#I just imagine the people back in Rome reading it and rolling their eyes like my entire Latin class did

[thezestywalru]

MOOD

this one's for all the sections of de bello gallico I had to translate you bastard

[absurdthirst]

A Roman Romp {Deiter Bravo *AS* Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Drug mentions, power imbalance, fucking the boss, clitoral play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (male receiving), derogatory names, role play, rough sex, Dieter being unbelievably bad with emotions, costume play.

Comments: You've found a niche as Dieter Bravo's assistant. Taking care of him and sleeping with him work surprisingly easy until his new role as a Roman general makes you completely feral for him.

A/N: Completely inspired by the sexy, bloody gifs.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Deeper. Raspier.” You decide, ignoring the frown of the man in front of you as you contemplate the voice pitch he has changed into. Dieter Bravo loves to experiment with his voice and facial expressions, but being the consummate narcissist that he is, he doesn’t like it when it’s not immediately loved by all. You don’t work that way and he knows it. It’s why you are permitted to run through the dialogue with him and read the scripts when most assistants just scheduled appointments and bring the actors they work for the page changes. “This is a man who has screamed throughout the bloodiest battles, who has inhaled the smoke from a hundred thousand fires. He’s hardened by battle, by death, and he shows it.” You explain, painting a picture for him to visualize from the comfort of his plush designer sofa in his Sherman Oaks mansion.

Dieter nods, shifting to sit up and he clears his throat. “You’re right. He’s seen shit we could never imagine. He needs to be tortured but capable.” Dieter decides and rolls his shoulders. His eyes focus on the script and he says “I declare for Rome. For her Emperor. For her people.” He deepens his voice, letting it catch to be raspier than before. “How was that?” He asks, face softening as he expectedly looks at you.

Despite the massive ego, the demands, and his ability to act like a twelve year old boy at times, Dieter is surprisingly needy. He craves acceptance, like a feral cat who spits and hisses when you get too close, but is desperate to be loved on their own terms. You deal with him delicately at times, more harshly at others, all while understanding that neediness. It’s what made you work well for him. “That was good.” You nod in approval.

He thanks you with a slightly dazed, soppy smile, like he's grateful for the approval. Like it means the most coming from you. "Yeah?" He asks, hungry for more praise and you nod. He stares at you for a second before he looks back at the script, continuing with the new voice he's found for the character and he continues practicing his lines, his eyes drifting over to you every now and then as he seeks approval.

This time he runs through the lines without you reading the other parts, but sometimes he wants you to voice the other characters, to give him a tone to feed off of. Since the Cliff Beasts debacle and you coming to work for him, Dieter has been determined to win another Oscar and you think this might be the role to do that.

“I’m trying on the costumes this afternoon.” Dieter tells you like you didn’t already know that. You know every detail of his schedule. “I know.” You chuckle softly and he flushes slightly, “yeah. I am hoping it’s going to help me find the character posture.” He confesses, “and I get to check out my trailer before filming begins in a couple days.”

That’s code for he wants the trailer to feel like his own personal retreat so you need to pack up all of his favorite things. Like you hadn’t already planned that. “I will make sure that you can relax.” You promise, shooting him a soft smile. “Your favorite incense and candles, that serenity stone and I’ll pack up your favorite sheets to bring with us today.”

“You’re the best.” Dieter compliments you and it’s a rare occasion but he’s sincere as he offers you a soft smile. “I’m gonna go smoke a little before we go to the studio. Can you go get some tacos for me?” He asks, “carnitas.” He decides with a nod as he relaxes against the sofa.

“Sure thing, boss.” You wink at him and put a little away in your walk as you leave the room, knowing his eyes are on your ass. This thing you have with Dieter is incredibly easy and complicated at the same time. You sleep together, pretty damn often, but you aren’t his girlfriend. He’s sworn off relationships since Kate and Anika, but it’s not like you can blame him. You get sex and as a bonus, it puts your boss into a better mood for you to deal with him professionally. It doesn’t hurt that you care about him a lot, love him really, but that’s something you would never admit to him. You know that you just fill a void in his life.

Dieter watches until you disappear and he sets his script down, rubbing his scruffy cheek. Fuck, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Too good for him to touch you honestly and he knows he’s putting everything on the line. Losing you would mean losing his assistant but also his best friend and some of the best fucking sex he’s ever had. He can’t tell you anything about how he feels in case you’re scared off and he loses it all. With a sigh, he looks back at his script and waits for you to return like the lovesick fool he is.

It doesn’t take you long, the place where you go makes the best fucking tacos and they know how Dieter likes them. He’s ordered from there often enough while he’s high. You get some extras because he said he wanted to smoke some weed when he gets back from having his costume fitted and you know he will have the munchies. Picking up some salad because you know he won’t eat greens unless you get them. “I’m back.” You sail through the door with the paper bag and grin. “You eat and I’ll get the bag together for your trailer.”

Dieter groans at the smell of the tacos and he pats the space next to him. “Come and sit down with me, babe.” He orders, wanting you to eat as well. You run around after him all the time and he knows you don’t always remember to eat.

“Okay.” You don’t argue, just plopping down beside him and handing him the agua fresca you had ordered for him from the drink carrier. “I can eat and then I’ll make sure we get you settled into your trailer.”

Dieter reaches out to squeeze your leg. He’s always been a touchy feely kind of man, needing that physical connection. That’s why he wants sex so much. He loves to feel wanted and to be touched. “You’re the best.” He says around a mouth full of tacos.

“You might not think so when you see this.” You tease, pulling out the salad to set in front of him. He doesn’t argue but he does pout, swallowing the mouth of tacos and sighs. “Did you get that adobo dressing?” He asks hopefully, knowing he would eat anything as long as that stuff is on it. “Two of them.” You promise. “So you can have one for a salad on set.”

“Fuck yes. You’re - you’re the fucking best. No one comes close to you. Literally no other assistant is like you, babe.” Dieter praises with a mouth full of tacos. His last assistant couldn’t make him hard and he certainly couldn’t make him eat salad. He was authoritative and while Dieter likes to be submissive, when it comes to his work, he is the one in control.

You shouldn’t let the praise get to you, knowing that Dieter is always expressive when he’s happy and then can throw full tantrums when he’s not. Still, you smirk and lean forward to grab a taco for yourself after putting a straw in your own drink. “That’s why you pay me so well.” You remind him. “Don’t forget you still have to make that happy birthday video to send to your niece.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’ve already sent the gift from you. It’s a battery operated kiddie jeep. She will love it.”

Dieter nods, knowing he would have completely forgotten about her birthday. He loves his niece but his brother is a stiff prick. Always the golden child. Better at everything including being monogamous and heterosexual. He went to college, got his finance degree. Has the wife and 2.5 kids in Dallas and Dieter is…never good enough. Even when he’s won a fucking Oscar. “I gotta go see that kid soon. Make sure she’s not fucking boring like her dad.” He snorts as he wipes his mouth.

“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll work it into your schedule.” You promise, reminding yourself to remind him of it when filming ends for this movie. He always wants to go somewhere after he’s wrapped a movie. “Just let me know and I’ll take care of everything.” From his flight to the drugs, you will make sure he has everything he needs.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, unsure if he wants to deal with his family. Especially his parents. He left Texas to come to L.A when he was eighteen and he struggled until he got spotted while he was failing at being a waiter. “You need a break too. At some point.” He announces as he reluctantly digs into his salad even with the adobo smothering it.

“I get breaks.” You remind him. But it’s true you don’t get them often. Even when Dieter travels, he brings you with him. He likes having you close and it’s not something you are completely opposed to. Spending months in Croatia or China is amazing. You reach over and brush his hair back and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for eating your salad.”

He loves the praise and hates that he loves it. His life is messy and the last thing he wants to do is lose you because he ruins it with his personality. At least like this you’re at a distance. “Fucking lettuce.” He grumbles and takes another bite, tilting his cheek out so he can get another kiss.

You grin against his skin as you pepper his cheek with little kisses. You don’t mind when he’s like this. It’s sweet, even if it’s needy. Dieter so desperately wants love and for someone to adore him. He just manages to ruin every relationship he gets in when someone new shows up and showers him with attention. You know that it’s possible with your situation. You just have to deal with it.

Dieter loves the way you give him affection and he chews his salad after you pull away, he looks down at the salad, setting it down after a moment to dig into another taco. “Tacos are better.” He decides and watches as you dig into your own food.

“I know they are, baby.” He hates eating salads and you try to make it fun most of the time, but there’s no chance against tacos. “But this counterbalances the tacos. You’ve been doing so good at the gym. That sexy body needs the good stuff for all those fight scenes.”

Dieter has definitely had to put in time at the gym to make sure he’s getting in shape for this role. He had a nutritionist and personal chef come in for the past few months and he’s done pretty good building up his arms. “Yeah? You think I’ll look convincing?” He asks, eager for your approval of the body he’s been working out for.

“You’ll be amazing.” You promise him. “You already have a look that can be so authoritative, but put you in Roman armor?” You groan quietly and shake your head. “I thought Maximus was sexy, but your Marcus Acacius will blow him out of the water.”

Dieter flushes slightly, ducking his head at your praise, and he loves how you compliment him. “Yeah? You think I’ll be sexy in the costume?” He smirks, “and the sex scene.” He adds, “gonna watch me on the closed set?”

You knew there was a sex scene, but you didn’t think Dieter would want you there. “If you want me to.” You tell him. “I know that day will be a long one for you.”

Dieter nods, reaching for your hand after he wipes his clean. “I want you there. I always want you there.” He admits, “I just - you know me best in that department and I want to make sure it looks real, natural.”

You could point out that Dieter has had so many more lovers than you have, but you don’t. “You’re going to look even sexier then.” You promise. “They are going to create a new Oscar category just for you. Best Sex Scene.”

Dieter chuckles, “I fucking wish. I could win that every damn year.” He says with conviction, “especially if I was filmed with you.” He says and winks, picking up the salad to reluctantly finish it even with the dressing.

You hum in approval and quickly finish your own taco before you pat his leg gently. “Let me go get you packed up so we can leave, baby.” You murmur. “You don’t want to be late with Wardrobe.”

Dieter nods, watching you get up and his eyes drop down to your ass again as you make your way into his room to get what he needs. You do everything for him and he can’t ever pay you enough for putting up with his shit.

Less than an hour later, you have Dieter loaded up in the car and you are headed to the studio where you will be filming the fight scenes. Some of the location work will be later but they want to get the fights filmed first to give them plenty of time to work on the CGI. Dieter decided to let you drive so he could read over the script again. “Don’t worry. While you are with wardrobe, I’ll get the key to your trailer. We can take a picture outside with your name on it for you IG.”

Dieter sighs, he hates social media but he knows it’s needed for him to keep himself relevant when his industry is suddenly flooded with fucking Tik Tok stars and IG models. “Sure.” He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose as he reads over the script, “you really think the voice is right?”

“That voice went straight to my pussy.” You admit, knowing that confession will give him a smug grin. He likes knowing when something turns you on. “Yeah?” His normal voice instantly changes to the once he had practiced for Marcus and you make sure to squirm in the driver’s seat a little. “Yeah, it’s good. Panties around the world will explode.”

Dieter smirks, imagining the reaction with his fans but he doesn’t care about their panties exploding when he only wants yours to explode. Sure, it helps his career to still be considered a sex symbol but he wants you to want him more than any woman thirsting on Twitter.

You giggle quietly to yourself, guiding the car to the studio and you get parked. “Okay. Do you want to see the trailer first and figure out where it is? I can get it set up while you are in wardrobe?”

“Yeah. I wanna see if they gave me a good one or if they put me in the fucking back again.” He had a meltdown when his trailer was at the very end of the lot on his last project. He’s a fucking Oscar winner not someone doing their first fucking movie. You nod and he gets out while you gather the bags with his things. He doesn’t ask if you need help. That’s never really been his nature so you carry the bags to the trailer that’s been assigned as his. “First row. Now that’s more fucking like it.” He declares as he claps his hands.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and follow him into the trailer. It’s perfectly clean and sterile in that brand new kind of way and it will bother Dieter if it stays that way for too long. “I’ll get all this set up to your liking.” You promise.

Dieter looks around before his eyes find yours again, "that would be awesome." He declares, "oh and get me some Kit Kats. You know I love snacking on those ever since Cliff Beasts." He shivers slightly at that movie. Something he took in the desperation of the pandemic when he was stuck at home alone and was losing his mind.

“Kit Kats.” You nod and walk up to him, sensing that he needs a little affection. You caress his cheek and press your lips to his. “You are going to be amazing.” You promise him. “We will make sure this is the best film shoot you’ve ever had.”

Dieter appreciates you and he sighs, “I better get to costume to try everyone on.” He hates costume design but he needs to get there since it’s his time and they will need to do adjustments. “I better go, babe.” He kisses your cheek and exits the trailer, disappearing while you sort out his trailer.

You run and get the KitKats and make four more trips from the car for the bags of stuff for Dieter’s trailer. Stripping the basic sheets off the bed, you replace them with the Egyptian cotton ones that are 2500 thread count, which he loves. Shoving the pillows that were on the bed into a small compartment because he prefers down alternative pillows and putting the soothing weighted blanket over it all. The candle and incense is already burning and there’s a whiff of sage still, letting Dieter know that you’ve done all the things he claims helps clear his mind and calm him down. The basket full of KitKats next to the room temperature San Pellegrino bottles that he prefers when his throat hurts. The small refrigerator is stocked with other drinks and you look around satisfied that he will be comfortable.

Dieter stares at himself in the mirror in his costume and he smirks, knowing you’re going to lose your mind when you see the armor on his body. It’s surprisingly heavy and he didn’t think they’d use metal but they have. He likes the weight of it, it helps him get into character a bit more. The costume designers take notes on adjustments and he changes back, making his way to his trailer. “Fuck. You are amazing.” He compliments as you fluff the pillows you brought from his home.

You hum in delight and turn back to look at him. “That’s what I’m here for.” You motion to the trailer. “Think you can decompress here?”

He nods, groaning as he lays down on the bed. “Come here.” He opens his arm to invite you to lay with him and you follow his order, making him sigh and he shifts to curl around you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He confesses, burying his face in your neck.

“Be late.” You tease, stroking his side and chest and you let him hold you. “Wear the same thing for a week and eat nothing but tacos.” You enjoy taking care of Dieter and for all his selfishness, you appreciate the moments like this where he acknowledges everything you do for him. “How did costume fitting go?” You ask, sensing that he’s in a pretty mellow mood so it must have been good.

Dieter loves how you touch him and he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “It went well. They just have to do some minor adjustments. I- I am worried that I look - that I’m too old to do this part. The fighting. Will I look believable?” He asks, a frown on his face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Completely believable.” You promise, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer curls that he’s grown out for this role. “You will look like the war-hardened general. Experienced and trained by years of fighting.” You remind him. “Generals have wisdom. They’ve experienced heartache and lost men. They are supposed to have some gray in their hair and beards.” You bring your fingers down to scratch through his facial hair, knowing how much he likes that. “They might have to add some more. You don’t have quite enough to be that salt and pepper look, if that’s what they want. You’re gonna win another Oscar. I just know it.”

Dieter loves how confident you are in his abilities and that makes him feel more secure, makes him a better actor. “Thank you.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “You - I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes. You hum, continuing to stroke his hair until he blurts out, “I want Chinese for dinner.”

You are so used to the way that Dieter suddenly shifts gears that it’s nearly automatic. “The fancy or the nasty?” You ask, wondering if he’s wanting the upscale Chinese fusion place or the tiny little hole in the wall that makes the best egg rolls you’ve ever eaten in your life.

He ponders it for a second, “the nasty.” He offers you a smirk. “The greasy egg rolls. The fried rice.” He groans at the thought, “then tomorrow I’ll be good. I’m training tomorrow.” He tells you like you don’t know his schedule off by heart.

“Sword training.” You agree. “Bright and early at seven.” He groans pitifully and pouts at the early morning call. “I’ll make sure that you have a powerful protein smoothie first thing.”

Dieter groans, “smoothies and sword training. Seven? Fuckkkkk.” He moans and curls around you again. “Baby baby baby. Let’s go back to mine and then we can get dirty Chinese food and then I can eat my dessert.” He smirks, sliding his down between your legs to cup your cunt through your leggings.

“Yeah?” You moan quietly, always loving how his large hands feel on your body. “We can call and pick it up on the way.” You don’t call it home, because technically you don’t live with him although you spend most nights at his house. “Maybe a bath after and I can rub your back before you fall asleep.”

“Fuck you spoil me. I gotta call Sally and tell her to give you a damn raise.” He groans, telling you he wants his manager to make sure you’re looked after. He presses his fingers against your clit through your leggings, wanting to hear you moan again.

You don’t bite your lip, knowing that Dieter doesn’t want you to suppress your sounds. He’s always greedy for the sounds you make, greedy for the approval. His fingers press insistently against your bundle of nerves expertly. “Dee, baby, that feels so good.” You praise breathlessly.

He loves hearing your praise. He’s greedy for it and he hisses when you lean in to kiss his jaw. His fingers continue to press against your bundle of nerves, pressing and rubbing, wanting you to fall apart for him.

“Dee, baby.” You arch your hips up under his hand, grinding your clit down against his fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum. Fuck, I’m going to ruin these panties.”

He wants to hear your sweet cry. He groans, hardening in his pants, “I’ll buy you more.” He promises, continuing to rub you through the material. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to hear those sweet fucking moans.” He urges you on.

It doesn’t take long when Dieter wants to make you cum. He’s a skilled enough lover to have learned you, since you’ve slept with him so much. You hold onto his arm, gasping in pleasure until your toes curl. “Deeeeee!” You cry out, closing your eyes when the wave of pleasure washes over you and heat fires through your core.

He hisses when your thighs squeeze his hand, keeping him trapped there while you squirm through your orgasm. “Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He coos, watching you with fascination.

You doubt that. Sometimes you are a little disbelieving that he finds you sexy, but you understand that he might want you to think that so you continue to sleep with him. Whining drowsily, you pull him close and press your lips to his. “Do you want to break in this bed now or go home?”

Dieter smirks against your lips, "come on baby. Let's do it. Break in the bed then we will get Chinese food." It sounds like a fantasy he's jerked off to thinking about you. He is already hardening in his pants and he groans when you reach down to squeeze his bulge. "How do you want me?" He asks, "cowboy? doggy? waterfall? little dipper? the socket?" He lists off positions with raised eyebrows.

You squeeze his cock again and then slide your hand under the waist band to wrap around his shaft. Dieter moans and he twitches in your hand. “How do you want me?” You ask. “You know it’s the Big Dipper with this cock.” You tease, knowing how much he loves being praised for how big he feels inside you. “Do you want to fuck me? Or have me do the work?”

Dieter loves to be a pillow prince but right now, he wants to fuck you. "Strip off and lay on your side." He demands, his voice lowering as his cock twitches at the thought of sliding inside of you. You're so hot and wet, like fucking velvet, and you make his toes curl.

You have no problem stripping for him, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count. Pulling your bra down your arms, you toss it to the floor after pulling your shirt off and quickly strip down the leggings and ruined panties. “Are you going to fuck me wearing clothes or are you stripping too?”

Dieter wants to be naked too. He loves being naked. He would spend all weekend naked if he could. He shuffles off the bed and scrambles to pull his shirt over his head, shoving his sweats down to expose his hard cock. You lay down and he shifts to lay behind you, reaching down to grip his cock. He pumps himself a few times, "lift your leg, baby. I want to slide inside that wet pussy."

Lifting your leg gives him the access he wants and you reach back for his hip. Wanting to touch him as he rocks his hips forward. “It’s so wet.” You promise. “I need you inside me, Dieter.”

He shuffles closer, notching himself at your entrance as he pushes into you. "Fuckkk." He groans as your walls envelop him and he pushes deeper until he's nudging your cervix. "Fuck. So fucking wet." He lets go of his cock and grabs your leg, gripping it to keep it elevated.

“Shit.” Your body lights up when he pushes inside you. Taking him up on his offer of sex about four months after you started working for him had been the best decision you ever made. You squeeze your tits and moan, clenching down around him. “Feels so fucking big, baby. You fill me up perfectly.”

Your praise makes him twitch inside you. He loves it when you praise him, it makes his heart flutter and his stomach clench. "Fuck, you're so tight. Tightest little pussy I've ever fucked." He confesses and he has lost count of how many sexual partners he has had. He hadn't ventured out of your bedroom since a few weeks after you started sleeping together. He has become addicted to your body and he can't keep away from your bed. His fingers squeeze your flesh as he starts to rock into you.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and moan. “Easy to say when-“ you gasp when he pushes deep. “Your fat cock makes anything tight.” Your hand reaches back to caress his face, knowing how much Dieter loves to be stroked and caressed while fucking. “God baby, you just ruin me.” You honestly don’t know how you will get over losing the sexual part of your relationship when Dieter gets bored, but you know it will come eventually. Hell, you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened if you’re honest with yourself. But regular sex is something Dieter craves and you have never turned him down, your own sex drive is pretty high.

Dieter loves the praise, fuck, he loves hearing the way he makes you feel spill from your lips. His thrusts become harder and he hisses when you clench around him. “Fuck.” He groans and turns his head to kiss your palm, his other arm is trapped beneath you but he doesn’t care.

You feel that need in the frantic push of his hips. He’s craving the closeness he feels from sex and you push your ass back, encouraging him. “Yes baby, need this. Needed you to fuck me.” You pant. “Always need it.”

He grips your leg, shifting it more towards your stomach and he groans at the new angle. You’re so much tighter like this. “Fuck baby. You - you’re the best. The fucking best.” He murmurs, kissing along your shoulder.

The weight of him on top of you presses you into the bed, making it harder to push back against him, but you just squeeze him tight every time he thrusts back into you. “Deeeee.” You whine, loving the angle of his cock battering against your cervix. He feels like he’s in your guts when he pushes his hope forward. “Fuck baby, that cock is soooooo good.”

Dieter shifts his hips again, trying to find that spot inside you that makes you scream his name. He wants the entire fucking studio to know who is fucking you like this. He groans when you squeal on his best thrust and he focuses on that spot, wanting you to cum for him.

He’s demanding today. Your moans and squeals come easily, fingers gripping the covering on the bed. You’ll have to make it again later, but you don’t care. He feels amazing pounding into you against that spot. “Dee- Dieter- I’m- I’m gonna-“ you pant, trying to talk while he’s fucking you but it’s nearly impossible. “Oh shit!” You scream, clamping down around his cock when you feel the pressure suddenly reach its peak.

The way you gush around him has him panting as he tries to work himself into your cunt as you grip him like a vice. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep. He’s never been great at stamina without drugs so sober, he’s thrusting into you a half dozen more times until he’s painting your walls with his cum.

You groan softly, feeling the hot pulse of his cum filling you. You have an IUD, and Dieter has regular STI testing for insurance reasons and you love that he feels comfortable enough to not use protection with you. “That’s it baby, that’s it.” You reach back and hold his head, wanting to touch him as he rides out his orgasm and collapses on top of you with a breathless huff.

“Fuck. I really don’t pay you enough.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Best fucking pussy in L.A.” He compliments while he’s drunk on his orgasm and he kisses your shoulder, enjoying the feel of your hot cunt wrapped around his softening cock.

You snort at his comment and relax against the pillow. It could be ten minutes or an hour before Dieter moves but you always love the way he collapses into you bonelessly. “If I charged you for my pussy, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

Dieter snorts, “probably not.” He doesn’t deny that. Sure, he’s had sex workers in his bed before but you are his assistant and there’s an emotional connection he hasn’t found before. He’s addicted to it and he can’t let you go. He is excited to start this new project with you by his side.

****

“Dieter has an interview at twelve that day, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” You tap a pencil against your notepad as you pour over his schedule. “As long as he doesn’t go over we can make it to the studio by four and then have him ready.” His manager is on the other side of the zoom call, video feed in the corner of your computer, wanting to squeeze in a late night talk show to talk about the movie being released next month, while also teasing about this movie. “Will that work for them?”

“Yeah. We can make that work.” His manager and his PR team agree and you add it to his schedule. “We can also get him on that podcast in the next week, if he has a gap. It’s about sexual exploration and of course people know he is quite active. I think it will develop some big hit content. As long as he doesn’t talk about drugs.” His manager sighs.

“He’s been doing a lot better.” You remind them. “Working out for this film is doing wonders for him, even if he complains. He’s just smoking a little weed on the off days.” You look over his schedule again. “On Thursday he is supposed to have a half day of shooting, if we can reschedule his meeting with the accountant, he could do the podcast then?”

His manager hums and looks over the PR team who nods, confirming it with the podcast booker. “That will work. So that’s his schedule for the next month. Thanks for all your hard work. I know he’s not the easiest to handle.” His manager snorts just as Dieter opens the door to his trailer. He’s still in costume, covered in fake blood and dirt and he’s exhausted. He slumps onto the sofa with a groan.

“Okay, I’ll get back with you all later.” You promise, closing out the Zoom call and turning to look over at Dieter. It’s the first time you’ve properly seen him in costume and your mouth drops open. “Holy shit.” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as you take in the raw, rough and frankly sexy view of Dieter as a Roman general.

