah, come on, we don't really believe that, do we? It was on the cover, for goodness' sake! No big emotional moment like this would just be spoiled on the cover if it was going to stick! Sonic, therefore, refuses to believe his uncle and rushes out, heading straight for the nearby Lake of Rings. Someone is there on guard duty - apparently, the royal family has someone watching the lake at all times to catch and collect the rings that emerge each day - but today he misses his catch, as Sonic flashes past in the blink of an eye to catch the ring, immediately turning back around to take it back to Chuck's lab.

Aaaaand it works! Seriously, apparently that's all it takes to bring a dead person back to life. If rings can heal someone so miraculously, then why aren't they being used for everything in this universe?! Even a straight-up Chaos Emerald can't do that! Ah, whatever, Jules isn't dead, so everything is fine. The next day, Chuck is dismantling the Tommy robot while he and Sonic chat, and finds a chip in his systems imprinted with the name of the factory that he was produced at - Robodyne Systems in New Megaopolis. This is enough to convince Sonic that Tommy must in fact still be alive after all, and that he has to go save him again but for real this time! Seriously, how many times is Tommy going to be dead but not actually before we finally pick one or the other? He's like Schrödinger's Turtle at this point.

Mobius 25 Years Later: Girl Talk

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jason Jensen

Yes, the title does in fact foreshadow how bad this story is gonna be. Right off the bat we find out that Julie-Su's household has a literal servant, a koala named Abby. Abby is perhaps one of the most uncomfortable characters ever introduced in the comic, as she's this like… vaguely racist caricature that somewhat resembles the "mammy" stereotype of black female slaves in America's history. Seriously, it's so bad, all she does is crankily putter around the house cooking and cleaning and serving food to others while complaining whenever anyone sets foot in "her kitchen," while everyone around her just kind of shakes their head and laughs at her attitude and lets her take care of things around the house. I mean… why does this house even need a maid in the first place? These two literally have one kid and apparently Julie-Su doesn't even have a job outside the home. What does she do all day if Abby is taking care of things?

Anyway, Sally calls Julie-Su to talk about their families' upcoming dinner date, by which I mean they basically just mid-40's mom at each other about how their kids are such picky eaters, and their husbands are so unreasonable and bad at getting along. The most interesting thing we even learn is the timeline of when and how Sonic became king.

Sally goes on about how her and Sonic's two kids aren't really interested in being royalty, when their conversation is interrupted by Lien-Da's call. There's literally an entire page where they kind of bumble around while Julie-Su tries to make sure everyone is okay with a three-way call, during which we learn that apparently Lien-Da is the freaking representative of the echidna government to the Kingdom of Acorn. What the actual hell? How did Lien-Da of all people end up with this job?! Everyone keeps going on and on about how untrustworthy she is, and yet she's trusted to be the liaison between two entire governments, including the one she openly opposed and attacked multiple times in the past?! Nothing in this world makes any sense at all!

We get some more riveting dialogue once Lara-Su enters the room, about how apparently Manik, who is ten years old, has a major crush on her. Lara-Su is mortified, the adults are amused, and we the readers have by now died of boredom. It takes us this long for everyone to finally manage to mention something about the actual plot - you know, that whole thing about how the world might be ending? Of course, they don't know what's going on, so all we get is more vague speculation about the weather, AKA stuff we've already covered more than once before now and so has no real bearing on the storyline.

So, given how much the last issue seemed to be building up towards Lien-Da having some dastardly plan involving Julie-Su and Knuckles based on the tiny snippet of info she got from Rutan, you'd think this is the moment where she invites herself along, right? It's a chance to get inside the Guardian's own house, poke around, and get herself involved in whatever suspicious thing they're trying to discuss in private, right? But naaaahhhh, she just says that she can't make it and signs right off! What then, pray tell, was the point of all this? This arc literally has more plot holes than the rest of the comic combined! Absolutely nothing was accomplished here! Any good writer will tell you that you should never include a scene in your writing that doesn't further the plot in some way. Even a simple scene of two characters hanging out at an amusement park, completely unconnected with whatever else is going on in their lives, can be spun in a way that gives us more insight into their personalities, their relationship with one another, their outlooks on life and the thoughts that they find themselves entertaining when not directly confronted with whatever the conflict of the story is. And yet, this story does none of those things. It's literally just a bunch of dull characters yakking at each other about grown-up stuff while reiterating things we've already heard from others. Literally the only thing in this issue that ever comes up again is Manik's crush on Lara-Su, but I can tell you right now that that also has no bearing on the larger plot of the story, meaning we didn't even need to hear it in the first place! Argh, this is the most frustrating and boring thing I've ever had the displeasure of reading in this comic! The characters are flat and uninteresting, the writing is bland, and the parts of the plot that actually do have the potential to be interesting are skipped over in favor of dull family drama! Why, Ken Penders? Why? WHY?!

Patience

Writer: Romy Chacon Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Jensen

Oh, finally, something interesting! Though granted, anything would be more interesting than what we just read. Knuckles has found himself stationed in Downunda on orders from the king, but after realizing that he's a mere twenty miles away from where Angel Island will travel, he makes his way to a high peak at sunset, determined to finally climb his way back onto the island and retake it from Eggman's forces. Interestingly, his dialogue seems to imply that the island orbits the planet once a year, which is something that I mentioned before the other information we've been given about the island hadn't included. Nice to finally have an answer on that one! Knuckles is somewhat conflicted, as the king has asked him in the past to have patience and not be rash, that he'll muster the forces to retake Angel Island as soon as he can, but they can't risk anything until then. However, the temptation is still strong, as this may be Knuckles' only chance to get back aboard the island now that he can no longer glide without his Chaos powers.

Honestly, that's a good reason to want to get back aboard. Eggman tends to bring horrific devastation wherever he goes, and Angel Island was never prepared for an invasion on the scale he'd bring. Hell, at the beginning of the last era, we saw the Brotherhood actively reject Sally's request to help the Kingdom of Acorn in the war, and now the citizens of the island are paying the price for that hubris. The last time we saw Lara-Le, she was pregnant, and well, when we left the island it was also in a very unstable state politically as the government was under fire from both the Dark Legion and the dingoes. I'm not surprised that it got taken over, but it's a tragedy that it did all the same. Knuckles waits eagerly as the island gets closer, but the voice of the king echoes in his mind once again, warning him away. The island finally comes close enough to the peak, and Knuckles reaches out… and brushes his fingertips against it, letting it gently float away without grabbing hold. He acknowledges it's one of the hardest things he's ever done, but he decides to trust the king for now, and turns away, letting the island continue its journey uninterrupted. And a good thing, too - as we see that a whole legion of swatbots was waiting in camouflage in some bushes next to the island's edge, ready to blast Knuckles into oblivion the moment he came over the edge. Looks like patience did pay off after all, huh buddy? Honestly, given Knuckles' famously brash and impatient personality, I love this story just for the sense of character development it has, showing that over the past year Knuckles has grown a bit, become more mature. It's certainly better than the previous story portrayed him.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 136 #writer: romy chacon #writer: ken penders #pencils: art mawhinney #pencils: steven butler #pencils: ron lim #colors: jason jensen

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