Dieter doesn’t notice your interest in his costume, rubbing his forehead as he is hot from the fighting. He’s exhausted. It’s been days of trying to get the scene just right. Including more takes than he’s ever known to cover the reaction of the crowd, of the emperor, of his lover in the stands. “It’s been a long fucking day.” He whines, opening one eye to look at you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is a little raspy, making you clear your throat as you sit up straighter and bite your lip. “It’s been a long day, baby?” You ask, wishing for a moment that Dieter was a method actor that stayed in character. Wanting to hear that voice he had developed for Marcus Acacius while he’s wearing that costume. “You need me to take care of you?”

He opens both eyes and smirks, seeing the way your eyes drop down to his costume. “Does this do it for you?” He asks slyly, standing up from the sofa and he brushes his costume down. His voice deepens as he asks you, “you want me to fuck you wearing this?” Instantly interested in this visceral reaction from you. 

You shiver slightly, his voice changing to the authoritative tone he had practiced with you. His eyes are hardening as he looks at you. “Yes.” You admit immediately. “We can- I can ride you.” You offer, cunt dripping at the thought.

His cock hardens in his briefs under the tunic and he stiffens his spine, wanting to enjoy this role play with you. “Stand up and strip. I want to see you.” He demands, “I want to see what the emperor has gifted me for winning my battle.”

Shit. A whimper escapes you, biting your lip even harder when he slips into role play as he watches you expectantly. You reach for your shirt and drag it over your head to drop to the floor. Wishing you had worn a dress today. “Too bad they aren’t using me as an extra.” You moan. “Pulling off a Roman dress would be sexy.”

“Fuck. I could ask wardrobe for an extra.” He says as his eyes take in your tits and he breaks character for a moment. When you’re naked in front of him, he straightens his back again. “Kneel before your general and tell him your sins.” He demands, “tell him what your weeping pussy yearns for that angers the gods.” His voice is deep and authoritative.

You have no idea if that is anything remotely like a Roman general would say, but you are quick to drop down to your knees in front of him. You bow your head, feigning embarrassment, and there might be a little of the genuine emotion mixed in. Your reaction to his costume is so physical. “You, general.” You moan quietly. “I wish for the general to take his frustrations out on my body. To use my cunt.”

Dieter knows he should be more like a general but he wants to tease you since you’re turned on by this display. By his character. “You’re nothing but a servant. You are nothing to men like me. Someone to fetch my wine and let me fuck your cunt. You want to please your general?” He asks as he reaches down to pull his hard cock from his briefs. He pumps himself and shifts closer to you, “you’re going to suck my cock.” He demands, “and pray the gods forgive you for your lust.”

It’s demeaning and sexy because most of the time Dieter is a whiny, submissive mess who does what you say, but right now he’s in charge. Except he’s not Dieter Bravo, not completely. He’s his character, Marcus Acacius. You open your mouth immediately, your cunt clenching when he pushes the head of his cock onto your tongue and past your lips. Making you moan as you close your eyes. He’s a little salty from sweat but that only adds to the little scene he’s acting out.

He groans as you take him into your mouth but it’s not enough. He reaches down to grab the back of your neck. “You’re not taking my cock like a hungry, needy, little whore. Show me how much you fucking want it.” He demands, rocking his hips to push deeper into your mouth.

You gasp and sputter around his cock, loving the almost ruthless way he is pushed down your throat. You swallow around him, making him groan and you feel your pussy start to drip onto the floor of the trailer. The scene is obscene and you love it, eyes watering as you look up at his ‘dirty and bloody’ face.

His brow is furrowed as he watches you, makeup on his face making him look fierce and he hisses when you swallow around him. “Fuck. Look at you. I bet your cunt is dripping onto the floor, isn’t it? Knowing you are sucking the cock of a general. Someone you’d never be able to be near unless you’re pouring my wine or taking my cock.” He chuckles breathlessly, slapping your cheek.

Your body shivers in goosebumps and you whimper around him. Your nipples are hard and aching and you want to reach between your thighs to rub your clit, but you want to prolong the pleasure. Saliva is dripping down your chin and you bob your head eagerly as you moan around him again. So turned on that you feel like you might cum right now.

Dieter twitches in your mouth, loving the roleplay. It's not really been something that he has explored due to his occupation. "Fuck. Your mouth is the Elysian Fields. Shit. Taking it so well." He compliments you, bending over you to squeeze your breast.

You hollow your cheeks, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock. Moaning around his length again as your saliva slick jaw works to take him deeper. Wanting to see how long he can last in your mouth before he is pulling out to fuck you.

"Fuck. I - I don't want to-" He loses his character for a moment as he pulls out of your mouth, "I want to fuck you. Get on the bed and show me how much this little slut wants a general to fuck her." He demands, his cock slick with saliva and he wants to cum inside you.

You love the tone and honestly, it’s a little bit of a turn on to hear him call you a slut like that. Dieter doesn’t usually ever use derogatory names unless he’s talking about himself, but this is sexy. You want him to fuck you from behind, but you want to see the costume. Climbing on the bed and spreading your legs wide while you are on your back, you wait for him to react.

Dieter bites his lip, watching your chest heave and he chuckles at how eager you are for him to fuck you like this. “Look at you. Fucking dripping onto the sheets. Hungry for this General’s cock.” He mocks you as he stands at the end of the bed. He grabs your thighs, dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to take whatever I give you.” He orders and grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance before he pushes inside you in one thrust.

Your cry is loud and you don’t care who hears you. It’s not unusual for cast and crew to hear the sounds of sex coming from Dieter’s hotel room or trailer so no one ever expects any less from him. The snap of his hips is more aggressive and your cunt clenches down around him in pleasure as your fingers twist in the sheets. “Fuck- fuck yes!”

He can see how desperate you are for him to fuck you and he loves it. He focuses on being his character, imagining how roughly he’d fuck someone with adrenaline from the battle racing through him. “Fuck you’re so tight. Such a good little whore for me.” He praises as he grabs your legs and straightens them against his body so he can feel even bigger inside you.

Your eyes roll back because of the angle. His cock pushing deeper and kissing your womb. It pinches slightly but the pleasure overwhelms any pain. “G-gods!” You manage, finding it hard to think about anything but how fucking fierce he looks over you. His brows are pinched together and it makes him look furious, adding to the effect of the costume.

His body is still covered in fake dirt and blood, sweat beading on his forehead, and he looks down as your tits jiggle with each move and your mouth is open in pleasure. If you were a Roman god, you’d be Venus. “Taking my cock. Taking your general’s cock like a good slut. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you? Bet you sat there wet and waiting for me to come back from battle. Fuck you hard and make you cum after my frustration in battle.” He grunts, squeezing your legs as he rocks impossibly harder.

You moan and nod. “Yes, General.” You pant out, reaching up and squeezing your left tit as he fucks you. “Waiting for you to come back. Thinking of you.” Your pussy is gushing and Dieter is playing up the part beautifully. You had never thought of role play with him before but it’s perfect.

Your gushing cunt has his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and his skin slaps against your thighs. “Fuck. So good. Feel so fucking good.” He groans and squeezes your calves. He hisses and slaps your flesh, “you gonna be a good girl for your general? You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You gasp out, knowing that will be easy to do. “Dee- general.” You moan, correcting yourself when he squeezes your thigh and grunts in disapproval when you almost say his name. He obviously likes playing the general right now and you will oblige him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He wants to see it, hear it, feel it. He groans your name and slaps your thigh, wanting you to fall apart around him. You pant, getting closer and your walls flutter around his cock. “That’s it. That’s it.” He grunts, sliding his hand lower to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He demands, wanting to hear it, “cum for your general.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. It's so goddamn sexy and powerful that the sight of it makes you cum. Your cry is strangled, caught in your throat while your body bucks and heaves under him. Soaking his cock and you vaguely hope you don't ruin his costume as you fall apart.

You clamp down on his cock and your cry has to be heard on the entire lot as you soak his cock. "Fuck, you are - shit. Good girl. Such a good little whore for me. Gonna fill you up now. Don't care if you get knocked up. Will make sure you are looked after by the Emperor." He promises, still in character. "Fuck, I'm gonna - gonna cum." He pants, clenching his eyes as he pushes into you, thrusting a half dozen more times before he can't hold off. He pushes deep as he starts to cum, a whine escaping his lips as he breaks character.

You moan softly, watching his face relax and he literally changes from the character he was portraying to the actor that you work for and sleep with. His shoulder slump and his eyes shift back to a more soulful gaze, glazed over with pleasure as he rocks his hips forward to push every drop of cum into your pulsing walls. “Fuck, Dee.” You can’t help but giggle, your entire body tingling from the pure adrenaline of your orgasm. “That was- is your sex scene going to be like that?”

Dieter inhales deeply, his spine tingling from the orgasm, and he snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at you. "No. No. Fuck." He shakes his head, trying to get control of himself after some great fucking sex. "It's gonna be boring. She rides me, her naked, me in armor." He tells you and you nod, "not like this." He caresses your legs, "not like this."

You hum, smirking slightly and you reach down to caress the armored chest of his costume. “Well then, why don’t I ride you in your costume before you film, so you can imagine I’m the one on top of you?” You suggest, not even remotely upset by the idea of fucking him again like this. Your pussy clenches down around his softening cock. “Anything I can do to help you.”

Dieter smirks, "Jesus, you'll have me hardening in the damn sock thinking about you but fuck...I can bring the costume back to the trailer another day." He decides and reaches for your hand to kiss your palm. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks softly, knowing you deserve to know how he feels.

Dieter says he loves you all the time, most often after you do something for him he had expected you to refuse. It’s glib and flippant, not real so you don’t ever tell him how it hurts you when he does because you know he doesn’t love love you. “I could stand to hear it more.” You admit, heart twisting and you cup his cheek when he puts your hand against it. “Because I love you too.”

Your adoring gaze makes his heart flutter and he’s reminded once again how he cannot live without you. You’re his rock and you keep him on track, not letting him spiral when things go wrong. He sighs, “not like I want you to” and lets go of your hand to pull out of you. He can’t say how he really feels and he dejectedly tucks his cock away.

The ever shifting moods of Dieter reminds you that he isn’t yours and you decide to just giggle to cover the flare of hurt. “Of course not.” You hum. “That wouldn’t fit your reputation.” You sit up and reach for a towel. “Do you want a snack?” You ask, moving back into caretaker mode.

Dieter watches you shuffle off the bed, reaching for your panties and he sighs, “you don’t get it. I don’t mean- whatever. It’s whatever.” He huffs and decides to head back onto set and find himself something to drink.

You frown when he leaves the trailer before you can put yourself back together. Wondering why he seems so shiftless right now, if he’s feeling guilty about something. You know that he’s not great at expressing himself and sometimes acts out like a child would. He doesn’t like being emotionally vulnerable. You decide to go to the set and see if you can help him.

Dieter is nursing a black coffee when you arrive on set and he is sitting, waiting for the other actors to come back from their break. You walk over to him and he stares at the cup in his hand. “Sorry for - for that.” He manages to get out like it’s painful to say.

“Don’t worry about it.” The last thing you need is for Dieter to think you are mad at him. He needs to concentrate on the scenes being filmed today and hopefully by the time he’s done, whatever is upsetting him will have passed. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much this morning.” His blood sugar might be low. “I brought you a Kit Kat.” You pull the candy bar out of your bag and offer it to him.

He looks up at you in surprise and takes the chocolate, undoing the wrapper after you take his coffee and he groans as he chews it, not realizing how hungry he was. You stand there in silence and Dieter hands you the wrapper after the AD calls for everyone to return to set. He inhales deeply, mentally shifting into his character.

You sit in the chair he vacated, that is still warm from him sitting there. Watching as he takes his mark and his co-stars also get into position. It’s always interesting to watch Dieter work, the truth in the saying that all artists are slightly mad being very true. You think he is amazing.

Dieter grunts as soon as the director calls action, working on remembering his blocking and the choreography. People think that acting is easy, that it doesn't take a lot, but Dieter's life has been acting and it's exhausting physically and mentally. He gets lost in his character as he works his way through the scene.

You have memorized the lines and the action sequences. Seeing the hard work he has been putting in come to life as he goes through the scenes. Sometime they cut and reset, but you are so impressed and fucking turned on by his competence in this role, it makes you press your thighs together.

Dieter is sweating when he finishes his scene and he strides off set when the director calls cut, taking the bottle of water you have ready for him. He desperately wants a shower so he's relieved when the director calls it for the day and he hands you the water bottle. "Need a damn shower and some weed." He declares, walking off set and you follow him.

You know that he’s tired so you don’t try to talk to him. Just follow him back to the trailer and you pick up his costume as he strips it off, taking it back to wardrobe as he gets into the shower. His comfy sweats and crocs are set out and you have ordered dinner to be delivered to the house by the time you get there.

Dieter stands under the water, eyes closed as he tries to imagine his life when he’s older. He will be too old to be a movie star, too old to be considered another more than a washed up legend. His legacy will be his Oscar and nothing else. He hates the idea of not having anything else written in his eulogy. He hates the thought of being alone. He imagines if he gets the balls to say how he feels about you. Sure, he’s not conventional but he loves you. You don’t care about the fame or the money. You see him, you know him. He imagines being old, watching his kids grow up with you beside him. He wants that. He just needs to tell you for real and hope you don’t crush his crumbling heart in your hands.

Once you’ve returned the costume, you pick up the changes to the script and the blocking for tomorrow, going back to the trailer to pack up the bag you always carry for Dieter. He’s still in the shower, which is a little unusual but you just think that he’s sore. You’ll offer to give him a massage once he’s smoked a little and relaxed. It’s been a long day.

Dieter finally turns off the shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel around his waist. He washes the makeup from his face with the organic cleanser you get him and he comes out to find you waiting for him. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing his eyes, “I just know I’m gonna lose you.” He admits, trying to ignore how fucking pretty you look waiting for him.

You frown, not sure what the hell he is talking about. “Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to him and wondering if he might have taken something without you knowing. He's been doing so good with not taking random pills, but this is Dieter. “You aren’t going to lose me unless you wander off.” You joke playfully, reaching out and touching his arm.

He flinches and shakes his head, “no. No. You’re gonna go and all because I can’t control- I can’t stop thinking - fuck!” He yells and you jump, making his frown deepen. “There’s - it’s just all in my head bouncing around all the damn time.” He admits, waving his hands around his wet curls, “you’re gonna leave because you don’t - it’s gonna ruin everything but I can’t stop myself.” He admits and you frown, shaking your head, “Dieter. What’s wro-?” You don’t get to finish before he blurts out, “I’m in love with you!”

Your mouth drops open slightly, shocked by his outburst. His eyes are filled with sorrow, grief. As if you’ve already rejected him. “Dee…” he shakes his head “I knew it.” He mumbles and you step closer. “Know what?” You ask, tilting your head. “That I’m in love with you too? That I’m scared that you’ll find someone else? That you’ll be bored?” You ask, voice shallow and fearful. “Because that’s all true.”

Dieter stares at you in shock, thinking for a second that he’s high or this is some dream. He swallows harshly and reaches for his towel, dragging it from his body. “Dieter.” You whisper in confusion and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “I’m yours. All of me is yours and I stand in front of you now naked and totally exposed, physically and emotionally. I’ve been in love with you for - well, since you started working for me but I think I told myself that I couldn’t indulge in you, couldn’t ruin you, until that first night we slept together and I - no one else came close to you. I love you and I want you. You’re the only person I can ever see myself growing old with.” He admits, his heart pounding under your palm.

You bite your lip and your eyes fill with happy tears. “I always worried that you would move on. That I wasn’t enough.” You admit softly. “But I want you. Perfectly flawed you. I think you are amazing and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Dieter.”

Dieter offers you a soppy smile when he realizes you feel the same way. “You are - Jesus. Seriously?” He asks and you nod, offering him a soft smile as you reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “I love you.” He declares before he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, throwing your arms around him and dragging him closer. He loves you. He’s whiny, sometimes annoying and always needy, but he loves you. You pour yourself into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers dig into your waist as he pulls you against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he lets it sink in that you love him. “Wanna- wanna grow old with you. Well, older.” He says when you pull back and he points at himself, his wrinkles that he’s insecure about.

Leaning in, you press your lips to the wrinkles and smile at him when you pull back. “Only if you’re willing to steal your costume after you finish shooting.” You joke, kissing him again.

Dieter chuckles, “now that I can agree to.” He promises, caressing your back. “Definitely going to steal that one to take home.” He promises, “for now though…let’s go home and have dinner before I spend all night making love to my girlfriend.” He nudges his nose against yours.

“I ordered dinner to be delivered,” you tell him as you pull back and smile at him. “We’ll smoke a little and then I’ll ride you before rubbing your back.” You tell him the plan as you turn around to reach for his clothes. “How does that sound, baby?”

“Fuck, you really are my soulmate.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He orders, slapping your ass. “Uh, you might want to get dressed.” You say and he chuckles, nodding as he grabs the sweats you laid out for him. “Don’t want anyone else seeing the goods. Yours and only yours.” He winks at you as he pulls his pants up and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head while he slides into his crocs. “Sports mode.” He jokes as he pulls the straps up over his ankle.

You roll your eyes, laughing at the complete dork that you love. He’s quirky in about a million ways and sometimes drives you crazy with his antics, but you don’t want him any other way. Especially if he’s going to roleplay a Roman general with you for the rest of your life. “Let’s go home, babe.” You tell him, grabbing the bag. “We’ll practice your sex scene until we get it right.”

“Fuck yes.” He cheers as you walk out of his trailer and he takes your hand, not caring about anything other than showing you how he feels about you. “Food, weed, then some crazy lovemaking.” He decides and squeezes your hand, “you know…I have a costume left over from Cliff Beasts we could try out.” He teases and you snort, “that’s just your robe. You used your own for the character.” Dieter smirks, “could be sexy if we roleplay it the right way.” He suggests, “these cliff beasts are so large-a.” He does his accent and you sigh, “I hate that that works on me.” Dieter grins, “gonna be a damn good life together, baby.” He declares and you giggle, “yeah it is, Bravo.”

[higgity-diggity-dummy]

These Strings That Bind Us

previous (1st chapter)

In which I question the writing voice I want to keep throughout this story, Nico talks with (literally just two) people, and he has strings tied to his fingers.

Also, some string logic important in this chapter: Only people with the feelings of connection to another person see the string; strings are semi-physical, as in they don’t ever get in the way or get tangled (unless I feel artsy and want to make marionette analogies), but they can be consciously moved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chapter 2

Nico walked back to the doorstep of the Apollo cabin where Will Solace was waiting. He smirked at the half-surprised eyes Will wore. 

“What?” Nico asked him. “Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”

Will walked down the steps and stood facing Nico. “No.” 

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Ok well, maybe” Will confessed. “But you can’t blame me for being skeptical. You kind of have a history of running off.”

“Oh so you know my history. Stalker” Nico joked. 

Will rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.” 

“Well, that’s on you for still choosing to be friends with me.” Nico let the words slip out before he can think about it.

Friends. They weren’t friends. We’re they? They couldn’t be. Nico was reminded of the promise he made to himself when they first met: he would not let Will through his barriers. 

But the more time they spent together, the harder it got…

What if he doesn’t even want to be friends with you? A corner of Nico’s mind asked. You probably just freaked him out, assuming you two were friends. You should leave him now before you get attached and he leaves you first. 

You never should have gotten close to him. Are you an idiot? This won’t end well. Especially not with that queer string you have on your finger. 

The thoughts cloud out the world around Nico as they swirl and overpower the importance of the present. Until the sound of laughter…

“Gods you’re terrible.” Will joked. 

Nico snapped back to reality. 

Will turned to walk to the infirmary, apparently assuming Nico is just going to join him (which he is, but still). 

“Hey, what was that conversation you just had with Percy and Annabeth?” Will asked abruptly. 

Nico felt his stomach drop. He stuttered thinking of a possible response that wouldn’t force him to reveal anything. 

But he also wants to reveal everything to Will. He’s so wonderful. 

Don’t be an idiot. 

“I… uhm, it was just…” 

He’s Nico’s soulmate. He should talk to him. Gods, he could imagine talking to that piercing smile and attentive eyes all day. 

No.  

“I kinda just went over there and uh…”

Will looked at him curiously. Nico looked away. 

He should look back at him. Meet his eyes. Stare into his eyes and talk about everything possible. Fate agrees with him. They gave him the string on his finger. The one that’s attached to Will. He’s so beautiful-

Stop! 

“They told me about the plans to go to collage together in New Rome,” Nico finally said. 

Walls back up. Reality checked. Will kept away from his heart. 

Will stayed silent for a bit, obviously tying to read the nuances of Nico’s tone and expression. He twirled his fingers around the rose gold string. 

“That’s all?” He said after a bit. “It seemed like… like it was a bit more…” he trails off. 

Nico refused to look at Will’s face. Just hearing the disappointment in his voice was enough to make him regret not saying the truth. Nico was too easily influenced by him…

He felt the string become more taut. His heart sped up at the reminder of it. At the reminder of the reciprocation of it. The fingers that twirled the string closer to his soulmate’s body. The movement that made Nico’s arm start to slightly raise. The hand that reaches to meet his own-

Nico yanked his hand back. He saw from the corner of his eye Will’s hand stutter in the language of physical comfort, before deciding to retreat back to its place by his side. 

“Let’s just go,” said Nico. 

And he headed off without checking that the son of Apollo was following him. 

~~~

Upon arriving at the infirmary, Will provided Nico with a bed to stay in and told him to wait for him to come back with forms and paperwork. Nico, however, wouldn’t see that paperwork ‘till much later than when Will had previously promised. His body crashed as soon as he laid down on the infirmary bed. It also apparently ignored all the sleep Nico had given it the night before because he was out cold for…

Oh dear gods… how long was he out for?

Why hadn’t Will woken him up? 

Ughh. He did not have the brain power to be thinking about that just yet. The world around him was still just as real as the dream he had just been in. 

When he gained enough consciousness to process his surroundings, the first thing he saw was a hand with a dimly lit maroon string tied to it. 

Fuuuck. 

It wasn’t too late to pretend to still be asleep, right? 

“Nico?”

Apparently it was. Unless…

“Nico, I know you’re awake. Stop trying to gaslight me.”

He groaned and slowly creeped himself up into a sitting position. “Do you really think I could gaslight you? Now I kind of want to try.” 

Percy chuckled at this. “I wouldn’t put it past you. However, my ironclad will is strong enough to kill a grazing goat.”

“An ‘ironclad will’ is a legal term idiot, “Nico retorted. “Also, isn’t your best friend a goat? Wouldn’t he find that offensive?”

“Actually, I’m allowed to say that because my best friend is a goat.” 

“Sounds like faulty logic to me. Also kinda racist.”

“Gods of Olympus, you really know how to escalate a conversation Nico.”

He just shrugged in response. 

Percy chuckled.

The string glowed a little. A new glow. A glow that was surprisingly not eerie. Not haunting. 

And then it faded. And the string turned less opaque. Was it fading?

An awkward silence fell over the two of them as they thought of what to say —of course while avoiding the topic that would make it more awkward. 

“How… long was I out?” said Nico in an attempt to solve this. 

Percy visibly relaxed. “About a day.”

Nico sprang up. “A day!? Why did nobody wake me up?”

 “Will said not to.” Percy shrugged.

“Of course he did,” Nico responded in the most annoyed tone he could muster. “That asshole drags me in here for three days just to have me unconscious for one of them.” 

“So that’s the deal then.” Percy said, as if it were a big mystery for him. “But… isn’t that better for you? Y’ know. Less days awake in this sterile jail.”

While Nico was trying to think of a response to that, apparently Percy had discovered it before him. 

“Oh! Oooh.” He grinned and snapped his fingers into a finger gun. “Heh heh. Heheheh. So you want to spend more time with him? You were happy to accept the three days deal.”

Nico brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. 

“Somebody has a cruuush.” Percy said in a sing-song voice. 

“Keep your voice down,” Nico snapped at him. “Jesus. You-“ he stuttered. “You can’t just say that out loud! Somebody could hear you,” Nico whisper-shouted. 

Gods, that ignorant idiot. Nico looked around him to make sure nobody was paying attention. 

The snarky Percy from just a few seconds ago deflated upon hearing those words. “Are you really scared about that? Like, people knowing?”

Nico groaned. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. He’d had his fill of conversations for the the year —at least. “Maybe? I don’t know Percy. I guess so.” 

“But you were able to tell me and—“

“That was after years of fruitless pining, you idiot. And besides, who knows what people around here would think after overhearing a conversation about the local camp gay.” Nico said that last word significantly quieter than the rest. He looked around again, unable to relax until he saw nobody heard what he just said.

“Nico…” Those staple sea green eyes met his with a look of… concern? Pity? “Nobody thinks that way anymore… or well, I guess some people do. Depending on where you’re from or what your background is and…” he started to trail off until Nico cleared his throat, reminding him to get to the point. 

“Look, this is a safe space,” Percy said. 

Then why did it feel so unsafe to be himself?

“Sure there are some places where it’s frowned upon to be gay, but nobody in camp is like that.”

As if Nico could believe that. He thought about the shock and confusion on Percy’s face when he told him the truth. 

“And if anyone gives anyone a hard time about it, we’ll knock em’ dead… or just educate them on why they’re wrong.”

But they aren’t wrong. It is immoral to have such impulses. Those queers should be purified. 

You should be purified. 

Nico broke eye contact, as if he needed focus to be spent on this conversation with his inner thoughts. 

Too many thoughts.

Too many emotions. 

Too many strings. All tying him up into a marionette controlled by fate and Satan. Making him somebody he didn’t want to be. Somebody he had no control over. He was a jester for the gods laugh at. A performance that he wanted to be done watching. He just wanted to be done in general. He didn’t want to be the way he was. He didn’t like who he was made to be. 

You can change that. 

Can he?

It’s your choice, but you know what the right choice is. Don’t you?

Well, maybe but—

There are no maybes with this you coward! This is a decision and you need to choose correctly. 

But so many people had told him that it was okay to be who he was. From the get-go Jason had told him that he was on his side. And now-

Their thoughts are corrupted and you know it. You need to be clean—

“Nico?”

Oh right. Reality. 

“Are you ok?” 

He wasn’t sure. 

“Yeah. Sorry, I just zoned out a bit.”

That’s one word for it. 

“Well, think about what I said. I should probably leave now though. Breakfast and stuff.”

Nico nods. 

“Ok. Bye Percy.”

And he leaves with a wave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! Dear god did this chapter take a while to write. I’m struggling with dialogue and pacing right now so if y’all have any pointers or advice I’d love to know.

Also, there’s a scene I cut out of this chapter where Nico isn’t fully over his crush on Percy because I thought that it wouldn’t make sense to have Nico get over him so quickly, but I decided to cut it out because I didn’t know how I could fit that whole “getting over the crush that he is kinda already over” arc in the story. I may post the couple of paragraphs I wrote that birthed that idea though.

[milkytheholy1]

Would u do Prompts 6 and 39 for rise Leo cause that cocky mf needs some appreciation

U can make it a lime if U want or just banter Lol

Highway Man

RiseLeo x GNReader

Prompts: 6 - “Make me.” 39 - “Bite me.”

A/N: I just wanna say if you haven't guessed already I'm British, so there might be some British words in this one and also it's normal for people to drink at 18 here and get shitfaced. But yeah, ig everyone is aged up?

Tmnt masterlist.

Ultimate masterlist.

----------------------------------------------------------

This was the worst idea you have ever had, a college costume party was not how you wanted to spend your night; but when in Rome, as they say.

April had told you not to go, but you wanted to make some new friends at your university, especially with the people on your course. So, you went. You were dressed as a robot, simply choosing to cover yourself in foil and tape than try to make it look sexy like some people at this party.

"What're you meant to be?" someone had asked you, those red cups you see in movies in their hand, sloshing around what you could only guess was alcohol. You yelled over the obnoxiously loud music, "A robot!"

"You don't look like a robot?" the guy questioned, stumbling over his feet. You shrugged your shoulders, making your voice as monotone as possible "Beep, boop, bap." The guy paused for a moment, then lifted his drink in the air, "Right on!" and with that he blundered away, bashing into people and disappearing into the sea of bodies.

You released a deep sigh, juggling around your own drink; something strong mixed with FIZZY LEMONADE to soften its effects. You were leaning against the far wall of the flat you were cramped into, bodies pushed up beside each other to make up for the lack of room. The window which you chose to stand by had been opened slightly, allowing a cool breeze into the room; even if it was halted by the warm wall of bodies blocking it from going further.

God this party was a drag, you hadn't made any new friends nor really spoke to anyone, they were far too concerned about drinking the moment they turned 18. Maybe if you thought about it enough you could imagine yourself back at the lair with the guys, just enjoying pizza and video games to your heart's contempt.

"Hey, (Y/N)." you could almost hear Leo's voice now, "Pssssst, (Y/N)!" his rather annoying voice.

"(Y/NNNNNNNN)!" wow, you were really good at imagining voices, apparently. You then felt a tug on your arm, the crinkling of the foil going silent when compared to the music. You swivelled towards the window, catching the toothy grin of one Leonardo Splinterson hanging outside.

Your eyes grew wide, panic arising in your system, maybe it was the alcohol "What are you doing here!" you wanted it to be a harsh whisper yet you still ended up yelling just so he could hear you. Leo lifted the window up further to enter, no one giving him a second glance.

He was dressed head to toe in black, a large hat on his pointed head and a new black mask making his eyes pop. You looked him up and down, he was equally as confused by your costume, "What're you meant to be?" you asked him, disgust in your voice.

Leo flapped the cape that laid across his shoulders, "Duh, I'm the Highway Man. You ever read history?"

"You don't read history, bozo." Leo rolled his eyes at your remark, "What about you, a futuristic toaster or somethin'?"

"Bite my shiny metal ass," you huffed out, taking a sip from your drink. Leo gave you some finger guns in response, "Oh I get it, old school, niceee~" could this night get any worse?

Yes, yes it could.

"Who wants to do shots!" screamed a voice from the distance, at this point you couldn't tell where any sound was coming from, it seemed everywhere all at once. Leo jumped at the opportunity, but you grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back towards the window.

"You can't be here, I don't even know why you're here in the first place!"

Leo skirted around you, wrapping his arms around your waist while slinking the cup from your hand, "Well, April told Donnie who told Raph who told Mikey who told me that you were going to a costume party. And as we know, I'm excellent at costumes, case and point-" he gestured to his outfit and finished off the remainder of your drink.

"Wha- hey! That was mine!" you whined, turning to face his chest. His arm remained around you while he held the red cup higher, "Nah, I think you've had enough for the night." always trying to be the hero.

"That was my only one," you deadpanned, turning away with a pout. Leo grew a joyous smile, tugging you by the shoulder, even if you refused to meet his eye, "Oh my, what's this? Has the robot shown some emotion?"

"Buzz off, Leo." you huffed, glaring at his dumb smirk. Leo leaned closer towards you, snout bumping against your nose, "Make me." he gleamed. He pulled away, even in the low light he could see the twinkling of your eyes and the redness of your cheeks.

"C'mon, how's about we get out of here, hit the town?" he flicked open the window, throwing the red cup into the crowd of drunk teens; not one single person caring. You looked back to said crowd, feeling the beads of sweat pile up under all the tinfoil, "You got yourself a deal, Dick."

"Dick? I was just being nice to you and this is what I get in return." Leo flapped his cape in mock anger, but you could see the tired smile on his lips. Unwrapping yourself from your tin foil binds, you poked at him "Dick Turpin, y'know, the Highway Man? Now look who doesn't know history." you smirked.

"Bite me." he huffed back, wrapping an arm around you and falling out the window only to land in the Turtle Tank.

"You had this here the whole time!"

[sometimesbeforeitgetsbetter]

On An Evening In Roma | Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Summary: Stiles and y/n promised each other they'd have adventures together while in Rome for their post-graduation trip, but what happens when a cute Italian boy enters the picture?

Word count: 4,174

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing another fic, but I rewatched the Lizzie McGuire movie a couple weeks ago and was absolutely inspired to write. It's an AU where there's no supernatural stuff lol. Just imagining Stiles and y/n as Gordo and Lizzie is *chef's kiss*. I also think it's really funny to imagine Coach as Miss Ungermeyer...they're so different yet so similar in a bunch of ways. Some of the dialogue is also from the movie! Sorry if some of the Italian is wrong...I just used Google translate lol. I mostly listened to the movie soundtrack while writing it, so I recommend listening to it while reading as well! Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think about it!! :)

--

“Alright delinquents, check your bags so we can be on our way to the land of pizza and pasta.”

“I can’t even begin to express how incredibly reductive that is of Italian culture,” I said as I laughed lightly and watched the chaos unfolding at the airport. “How did we get stuck with Coach taking us on our post-graduation trip to Rome?” Next to me, one of my best friends Scott shrugged. “Beats me. I was hoping for someone chill, like Mr. Yukimura or something.”

As we stood watching our crazy chaperone bustling about, a brown-haired boy ran through the airport doors up to us, lugging a massive suitcase and duffel bag with his pillow tucked under his arm.

“Woah, Stilinski. You know we’re only going for two weeks, right?” I asked my other best friend, Stiles.

Out of breath, he laughed humorlessly. “Haha, very funny. Sue me for wanting to be prepared for all possible circumstances.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s Rome, not the middle of nowhere. I’m sure you can find anything you need there if you forget something.”

It was Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes. “Well, y/n–”

“Can we just check in?” Scott asked, tired of our meaningless bickering already. “I wouldn’t put it past Coach to leave people behind.”

Stiles and I nodded before following our friend to the check-in kiosks.

Luckily, Coach did not leave us behind. In fact, his bickering with Greenberg gave everyone plenty of time to check in, go through security, and board the plane. I found myself sitting next to Stiles after Scott begged him to switch assigned seats so that he could sit next to his crush, Allison.

At the start of the flight, Stiles and I chatted and hung out like we normally did. But a few hours (and Star Wars movies) into the nearly 13.5 hour flight, I started to doze off.

I don’t know how it happened, but when I woke up a few hours later, my head was on Stiles’ shoulder, and his head was resting against the top of mine. My movement must have woken him up, so he lifted his head too.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as we smiled sheepishly at each other.

“It’s fine,” he said, scratching the back of his head slightly with his hand. “Actually, your head was a really nice pillow.”

“Didn’t you bring your own pillow?” I asked, eyeing the pillow in his lap.

“Well, yeah, but your hair is soft,” he admitted. “And it smells good.”

I chuckled, ignoring the weird feeling in my chest at his statement. “Ok, creep.” My eyes drifted over to the seats in the row ahead of us and across the aisle. Scott and Allison were sleeping in the same position that Stiles and I had just been in. I nudged Stiles with my elbow, pointing at the two.

“I bet they get together by the end of the trip.”

I shook my head slightly. “I bet they get together by the end of the first week.”

He looked over at me and stuck his hand out. “Oh, you’re on.” We shook on it, and then he let out a big yawn. “Now, I could use some more sleep. Can I have my pillow back?”

I rolled my eyes, but placed my head back on Stiles’ shoulder. I could feel him sigh as he placed his head on top of mine once more, and within moments we were both asleep again.

A few more hours later, we were sitting on a bus, driving through Rome at night. The ancient streets were lit up, and I caught glimpses of the historical monuments we were planning to see in the next couple weeks.

The bright lights were welcoming, as if the city were saying, Ciao, y/n. Benvenuto a Roma.

--

When we finally arrived at the hotel, Coach assembled us in the lobby to assign our rooms.

“Stilinski, you’re with Lahey,” Coach said, throwing the key at the brown-haired boy.

Stiles’ eyes, which had been roaming the room, snapped to look at Coach as he fumbled for the key. “W-what? Coach, can’t I just room with Scott or something?” I could hear the desperation in his voice, and it made me smirk.

“Stilinski, this isn’t a democracy. You’re rooming with Lahey, so deal. With. It.”

Without another word, Stiles nodded slowly, beginning to fiddle with the keys in his hands.

“Now, where was I? Hm...y/l/n, you’re with Martin.”

My jaw dropped. Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. “But Coach–”

“Didn’t you hear anything I just told Stilinski?” He said with an exasperated tone, bordering on angry.

Walking up to take the key from him, I nodded slowly just like Stiles had done. “Sorry.”

As soon as we got into the room, I could tell that rooming with Lydia Martin would be a nightmare.

“I’m taking the bed by the window. You don’t mind, do you?” She asked as she placed her bags on top of the bed.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I shrugged. “No, go ahead.”

As I was contemplating my sheer bad luck by being placed with the school’s resident mean girl, a knock on our door brought me out of my thoughts. “Hey, y/n? Can I show you something?” Seeing that Stiles had poked his head into our room, a grin spread across my face.

I took his outstretched hand and he quickly pulled me out of the room, leading me up a hidden staircase. When he opened the door at the top of the stairs, I was blown away by the beautiful landscape we could see from the roof.

“Woah...Stiles, how did you find this?”

I could see the mischievous glint in his eyes when he looked at me. “I’ll never reveal my secrets.”

We smiled at one another before turning to look out at the view. The glittering lights were sprawled out ahead of us, showing the endless possibilities awaiting us in the Eternal City.

“You know what, Stiles? I’m not going to let Lydia Martin get to me. Promise me something.” “Anything,” he said, turning to face me.

“Promise me that when we’re here, we’ll find adventures. Alright? This is our chance to start over – I mean, do anything that we want to do.”

A soft smile formed on his face. “Yeah, you’re right. You and me – adventures. Deal.”

--

The first thing on our itinerary was to visit the Trevi Fountain. As we stood admiring the architectural wonder, Coach stood behind us trying to read us information from a guidebook.

“Is this even English?”

“No, Coach. Some of the words are probably in Italian. Because, you know, we’re in Italy,” Stiles sarcastically responded, making me clap my hand to my mouth to stop the laughter from interrupting Coach’s attempt at pronouncing Italian names.

“Oh, right,” Coach said as he closed the book quickly. “Well, what I do know is that people come here to make wishes. I say that those people are suckers. But whatever, just throw your damn coins in and we can go and get gelato.”

I turned to look at my best friend. “Forget what he says. Make a wish!” I tried to hand Stiles a coin, but he pushed it back to me. “I’m in Rome with my best friend. I’m good. You make one.”

Smiling softly at the boy in front of me, I closed my eyes briefly to think about my wish. What did I really want? I want to find love. I took a deep breath and tossed the coin into the fountain.

When I opened my eyes, they briefly connected with the pair of whiskey brown ones of Stiles. There was something in them that I couldn’t really decipher, but before I could question it, he spoke up for me.

“So, should we catch up to Coach so we can get some of that gelato he’s been going on about?”

I nodded, and we slowly made our way to the nearest gelato shop, catching up with Scott and the rest of the group.

As I was about to enter the shop, I bumped into something hard and stumbled.

“Scusi,” I heard as I looked up and made eye contact with the most gorgeous Italian boy I’d ever seen. He was tall and fit, silky light brown curls sitting on top of his head. His blue eyes sparkled with interest. “Stai bene?”

I breathed out a quiet laugh. “Um, yeah, I’m okay.”

“Oh, you’re American?” I nodded. “What’s your name?”

“y/n.”

“y/n...bellissima. I’m Lorenzo.” He stuck his hand out to shake, and I gingerly took it.

“Nice to meet you.” I felt a slight nudge at my outstretched elbow, and I looked over to see Stiles gesturing me into the gelato shop. “Oh, sorry. I have to go,” I pulled my hand away and turned to follow Stiles, but Lorenzo stopped me once again.

“Wait! Can I see you again?” I was baffled. What were the odds that after making a wish that I would find someone who was interested in me?

“Oh, I’m on a school trip. I really don’t think I can–”

“Stilinski! y/l/n! Get inside. I’m doing a headcount. 16, 17,” Coach’s eyes found Lorenzo, and he narrowed them slightly. “And put your money in your front pockets,” he said before heading back inside.

I shrugged at Lorenzo in apology, but he just smiled. “Well, if you change your mind, meet me at the Trevi Fountain tomorrow at 9 am. I hope to see you there.”

--

The day went by in a blur of monuments and artifacts. That night, I was in Stiles’ room talking about the day’s events.

“So, are you going to see him tomorrow? Lorenzo?” Stiles asked, a slight edge in his voice.

I groaned and flopped back onto his bed. “I don’t know. I mean, I want to, but how would I even pull it off? Plus, we’re supposed to be going on adventures together!”

“There’s still time for us to have adventures. I want you to do what will make you happy.”

I looked over at him and smiled. “You know you’re the best, right?”

“Oh, I know,” he smirked as he leaned back on his elbows. “And you’re lucky that I come up with the best plans.”

--

“It’s definitely a fever,” the doctor leaning over me in bed said. “38.9 degrees.”

“38?” Coach asked. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s in Celsius, Coach,” I told him weakly.

He nodded slowly. “So, what does that mean for y/l/n?”

The doctor slowly began to pack up his bag. “Lots of rest. I would advise against sightseeing until the fever goes down.” He turned to me as he finished packing. “I’m sorry, signorina y/l/n.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Coach added. “It looks like you’re staying here today. Call the front desk if you need anything, okay?”

I coughed as I nodded. “Thanks, Coach.”

With an apologetic smile, he left my room to hop on the bus and head with the group to the next location on the itinerary.

I waited 20 minutes just to be safe before slipping out of my room and sneaking past the front desk to start my risky expedition.

The Trevi Fountain was crowded as it normally was. I weaved through the sea of people, searching for a familiar face.

“y/n!” I heard from somewhere to my right. I turned, meeting the piercing eyes of the Italian boy I was here for. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

“I just had to figure out how to sneak out, but my friend Stiles helped me come up with a plan,” I told him. “Speaking of plans, what’s the plan for today?”

He smiled. “I thought you’d never ask. Follow me.” I took his hand when he offered it to me, and he brought me to a side street where a baby blue Vespa was parked. “I thought I’d show you the city the way that we Italians travel.”

I couldn’t help but think of how the Vespa looked like the color of Stiles’ beloved Jeep. I had to shake my head slightly to clear my thoughts of Roscoe and my best friend.

“Sounds great!” I replied as Lorenzo handed me a helmet.

When we both had our helmets on and were perched on the Vespa, we were zipping through the streets of Rome.

I was holding on tight to him, and he’d point out cool spots and hidden gems around the city as we passed them. It was more than sightseeing – it was getting a local perspective on the ancient city.

Soon, we found ourselves walking through a farmers’ market and sitting down at a nearby café.

We learned more about each other over espresso. The conversation flowed naturally, and I loved getting to know him. I was in the middle of telling the story of when I met Stiles and Scott in the sandbox when we were four when a weird expression settled on Lorenzo’s face.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he assured me. “But that friend of yours, Stiles...is there something going on between the two of you?”

I was caught off guard by his question. “W-what? No, what makes you think that?”

He shrugged. “The way you talk about him...it’s clear that you love him.”

“Of course I love him. We’ve known each other our whole lives, and he’s my best friend. But I love him as a friend, and nothing more.”

Lorenzo nodded, turning my words over in his mind. “I see we’re both done with our espressos. Shall we?”

--

I spent the next day with Lorenzo too, faking sick once again to get past Coach. We took his Vespa, visiting the Spanish Steps–where we were almost caught because I forgot that it was on that day’s itinerary–, the Pantheon, and the Colosseum.

It was on the third day that Lydia knew something was up.

“I know you’re faking,” she said as she got ready in the morning. My jaw dropped at how casually she said it while applying a fresh coat of gloss to her lips.

“What? No, I’m not–”

“Oh, save it. You seem perfectly fine and only act sick when Coach comes to check on you. Plus, I heard Scott and Stiles talking about you yesterday.”

“Idiots,” I mumbled to myself. “Please don’t tell Coach.”

“Honey, why would I do that? I would never want to get in the way of you and this hot Italian boy Stiles mentioned.”

“Stiles mentioned him?”

She nodded. “He didn’t seem too happy though, and I think Scott was giving him advice about something but I couldn’t really tell what it was.”

Odd. Lydia glanced at her phone. “You should heat your head up soon. Coach should be coming in to check on you any minute now.”

“Thanks,” I said, still baffled by the fact that Lydia was helping me.

She gave me a quick wink as she opened the door to head down to the lobby. “Have fun today!”

Like clockwork, Lorenzo was waiting for me as soon as my school group left on the bus.

“Where are we going today?” I asked Lorenzo as I hopped on his Vespa the fourth day of my trip.

“The Tivoli Gardens,” he responded as we sped away from my hotel.

I was blown away by the beauty of the gardens. The lush greenery was accompanied by fancy water fountains, making me feel like I had been transported to another world.

On the surface, the day seemed perfect. But I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing – a spark, some banter, or maybe the presence of a certain brown-haired boy.

I tried to shake the thoughts from my head and focused all my energy on enjoying the fireworks that Lorenzo had brought me to see.

I should be experiencing this with Stiles.

--

“I had such an incredible day, Lydia,” I told the strawberry blonde as soon as I opened the door to our shared room, but when I looked at her, she had a nervous look on her face. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“Something happened today.”

I took a seat on my bed, facing her. “Okay? What happened?” “Before we left, Coach was going to come back up to give you something but Stiles must have known that you’d already left. He covered for you, but...Coach is sending him home for breaking the rules.”

“What?” I jumped up from my seat. “This is a big mistake. Stiles can’t go home. I have to–” I ran out of the room, quickly making my way to Coach’s room even though I could hear Lydia calling for me.

A surprised-looking Coach opened the door after I pounded on it. “y/l/n! You’re up! Are you feeling better?”

“Please don’t send Stiles home. It’s my fault – he was covering for me,” I pleaded.

“Covering for you?”

I nodded. “I haven’t been sick. I’ve been faking it. I should be the one going home, not him.”

For once, Coach was speechless. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Do you realize what you’re admitting to, y/n?”

I nodded again. “I accept full responsibility for my actions.”

Coach was quiet again, obviously thinking about my punishment. I looked down at my feet as I waited for his judgement.

“You’re lucky I like you, y/n.”

My head snapped up to look at him. “What?”

“You’re also lucky that I’m not being paid enough to deal with this, and that you kids already graduated.”

“So…”

He sighed. “I’m not sending you or Stilinski home.”

Before I could stop myself, I rushed forward and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Coach!”

“But, when we get back to Beacon Hills, you’re going to have to help with summer lacrosse practice as punishment.”

I nodded furiously. “Absolutely. I’ll do anything.”

Coach patted my shoulder. “Good deal. Now go tell Stilinski to stop packing,” he said, waving me off.

“I will. Thanks again, Coach.”

Sighing in relief, I made my way over to Stiles’ room. I knocked rapidly, eager to tell Stiles the good news.

The door opened, and I found myself face-to-face with Isaac Lahey.

“Oh, hey, Isaac. Is Stiles here? Can I talk to him?”

He looked over his shoulder into the part of the room the door was blocking before turning back to me. “No, sorry.”

I narrowed my eyes. “No, he’s not here or no, I can’t talk to him?”

Isaac looked over his shoulder again. “I think it’s no, you can’t talk to him. He’s not too happy with you at the moment.”

“That’s totally understandable,” I nodded slowly. “Can you just tell him that he can stop packing? I told Coach the truth, so he’s not sending Stiles home.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” Isaac said.

“Oh, and tell him I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get him in trouble.”

“Sure thing, y/n,” he said before closing the door, leaving me standing in the hall with a heavy heart.

--

The next day was absolute hell. I’d accepted that Stiles was mad at me, but I wasn’t prepared for the silent treatment from him.

We were visiting the Vatican, but all I could watch was the way Stiles admired the art and architecture. His eyes lit up when he viewed the ancient art, and he hung onto every word our tour guide said with interest.

Is this what I missed by spending all my time with Lorenzo?

“He’ll come around, you know,” Scott said as he walked next to me in the Sistine Chapel. “He just needs some time and space.”

“I just feel so bad, Scott. Why would he take the fall for me?”

Scott laughed. “He’d do anything for you, even if it’s at the cost of his own happiness.”

I tilted my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

A small smile was on his face. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.” Without another word, he spotted Allison and left to catch up with her.

When we got back to the hotel after the long day of sightseeing, I was surprised to see Lorenzo leaning against his Vespa in front of the hotel. Stiles passed him before I did, but he just ignored him and made no indication that he’d seen him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I approached him. From over his shoulder I saw Lydia shoot me a wink and thumbs up, but I simply rolled my eyes.

“I was worried when you didn’t show up this morning. I thought we had plans to see the Piazza Navona?”

I groaned. “I’m sorry. I forgot to cancel. I got in trouble with my chaperone, so I had to stay with the group.”

“I understand,” he said, taking my hands in his. “What about tomorrow? I’d love to–”

Before he could finish his sentence, I cut him off. “Lorenzo, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, but…”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he sighed. “I’m not the one for you, am I?”

I considered his words for a minute. “No, you’re not. I’m sorry.”

Lorenzo nodded slowly before letting go of my hands. “Stiles is a very lucky man.”

I couldn’t even argue with him because in that moment, I knew he was right – Stiles was who I wanted to be with. “He’s not even talking to me right now.”

“He will,” he assured me. “He’d be crazy not to. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

My heart warmed at his statement. “Thank you, Lorenzo. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “È la vita. Ciao, y/n.”

“Bye, Lorenzo,” I said as he sped away on his Vespa.

--

I gave Stiles some time to cool off, but after a few days of radio silence, I was determined to talk to him.

“Isaac, do you know where Stiles is?” I asked when he opened the door, revealing a Stiles-less room.

He shrugged. “He left like half an hour ago and hasn’t been back since.”

I thanked him, but stood in the hallway alone for a bit trying to figure out where he could be. There was only one place that I thought he would be in this hotel if not in his room. I climbed the stairs to the roof and was relieved to find a familiar head of brown hair looking out at the Roman skyline.

“You won the bet,” he said without turning to look at me.

“What bet?” I asked as I gently approached the space next to him.

“Scott and Allison. He told me they kissed today.”

I nodded slowly. “Oh, good for them.”

“Yeah, good for them.” I could hear the bitterness in his voice.

“Stiles, I don’t care about the stupid bet. I care about you. About us. I’m sorry you took the fall for me, but please talk to me. Let me make it up to you.”

After a moment of silence, he asked, “How?”

“What?”

“How would you make it up to me?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “By spending the rest of this trip with you. By going on adventures with you.”

He shook his head slightly. “What would Lorenzo think about that?”

“It doesn’t matter. I ended it with him. We’re done.”

Stiles hadn’t looked at me the whole time we’d been talking, but it was at this statement that he finally looked at me with his warm brown eyes. “What? Why? Did he do something because I swear to God if he hurt you–”

I laughed at his overprotectiveness. “No, Stiles. God no, he didn’t hurt me. I just realized that he wasn’t the one for me. I couldn’t enjoy my time with him without thinking about how much I’d rather be with you.”

He let out a breath of relief, but I could hear it get caught in his throat. “Me? Why me?”

I sighed. No going back now. “Because I love you, dumbass.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped. He didn’t say anything for a minute, and in the silence, I started to regret my decision to tell him about my feelings. Did I misread his feelings for me? Maybe he just sees me as a friend–

I was jerked out of my thoughts by Stiles smashing his lips onto mine in a passionate kiss.

My head was cradled in his hands, and soon my hands found his body, pulling him closer to me. The moment our lips touched, it felt right. I knew I had found the love that I asked the fountain for–I just didn’t realize that it was right in front of me all along.

When my lungs started burning from a lack of oxygen, I felt Stiles pull away slightly, disconnecting our lips. His hands still held my face. “I love you too, y/n. Always have, always will.”

[lumosinlove]

Well, this got longer than I thought it would, so I’ll have to publish in a few parts as I write...

But Happy Birthday, Finn, my favorite :)

Find it here on Ao3

~

Of Silence And Slow Time

part i of iii

~

New York City, 1920

~

Everyone told Finn that the statue looked like him, that he simply must go and see it.

“Really, Finn,” his older brother Alex said. “It’s the eyes, the face, it’s the mouth. It’s uncanny.”

Finn had just looked over Alex and the man and woman he seemed to always have at his side ever since the war ended. Natalie, a nurse whom he’d met in France, and Kasey a Canadian from another unit—they’d ended up in the hospital together.

“It’s in France,” Finn said flatly. “I know you’re forgetting about it all, but I’m not exactly keen on going back there. It took me ages to get home.”

It had taken everything for him to get home.

Alex, to Finn’s relief, nodded at Natalie and Kasey to go get themselves a drink at the bar down the street, told them that he’d meet them there. Finn stared down at the book open and unseeing in his lap. He wasn’t even sure what he was reading, on that he wanted to. His mind didn’t seem to follow him just right these days. Cars became bombs sometimes. Sleep was all dreams.

Alex sat beside him on their parents’ old sofa.

“Fish,” Alex said softly, and moved his hand slow, where Finn could see it, before resting it gently around his shoulders. “You can’t sit here all day. That’s not going to help you, and I know you don’t like it. You’ve never sat still like this.”

“I’m not going back to France.”

“It’s Paris,” Alex said, and gently flipped Finn’s wrist over to reveal the tiny globe his friend Jackson had dotted there with a needle and ink. “You’ve always wanted…don’t let this war stop you any longer.”

Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—

Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”

Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.” Alex squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll even meet you there later if you want, once we’re through with Canada.”

Finn sent a wary glance towards where Natalie and Kasey had left.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’d like them. And, who knows who you’ll meet over there. We ran into all sorts of people, people like you’ve never seen. It’s why—” Alex broke off slightly, and looked after the nurse and soldier, too. Finn blinked at the nervous bob of his throat, and then his smile. “There are all sorts of love and art in this world of ours. I know it feels like it’s all war, I felt that too, but it’s not. Please let me help you see that.”

Finn rubbed a thumb over his tattoo, and closed his book.

Everything felt like war. He was so tired of it he thought he’d be crushed.

He looked up at his brother. “I don’t have much money.”

Alex just grinned and slapped him on the back, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

~

Finn arrived in Paris with a lump in his throat. He stumbled through half-French greetings and requests to his taxi, who looked at him sourly and turned out to have dropped him off four streets away from his hotel—maybe on purpose. Maybe because it was barely six in the morning.

Finn was annoyed at first, and then he began to walk.

Paris’ cobblestones were like those in the West Village, only they weren’t. There were glimpses of his home in the uneven tread of his feet, but these stones were darker, as if soaked with more time and more place. It calmed him, while the brief glance towards France’s rolling hills had sent him back to his cabin on the rocky ship, shaking and gasping for air. He’d barely eaten during the entire journey besides forcing down the occasional breakfast sludge, and his legs had wobbled so fiercely upon stepping back onto land, he’d had to sit down.

Finn paused now, closing his eyes and leaning against the nearest building. He’d been so stupid the first time, decked out in his new uniform, eyes on the war like it was some prize to be won. The comfort waned with his scattering mind and Finn tried to draw a steady breath in. The lump in his throat only grew tighter and he squeezed the handle of his small suitcase.

“Monsieur?” came a voice, spilled over with concern.

Finn’s eyes flashed open and he pushed himself straight, blinking through the pale morning light. There was a boy standing there, around his age, with bright blond hair and worried blue eyes. He was tall, with a neat white apron tied around his hips.

“Ça va?” the boy took a hesitant step forward. His eyes glanced towards Finn’s suitcase, and he nodded in realization, then spoke in accented English. “Are you all right?”

Finn looked behind the boy to see the cafe, slowly opening, from which he must have come. There was an abandoned stack of chairs he was putting out for the day, and his apron had an embroidered name at one corner, Finn realized, that matched the sign above.

Le Lion.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, but found himself unable to speak louder. “I’m fine.”

The boy just shook his head, and gestured behind him. “Non. You must sit down. S’il vous plaît. Please.”

Finn didn’t know how to refuse him.

A few minutes later, he found himself stationed at one of the cafe’s tables with a steaming pot of coffee in front of him, a croissant, and a plate of softly scrambled eggs.

“You look like you need more than butter and bread,” the boy had said, wiping strong looking hands on his apron. “You are from America?”

Finn nodded. He had been worried he would be able to stomach the food after the boy went through so much trouble, but upon his first bite of eggs, he felt ravenous.

“Yes,” Finn nodded, brushing his hands off from croissant crumbs. “Sorry, yes,” he held out his hand. “Finn.”

“Leo,” the boy smiled, and took his hand. “It is a pleasure.”

Finn found himself returning that smile with one that, for the first time in a long time, felt like his own. He tried to put coins into Leo’s hand when it was all over, but Leo simply waved him off and said he hoped to see Finn again.

~

The Louvre was more than Finn could have imagined. It was like walking across the ocean floor, new rarities at every corner. And, of course, there was the matter of the statue. Alex had said it would be with all the other works from ancient Greece. He didn’t have trouble following the signs to the correct gallery, walking through the white marble hallways. When he did reach the Greek galleries, his first thought was that the perfectly white statues nearly blended in with everything else, at least until he found a plaque that said it had all been painted once. Finn smiled to himself. Maybe his apparent stony doppelgänger had had red hair, too.

Imagining Alex and his long stride in these halls was easy. And it was quiet here, and distracting, which let Finn close his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of old stone, like a church, or a river’s bank.

When he opened them, he had found it. He was staring into his own face. His eyes were blank. He reached up to feel the shape of his own jaw as he looked at the statue’s, on display in the way the head was slightly turned, jaw set, brow low, as if in focus. Finn blinked, pulled out of the daze of seeing it, and his eyes landed on the museum card beside it. There was a word in ancient Greek, said to have been carved more visibly into the bust’s base. Future, it translated to. Thought to be made in the name of a God, though he may be lost now. There is no other surviving work by this artist.

Finn looked back at the eyes, so much like his own he could have seen brown there in the blank irises, and thought about when this strange statue had been carved. He’d always loved the way ancient Greece was sometimes described in poetry. It had gotten him through many long nights in the trenches. Serene, warm, and with nothing to do but lounge in the olive groves. Working the land and coming home at sundown to wine and honey and spiced meat. He’d longed for it. He longed for it still, this simple-seeming past.

The next thing he felt was warm wind. He smelled salt water.

The museum melted around him and his shoes slipped into sand before disappearing entirely.

~

Finn turned around to the sound of someone shouting, worried it was at him, only to find a brunette boy storming towards him—then past him—a foreign language continuing to fly off of his tongue. But more importantly, the boy was dressed in a simple garment of white cloth that left his strong, tanned legs and arms completely bare, and his feet were sandaled. Finn reached down to smooth his suit, only to find it gone, as well, replaced with a similar getup. He stared down at his bare skin, so pale in the bright sunlight.

And then the foreign language morphed, like a scratched record, and became English to his ears.

“—I’m telling you, Leo, I won’t go. Not without you.”

Leo?

And there the blond boy was, sitting in the shade of low trees at the edge of the beach. He was holding some sort of musical instrument, plucking at its strings almost sadly, head bowed.

“You have to,” Leo replied. “The oath says—“

He stopped mid-sentence, having looked up and spotted Finn. It made the brunette turn, and then Finn’s back was in the sand and there was a thin, rough blade at his throat.

Green eyes bore down into his own, a growl ripping from the boy’s throat. “Spartan.”

Finn choked out a breath, his hand going around the boy’s wrist. “No—no.”

“Logan,” came Leo’s voice, and then the knife’s pressure was released, pulled back by Leo, but the boy—Logan—was still sitting firmly on Finn’s hips. Finn felt his entire body flush with the sheer lack of fabric between them, but Logan didn’t seem to either mind or notice.

“I’m not a—Spartan,” Finn managed. “What the hell, I…” He looked to his left, at the sparkling waves lapping there, and then to the two boys looming above him. “Where am I?”

That made both of them freeze, the knife twitching in Logan’s hand.

“Ithaca,” Leo offered timidly, then glanced out at sea, as if that was where Finn had come from. Finn just stared at him.

He was the boy from the cafe. He was sure of it. His blue eyes filled with the same concern as they had on that early morning cobblestone street.

“Are you all right?” Leo asked.

“He is a spy,” Logan said, and went for him again.

Finn was ready this time. He knocked a leg around Logan’s waist, putting him on his back, and then rolled away from him and to his feet, knife in hand. He raised it for the two of them to see and then tossed it a little ways down the beach. “I’m not a spy. I…I’m just lost.”

It was true. In more ways than he’d even thought before.

“Please,” he managed more quietly.

He watched Leo and Logan exchange a look, unsure of what it meant, until Logan turned on his heel and Leo gestured for Finn to follow.

~

“Are you at war?” Finn asked he was led through the city streets. It had been a hot walk up a long road built into a steep hill, all the way up to what Finn assumed was the inner city and acropolis. Water ran along the side of the street—no doubt with sewage—and they crossed via stepping stones, pressing themselves against the walls whenever carts rattled by—carts filled with men with shields and swords or spears.

Logan, who brought up the rear behind him, having retrieved his knife, scoffed. “Aren’t we always?”

“And where are you taking me?”

“Where we take any question we can’t answer,” Leo said from in front of him, golden hair gleaming. “Pascal.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Rosebud

Media The Last Legion

Character Romulus Augustus (age up)

Couple Romulus X Reader

Rating Sweet & Flirty

Concept 'Just A Whore'

I stood looking out across the vast stone of the beautiful city of Roma. I watched the sky slowly turn from the beautiful pale blue to this deep oceanic colour full of vast stars, all that lit the earth below the flew orange flames that sat by statues, temples and places of military note. The largest statue loomed over it all a man who's name I didn't know but I knew at some point he must have been of such great note and importance. I stood the sweet stone below my Sandals, my hands against the stone of the balcony fiddling my fingers with the ivy that wrapped around it long overgrown. My small blue cotton dress around me allowed it to hang to my ankles, the fabric tried with a knot of the same around my waist. My hair braided tightly and intricately as to prevent its fall. The silver bangle imbrazzed with the curled horns of a ram around my arm. I watched the city doing my best not to look within to the grandeur behind me in the suite as it would only make me lust for this life I couldn't have.

I heard the door so I turned to glance within to the impressive palace suite all of it a beautiful luxurious red and gold, the large bed still unmade from this morning, the table lined with food and drink, the fire burning well with the chaise Infront of it blanket still draped over it, the books and impressive items lined all surfaces things that I couldn't only imagine would one day shape history's halls.

In came the two men dressed to the nines head to toe in the gold and red armor of the empire they came in swords in hand seeming to threaten me as they took a side each of the one door

"Awwww" his voice cooed as he arrived to the suite barefoot as usual, in his impressive clothes of gold a red belt around his waist in attempt to give the poor thin boy a hint of a shape, he came into the room his arms behind his back smiling at me slightly bowing as he stood there, immediately I noticed he was followed by two more guards to took there usually places either side of the balcony door "right where I left you" he Cooes he smiled widely as I blushed and stuck his arms at full length Infront of him processing to make grabby hands at me like a child to a teddy bear.

I went over keeping my distance of two feet and curtsying low, he chuckled at me taking my hands in his forcing me closer giving each of my knuckles kisses immediately I felt the cold of the gold against my skin, his ring I could feel the eagles shape and strength reminding me as always who he was. Once done with my hands he set them on his shoulders wrapped his arms around my waist so barely an inch remained between us giving my lips a passionate kiss a moan into the kiss and an almost comical 'muah' sound when he pulled away with a chuckle 

"How Is my little rosebud?" 

"Quiet alright your grace"

"What have I told you?" He laughed rolling his eyes a little "my little rosebud has no need to call me that" he smiled giving my cheek a kiss before he headed to the table 

"It is still correct your grace" I remind him unable to help my glances to the guards who all watched me like hungry vultures 

"Ummmm" he humms pouring himself a goblet of wine "and next time you Disobey me y/n. I will give you such a spanking" he smirked 

"Yes Romulus"

"Better" he laughed picking at some grapes "tell me about your day"

"Not much to tell" I answered fiddling with my fingers

"Come on, I wanna know what my little Rosiebud got up to without me" he smiled pulling me into his chest 

"I didn't do much of anything, read a book or two, watched the city that is all"

"Really? That all?"

"That's all"

"Awwww my little Rosiebud waited here all day for me to get back" he smiled

"I did" I blushed

"Your as sweet as honey" he smiled

"What did you do then? Today?"

"Me? Nothing of interest"

"Being emperor?" I giggled "of all Rome and her empire, all armies and dominions all peoples of the blessed Roman lands. I'm sure there must have been something of interest"

"It's a surprising boring job" he smiled "but I went to some boring meetings, did a few boring speeches, listened to some boring news, it was overall a remarkably boring day" he says "I shall have take you down with me tomorrow rosebud you'll make it all very engaging I'm sure you will"

"Or you'll be distracted from your duties"

"Either way I'll be entertained" 

"I'm sure you would" I smiled

"You eaten?" He asks 

"No"

"Why not?" He asks having another handful of grapes and I shrug "tables been laid for you all day why haven't you eaten?" He asks 

"Well…" I said trying to hide the truth but he read me like a parchment paper and knew exactly why I hadn't without me speaking a word. He rolled his eyes a slight angry glare in his eyes to his head guard by the door 

"why was the table cleared after breakfast?" He ordered his voice much harsher far more authority then he spoke to me with 

"Breakfast was finished your grace"

"Let me guess lunch wasn't laid either?" He asks standing up from where he had been leant on the table leaving me to move closer to his guard but he didn't answer, Romulus turned to me and his tone shifted back "was lunch laid Rosiebud?" He asks and I shook my head, he looked more angry turning back to his guards "why not?" He asked them his tone returned to the authority strong and yet no answer came "WHY NOT!" He demanded loud enough it made me jump and a shiver ran up my spine honestly I think every guard in the room collectively made a mess of their uniform, it was rare for Romulus to need to use his voice like that he saved it for special occasions and clearly none had seen it before 

"Because the kitchen…. Uhh felt it best to reserve the food and wine, given the winter coming and all, your grace"

"Ummm" he hummed "that the democratic answer or the real one?"

"Your grace?"

"A democratic answer is beating around the bush with things that aren't technical a lie so you can keep your tongue but also aren't reality because you fear your fate of you told me the truth"

"..... Democratic"

"Then tell me the real one."

"The kitchens felt it… a waste of time. To bring lunch up to the suite" 

"Because?"

"Because only miss y/n was up here"

"And the kitchens felt it was fine, to starve her?" 

"Well-"

"She's not a prisoner. She was up here in the royal suite she should have been fed. Only y/n was here. Why wasn't she fed?"

"Romulus it's alright" I smiled

"Tell me. Now" 

"She is…"

"She's what?"

"Just a whore your grace"

Immediately my heart sank 

"Say that again"

"Your grace i-"

"Say it!"

"She is just a whore. Your grace"

Before I could even take a breath Romulus took the man by the ear forcing him to walk across the room to the rug Infront of me then forcing him to the floor on his knees, Romulus then moved behind him kicking his back forcing him to lay on the floor, he took the guards sword forcing it as his neck picking the guard up by his hair 

"Apologize"

"Your grace I meant no offense-"

"APOLOGIZE!" he demanded 

"I'm sorry your Grace"

"Not to me. Apologize to my lady"

"I'm sorry miss"

"Like you mean it"

"I'm so sorry miss I'm sorry I didn't mean anything by it"

"Kiss her hand and ask her for forgiveness"

The guard did as he asked taking my hand giving it a kiss 

"I'm sorry my lady please forgive me"

"It's alright" I nodded 

"Kiss her Sandals"

"Why your grace?"

"To remind you, that you are forever below her"

The guard did as he commanded gently taking my ankles and kissing the soles of my sandals 

"There. I will not have my lady insulted" he says dropping the sword Letting the guard boy go "she is to be fed, as I am. And if the kitchens have anything to say they can say it to me."

"Yes your grace" he nodded scurrying away to Inform the kitchens 

"Don't you think that's a little excessive Romulus?" I spoke up

"No" he says going to the table getting a plate and lining it with the best of the various foods from the table "not at all. You've been around long enough now I'm not taking there excuses for the way they treat you" he says bringing the plate to me "and I will not have my Rosiebud disrespected, even when I'm not around" he Cooes giving my lips a kiss "come on we'll have dinner in the balcony together" he smiled taking his own plate and leading me to the balcony table overlooking the city as we ate. "I need to give them all a talking to"

"Who?"

"The staff. And guards. Get these rules laid out to all of them, so we have no excuses"

"It's alright Romulus really"

"No it's not. Your my lovely lady, my sweet little rose bud, they disrespected you there disrespecting me" he says 

"I am… just your whore" 

He gave me a look testing if I was serious so I shrugged 

"If I didn't love you. And if I hadn't sworn I'd never hit a woman I would slap you so silly right now" he says getting up and pulling me up with him to nuzzle in his chest as he leant on the balcony "why on this earth would you think that?"

I merely glanced at my bangle 

"What? Because if this?" He asks "so what? The curl of a ram's horn. Detailed and beautiful, strong and powerful,"

"A whore."

"Sexuality" he corrected "and fertility." He smirked "So your my powerful, strong sexy lady"

"But-"

"I don't care that you where a whore when Iet you, it doesn't bother me it never has. But I love you I utterly adore you more then anything in the world" he says kissing my head 

"But… we can't -"

"Awww my little Rosiebud" he Cooes "I am Romulus Augustus, emperor of all Rome and her dominions. Whatever rules and laws there are that say I can't marry you I will change. Any man in the senate that stands against me will be executed. Any guard or staff who disrespects you I will force their apologies. Y/n, my sweet rosebud your the only woman I want in the world and I'd you let me I'd marry you in the temple in the morning"

"You don't mean that"

"I do. I swear it. From Mars to Pluto, Minerva to Poseidon, Juno to Sol. I will swear it Infront of each and every god so that you know my love for you is true" 

"How do you know it's love?"

"Because nothing else makes me feel the way you do" 

"How do you know it's not merely lust? And you've married a pretty ass you'll be board of in a week"

"Well, I haven't got board of you yet have I?" He smiled "but I know we have more then lust my Rosiebud. If you told me tomorrow you didn't want us to make love, for a night, a week, a year. It wouldn't bother me at all. I'd still come see you everyday, I'd still want to marry you, and I'd stick love you just as much as I do now" 

"Even if I said never?"

"Never? Well. That would be okay too. I would have to give Rome an heir…. But we could always adopt. Awww we could adopt sweet little orphan babies" 

"That really be okay with you?"

"So long as I'm with you I don't care" he smiled "and if this… little symbol really bothers you that much" he smiled kissing my hand slipping my bangle off attempting to bend or snap it but little happened "damn that is sturdy" he complained making me giggle he tried a couple more times before he sighed dropping it on the floor standing on it which only just bent it, picking it up and then throwing it off the balcony "there. No more ram's horns. And once we're married I'll get them to make you something with the cesar eagle as not to cause any more… misjudgements" he smiled 

"You really mean that Romulus?"

"Of course I mean, my sweet little Rosiebud" he smiled giving me a kiss "besides I told the craftsmen months ago, once we get married I want a ring with your beautiful face on it. Like Caligula did with his wife" 

"That's very sweet Romulus"

"And… once we are married and have an heir I will get a statue like all the other emperors, I've already told the artist I want us together"

"Together?"

"Of course I don't want to be stood alone with some lion head like the rest of my family I want us together cuddled and happy"

"I'm not sure your advisor's will like that"

"Well it's not up to them. I am the emperor and what I say goes." He smiled "that goes for my future empress too" he smiled kissing my head "come on, bed time. I'm taking you down with me tomorrow so my little Rosiebud can keep me company"

"Alright Romulus" I smiled 

[jaykayblr]

And it went like ; Doyoung | One-shot

Pairing : Doyoung × Reader

Genre : fluff, strangers to friends to lovers au, college/university au, mutual pining, café is kinda main here.

Warnings : slapping, crying, teeny bit of angst, kissing. Don't worry it isn't anything extreme.

Summary : it all started with two cups of iced americano.

Word count : 2.7k

Taglist : @starrdustville @thechoppersan @cupidluvstarrz @ncvltrtchnlgy @jenoleemonade @bluejaem

Author's note : ahh, this is my first One-shot. Based loosely on request that @starrdustville sent in my previous blog. Leave a comment to let me know what you feel about this one. I have worked for this one for a week and I am kinda proud of my improvement but I feel I could have done better now that I have read it almost ten times, but lemme know what you all think!. I hope you all like it! If there are any mistakes, please let me know.

You glance up from the screen of the mobile to greet the orbs of the male who had entered the class. The brown eyes roamed through your face and then looked away, choosing a place in the class’s backward.

Mysterious brown eyes were the first thing you noticed about the new transfer student. He was aloof, remaining silent throughout the class. You could never find him chatting with anybody. He consistently preferred taking the last seat in the class. He was suave, with soft boyish qualities. You had been looking at him at whatever chance you received for the recent few days. It was challenging to not acknowledge him; the dude had silky soft hair through which he would run his hand occasionally throughout the class. The transfer student wore dark colors, which made him appear even more alluring than the rest of your class boys. He was lean and was taller than you.

Straightening yourself when the professor started the class, you forced your mobile away.

Focused, the educator went on about defining the antique architecture of Rome. It was an interesting subject - but you found yourself gawking at the new student. It looked as if he acknowledged your stare, because there was a slight smirk stretching on his cheeks when you continued gawking at him for two solid minutes. You glanced forward and tried paying regard to your lecturer.

Same routine, but different.

You are carrying two drinks of iced Americano in your hands. The route you picked was busy with the science graduates bustling out of their classes. You should’ve kept your eyes up to prevent what was about to happen. You soon knocked into a hard chest with your Americano staining the said man’s hoodie. Before you could lose your balance, a pair of sturdy hands holding your arms held you. You couldn’t speak. As you realized the situation, you backed away to bow towards the guy - to sputter an apology, until you hear that man’s voice.

“Calm down, woman,”

You couldn’t convey anything. You were so enthralled by the individual’s voice that you forgot your locations. His voice was deep and silvery. The phrase sounded unfamiliar to you, coming from him. His accent was mind-numbingly hot - even if you had heard only two words coming out of his mouth. You view up to examine the new guy from your class. His eyes have a playful glint at them, as he grins at your obvious staring. You quickly move backward and apologize to him.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry, oh god I am so sorry” you bow to him multiple times. You gain the attention of the surrounding science graduates who chuckle to themselves but keep moving. He catches you by your arms again and interrupts you from bowing to him again and again and instinctively makes your heart thump a thousand times faster than ever.

“It’s fine, I will clean it and it will be fine”

“At Least let me help you clean it, please?” you asked, and he nodded.

That was a year ago.

Currently, it’s the fourth year of your college and you and doyoung are two best buddies. In this one year, you both have turned into devoted friends who can’t live without each other. Sounds cheesy, yes, but that is exactly how it is.

[From doyoung; ]

WhErE ArE YoU?!

You chuckle seeing your mobile screen flash with his messages. Sitting in your economics lecture right now, learning something about marketing. You look around to see if anyone is looking at you. The half the students paying attention to the professor and the other half are sleeping or doing their own thing. You glance at your professor who was extremely focused on teaching the first benchers. You quickly type a reply.

[To doyoung; ]

In class! What do you want?

You hear the buzzing on your phone after a few minutes.

“Your boyfriend is texting you” your seatmate mutters beside you and you just chuckle - not at her but at the constant buzzing of your phone showing that your best friend is turning impatient.

[From doyoung; ]

Which one?

When will it end?

Ah, respond!

[To doyoung; ]

God! Doyoung!

Economics and in 15 minutes.

It wasn’t late until you heard three more buzzes from your phone. Your seatmate - somi wriggles her eyebrows at you.

[From doyoung; ]

So there is this new cafe near our college.

I want to go!

Please come with me?

[To doyoung; ]

Ok, fine.

Pick me up from the football court.

[From doyoung; ]

Yes, madam!

“You both are one weird pair” you flinch when you see somi snooping at your phone over your shoulders.

“Then stay away from us,” you say and put your phone inside your pocket.

“Just confess to him. His female admirers are increasing day by day. Only yesterday I saw Jasmine confessing to him.”

“Wait what?!” you almost shout, gaining the attention of the professor and a few students. The professor glares at you and goes back to teaching.

“Yes, and don’t worry, he rejected her” she rolls her eyes as you sigh in relief.

“But it will not always happen. Listen, if you don’t confess to him, he will eventually start dating someone else,” she says with a stern look, as if she is scolding you.

“I know, but can you please not scare me? I am just nervous! We have been friends for so-” somi cuts you off.

“You all have been friends for a year and you don’t Wanna ruin it and end this friendship by confessing, right?” she says and you nod while looking down. “Baby, if you don’t let him know your feelings, he will always think of you as a friend. Is that ok? He will eventually start dating some other girl. Is that ok with you? Are you ok with seeing him with another girl?”

You shake your head. She was right; has always been. Somi always told you to confess to doyoung, but you really didn’t want to ruin the relationship you had with doyoung. He was the most precious person in your life. And it has been like that for a year now.

Doyoung had shown no interest in any other girls - including you. So you never really thought about the possibility of him dating. But now as somi stated this possibility - it made your heartache. It made you experience a weird heaviness in your chest that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

Were you really ok with that? Are you ok with seeing him in the arms of another girl? Were you ok not taking up the chance to date him? Were you ok giving him up? Would he reject you? Or would he reciprocate your feelings? Are you really ok with taking up the risk?

These thoughts swirl your mind as the class gets dismissed.

You and somi get up and walk towards the exit when somi stops in front of you and looks you in the eye.

“Do it before it’s too late. Time doesn’t wait for anyone” and she leaves like that - provoking something in you.

Maybe it’s about time you do something about it.

Standing near the football court, you watch some guys from the foreign communications playing football. Their loud cheers surround the campus. You sit near the benchers thinking deeply about the risk of confessing to doyoung.

Somi’s words ring in your head. You feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when you imagine doyoung with another girl.

"Ha!" you flinch and look behind to see doyoung laughing like he won a trophy for scaring you.

"Ahh, you scared me!" he internally coos at the little pout you made without realising it.

"Lets go?"

The fragrance of vanilla hits your nostrils the moment you step inside the cafeteria. The little bell rang, alerting the barista of your arrival. A grey-haired barista looked towards both of you and grinned. You glanced around; the cafe was bustling with people. The chattering of young couples, friends, and teenagers filled in the shop.

Intertwining his hand with yours, Doyoung pulled you towards a corner seat. As you both settled, the same barista walked up towards you two.

“what can I serve this fascinating couple today?” she chirped in a very calm voice.

You were going to deny her assumption but doyoung cut you.

“so what are you having?” he inquired, propping himself on his forearms.

“um, I guess, caffe latte?”

“ah-ha! I was considering the same!” he looked towards the barista “two caffe latte please?”

“sure, anything else?” she asked, her eyes creasing at the sides as she beamed at you two. Returning the smile you looked towards Doyoung with a raised eyebrow as if asking him ‘do you need something more?’. he glanced at the menu card in front of him. “hmm, croissants?”

"coming up," she exclaims and goes back to her work.

"and oh, this time I’m offering to pay!" as soon as you announce that, doyoung’s expression changes to a frown, demonstrating his displeasure. Before he can say anything, you resonate "whenever we go out, you never let me pay! This time I’m paying and I don’t wish to hear any disagreements!"

"Y/nnnn" he whines and you shake your head at him.

Falling in comfortable silence, you both listen to the soft jazz playing on the radio of the cafeteria. After a few minutes, doyoung glances at you, hesitance apparent on his face.

“what happened?” you urge him. He just shakes his head and busies himself by looking at his nails. You want to question him further, but you see the same barista walking up to you with your orders.

Placing it on the table, she leaves while smiling at you both.

"I assume she likes us," doyoung whispers while slurping his latte.

"don’t change the topic, doyoung. what happened?" you urge him, with your voice stern.

“have you ever thought about dating y/n?” you freeze when he asks that. Luckily, he is looking downwards, so he can’t read your expressions cause he is good at that.

“mm, why?” you start feeling anxious when he doesn’t speak.

He sighs and shakes his head, mumbling a ‘nothing’. you grow more frustrated at that.

As you swirl your fingers around the brim of your cup. Your thoughts going insane, ‘does he love someone?’ ‘is he thinking of dating?’ ‘am I too late to confess?’ you feel your eyes brimming with nervous tears. You face away from him when he looks at you.

“Y/n, I wanted to ask you something?” you look at him in the eye, and wish that he won’t notice your wet eyes. He slowly takes your hands in his, his thumb gently brushing over your fingers. He looks down and takes a breath.

“I want you to keep quiet and let me finish, ok?” you nod at him, not speaking anything cause you know he will pick up your emotions from the tone of your voice. He sighs and moves closer to you.

“y/n, I have- I have, um, I realize we have only known each other for a year, but this one year has been the best year of my existence. I have never laughed so frequently in my life. I’m grateful for everything you have done for me and- and just- I am just grateful for this friendship. Listen, I hope this doesn’t sound too sudden. And I hope nothing changes in our relationship after this. But- I-” he halts and takes a deep breath. You instinctively hold his hand tight as you predict his next sentence. Your tears threaten to pour as you shut your eyes in order to hold them back. Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you pant. You glance at the ground to avoid breaking down in front of him as he tells you about his girlfriend. You hear him let out an unsteady sigh and-

“y/n I Love You!”

You couldn’t stop the tears that gushed out from your eyes. You sink back on the backrest and cover your face with your hands and cry your heart out. Your cries fill the cafe as everyone becomes silent and looks at you. You cry louder as you realize he likes you back, your best friend likes you back, doyoung loves you.

On the other hand, Doyoung panics when you cry, he loses his calm when you cry louder. His eyes swell with tears as he thinks that he fucked up royally to make you cry like this. He knew it was a terrible decision. He knew you didn’t like him back, but he still took the risk and ended up making you cry. You got emotional easily but never had you cried so loudly as you did now. He avoids the pointed stares of the people who scowl at him for making a girl cry like that and goes down on his knees towards your chair. He tries to hold your hand but you just tighten them on your face. His tears fall as he holds the armrest of your seat and turns you towards him. Gently but firmly he removes your hand from your face and his heart shatters when he looks at your tear filled face. He feels a pang of guilt in his heart. What was he expecting? you evidently didn’t love him back? He holds your hands and starts crying with you. The people around both of you watch this scene unfold, some looking annoyed and some watching with pity.

“I’m very sorry y/n,” he sniffs “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” his voice is heavy as he swallows hard. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that” he gulps again, “you clearly don’t love me-“ you cut him off as you slap him. His left cheek stings as his face falls. The people in the cafe gasp. doyoung looks down as the realization dawns over him. ‘he screwed up, he ruined everything’.

“stand up” your voice is small but commanding and he obeys. He looks down as he gets up.

“look at me” and he obeys but gasps when you kiss him hard on his lips. You are holding the collars of his black shirt with which you pull him closer towards you. A loud cheer fills the cafe and the people shout and scream while watching this dramatic scene unfold in front of their eyes. He comes back into reality and pulls you closer and kisses you back passionately, erupting an even louder cheer from the audience. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms take their place on your waist. You both kiss as if you were waiting for this - which was also true.

You both pull away and break into laughter. The surrounding people are smiling, some are even taking videos. The couples peck each other, the old barista smiles widely and her eyes shine in adoration.

“so does this mean…”

“yes” you respond with a wide smile adorning your face. doyoung brings his hand to cup your cheek.

“from how long?”

“a year,” you say, making him smile. “what about you?”

“one year too”

“so I guess we both are idiots?” you ask, chuckling.

“hmm”

“you are late. But I will forgive you for that if you agree to be my boyfriend.” he chuckles at that.

“deal” he asks and pulls you closer.

You bring your palm to cup his left cheek. “does it hurt?” you ask, and he nods whispering ‘badly’ near your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you say and pull away to look in his eyes to show your honesty.

“It’s fine. You can make it up to me,” he says, pulling you closer again.

“how?” you ask.

“kiss me,” he says and you don’t waste a single second more to kiss him feverishly.

the cheers roar loudly, again.

love...

© Jaykayblr – Do not copy or translate my work.

[timelesslords]

baby, just say yes

Read on Ao3

Summary: 

“Okay, then. Marry me.”

Annabeth waited a beat before rolling over to stare at him. His face was dead serious, but Annabeth still thought he might be messing with her.

“What?” she asked. It seemed the safest thing to say.

“Marry me.” he said, again, simply.

Annabeth never appreciated New Rome as much as she did on Sunday mornings.

They didn’t have class, homework could wait until later, there was no chance of a monster attack, and, best of all, Annabeth didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to slip out of the Poseidon cabin before anyone noticed she had spent the night. She and Percy could just lounge around together and be lazy for half the day, before one of them finally got up and made breakfast.

It was starting to get a little late, but Annabeth couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. It was comfortable and Percy was there. Plus, they were deep into a discussion about the architecture of the city, which only made Annabeth happier and more unwilling to move.

There was one temple in particular that Annabeth had only seen photos of, but it looked incredible. It was Juno’s, which was unfortunate, because Annabeth would really love to sketch the ceilings for her design class. 

“We should go see it,” Percy said, “It sounds amazing.”

“I wish,” Annabeth sighed, “But Juno loves to torture me. Nobody can go in unless they’re married.” 

“Okay, then. Marry me.” 

Annabeth waited a beat before rolling over to stare at him. His face was dead serious, but Annabeth still thought he might be messing with her.

“What?” she asked. It seemed the safest thing to say.

“Marry me.” he said, again, simply. 

“Are you being serious?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” 

“Uhh, I don’t know,” Annabeth said sarcastically, starting to count out reasons on her fingers, “We’re barely 21, we’re not even done with college, we’ve barely even  lived  together—” 

“We’ve known each other since we were 12, college is dumb, and we’ve made it two months living together and we’ve barely had any problems, so—” Percy said, folding each of Annabeth’s fingers down with each rebuttal.

“College is not dumb.” Annabeth countered. It was his weakest argument, but unfortunately it was also her lamest reason. 

“Okay, fine, college isn’t dumb,” Percy said, waving his hand dismissively, “but waiting to get married because we’re still in college is dumb. It’s not like we haven’t experienced the real world or whatever, we’ve been doing that since we were kids.” 

“Yeah, but that real world is different than like, being an adult, with a real job and a real apartment and bills and—” 

“How could that be harder than fighting in two wars and literally crawling through hell?” Percy asked, only he was grinning now, because he knew he had her. She hit him with a pillow in retaliation, and he laughed.

“You’re impossible,” she said, trying to sound mad, but it wouldn’t quite come out angry.

“You just don’t like that I’m out-logicing you,” Percy said, a little smug.

“You are not  out-logicing  me,” Annabeth huffed. 

“Okay, give me one good reason why we shouldn’t get married, then,” he said. That dead-serious look was back on his face. Annabeth would have preferred him to be smug. 

“Well, first of all, you don’t have a ring. What kind of lame proposal is that?” Annabeth said, knowing she was just stalling for time. 

“Who says I don’t have a ring?” Percy asked, straight-faced. The look on Annabeth’s face must have been extraordinarily panicked, because he sighed, looking defeated.

“I don’t actually have a ring ‘Beth. You can put off your heart attack.”

“Oh thank gods,” Annabeth sighed, covering her eyes with her hands. That really would have been too much too soon.

“But I can  get  you a ring, so that’s really a non-issue,” Percy continued, undeterred, “Next reason.” 

“Everyone’ll think I’m pregnant,” Annabeth grumbled, hands still over her eyes. That made Percy laugh.

“They’ll just assume that we’re crazy for each other and also madly in love,” Percy said. 

“And also that you knocked me up,” Annabeth added, moving her hands to her forehead and looking over at Percy. 

“In which case it would be my fault, and we would share the embarrassment equally,” Percy said easily, grinning. 

“That’s not even how it works,” Annabeth complained, “It would be way more embarrassing for me. Even though it's not true.” 

“We can print ‘Annabeth is not pregnant’ on the wedding invitations,” Percy said, because it was his turn to make her laugh. 

“Yeah, that’ll shut up the rumors,” Annabeth said, trying to ignore how the thought of wedding invitations made her stomach turn. 

“Okay, I concede that pregnancy rumors are at least half-way a valid reason. But I’m going to need at least one more,” Percy said. 

“At least?” Annabeth protested, “Is my potential humiliation not enough for you?” 

“Mm. Not quite. I’m sharing at least 25% of the embarrassment, so it cancels out a bit.” 

Annabeth wanted to argue that 25% was too high a percent, but he had chosen the number well. It was, to Annabeth’s calculations, fairly accurate. 

“Why can’t we just wait?” Annabeth asked. She hadn’t meant for the words to come out as seriously as they did, but she saw Percy’s expression shift from joking to sincere anyways. 

“If you want to wait, we can wait. Forget I brought it up” 

She knew he meant it, and she was really tempted to take up his offer and forget about it. They had talked about marriage before, in an abstract way, and Annabeth hadn’t exactly been  opposed, but he’d never asked straight up either. She had been clear that she wanted to be with him for the rest of their lives, but they’d never discussed a timeline for when they wanted to do things. 

But it had slipped out so easily, and so sincerely. He really did want this. The least Annabeth could do was talk about it with him.

“But  you  don’t want to wait,” Annabeth said, rolling onto her side to face him more directly. Percy shrugged with one shoulder.

“I love you. I want to be with you forever. Why wait?”

“If you want to be with me forever, why do it at all?” Annabeth asked. Percy frowned, little lines appearing between his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean?” 

Annabeth hesitated, unsure how to put her feelings to words. Marriage had always given her a kind of weird feeling, nervous and a little repulsed. She was sure a psychologist would have a field day digging up why, but she didn’t really care to know. It was only the prospect of doing it with Percy specifically that made it tolerable to her at all.

“I love you,” she started, slowly, “And I want to be with you forever. But why do we have to put this weird stipulation on it? Why can’t we just be with each other?” 

“We could. I’ll be with you however you want to be with me,” Percy said, reaching out, and brushing a stray curl behind her ear. Annabeth tried not to sink too much into his touch. She couldn’t afford to be distracted now.

“But you want to get married,” Annabeth protested. 

“Yeah. I do.” 

“Why?” 

To Annabeth’s relief, he didn’t look at her like it was a weird question. It would have been fair, it was a weird question. But he could tell what she was asking, what she was  really  asking. 

“I dunno, I can’t really explain it,” Percy admitted, “I guess I just want to make that promise to you, that I’ll always love you and always be there for you, sick or healthy and rich or poor, or whatever the words are.” 

Annabeth couldn’t help but laugh a little at the end of his statement, and his own lips turned up in a smile.

“You’ve already promised me all that, though,” Annabeth said. 

“Yeah, but this time it’s official. Something bigger than just you and me,” Percy said. 

And maybe that was it; the wrinkle that wouldn’t let her just dive in and say yes and get married at 21 like every other lovesick young adult. Promises. Because a promise made was just a potential promise broken and the more official it became, whether in a prophecy and a knife or a ceremony in front of all their friends, the worse the fallout would be.

“What’s wrong with just promising it to ourselves?” Annabeth asked. 

“Nothing at all.” 

“But you really want this,” Annabeth sighed. 

“Don’t say you’ll do it just because I want to do it,” Percy said. 

“But you really want it?” Annabeth asked. Percy took a second to answer, biting his lower lip the way he did when he was really nervous. 

“Yeah. I really want it,” he admitted. 

Annabeth studied his face, every earnest line marking his expression, right up to the crinkles in the corners of his sea-green eyes. 

She tried to imagine being married to him,  really  tried. Not just in an abstract sense, but what it would look like, what it would feel like. To her surprise, it didn’t seem that different from what they had now. Maybe even better, in some ways.

They were already so much more than boyfriend and girlfriend, they had been for a long while. Soulmates was a cheesy word, but she did honestly and truly believe Percy was hers. And while the thought of actually  getting  married was a little horrifying still, the thought of  being  married to him was a little exciting. Having people understand, at least a little bit, what they meant to each other made her feel warm inside.

And he wouldn’t break his promises to her. He was the only one who had kept every single one, and a stupid piece of paper at city hall wasn’t going to change that. 

“Okay,” Annabeth sighed, finally. 

“Okay?” he asked, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face. 

“Okay, I’ll marry you, you dumb idiot,” she said, unable to keep a smile off her face either.

Before she could continue, he leaned over and kissed her. She could feel how happy he was through his lips, and it was supremely difficult to break away, but she knew she had to or she would get lost and her stipulations would slip out of her mind, never to be seen again.

“I have demands, though,” Annabeth said, finally pulling back. Percy laughed, loud and earnest.

“I would expect nothing less.” 

“I don’t want a big wedding. Actually, I don’t want a wedding at all,” Annabeth said, trying to suppress the shudder that crept up on her at the thought.

“Easy. We can elope. Next,” Percy said. 

“Really?” Annabeth asked. She had thought that might be a bigger deal to him, but he just shrugged. 

“I want to be married to you, it doesn’t matter to me how we do it.” 

“Even if I say I wanna go to Vegas and get it done with an Elvis impersonator?” Annabeth asked, only half joking. 

“Can we really?” Percy asked, his eyes flashing with excitement.

“Maybe? If we— okay, no, I have more demands, put a pin in the Elvis thing.” 

“I’ve pinned it,” Percy promised. 

“Okay. I don’t want a stupid gaudy ring, it's not practical, and diamonds are unethical anyways,” Annabeth continued. Percy nodded. 

“No diamonds, got it.” 

“I want to keep my last name, or hyphenate or something. And if I do change it I want to wait until we’re done with school.” Annabeth said. She was a little nervous about this one, but it didn’t seem to bother Percy.

“We could both hyphenate,” Percy suggested, “Jackson-Chase has a nice ring to it.” 

“Chase-Jackson sounds better, but we can deal with the details of that later,” Annabeth said, waving her hand. 

“Okay, I’m putting a pin in hyphenation order. Next.”

“I don’t want to send announcements or anything. People can find out when they find out,” Annabeth said. 

“Okay, but we have to at least call my mom and Paul,” Percy said. Honestly it was impressive he had gotten so far without even a small amendment to her asks. “And Piper is going to be really pissed if you keep it a secret from her.” 

“We can call your parents,” Annabeth promised. 

“And Piper?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. But the thought of telling her best friend besides Percy was getting less cringe-inducing by the minute. Annabeth actually felt herself getting excited about Piper’s potential reaction. She would absolutely freak out in the best way possible.

“She can be our witness. If you’re cool with that,” Annabeth said. Percy grinned. 

“That sounds great.” 

“Even if I ask her to make it as irreverent as possible?” Annabeth asked. 

“We’re getting married in front of Elvis, I’m not sure how it gets more irreverent than that.” Percy said. 

“We put a pin in Elvis,” Annabeth corrected, “But I’m positive Piper can somehow make it even more irreverent if she puts her mind to it.” 

“Never thought I’d know an Aphrodite kid so willing to ruin a wedding,” Percy said fondly. Then an excited look flashed across his face.

“Plus, she won’t be able to stop herself from talking about it, and then we won’t have to tell anyone.” he added. He sounded so triumphant Annabeth had to laugh. 

“You’re right, that’s perfect. So, when are we doing this?” 

The smile on Percy’s face faltered slightly. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? Because we really really don’t have to.” 

Annabeth hesitated slightly. In truth the idea still scared her a little, even with Percy’s promises that they could do it in the most goofy, non-traditional way possible. But his insistence that he would stand by her with or without getting married was the thing convincing her. If she asked him to drop it now, he would, and he wouldn’t bring it up again, even though it was a big deal to him. 

And really, it wouldn’t be such a big deal to Annabeth as long as they didn’t make it feel so official. Breaking a promise you made in front of an Elvis impersonator felt much less disastrous than breaking a promise you made at city hall. But it didn’t even matter, because Percy would never break that promise anyways, no matter where he made it. 

“I want to be with you. And you want to be with me,” Annabeth said, “It’s a little weird for me, but if you want to do it, I’m down.”

“Okay. Cool,” Percy said, letting himself smile again. It was so radiant it just about chased away every last shred of lingering doubt Annabeth had. Not to mention the few added advantages to being married that had popped into her mind in the last few minutes. 

“Plus, we’ll get a better tax refund,” Annabeth added, and Percy collapsed into laughter. 

“I love you so much, I don’t even care that you’re marrying me for the tax benefits,” Percy said, rolling over and kissing her again. Annabeth let this one last longer, let herself sink into it.

“We’re getting married,” Annabeth said breathlessly, when they finally separated. 

“We’re getting married,” Percy agreed, grinning. 

So, maybe the institution of marriage was weird and a little sexist in origin and reminded Annabeth of old prophecies and old promises. But that was in the past. Percy was the future,  her  future, and wanted to have every single moment possible with him. 

They were going to go to Vegas, and hire a random guy dressed as a 50s rockstar off the street and have Piper make the whole thing as ridiculous as possible. And then they were going to live the rest of their lives together, maybe as the Jackson-Chases, (or if she had her way the Chase-Jacksons), and she would finally have a word to describe Percy besides “boyfriend” which had been woefully inadequate for years.

Plus, her rebate next year was going to be  awesome. 

Annabeth grinned. Maybe marriage wasn’t so bad after all. 

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Five: War

Author's note: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: just a smidge of angst, talking about feelings and a slightly steamy moment to look forward too.

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Five - Next 

When you returned back to Max’s home, the sky was pitch black. Max fumbled opening the front door, grunting in frustration when he couldn’t get the key in the hole because it was so dark. When the door finally swung open, he sauntered inside without saying a single word. You hovered behind him, following him around his home like a lost puppy. He strolled into the living room, walked over to the mini bar, and poured himself out a glass of honeyed whiskey. He contemplated taking the whole bottle upstairs to his office and using the alcohol to drown his sorrows away. The silence made him forget he had a guest. “Can I get you a drink?” he muttered, not even looking at you. His thumb grazed the expensive liquor label.

“I’m okay,” you denied quietly. Maxwell didn’t say a word, but he took a swing out the small crystalled tumbler. His eyes were still glossy from his tears and his blonde wavy hair poking up in random places. He was practically unrecognisable from the television infomercials, although you deemed it inappropriate to bring up his appearance right now. To you, he was still so handsome. You waited for him to say something, but a few minutes had passed and not a single word had escaped his soft lips. “Max, I think we need to talk.”

You had a lot of questions, and he had a lot to ask you. Maxwell poured out another glass of whiskey before turning around and leaning against the bar. “Yeah, I agree. Why did you read the letter?” He asked first through a shaky exhale. Clearly it had been preying on his mind. Inside that letter was information he wanted nobody to see. He didn’t even want to see it himself. But you… he actually cared about what you thought of him. He feared your judgement more than anything else.

“You’d really hurt yourself and I could see you were very angry. When I saw the letter crumpled up on the floor, I thought it might have something to do with it and I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” You explained your genuine concern, even noticing the way Maxwell’s face softened at your confession. Despite the fact you had invaded his privacy, he just couldn’t bring himself to stay mad at you. “I knew I was looking for a man named Lorenzano. If the letter hadn’t told me you were Lorenzano then I would never have gone to Thomas Family Lawyer’s.”

“I find it difficult to believe that you were worried about me,” Maxwell scoffed incredulously, rolling his eyes and taking yet another swing of his drink. The warmth your words had brought him were short lived and he was immediately engulfed in a cold, unwelcome chill. 

“I was,” you reiterated. “I care about you a lot. You- you’re my friend. You gave me a home and you believed me when I told you about Themyscira and the God’s. Max… can I ask… why did you believe me?”

Maxwell hesitated for a few seconds, anxiously picking at his already short fingernails. He could lie. He could tell you that he only believed you when you demonstrated the lasso of Hestia on him, and that would be enough. But there was no time to be deceitful, not anymore. You’d been honest with him from the very beginning, and he owed his honesty to you too. For the sake of Alistair, he needed to be truthful. For the very first time, Maxwell was going to open up about what happened on the island when he made a broadcast to the entire world.

“Part of me already believed you when I saw you in the lobby of Black Gold for the first time. You were asleep on the sofa, covered in mud, in that crazy Amazonian costume thing…” he gestured to your tunic and skirt which was still discarded on the floor from when you had undressed earlier. He chuckled lightly at the memory of you. You were so beautiful and peaceful. He thought that when you awoke, it would be revealed to him that you were there to hurt him - just like everyone else in the world. “There was just something about you. When I saw you for the first time I just felt… I just felt like…” Max was struggling to get his words out. He couldn’t describe the feeling. For the first time, the well articulated and extroverted businessman was at a loss for words. All he knew was that every second he spent with you, this strange feeling grew stronger and stronger. “I just knew I could trust you,” he shrugged helplessly. That part was true at least. “It sounds dumb, I know. You’re a stranger. But I’m not a very trusting man in the first place, so feeling this was kind of a big deal. And then you mentioned Diana,” Bewilderment crossed your face as you wondered what exactly Diana had to do with any of this. “I knew a woman called Diana Prince. Worked at the Smithsonian museum,” Maxwell took a deep breath before saying your name. He took both of your hands and sat you down on the sofa. “I need to confess something.”

“What is it?” you asked with concern. You brushed your fingers over his knuckles and he relished the way your simple touches erupted a frenzy of butterflies in his stomach.

“I did a bad thing,” Maxwell told you, fear in his eyes. “And I’m still confused and… afraid. Look, I actually care about what you think of me so please-”

You placed a chaste kiss over Maxwell’s knuckles and Max swore his heart stopped beating. Your lips felt just as soft as they looked… just as soft as he’d imagined earlier in the shower. You didn’t know why you kissed his hands… you just felt like it. And it felt good. And you hoped that maybe one day you could do it again. Your eyes flicked up to meet his own. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. I’m here to help you Max. I won’t judge you.” you promised.

“Okay,” he said with a deep sigh. “My company… I’ve worked my whole life building up Black Gold Cooperative. I really just wanted to do something great. Growing up, I never really had an idol or someone to look up to. And when Alistair was born, I wanted to give him the world. Anything he wanted. Because he was my son and most of all I just wanted him to be proud of his father. I was led along the wrong path by a few businessmen who were trying to sell off their investments in oilfields for cheap. So I bought them. Turns out, the oilfields were completely dried out and they weren’t going to earn any money whatsoever. I looked at the data and nothing suggested that was going to change but I couldn’t bear to give up. I didn’t want to look like a failure in front of Alistair… in front of my wife,” he croaked out, rubbing his temples as the stress consumed him. “So, I clung on to hope. And I never let go even when I probably should have. I led the world on with my infomercials, telling people that if they invested in us they’d own a part of the most lucrative oil industry in the world. And as share prices rocketed up, they’d eventually earn more than what they put in. That was the plan from day one. But the cold war meant that-”

“-Max,” you cut him off with a gentle whisper. “You’re putting yourself down for having hope. You shouldn’t- you shouldn’t do that. Having hope is the most important thing in the world.”

“I was deceitful,” Maxwell grumbled, shaking off your comment. “I found this stone that supposedly possessed magical powers. I’m a realist, I couldn’t believe it but I had to see for myself. It dated all the way back to ancient Rome… was a beautiful citrine. After a heist in the mall it was stolen and… let's just say I got my hands on the stone by means I’m not at all proud of. The stone possessed wish granting powers and I-”

Maxwell was rambling but at this point, he didn’t need to give you any more information. You already knew. Everything was making sense. From your dreams and your visions and now this.

“No.” was the only word you managed to breathe out. You shook your head profusely as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. It couldn’t be. You remembered your mother telling you that one of the stones was magically destroyed and no one knew how or why. But if Maxwell had wished to become the stone... “No no no… you didn’t, did you?”

Maxwell swallowed as he immediately sensed your disappointment in him. He nodded in silence, unable to say any more words. He felt nauseated. It was already so difficult to live with - the fact he had spiralled into mania so fast. At his core, he was a lonely man who had nobody to guide him. He thought he was in control the entire time but the truth is, he had lost control. 

“Romulus possessed you,” you exhaled shakily, wiping your eyes. You let go off his hands and stood up, brushing yourself down. You nervously began to pace up and down the area of the living room. Maxwell closed his eyes, unable to let himself even look at you. He figured you were so disgusted in what he had done, you couldn’t even touch him anymore. 

“Who?” Max questioned you eventually. He wanted the answers too.

“The God of Lies, Max!” you snapped back, not even realising how you’d raised your own voice but you were so stressed and paranoid. “Oh goodness… what if he’s still in you. What if-”

“I renounced my wish.” Maxwell informed you with not an ounce of emotion in his voice. He felt empty. Your head snapped to face him once more and your face softened at his revelation. You wanted to hold Max, cradle him in your arms and promise him that everything would be okay. That you’d be able to figure all this out together. But there was still so much you needed to know.

“Why?” you gasped in defeat, letting your shoulders slump.

“Diana.” Maxwell shrugged weakly, fumbling with the sleeves of his sweater.

“No,” you shook your head. “Why did you wish in the first place?”

“I was so afraid of Alistair thinking I’m a loser. Sometimes it’s so easy to believe the whole world is against me. I just wanted him to love me the way I love him.”

“Alistair has always loved you, Maxwell.” you told the teary eyed man, grabbing his arm and squeezing it. Max’s breathing hitched under your touch and he spent a few moments contemplating your words. No person had ever shown him such unconditional kindness. People were either intimidated by him, or enemies with him. No one had ever even wanted to be his friend. Even his relationship with Julianna was a whirlwind fueled on lust and her desire for his money. That’s why as soon as the oil fields dried up, the marriage broke down, and she’d gone on to find someone else with money - Theodore.

“Julianna messed with me, a lot. Told me that Alistair cared more for Ted than me, that I was nothing but a low-life. Since I found out Julianna was pregnant I was filled with this fear. I wasn’t scared of becoming a father, I was scared of becoming my father,” Maxwell choked out, making a fist as anger consumed him. He tried not to hate, he really did, but he could never ever forgive his father’s actions. You watched as his lips trembled and he looked down at his feet. “The world almost collapsed and it was all my fault,” he shuffled his feet around uncomfortably. “And I’m filled with this gut wrenching guilt I just can’t escape…” He looked up at you and wiped his eyes furiously. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No,” you said, moving his hand away from his face and wiping his tears away with your own fingers. “You are a beautiful man,” you whispered, cupping Maxwell’s face and stroking the height of his cheekbones. You saw him flush a gentle pink colour. “And Alistair is so lucky to have a father who would do all of this… just for him. You are loved. You are loved way more than you know.” you assured, and Maxwell found himself subconsciously leaning into your touch. He was so pretty you could just kiss him again. Maybe this time on the lips.

“How- how can you not hate me?” he choked out, taking you out of your thoughts about kissing him. “Even I hate me. I’ve been thinking, maybe I’m not good enough to be a father.”

“I know how it feels,” you admitted hesitantly, biting your lip. You’d never spoken about this to anyone before. “My father is Zeus, king of all Gods. My mother is Hestia, the Goddess of Truth. I know how it feels to be put on a pedestal. To be compared to others and I know how it feels to not feel good enough. Not important. To have no purpose…” you trailed off. “I’ve spent my life searching for some significance. Zeus had many children, most of which were never able to satisfy their duty as a God or Goddess. But when I started to have these dreams… when I heard your voice I knew in my heart that you… you are my purpose.” you took a deep breath and smiled. “But Max… the dreamstone…”

“What is it?” Max urged you, his dark eyes flicking to yours. “If you can help me with Alistair, let me help you with this. Whatever you need, I can help you.”

“I- I don’t know if you can.” you confessed with a sigh.

“What is it?” Max repeated, staring into your eyes.

“My mother told me the story of two brothers, Romulus and Dolos, both the God of Lies. They were evil… destructive. They wanted to watch society collapse and build a new world. A world they could rule together,” you explained and Maxwell winced. Maybe you were right. Romulus had possessed him… because all of this was sounding far too familiar to him. “When the brothers left Olympus, Zeus gifted them with two citrine stones. The brother’s practiced their wish-granting powers on the stones. Romulus created Rome and Dolos created Athens. And now, only one stone remains.”

“Dolos’ stone remains,” Maxwell said his thoughts out loud and you nodded in affirmation. “Because it was Romulus’ stone which possessed me. So how do we destroy Dolos’ stone?”

“My mother… my mother told me only one thing can destroy the stone.” you whispered. Maxwell looked at you with an urge for you to continue. “Love.” you revealed.

There was a deafening silence that filled the room. “I-I don’t understand,” Maxwell swallowed. “It was the truth that pushed me to renounce my wish. Truth is the opposite of lies… your mother is the Goddess of Truth so maybe-”

“She told me love would destroy the stone,” you repeated, putting your foot down. “There’s no question about it. She’s my mother and I trust her.”

“Okay okay,” Maxwell soothed you. “I trust her  too. I just don’t understand how-”

“Me neither,” you exhaled, cutting him off. “But we’ll figure it out, right?”

“Right.” Max confirmed. “Are- are you tired?” 

“A little.” you admitted.

“There’s five empty bedrooms upstairs. Take your pick. Make yourself at home.” Maxwell smiled wearily and you nodded your head in appreciation. He was so friendly with you. So generous.

“Thank you Max,” you whispered. “You know. I think you’re a good person.”

Maxwell swallowed. You were so softly spoken and you looked so gorgeous under the dim amber lights. If you were any other woman in any other circumstance, he’d press you against the wall and promise you a night you’d never forget. But he couldn’t do this to you. You were so innocent- and he could risk hurting such a delicate soul. “I’m going to tidy up down here first but uh- I’ll come say goodnight in a few minutes.”

You left the room and Maxwell stood alone for a few moments. As he tried to tidy up the mini bar, every single one of his thoughts were consumed by your beauty, your kindness… just you. And that’s when it hit him. Had he fallen in love with a goddess?

There was so much he didn't know about you— but if he could, he'd spend every waking moment with you, asking you questions about Themyscira and your family. He wanted to know what it was like over there, and if he could visit. He wanted to meet Hestia. He couldn't help but smile to himself. You were literally the daughter of Zeus— and you were in his home. If you had came into his life a week ago, he would've idolized you for your power, but now it was different. He genuinely liked you and wanted to be around you. It was crazy. 

You walked down the long, wide corridor, not really caring too much about which bedroom you select. You had more important things on your mind— such as how you were going to find the dreamstone, and how you were going to destroy it. Maybe it didn't make sense right now, but you could only hope that the pieces of the puzzle would begin to fall into place sooner rather than later. The bedroom you had settled in was large, with an en-suite bathroom and a walk in closet. It was magnificent, but then again, it seemed as though every room in Maxwell Lord's home struck you with awe. The bed was enormous too, much bigger than the single one you had back on Themyscira. You wondered to yourself what the point was in having such an extensive sized bed, but you struck it down to comfort over anything else. And it certainly was comfortable. You kicked off your gladiator sandals and sat on the white sheets, sighing as the soft material silked around your bare legs. It was wonderful.

Taking the photograph from earlier out of your shirt pocket, you held it delicately between your fingers. Maxwell Lord, with dark brown hair and a smile that could break hearts, holding little baby Alistair. Every time you looked at the photo your heart felt like it was melting, but in the best way possible. You could practically feel the love radiating from the father and son.

You placed the photograph carefully on the nightstand and unbuttoned the pinstripe shirt that Max had loaned you. Folding it up, you placed it in his closet amongst his other clothes, deciding that's where it belonged. You climbed under the sheets, tangling your naked body amongst the blankets. It felt amazing. Your surroundings might have been unfamiliar, but you had never felt more at home.

Just then, the main light switched on, illuminating the whole bedroom. Max gasped when he saw you lying in his bed. "Oh- oh shit, hey!" he exclaimed awkwardly, his eyebrows raising. His expression was almost animatronic as he saw your shoulders and the top of your bare chest peek out from underneath the duvet. "So, you found a bedroom! Uh- that's good."

"Is everything okay?" you asked, sitting upwards and propping yourself against a pillow. "Is it because I'm naked?"

"No- I mean yes! I mean no! Everything is fine. And, I know you said you were used to sleeping naked before so, it's okay. I promise. I just- you see- this is actually my bedroom. And that's my bed. So…"

"Oh." you nodded slowly, feeling slightly embarrassed. It usually took a lot for Max Lord to get flustered the way he was, and that scared him.

"No! I mean, there's no way you could have known. It's fine. You can sleep here tonight. I'll take one of the other rooms." Maxwell smiled, reaching over to the light switch to turn it off again. "Good night."

"Max wait-" you called before he could leave. He looked at you but said nothing. "Do you think that you could stay with me tonight?" you asked hesitantly, shuffling around the blankets. "It's just… when I'm with you, I feel… safe."

Maxwell struggled to find words, so instead, he just nodded, and sat next to you on the edge of the bed. "When I'm with you I feel safe too," he confessed with a gulp and you smiled. "Although that's probably because you're some superhuman goddess. I suppose I also feel quite intimidated by you." he shrugged, a nervous blush flushing his cheeks.

Your gaze snapped to face him and you tilted your head in bewilderment. "Intimidated? You are intimidated by me?" you asked. "Why would you- why-? I don't understand. I mean, look at me." you scoffed incredulously, gesturing down to your body that was hidden by the thin white material of Maxwell's duvet.

"I am." he exhaled, his eyes not leaving yours once.

And there were the butterflies again. The feeling you just couldn't shake. Everyone he looked you in the eye… every time his voice got low and soft it just made you feel… you couldn't even put it into words. Maxwell rubbed his feet awkwardly along the carpet.

"You can come under the blankets with me?" you suggested after a brief silence. You pulled the duvet open and gestured for him to lay next to you.

"Oh I don't know," he shuffled around. "Here, in the world of man, people only really lay together if they're… well, together." Max explained.

"Aren't we together?" you shrugged your shoulders.

"Mm, not like that," Maxwell pursed his lips together. He wanted to lay with you— he really did, but he didn't want you to get the wrong idea. "People only lay together if they're… in love."

"Were you in love with Julianna?" you asked a little too quickly. Maxwell finally broke his gaze from you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that." you tried to retract but Maxwell shushed you.

"No, it's okay. The truth is… I don't know. I thought I was in love with her but… I'm not sure anymore." Maxwell sighed, running a finger through his hair. He wasn't sure because now he was having feelings for you and these feelings weren't anything like he had ever felt before.

"But you shared a bed with her?" you quizzed.

"Well, yeah. We were married."

"Have you shared a bed with anyone who you weren't married to?" you beckoned further.

Maxwell paused. "Of course."

"So please," you hummed, smoothing out the bed sheets. "Lay with me." 

Maxwell smiled before taking off his shoes and climbing in next to you. "Have- have you ever shared a bed with a man before?" Maxwell asked, swallowing the hard lump in his throat. Just the thought of you being with another man made his head spin.

"No," you said quietly. "There are no men on Themyscira." you reminded him.

"Oh right yeah." Maxwell nodded understandingly.

You snuggled up close to him and laid your head on his chest. "You're warm," you mumbled happily. "It's nice."

Maxwell stretched out his arm and wrapped it around you. You and him were cuddling in bed. He wanted it to mean something, he really did, but he couldn't help but feel like it was platonic on your end. You smelled so amazing. And your body fit into his like a puzzle piece that had been missing his whole life. He could stay in this moment forever. And you were also more than content. Maxwell was broad, and his arms were strong. You felt safe laying with him, you felt like he could protect you from any danger. You trusted him. And he trusted you.

"So, am I the first man you met?" Maxwell asked you, clearing his throat.

"You are," you confirmed. You pulled the photograph of Maxwell and Alistair from the nightstand and showed it to your friend. "I found this earlier today. I like it a lot."

"Oh yeah, that was the day Alistair was born," Maxwell smiled. "I was happy that day."

"You're so lucky to be a father. I've always wanted children." you confessed, biting your lip.

"Well maybe one day you can have some of your own." Maxwell murmured, smoothing out your hair.

"I doubt it. Amazons can't bear children. Although, I suppose I could."

"What makes you different from the other Amazons?" Max beckoned.

"A lot, actually. They're all warrior queens. Fighters. But Zeus blessed me with the ability to carry children if I were to become a mortal, because I'm the Goddess of Home and Hearth. I reunite families. I'm maternal at heart. That's why he granted me that blessing, I suppose." you explained, trying your hardest to recall the words your mother had spoken to you when you were just a little girl.

"Only if you become a mortal? How would you even do that?" Maxwell anxiously slid his hand into yours, and his heart filled with joy when you intertwined your fingers with his.

"If I exposed my true self in front of a large crowd of people then I could no longer be a goddess. Zeus would take away my powers and I'd never be able to return to Themyscira. I'd be normal, just like you." 

He wanted to laugh. There was nothing about Max Lord that could be considered ‘normal’— but he opted to let your comment slide. He knew what you meant anyway. "Would you consider giving up your powers and becoming a mortal?" 

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I would do it for love." you turned to face Maxwell, to look him in the eyes, but he was already looking at you— memorising your beautiful face. Everything about you was so perfect.

"Love." he repeated, validating to himself that he was indeed listening and not completely entranced by your beauty. His voice had dropped an octave and was no louder than a mere whisper. His eyes flicked down to your lips and he had never felt an urge so strong in his life to just kiss you. He remembered how soft your lips were earlier in the night when they'd gently brushed over his knuckles.

And now, you were looking at his lips too. They were pink and plush and— you'd never even kissed anyone before, let alone a man who was attractive as Maxwell Lord. From what you had learned about him, he was already so esteemed and had probably kissed dozens of girls in his lifetime. You on the other hand, were quite inexperienced. But that didn't mean you didn't want to learn.

You could hear his beating heart as you felt his chest rise and fall. He made sure that no piece of stray hair was in your face. He wanted to take in every detail. With a sudden air of confidence, Maxwell leaned in and nudged his nose against yours. Naturally, your eyes fluttered shut as his warm breath fanned over your skin. His hand dropped down to your waist and he gave your hip a gentle squeeze under the covers as he tilted his head and pressed his lips against yours.

It was magical. His lips moved perfectly against yours, like they were made for each other. Max closed his eyes and pressed his face further into yours, even using his tongue to teasingly lick a stripe over your lower lip. You felt your cheeks flush as an involuntary moan escaped your lips. As your mouth parted, Maxwell seized the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth… and it felt delightful. You wrapped a leg around his and tangled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you. You prayed that this moment would never end. His lips were sweet and you imagined they tasted vaguely of the honeyed whiskey he had been drinking earlier. His hand glided down to your thigh and you eventually pulled away from him with a gasp. He removed his hand from you.

"Too much?" he asked breathlessly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your swollen lips.

You moved his hand back to its position on your thigh. "No- no," you whispered, shaking your head but unable to contain your smile. "It's just, I've never done anything like this before. I've never been kissed like this… or even touched… I've never even… you know."

"It's okay," Maxwell whispered, cupping your face. "We don't have to do anything you want to do."

"I want this." you confirmed, pulling your body on top of his and straddling him. Maxwell felt his cock twitch in his pants as you accidentally grinded over him, leaning in and reattaching your lips. The blanket was still draped over your shoulders but fuck, you were naked. You were naked and on top of him and you were kissing him. Maxwell was still practically fully clothed and he didn't want to remove the blanket from you but he did contemplate taking his own sweater off.

"You feel so good on top of me like this," he muttered against your lips. "Can I touch you?"

You hummed in response and grinded your hips over him again. "Please."

Maxwell brought his hands down to your breasts and began to fondle with them as you kissed him. You moaned and giggled as his thumb grazed over your puckered nipples, squeezing them gently now and again.

The make-out session must have lasted a good half an hour, and Maxwell swore it was the best he'd ever had. If he wasn't sure about his feelings before, this was only confirmation. He'd grown deeply in love with you.

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Birthday Confessions - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Reader (gender neutral) and Spencer are both secretly in love with each other. Reader is going to be alone for their birthday, so Spencer comes up with a plan to surprise them.

Word Count: 4k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Kissing

Note: Written based on this request: “Spencer knows the reader doesn't have family near and celebrates it with her?” by @amofbebbanburg​. So sorry this literally took me forever.

The low rumble of the jet lulled you to sleep, your head falling to rest on Emily’s shoulder. Spencer sat across from you, his eyes fixated on the slight curve of your lips as your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, in tandem with the fluttering of his heart. The orange hue of his reading light dusted your cheeks, and the soft sounds you made resonated between his ears. He was so transfixed on your angelic, sleeping form, that he was unaware of the smirk plastered across Emily’s face as she watched him look at you. When he noticed her staring, he cleared his throat and abruptly returned his gaze back towards his book. Her light chuckle at his actions brought a harsh blush to his cheeks, only causing him to sink behind his book even further. 

“You know, you’re not being very subtle”, Emily teased, “(Y/n)’s going to catch on sooner or later”. Spencer felt his lungs constrict as panic coursed its way through his body.

“Wha-what do you mean?”, he confoundingly replied, having realized just how obvious he had been.

“Spencer”, she said with a knowing look, “We all know how you feel about (Y/n)-”

“Emily!”, he hissed. His eyes growing tenfold as he looked back at you to make sure you were still asleep. “They’re right there!”, he pleaded, turning his head to gesture towards your unconscious form.

“Relax”, she grinned. “They’re asleep, and trust me, (Y/n) can sleep through anything”, she said, rolling her eyes fondly. Spencer fought back a smile, trying to maintain his stoic composure, as he thought of how annoyed Emily would get on cases when your absurdly loud alarm would go off and not even wake you up. You would always joke that the point of your alarm wasn’t to wake yourself but to wake up Emily so that you could be woken up by the smiling face of your best friend. Emily would always glare at you in the mornings while on cases, and you would return the favor by laughing Oh hush, you love me, as the rest of the team shook their heads at your comical antics. 

Spencer bit his bottom lip as he thought about how he wouldn’t mind being woken up every morning to an air horn in his ear if it meant he got to wake up next to you. He would wake you up with gentle kisses across your face while holding you tightly to his chest. He would make sure to always have a huge smile on his face as he told you how much he loves you, just so you would start each day knowing how wonderful he thinks you are.

When the jet landed Emily gently shook her shoulder, causing you to groggily awake from your sleep. “Morning sleeping beauty”, she joked. You took in a deep breath, lifting your head and taking in your surroundings. It was dark, save for an amber halo peeking through Spencer’s deep curls. An inaudible gasp left your lips at the sight of him smiling down at you with his dark eyes that still managed to shine brighter than all the stars in the night sky. To quell the augmented flutter of your heart, you quickly turned away, hiding your flushed cheeks, before putting your head back down on Emily’s shoulder.

“Mmm, goodnight”, you sighed, closing your eyes as a smile crept its way to your lips.

“Nice try”, she laughed as she took her arm out from under you, placing a teasing pout across your face, “I’ve hit my sleeping (Y/n) quota for the week”. You reluctantly sat back up and were face to face with the man you had been hiding from. Your eyes met, and you lingered slightly too long looking at each other, completely unaware of Emily’s smirk.

“Right”, you cleared your throat, standing up. Spencer jolted his eyes back down to his book as he turned to place it in his satchel. You took this opportunity to make your way off the jet, not daring to look back at the man you were hopelessly in love with.

As you rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, you were hyper-aware of Spencer’s presence behind you. You kept sneaking glances at him, only to see he was looking at you each time you did. And each time you would both avert your eyes, just to look back a moment later.

After the team debriefed in the conference room, everyone went back to their respective desks to finish up some paperwork for the case before heading home. Luckily for you, this meant having to sit across from Spencer and using every fiber in your body to not look up at him. Spencer, however, couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He watched as you flipped through the files on your desk, and admired how you ran your fingers through your hair, a habit of yours when you were deep in thought. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you began to chew on your lip, and he couldn’t get the idea of kissing your tender, plump lips out of his mind. You were killing him. He couldn’t focus on his work, and all he wanted was to hear your voice, he needed to.

“So, are you doing anything for your birthday this weekend?”, Spencer inquired. Your head shot up from your desk, your mind having gone blank at his question. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, while his musky brown eyes searched your face. Spencer’s face fell as he slowly turned back to the open file on his desk, figuring he said something to make you uncomfortable. Your eyes were fixated on him, as his words, that hung in the awkward silence, finally caught up to you.

“Uh, h-how did you know it was my birthday?”, you questioned, genuinely confused. You had been at the BAU for seven months, after having transferred from the San Francisco office, and you were sure your birthday, of all things, had never been the topic of conversation. It’s not that you hated your birthday, but seeing as your family lived on the other side of the country, you felt silly celebrating it beyond a text from your mom. Truth be told, you had almost forgotten it was coming up with how hectic everything has been at your new job. It was a lot different than your previous job in California, which mostly consisted of doing paperwork at your desk. But, you couldn’t be happier than where you were: doing your dream job with people that were slowly becoming your family. Emily quickly became your best friend, and your crush on the very man sitting across from you formed not long after. So, imagine your surprise when he looked at you, through dark circles that framed glazed over eyes, hazy from sleepless nights during long cases, and asked you if you had any plans for your birthday.

“Oh, um, well”, he looked away from you and scratched the back of his neck as his plump lips formed a slight smile, “i-it was in your file from when you joined, and you know, eidetic memory”. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled innocently at you before staring back down at his desk.

“Right, of course”, you forced a smile as his head shot back up and nodded. “Well”, your face brightened in an attempt to break the palpable awkwardness that had formed between you two, “probably just going to spend it watching David Tennant on my tv while curled up on the couch with some ice cream.”

“What? For your birthday? You aren’t going out to celebrate?”, he questioned, appearing genuinely concerned.

“Well, normally I would, but drinking at a bar alone doesn’t scream ‘Happy Birthday’, you know”, you chuckled.

“You should at least have cake, everyone should get to have cake on their birthday. Actually, birthday cakes date back to ancient Rome, where people would have cakes made out of flour, nuts, yeast, and honey. However, birthday cakes became popularized in the 15th century in Germany when bakeries began making one layered cakes for people to buy to celebrate birthdays”, he said as he raised his eyebrows while his lips formed a thin smile. You couldn’t help but look at him with complete adoration as he rambled. “But, um, you aren’t even doing anything with Emily or Garcia?”, he hesitantly questioned. Your lips pressed together as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Emily treated me to lunch earlier in the week because she has plans this weekend”, you reassured him and he nodded, “Plus, it’s the first year I won’t be with my parents and I just miss them so I don’t really feel like celebrating alone”, He gave you a sympathetic smile as you shrugged. “But, I promise I’ll at least get cake batter ice cream”, you smiled while winking, eliciting a laugh from him.

“Okay good”, he said, smiling back. His warm chuckles still reverberated throughout your chest, swirling around your heart. Once again you found yourself frozen, knowing you should turn away, but not finding an ounce of strength to do so as you both just gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Well uh, goodnight”, you said, forcing yourself to look down to grab your bag and head towards the elevator. Your stomach clenched as you kept your gaze ahead, not daring to look back at him. Spencer, however, couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you left. His eyes caressed each of your curves as you walked further and further away from him. He bit his bottom lip, smiling to himself as he watched you leave. 

“Goodnight”, he murmured to an empty room with an obnoxious smile plastered on his face. 

You woke up the next morning, the sun glaring in through your blinds. You turned over in your white, crinkled sheets, shutting your eyes in an effort to avoid the intruding rays. The ding of your phone pierced the quiet room as you sighed and rolled back over to check your phone. You groaned as you squinted at the screen, the harsh light it emitted illuminating your face. 

From Derek: Hey sweet cheeks, sorry to bother you on our day off, but Hotch called a meeting. He said it’s urgent. 

Great, you thought, Happy Birthday to me. You forced yourself out of bed and wasted no time getting ready before heading over to the BAU. You grabbed a granola bar on your way out, rolling your eyes, dreading having to spend your birthday working instead of sleeping all day. 

When you walked into an empty bullpen, you were even more confused. You got out your phone, ready to text Morgan, but you got a text from Garcia.

From Penelope: Good morning and happy happy birthday my sweet sweet (Y/n). Everyone is in the conference room! :)

When you opened the door to the conference room, instead of seeing grotesque crime scene photos of victims, you found the whole team there, each sporting a very cliché party hat. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face as everyone shouted Happy Birthday! You made your rounds hugging and thanking everyone, however, you couldn’t help but notice that someone was missing. 

“Hey, Pen, where’s Spence?”, you asked as everyone else was distracted in conversations.

“Oh, he um, he had something to do today, so he couldn’t make it”, she said sympathetically, noticing that the smile you were trying to force was gradually falling.

“Oh okay”, you said, looking around trying to appear happy. 

“But um”, she said, turning to Derek, who raised his eyebrows and shook his head before stepping out of the room, “he gave us very special instructions on what to do”, she reassured. Your heart fluttered at her words, knowing that Spencer did this for you. Just as you were about to ask her what he said, the lights turned off. Derek came in holding a cake adorned with candles as everyone sang “Happy Birthday”. When he held the cake in front of you, you read what it said: Outside those doors, we might see anything. We could find new worlds, terrifying monsters, impossible things. And if you come with me… nothing will ever be the same again! Happy Birthday (Y/n)! You felt a tear slip down your cheek as you blew out the candles. The tenth doctor was drawn on the cake and you couldn’t stop rereading the quote of his that was written on top. You smiled back up at your team and thanked them for such an amazing birthday.

Despite the love and appreciation you felt from the rest of the team, you couldn’t help but spend the rest of the party overthinking, hiding it behind a façade. You didn’t want to read too much into the quote, but Spencer, who could probably, no definitely, recite every line from Doctor Who, had chosen this one for your birthday cake. You desperately wanted it to mean something, but if he hadn’t even shown up to your party, clearly you weren’t that important to him. When everyone had finished eating, you thanked them again and gave your hugs goodbye. You drove home and blasted your music, loudly singing along, in hopes of drowning out the thoughts of Spencer that swarmed your head.

When you reached your door, there was nothing you wanted more than to put on your sweats and sink into your couch. You slid your key into the deadbolt and pushed open the door. Expecting to walk into your desolate apartment, tears were brought to your eyes at what you found when you walked in. The lights were off and the windows had trash bags taped over them to prevent any sun from breaking the barrier and entering your apartment. You looked all around and were met with string lights adorning your ceiling as if there were a thousand glass stars littering your apartment. A projector sat on the floor near the entryway, projecting galaxies that were currently orbiting around the room. The twinkling lights drew your gaze onto the figure standing in the middle of the dimly lit room. You couldn’t make out his face, but you could tell who it was by the way his dark curls were illuminated by the intertwining auburn and cream-colored swirls of Jupiter that spun around him. 

“Spence…”, you whispered, his name slipping out as you felt yourself being pulled towards him. You had missed him so much today, and at the sight of him, you couldn’t contain the relief that washed over you. You placed your hands on his arms, the soft fabric of his pinstriped suit felt so right under your light grasp. You looked down at his converse, laughing as you realized he was dressed as the tenth Doctor. Looking up at him and meeting his gaze, you suddenly realized how close you two were and that you were practically holding him in your arms. “This is amazing”, you chocked out as you quickly pulled away, wiping the tear that rolled down your cheek as you sheepishly smiled. 

“That’s Doctor to you”, he teased, matching your smile tenfold. 

“Sorry”, you laughed, “this is amazing, Doctor.” You looked around your apartment again, still stunned at how captivating it was. “Um, how did you do all this?”, you asked amazed.

“W-well, you mentioned you were going to spend your birthday watching David Tennant on your television, and I figured having the Doctor in person would be an even better way to spend your birthday… And then I figured what kind of Doctor would I be if I didn’t show you outer space”. You opened your mouth but were swiftly cut off by him, “And, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate with everyone, but, I had to get you out of here and I thought you would enjoy spending some time with the team. Oh!”, he abruptly interjected, “did you um, get your cake?”, he timidly asked with a sheepish smile.

“Yes, I-I did. It was delicious by the way”, he nodded, “I missed you, but thank you for the party”, you said, just above a whisper, “but um, this, is amazing. I-It’s beautiful, Spence”, you smiled, admiring all the twinkling lights and planets that orbited the two of you, “really. Thank you”, you said, finally looking into his eyes that bore into you. 

“You are beautiful”, he said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. You were speechless. Your mouth opened a few times as you struggled to find a response. “I just thought you should know”, he added after your prolonged silence. 

“The quote, on the cake. Did you um…”, you broke the silence between you two looking up at him expectantly.

“Yeah um”, he scratched the back of his neck as he smiled to the ground, “I uh, that line always makes me think of you”, your eyes widened at his words, “At work, we come across the most ‘terrifying monsters’, but, when I’m with you, I feel safe and when I look at you, I’m reminded that there are still amazing, beautiful things in the world, because, I-I think”, he cleared his throat, trying to hold back tears, “Because you are beautiful and amazing, and I am so lucky to have you in my life”. You were stunned. Your heart was beating so fast you feared he could hear it. Your silence, however, scared Spencer, because he didn’t want to lose you just because he had decided to spill his heart to you after breaking into your apartment. “I thought we could watch Doctor Who together”, he paused, still looking for any hint of a reaction from you, “but if not, I can just go. I didn’t mean to barge in like this and-”, he was cut off as you flung yourself into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he latched onto you, breathing a sigh of relief.

“No! Um, that, that sounds amazing”, you whispered into his neck. “I’d love nothing more than to be th-the Doctor’s companion”, you said, smiling against his soft skin.

“Good”, he laughed, “that’s, that’s very good”. You lifted your head off his shoulder, just enough to look into his eyes. Your smile slowly dropped as you moved in closer to his mouth, lightly brushing your lips against his. His eyes fluttered shut as you spoke against his mouth.

“But, as much as I love the Doctor, I would much rather be with my favorite doctor,” you smiled against his lips as you looked up, searching his eyes. 

“I think that can be arranged”, Spencer mumbled against your lips, opening his eyes as your noses brushed up against each other. You looked into his velvet eyes and swore you could see the entire universe in them as they reflected the warm glow of every star hanging above your head. You moved in closer, finally connecting your lips. Warmth rose within you, radiating out through your chest as his lips moved against yours. His arms moved up and down your back, mapping every curve of your body as if he were drawing constellations onto your flushed skin. Your fingertips ran across his supple skin as you cupped his cheek, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you gladly opened your mouth, granting him more access. With every breath you took, you inhaled him in even deeper, getting high off the notes of cinnamon and coffee that flooded your senses. He pulled you impossibly closer, pushing you flush against his chest, and the moan you elicited only intensified his grip. Your thighs clenched and your knees felt week as he began to kiss along your jaw. The warmth of his mouth trailing its way down your neck, caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “So beautiful”, he murmured against your sensitive skin, saying it to himself more than anything else. Each kiss caused a string of electricity to shoot throughout your system, as you ran your fingers through his deep curls, tugging lightly. His kisses gradually became less intense, and your breathing began to even out. He gave a final peck to your neck and then to your cheek and finally your lips, before leaning back to look you in the eyes. “Happy Birthday”, he said smiling at you, while his eyes gleamed with adoration.

“Thank you”, you replied, your brain still fuzzy from the kiss you two just shared, “for, um, everything.”

“Of course”, he smiled, still holding your gaze, “So um, do you want to watch Doctor Who…”.

“Yeah, yes”, you nodded, finally getting some grip back on reality. You walked over to the couch, Spencer’s hand still laced in yours. You sat down first and Spencer sat next to you, still grasping onto your hand as if you would disappear if he let go. You grabbed the remote from the coffee table and leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both relaxed into the couch. As you were getting Doctor Who set up on the tv, Spencer took your hand into both of his and ran his fingers over your knuckles.

“I know I’m no David Tennant”, he said, causing you to turn and look up him, “but um, I-I just wanted to be clear that I, I like you, a lot”. 

“I like you too Spence”, you smiled, “a lot”, you teased. “And, Dr. Spencer Reid is way better than any other Doctor in my book”, you kissed him on the cheek, causing him to blush.

“Really?”, he asked, biting his lip.

“Really”, you reassured him.

“Even Matt Smith?”, he joked.

“Oooh I don’t know about that”, you said coyly, raising your eyebrows. Despite your joking manner, Spencer’s face still fell.

“Oh. Sorry. Yeah, he’s um-”, he rambled, looking down at his shoes.

“Spence”, you stopped him and put your hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up at you, “I was just joking”, you said earnestly, making sure he understood. You searched his eyes as he slowly nodded. “When I said I like you, I meant I really like you, and only you, okay?”, he nodded again but remained silent, “I’ve kind of had a crush on you since my second day at the BAU”, you said smiling as a blush found its way to your cheeks, “and there is no one I would rather be with than you”. Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Your angelic voice echoed in his head as he pulled you towards his chest, enveloping you in a hug.

“You are the only person I want to be with too”, he said, pulling back so he could see your beautiful face. “And I’ve liked you since your first day at the BAU”, he smiled, crinkling his eyes. You let out a breathy laugh as you gave him a quick peck before snuggling back into him on the couch.

“Always have to one-up me, don’t you doctor”, you teased, and this time he laughed as he pulled you in closer to him, running his fingers along the side of your hip. As the episode began, you turned up to him again and pondered, “Speaking of one-upping, you took me to outer space on our first date, so I am very excited to see what you plan to do for our second”. You both giggled as he kissed the top of your head. 

Finally feeling confident after your many reassurances, Spencer quipped back, “Someone’s eager, and who said anything about a date?”, he smiled, “this is just a birthday present”. You feigned being hurt by his words as you laughed.

“Dr. Spencer Reid”, you shook your head, “I told you, I’m your companion”, you smirked, causing him to laugh, “you are stuck with me”.

“Good”, he said, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled, “Because I am never letting you go”. He looked into your eyes as the Doctor Who theme song played in the background and you both smiled like idiots. You turned your attention back to the tv and held onto each other for the rest of the night. You fell asleep in each other’s arms as the stars twinkled above your heads and you spun in orbit with the planets that danced throughout the apartment.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

On Brody being shoved in a cage, what if a motel they stopped at had a Pet policy you could have them but they have to stay in a cage while indoors. Just spouting ideas here, but I can imagine Charlie hating it, so Dylan had to do it, and Brody being terrified cause it is Dylan but then Dylan can give him his keyring and the (can't rember what animal) toy from the claw machine, so Brody just curls up for the night.

[hi hello yes i LOVE THIS. 

I did not proof read this I’m sorry lol. I’ll fix it later.] 

CW: Dehumanization, pet whump, brief mention of disordered eating, past conditioning, being angry at front desk workers, cages

[Brody Masterlist]

“It said online that this was a pet friendly hotel,” Charlie spat. He was gripping the counter, staring the poor desk agent straight in the eyes. She sighed with a well hid eye roll.

“We are Sir, but pets aren’t allowed in the rooms. However, we understand wanting to travel with your companion, so we have a boarding kennel to your right. It’s perfectly safe and –“

Charlie is about to boil over. He’s about to start screaming and cursing that fucking nerve of some hotel. The nerve of the whole goddamn world, that they just decided that some people aren’t people. No matter what he’d been taught to believe, Brody wasn’t a dog, and Charlie wasn’t going to let anyone treat him as such.

Even Brody.

“Than I want my money back. We’re going somewhere else.”

Another well hidden eye roll [does no one read what they sign?]

“As stated online, we don’t have a return policy. I can give you a voucher for the same value of your stay at one of our other locations if-“

Charlie stormed away from the counter, Dylan stepping away with him. He slammed the door open and took a deep breath of the night air. Not her fault, he told himself, but goddamn it if she isn’t the only one around.

“This is fucking insane,” Charlie said, pacing. “Treating him like some kind of animal. The nerve, the nerve! How the hell do you look at another person and go “hm nah, nope. Not human. Not worthy of respect or care.”

Dylan leaned against a pillar to the side, letting his younger brother get his frustration and anger out. He waiting a moment.

“It’s just for one night.”

Charlie stopped pacing, slowly turning to face Dylan with a look of utter astonishment on his face.

“I’m sorry, what.”

Dylan looked him dead in the eyes. “It’s one night. He’s had worse, and we already paid.” The other didn’t respond, so Dylan continued.

“He’ll be fine Charlie. How well do you think he sleeps in the rooms anyway? Curled up in the bathtub because he’s too terrified for even a couch?” Charlie looked away, arms crossed defensively.

“He’s used to it, it’s okay.”

“But it’s not,” Charlie whined. “It’s not okay because we told him that he was safe here, that we were going to take care of him, and now we aren’t.”

Dylan took a deep breath. Charlie wasn’t going to like this. “Do you think he’s got the ability to understand that right now?” Charlie opened his mouth to respond but Dylan never gave him the chance.

“Seriously, really. Like, would he really be able to feel betrayed? He’s so fucked up in the head, after - after what Sam did to him. He doesn’t understand why we want to help, he just follows along with whatever we say. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t touch anything or do anything he thinks will get him in trouble. And we don’t have the time and shit to make him better on the road. He’ll be scared, but he’s already so scared what’s just a little more? The kennels will be safe. No one’s going to be able to get to him but us.”

Charlie’s resolve was crumbling, Dylan could tell.

“One night. Just a couple of hours, really. Then we’ll blast off early tomorrow morning.”

Charlie reached up to rub his eyes tiredly with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I, I can’t, I can’t do that to him, I just-“

“You don’t have to. Just go upstairs and go to sleep.”

Charlie’s eyes were round and filled with guilt. Guilt that he was tired, and he just wanted to go to sleep. Wanted to have a moment where there wasn’t someone walking on eggshells around him, thinking that one wrong move or one wrong word would get him sent back.

“He’ll be so scared,”

“And he’ll be fine. He always is.”

~

Brody took another step forward, hugging himself tightly. He didn’t understand; what had he done wrong? He must have done something awful. Something terrible and wrong, and bad. Charlie was gone, and Dylan was leading him up to a line of kennels. They stopped in front of one. It was large, larger than what Brody was used to, but still not big enough for him to stand or sit all the way up.

“Fucking animals,” Dylan cursed under his breath and he swiped the room key, opening the door. Brody curled in to himself farther. Animals, he knew. That’s all he was, an animal. A pet. A pet that obeys or gets hurt for it.

The door swung open and Brody crawled in without having to be told. He could still be good, prove that he was still trained. He hadn’t forgotten, he hadn’t. They tested him all the time, but he passed every one; he thought. Didn’t act like a person, didn’t eat their food, didn’t forget for a moment what he was.

An animal. A pet.

Dylan’s hand reached in before the door closed and Brody leaned towards it a little. Just to be good. To be sweet and sorry and look punished. Sorry for whatever he had done.

It dropped down the little keychain. The tiny little tiger Charlie had let him buy. Brody stared at it for a moment before looking up to Dylan. The man’s face was blank and stone like, emotions closed off and unreadable.

With trembling fingers, Brody reached forwards and took it gently. It wasn’t torn away, wasn’t hit out of his hands or mocked, so he guessed he could keep it.

“I’m sorry kid. Just a couple hours, and then we’ll get going again.”

Brody nodded, holding the keychain tight and laying his head down on the padding of the cage. The door closed and he heard the light click of the electronic light.

He could be better at the next stop, he just knew it.

~

(whoops! Forgot to tag!) 

@sola-whumping​ @haro-whumps​ @deluxewhump​ @whumpzone​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​ @simplygrimly​ @whumptywhumpdump​ @crystalrainwing​ @welcome-to-the-whumpfest​ @pineapple-heartache​ @whumpiestofthemall​ @whumpasaurus101​ @whump-it​ @narugay-uzumaki​ @much-ado-about-whumping​ @whumpsorbetism​ @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @liliability​ @newbornwhumperfly​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​ @lave-e​ @thatsthewhump @kiretto-laorentze @panic-and-chaos @sodapigeon @susiequaz12 @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpeesblog @green-eyed-whumpster @shapeshiftersandfire @daughtr-of-rome @girlwithacoolcat @whatwhumpcomments @itaina-anta @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpasarurus101 @tears-and-lilies @string-of-broken-hearts @rosesareviolentlyread @just-a-racoon-in-a-party-hat

[beatricethecat2]

"This is nice," Myka says, sipping her beer while surveying the bar.

"Consuming alcohol in a public house?" Helena asks.

"Yeah," Myka says, eyes angling down as she picks at her label. "Working with Pete...this wasn't a thing I could do much. Then Steve and I had a drink here, and I remembered what it was like. I used to go on my own in DC just to unwind. Feels like a lifetime ago."

“In many ways it was," Helena says, idly stiring the ice left in her drink. "Could you ever have imagined the company you now keep?"

"I don't think so," Myka says, shifting closer to Helena. "But I like it, a lot. Doing this with you feels...normal. Two people, spending time together, not a care in the world."

"You care for nought?" Helena says, fingers tracing a line from Myka's thumb to her wrist where her hand rests on her thigh.

"Ok, one care," Myka says, eyes flicking up to meet Helena's. "Hey, I know that look. We said we'd stay for the band tonight, not just hole up in our room."

"Is there not another band tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but we said we'd stay for this one." Myka slips her hand from Helena's.

"As you wish," Helena says, settling back on her stool, frustration evident in her tone.

"More drinks, ladies?" the bartender says. "The band's about to start."

"I shall need one," Helena grouses.

"Stop being dramatic," Myka snips.

"Fine," Helena snaps. "Bourbon. Neat. Top shelf, please," she instructs the bartender.

"Comin' right up." The bartender steps away to complete the order.

"Oh, we're getting drunk now, are we?" Myka quips.

"When in Rome..."

"I'd actually like to see that, a drunk H.G. Wells," Myka says, poking Helena in the arm.

Helena flinches. "You may very well if you keep behaving as such."

"Seriously though, when's the last time you drank enough to let your guard down, even a little."

"In the company of others? Not in recent memory. And you?"

"Same."

"Here you go," the bartender interrupts, setting the tumbler on a napkin in front of Helena. "Another beer?" she asks Myka.

"You know what? I'll have the same." Myka waves her bottle at Helena's drink.

"Cavalier, Ms. Bering."

"We'll keep each other in check. We deserve to get super tipsy, at least."

"Color me intrigued."

The band strikes its first cord just as Myka's drink arrives. She tugs Helena's arm, and they relocate to a table near the stage.

-----------------

The Adventures of Bering and Wells ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 4 Title: New Orleans: Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Summary: Myka and Helena follow whim rather than duty, driving south, detouring around Washington DC, avoiding a second emotional rabbit hole so early on. After a wi-fi-free week in a cabin, deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, they feel ready to tackle urban density again. ("The Rockies are better," Myka declares. "We'll go there, too.) Vowing to stay as touristy as possible, the pair head towards history-filled New Orleans. But far too soon their carefree trip hits a snag and they're in need of Warehouse help.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3

-----------------

***BONUS SCENE***

"Exactly how touristy have you been?" Abigail asks.

"Pretty touristy," Myka answers.

"Practically flâneurs," Helena says, grinning as Myka looks up at her with sparkly eyes.

"Well, that narrows it down," Steve mutters, typing into the keyboard. "Let's start with your hotel. Why'd you pick the carriage house?"

"The lack of adjoining suite and the king-sized bed."

"Helena!" Myka smacks Helena on the arm. "Because it's cute and charming."

"So this ghost isn't listed on their website? Wedding dress woman, Civil War soldier, dancing patio woman?" Steve asks.

"No. And the manager hadn't recognized the description I gave," Helena explains.

"So not all ghosts," Abigail says.

"If seeing them is normal," Myka says.

"Let's say the ones on their website are but H.G.'s isn't," Steve says.

"Are we to assume I've been 'whammied' then?" Helena says.

"You freeze in place. I have to shake you out of it," Myka explains.

"Perhaps I'm studying the phenomenon."

"You're never that still. It's creepy."

"Then I think we should consider it," Abigail says.

"Where else have you been?" Steve asks.

"Um, everywhere?" Myka answers. "That blacksmith's bar you and I went to. And The Gas and Lights Museum--"

"Such memories. So many details wrong," Helena gibes.

"On a carriage ride--"

"Highway robbery! Sixty-five dollars for a turn around the park. And not in the least authentic."

"You said it was nice!"

"I said it was familiar. The sound of it took me back," Helena says.

"I thought you'd like it." Myka leans back and looks up at Helena questioningly.

"I enjoyed the company quite thoroughly," Helena says, laying her hands on Myka's shoulders and grinning down at her fondly.

"Aww," Steve coos.

"Did anything about the carriage ride scream 'lady ghost will now appear at will?" Abigail asks.

"Not to my knowledge," Helena says.

"We also went to the Pharmacy Museum. And on a steamboat ride," Myka adds.

"Not that I'd have stepped foot on that death trap without proof of modern safety precautions. In my day, they exploded frequently," Helena explains.

"Ok...let's start with the Pharmacy Museum," Abigail says as Steve types. "Could this woman have afforded a doctor?"

"She often appears in her Sunday best, but also in, shall we say...less. She didn't strike me as particularly monied."

"Did she look sort of vampire-ish?" Steve asks. "I'm reading that people with consumption were rumored to be vampires due to how the disease aged them."

"I'm familiar with that premise, and no, this woman was not withering away."

"Could she have died on a steamboat?" Abigail asks.

"She doesn't give off that sense. There's a calm about her. She's not in danger."

"Let's try another angle. The neighborhood you're staying in, Storyville, claims to be the birthplace of jazz," Abigail says, reading over Steve's shoulder. "Maybe she's related to that?"

"Myka took me to hear this 'jazz,' and I can't say I was at all impressed."

"I like it. Steve does, too. You really hated it?" Myka asks.

"The bleat of the saxophone evokes vaudeville for me."

"Play her some Charlie Parker. Or John Coltrane. That might change her mind," Steve suggests.

"Does this relate to our ghost?" Abigail presses.

"I don't see a connection," Helena answers. "Her dress is previous to that of jazz, of an age closer to my own."

"Storyville was once a legal bordello district," Steve explains. "The whole neighborhood was shut down in 1917. So maybe she's from then?"

"That makes sense," Myka says.

"Do you see her inside or outside?" Abigail asks.

"Thus far, outside."

"But," Myka protests, "last night, when we were...t-the blindfold, you said 'just in case.'"

"Did that not heighten our activities?"

"That's not the point. I can't believe you--"

"Punish me later, darling--"

"Why don't you two hash this out, and we'll get back to you," Abigail suggests.

"Wait, is this her?" Steve asks.

Steve shares a black and white photo of a woman, seated outdoors, in front of a makeshift white backdrop, her hair styled into a modest, shoulder-length coif. Her linen top, trimmed with lace, hangs off one shoulder, and a string of pearls adorns her neck. Her lipstick, rendered as a middle grey, matches the kohl lining her eyes, giving her a soft, silent movie-era look.

"Hm, possibly."

"Here's another."

Helena leans further over Myka's shoulder, looking closely at the image. "Yes, I believe that is her."

"That's, um, really off the shoulder. Shoulders..." Myka says. "Isn't that kind of racy for the time?"

"Quite tame compared to some. Her expression is unusual, contemplative almost, recalling solemn greek statues rather than the usual fodder meant to titillate men's desires."

"How would you know?"

"One encounters all sorts of materials as a Warehouse agent," Helena says with a smirk.

"As an agent. Uh-huh."

"Listen to this," Steve interrupts, "these prints were made from a stash of glass negatives found locked in a desk drawer years after the photographer died. Many are of Adele, the woman you're seeing, but there are other women, too. They were shot in the 1910s, but these prints were made in the '60s. If there were any original prints, they were never found."

"May I see the images again?"

Steve cycles through and adds a few more, one depicting a roll-down desk with a shrine of photos arranged above, all of women, vignetted portraits and romantic depictions of the female form more typical for the time.

"Not sure if that last one is related. But it says it's by the same photographer."

"Could you send that one over? I'd like to look more closely."

"Sure."

Myka trades places with Helena, and Helena clicks the link. She enlarges the photo and inspects the array of images.

"I vaguely recall flicking through a basket in a shop with ephemera such as this. Perhaps this ghost woman was amongst it, but printed in a manner such as the images depicted here."

"So you're saying the photo in the shop might be a photo from this photo?"

"That is what I'm hypothesizing."

"So when you see her, you freeze like you're her photograph trapped in this photograph."

"Or perhaps I am her, caught in the decisive moment of the image being captured."

"That's really meta," Steve says.

"No matter what, neutralizing that photo should do the trick," Abigail suggests. "Heck, neutralize everything in the basket, just in case."

"Do you remember which shop you were in?" Steve asks.

"My recollection is hazy at best due to the copious amount of drink someone encouraged me to consume the evening previously."

Helena looks at Myka and scowls. Myka looks back, endearingly.

"I don't get hangovers."

"Lucky you," Helena quips.

"I hope you find it soon," Steve says, "because being happy looks good on both of you. You should get back to that."

"Thank you, Steve. And thank you, Abigail, for all your help," Helena says.

"Anytime," Abigail says.

"Have a great trip. Send some postcards!" Steve says.

"What a marvelous idea," Helena replies.

"Isn't flicking through postcards how we got here?" Myka warns.

"Shall you pre-screen everything I touch from now on?"

"Maybe I should--"

"We're hanging up now," Abigail says.

The screen goes blank as Myka and Helena devlove further into playful bickering.

*End Scene*

-TBC-

NOTES: "Laissez les bon temps rouler!" is Cajun French for "Let the good times roll." In season four, Steve and Myka go New Orleans and both say they like jazz, so I'm not making that up. I see Myka as more of fan of popular tunes - Billy Holiday, Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole, etc., whereas Steve would know the genre through and through (and try as he might, never gets Claudia quite on board with it all). The photographer is E. J. Bellocq - I was going to incorporate that more, but the politics behind photos I mentioned is...complicated. I want this B&W show to focus on our ladies journey, artifacts are side-plot motivations. But if you're interested, look him up, and I suggest reading both Susan Sontag and Nan Goldin's essays for some clarity on why the images hold the status they do. From the research I've done, his images are plastered all over Storyville businesses, so if you've been there, you've seen at least one. Oh and I had a roommate once who could drink anything and never got a hangover. Some people are lucky like that.

[deithe]

the bones (2,847 words) (1/1)

(an introspective on jason grace. kind of?)

read here on ao3 or read below the cut!

jason falls in love with the human equivalent of a forest fire

(his mother fell in love with the sky itself)

jason grace grew up being told that his destiny was very, very simple.

his first and most important mission, handed down to him from lady juno and mother lupa, was that jason was destined to save rome. that his destiny lay with new rome and camp jupiter, a new romulus to lead the pack to greatness. he would spill so much blood in new rome’s name that the little tiber would overflow and the gods would crown him with a golden laurel made from monster ichor.

he would be everything everyone else needed.

a spear for the senate, a shield for new rome, a standard to replace the one that had been lost, a sword for the gods to wield, and another pack member for lupa. he would be the perfect soldier, a demigod fashioned by two god-mothers for the simple act of being a weapon.

his second duty was that jason was to be nothing like his father.

his father, evil, unpredictable, selfish and cruel, was to be jason’s antithesis. lady juno stressed this, as did the senate, as did his praetors (though praetor saville jason eventually killed in battle, so jason doesn’t take her words to heart anymore). jason was never, ever to be like his father. all sons of jupiter before him were either driven insane or were killed, and jason’s great destiny could not afford for him to do either of those things.

‘hubris’ lady juno once told him, while going through his latin lessons in the damp cold of the den (or wolf house, as she called it), ‘is the thing that kills sons of jupiter’.

so jason was to never be prideful, but at the same time, never to believe he was inferior. he was to be subservient but never meek, he was to be a capable fighter but never violent. he was to be kind but not a pushover. open but not flirtatious.

he was to be perfect. he could not afford anything else.

then he, in the span of a few months, murdered his prateor after finding out she was a traitor, watched his friend be assaulted by a family legacy of prophetic visions which turned him into a paranoid asshole, watched his other friend assume a leadership role, one which he tried to refuse, and fought an army, killed a titan and toppled kronos’ black throne.

he also became praetor and then was promptly kidnapped by lady juno, leaving said other friend with all the responsibility.

then any and all plans the gods had for him were ruined by a daughter of aphrodite with eyes like the earth and a son of hephaestus with a smile like war.

how could jason be the perfect soldier when his loyalties no longer lay with new rome? he loved his home, he loved his siblings-in-arms, he loved the legion-

he loved leo and piper more than the breath in his lungs, than the sky and earth and more than his destiny. he loved them enough to try and find whatever scraps of himself he had. to create something they could love too.

(heracles killed himself after accidentally killing his family. love killed him in the end)

and so, jason failed in his first mission. he could no longer put new rome above them, above camp half-blood.

jason doesn’t think becoming his father is an option for him, however. his father is prideful and arrogant and his father's likeness, he will eventually learn, belongs only to his prodigal sister.

and so, jason grace finds his last name, a family he never knew, friends he could die for and an empty cabin that seemed less lonely with leo or piper in it.

then they went on a quest, leo built a ship and they all set sail to stop gaia from rising.

then jason lost leo, then jason lost everything, then jason lost himself and then lost piper-

and, in the middle of winter, leo valdez came crashing down on a metal dragon with eyes like a nuclear explosion and teeth made for tearing meat from bone, or tearing jason’s heart from his chest.

and then jason found himself again in the space between the junction between leo valdez's fourth and fifth ribs.

leo valdez is a lot of things. he’s a son of hephaestus and a complete asshole. he’s the first child of hephaestus to be born with the ability to create and control fire in over 400 years. he’s a 5’4ft guy who wears platformed boots to make himself seem taller. he’s so powerful that he obliterated gaia. he’s a genius. he thinks spraying axe bodyspray on himself is the same as a shower. he overworks himself even when he doesn’t have to. he can fight gods and go toe-to-toe with any big three kid and hold his own. he likes to survive on a diet of mango monster energy and takis. he's obnoxious. he's thoughtful. he makes mean-spirited jokes at other people's expense. he's the best person jason's ever met

he’s-

currently late for their date.

It’s not that jason minds, per se, but leo has a nasty habit of getting so completely lost in his work that he can plan a date for the next day, and jason won’t see him for at least three days. it’s one of the downsides of being the trophy boyfriend of a genius.

jason sighs and rocks back on his heels, eyes darting up to the grey, overcast sky. he can almost hear leo in his head, asking if he could pretty please make it less goddamn cold? and his pout when jason refuses to change the weather for him.

it's not that jason won't. it's just that he can't. it makes aeolus snappy.

sometimes he still does it. manipulates the air currents just enough to warm the air around them and leo smiles, a real one, small and soft. like it wasn't meant to be seen. a secret thing, just for jason.

jason doesn't see leo smile like that often.

it's mid-february in new york and jason is kicking around central park in the grey mid-day light. it's quiet, this part of the park, with barely anyone passing jason as he leans against a tree, wet dew dripping into his unstyled hair. it's cold, but not cold enough for a freeze or snow. just the right amount of cold to turn your hands numb and purple from cold

which. if you've never seen leo 'was raised in texas and has fire powers' valdez in new york snow, jason fully believes you've never lived.

he spends another 30 minutes splitting his time from staring into space and wandering around the meeting spot they've arranged. it's peaceful here. jason can even hear some birds twittering and chirping in the trees above. the cold even stops bothering him. jason likes being alone sometimes.

it reminds him of the lupercal and lupa. long days and nights in the loneliness of the redwood forest. just him and the wolves and the stars.

though now jason has sturdy boots and a wool jacket, so not exactly the same.

he's in the middle of trying to coax a timid sparrow onto the hand, crouched on the balls of his feet when he feels a presence beside him. he goes stiff when he realises and then, like all the tension has been zapped out of him, goes relaxed again.

"that," leo whispers, also crouched beside jason, "is one fat fucking bird"

jason represses a grin, "don't say that. he's probably barely eaten all winter," and leo snorts, moving closer to jason so their shoulders brush. the bird regards leo with some caution but his black, beady eyes seem to acknowledge that jason would keep him safe.

"he looks better fed than me, jace. do you care more about this bird than your own poor boyfriend?" leo says, faux-sadness in his voice, "how cruel, jason grace. how cruel".

jason turns in time to see leo shake his head, black curls wild around his face as they shudder like leaves in the wind. his eyes are dark brown, watching the bird watch leo. a staring contest.

leo says his name like no one else does. like it's a name. like it's good. like it's something familiar and warm. he does not say 'jason' and imagine a great hero or a wolf-boy with no past. he does not say 'grace' like a joke, like grasp for power, like it carries too much weight for his tongue to bare.

he says it like it belongs to jason. he says it like it's important. not too fast, but not too slow.

leo turns his head to find jason staring at him.

"jason" he calls, lips quirking up at the edge, pulling out the 'o' like toffee, "i know i'm pretty irresistible but please, keep your longing stares for the bedroom"

jason shoves up against leo's shoulder, blush bursting across his already red-cold face.

he pushes just slightly too hard and leo goes spilling across the wet grass, yelping in surprise.

"jason!" he yells, looking up at jason half shocked and half in amusement. "what the fuck, dude!"

jason can't help himself.

leo is wearing jason's hoodie, the black one mrs.blofis picked out for jason which leo claimed as his own even before they started dating. his new denim, fur-lined jacket (from the hide of the nemean lion they killed last year) is just slightly too big and he's wearing black jeans. he looks like the college freshman he is. he looks mortal.

he looks human. he has leaves in his hair and his cheeks are flushed from the cold, teeth showing through the toothy smile he's giving and-

it's uncanny, sometimes, how well they can pass for normal. you almost can't tell leo's died and come back to life. you almost can't tell he's more powerful than any living mortal.

almost.

jason falls on top of leo in the wet grass, which causes leo to yelp, again, and knee jason in the stomach.

jason groans "dude, what the hades was that for?" and he rolls of leo, onto the wet grass beside him, arms protectively covering his bruised stomach.

"you fell directly on top of me, you big lug," and leo sits up, picking a leaf out of his curls absentmindedly, "if you haven't noticed, you're like a bean-pole with muscle mass. that shit hurts!"

jason pouts up at leo, who manages to look both unimpressed and fond. he rolls his eyes and offers his hand to jason, who accepts and leo hauls him into a sitting position in front of him

"hi, leo" jason says finally, "you're late"

"i'm not late, loser, you're just a nerd and get places earlier than normal people. its super weird," leo tells him, matter-of-factly, scooting closer to him as they sit on the ground. "you should really get it checked. might be terminal nerdiness. the glasses are just the first sign"

jason raises an eyebrow, curviving over said glasses. "i didn't know it could be terminal. oh well, guess i'll just wither away and die from being punctual. what an injust life i lead. how the sorrows never end"

leo pouts, eyes sparking with enough warmth to keep out the cold for decades to come, "don't be so down about it, I hear being a nerd has perks,"

jason moves closer, so his knees are half-pulled up to his chest and he's balancing his weight on his hand. leo fits perfectly in the bracket of his arms.

"oh? do tell?" he asks, and leo is close enough that jason can see the faint freckles on his cheeks. they're fading from how far away leo has been from the sun, but jason loves them anyways.

"yup," leo says, popping the p and smiling like the cat who got the cream. "do you know that all nerds get super hot and funny and sexy boyfriends? as compensation for being such nerds, of course"

jason pulls back his head a bit, just as leo laces his arms around his shoulders, "really?" and his voice is soft, but the smile won't disappear from his lips, "wow, didn't know that. guess I'm lucky that you're such a huge nerd or-"

leo kisses him like coming home. and in a way it is.

jason has known many homes. he's known the small apartment with his mother that smelt like spilt wine and smoke and mold. he's known the lupercal and the redwood forests around it. he's known the barracks at camp jupiter and the feeling of purpose in his chest. he's known cabin 1 and cabin 9 and bunker 9 and on the back of festus and on the argo. he's known the feeling of reyna laughing as he tells her wild stories and of the fifth cohort raising him on their shields. he's known lying in leo's private room with piper and leo, listening to low music and feeling safe with just them.

but the one person who jason has felt like home since they met was leo. his high ground through the tsunami. his parachute during a plane crash. the one point of home. like the north-star.

jason smiles into the kiss, his free hand tangling itself in the rough fabric of leo's dark blue denim jacket. it's soft and chaste, more a press of warm lips than anything. it's comforting. it's familiar. it's everything he wants.

leo pulls back a bit, just far enough to speak but still close enough that his breath brushes up against jason's cold face. "hi," he says, brushing his nose against his, "missed you, bro".

jason snorts, "i missed you too, leo, how's MIT treating you?"

"like i'm it's bitch is how it's treating me," leo tells him, slumping slightly into jason, forehead against jason's. "can we not talk about college? i think if we talk about college I might start crying and then our date will be ruined"

jason pulls back a bit to look at leo. he does look more tired than usual, eye-bags darker and lips bitten from nervousness. he frowns, using his free hand to cup his face. "are you okay? we can just go back to your dorm if you're too tired-"

"ugh, no way" leo groans, "fuck that. i just wanna spend time with you, okay? i wanna be mushy and all that gay shit. i want bad food and to kiss you again and again and do more than kissing-"

jason rolls his eyes.

"-and then go back to mrs.blofis apartment and watch really bad movies you like for some reason and then i'll go to sleep beside you and it'll be gay and shit"

"gay and shit?"

"gay and shit, you better believe it grace. but first-"

and leo untangles himself from jason and stands up, brushing the dirt from his knees leaving jason frowning on the floor.

he offers out his hand, brown skin calloused from work, long, thin fingers curled slightly as the palm faced upwards.

"c'mon, super, treat your louis lane to some greasy new york food before he decides batman has better pay"

jason is so, so lucky he got leo valdez. that the fates decides to make sure that his destiny crosses leo's. that he convinced leo valdez to let down his walls, to stay, that jason wouldn't leave him like the others, or hurt him or betray him.

that jason was in it for as long as leo wanted him to be. that jason only wanted leo to say his name, wanted to give it to leo because leo's the only one who's mouth jason trusts with it. that jason wanted to give leo his past. wanted to show him and tell him where he got each scar.

he trusts leo with this. he trusts leo's hands to not burn it all to ash. because he knows that if leo wanted to, he could. he could burn jason alive with a thought. turn him to ash and glass with a flick of his hand.

jason has fallen in love with a nuclear bomb, with a supernova of a boy and jason doesn't care if it kills him, because he has spent so long pretending to be what everyone else needed, that now he was going to be who he wanted to be. even if it got him killed. even if it burned him alive.

jason grace has fallen in love with the human version of a forest fire. he should be afraid of it, of leo. he is not. he never will be.

beryl grace fell in love with the sky itself. wanted all the stars in heaven and didn't care what happened to her. as long as she knew she had the stars attention. as long as she knew the sky loved her back.

as long as he knew the fire loved him back.

he takes his hand.

[winterrose527]

The Favor: Part 3, London, England

psychotically posting for the second time today to hopefully cheer up @amillcitygirl who is having a lousy Monday. This is the third and final part, I hope you all enjoy! This was such a fun prompt!

(Part 1) (Part 2)

London, England

It was raining once again, but she was used to it and in all honesty it suited her mood.

“It’s like this city doesn’t understand the importance of a good blow out,” Marg complained as she lowered the umbrella so that it was fully encasing them.

She smiled, “I told you it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Well I’m sorry we can’t all throw our hair into a low bun and look like a perfect Parisan girl with poreless skin!” Marg argued.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that Margaery was in a mood because she’d been in a mood.

It was impossible not to be. Not when they’d figured out on the way to Milan that she’d actually found him. Robb. Her Robb. The boy she’d thought of after every bad date. The one who’d become her stand-in for a prince from a fairy tale.

When Harry had cheated on her during her first year at Cambridge, she’d told herself somewhere out there is a boy named Robb who would never do this to me.

She understood logically that this was ridiculous. That she didn’t know him from Adam and he might be a full-blown sociopath. But the point of a fantasy was that you didn’t have to get bogged down in reality.

And in her fantasy, Robb was the one boy in the whole world who would never hurt her.

Except, he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man. That was the only explanation for how she hadn’t recognized him.

He had been beautiful when he was younger, now though he was… it made her body tingle just to think about him. He’d grown a beard, he was broader, there was… wisdom in those blue eyes of his.

And the fact of the matter was, that over the years, she’d forced herself to think about him less. It wasn’t to be, she was never going to see him again and she knew that and it wasn’t healthy for anybody measuring up real guys to a figment of her imagination.

But then they’d been on the train to Milan, trying to figure out what photos to post and what to caption them, and she’d gone to the kissing picture.

“You have such a type,” Marg laughed. “I can spot them from a mile away.”

“Well can you blame me? Look at him,” she noted. Then she did just that. “No wait, look at him. That’s… that’s him… that’s Robb!”

“No it’s not, don’t be ridiculous,” Marg told her.

“Pull up that post- I swear to God it’s him,” she said.

Marg opened her phone and scrolled through Instagram and found her post. They put the phones side by side.

“Oh… oh my god,” Marg said.

“It was him,” Ella realized, leaning back against her seat. “He was right there… and I… ran away.”

“El…,” Marg lamented.

“It’s fine,” she shook her head, “I’m fine. I’m just being stupid.”

Margaery looped her arm through hers and leaned her chin on her shoulder, “Want to know what I think?”

Ella felt her lip quivering and nodded before leaning her head on top of Marg’s.

“I think, that fate has a plan for the two of you,” Marg told her, “And I’ve read enough mythology to know that you don’t stand a chance against it.”

Ella let out a teary laugh, “I’m so glad you’re a Classics major.”

“That,” Marg pointed to the picture of Robb from the day before, “Is a hero, if ever there was one.”

She wasn’t so sure that she needed a hero. But a boyfriend that looked like him would be pretty nice.

Though she’d tried her best, she hadn’t been able to get out of her funk. Marg had come all this way only to be at her side as she sulked her way through Italy.

So when they’d woken up this morning and Marg had determined she didn’t care whether it was touristy or not, they were going on the London Eye today, she hadn’t had it in her to deny her.

They’d stopped at Bluebird for a coffee and breakfast, Marg smiling coquettishly at the Chelsea boys who lingered by their table. None of them interested her though.

She’d convinced Marg to take the tube, telling her there was more to London than black taxis, and that she had to get used to it as she’d be taking it every day. That or the bus. She hadn’t really figured it out yet.

Living in Chelsea wasn’t the most convenient neighborhood of London to live in to attend the London School of Economics, but her family had a townhouse there that no one was using so it had made sense. Plus she loved Chelsea, she always had. And the townhouse. The fact that she could walk across the bridge and be at Battersea Park. That she could walk a few blocks in and be in South Kensington, at the Victoria & Albert Museum. Her mother had always used London as their jumping off point for their overseas travels, so it had always felt a little like home.

When she’d gone to her undergrad at Cambridge, her and her friends would come down for long weekends and reading weeks, alternating nights at Raffles and indie shows in Camden.

And now she was living here, full time. That was enough to bring a smile to her face as they stepped onto the London Eye, hooking her arm through Marg’s.

They were the first to step on and Marg took advantage by determining the perfect spot for them to stand, and they settled in, grabbing their phones. She was sort of glad that Marg had suggested this, she’d never do it on her own and it really would be a great way to see the city.

Soon the capsule filled up and she felt them starting to move.

“No stop it I’m not doing that,” they heard a voice behind them say, “Because it’s different for girls!”

“Just-“

“No Theon! You want to do it so bad, you do it,” they heard.

“Excuse me, people are trying to enjoy the majesty here,” Marg suggested.

She covered her mouth to hide her laugh, squeezing Marg’s arm.

“Oh I’m sorry,” they heard and turned around, “You see my friend here he-“

“Ella?” a voice asked.

No not a voice. That voice.

That had been different too. More developed. Deeper. Sexier.

“Robb?” she wondered.

“Wait Ella Ella?” one of his friends asked, looking her over, “Okay, now I get it.”

“Oh my god it is you!” Marg laughed pointing at Robb.

He was even more handsome than she remembered, standing there with rain drops in his curls. He was tan, clearly having just been on his own holiday, an adorable strip of pink on the bridge of his nose.

His eyes were wandering over her, a smile growing on his face.

“Hey I –“

“No!” he held his hand up, “Just… shush for a second.” She glanced at his friends who were openly gaping at him. Marg was smirking. Robb reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Please just put your full name and telephone number and I don’t know… maybe an emergency contact in there – and then I’ll kiss you in front of whatever landmark you want me to. I’ll kiss you at the DMV. I’ll kiss you at the Post Office. I don’t care, I’ll kiss you anywhere and everywhere just while I… please don’t run away again.”

“We’re literally on a giant ferris wheel where the fuck do you think she’s gonna go?” his friend asked.

“Shut up, Theon,” Robb and their other friend said.

She took his phone, trying not to smile, and typed Ella Baratheon and then her telephone number into his phone. She looked at it to make sure that it saved, and then opened up his contacts again to double check before handing it back to him.

His eyes hadn’t left her and he shook his head, “It is you… right?”

It had been a long time since she’d channeled her inner Audrey, but she couldn’t help but smile and ask, “Didn’t I tell you in Paris that we’d meet again?”

“Oh my god,” Marg murmured.

“I’m Theon by the way,” Theon stage whispered to Marg.

“Are you seriously hitting on me in the middle of our friend’s five year meet-cute?” Marg asked him.

That seemed to shame Theon who promptly shut up.

“I didn’t know it was you, in Rome,” she told Robb. “I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have run away I… it’s you.”

Robb smiled and he nodded, “It’s me.” Then looked around, “Some guy you kissed in Vienna isn’t going to jump out and kick my ass, is he?”

She laughed and shook her head, “No… that was a two time thing. Promise.”

“Told you,” Robb said to his friends, but his eyes stayed on her.

“Marg?” she asked.

“Yeah El?” Marg responded.

“Get your camera ready,” she told her.

And with that she leapt into Robb’s arms. As though he’d been about to reach out and grab her anyway, he caught her easily. His lips pressed against hers and though the other kisses had been good, this one was better because it was him and he didn’t want her to run away and he was holding her like he’d stop her if she tried.

One of his hands moved up her back and went into her hair before cupping her cheek, kissing her deeply, as though he’d been just as miserable as she was these last few days.

“We’ve got the picture,” Theon informed them after they’d been kissing for at least a minute.

“From multiple different angles,” their other friend sighed.

“Lean her back a bit more,” Marg suggested.

She started laughing against Robb’s lips as he started laughing against hers. They broke apart but he kept holding her and she leaned her cheek against his as they turned.

“Hi I’m Ella,” she greeted his friends.

“Jon, nice to meet you,” one of them said.

“I’m Theon,” the other one said, “And you owe me a trip to Ibiza because he ruined mine moping about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, “What if I um… convince Marg here to let you buy her a drink?”

“Ella!” Marg chided.

“Oh come on Marg,” she grinned, and just as Marg had five years earlier, she teased, “I dare you.”

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 88

~*~Sebastian~*~

After the video call with my friends, I went back to the couch with a fresh glass of wine. I am blessed. Family, friends, co-workers, and a woman who loves me. None of us are perfect. I have people to call when times are tough. Today they called me, knowing I’d be struggling, only this time it was in a good way. Not long later Jessica called and invited me to dinner.

Pizza, beer, friends, and a toddler made for a good night. Giulietta thought I was much more fun than mom or dad. I guess they don’t let her use them like a jungle gym. When mom spoiled our fun and said it was time to settle down, I stopped the tears by promising to read her a story. Her choice. Like someone else I know Giulietta was asleep before I was halfway through. At this rate I'll never know how anything ends.

I sent the picture Jessica had taken to Emma. She'd wake up to it and with any luck send me back something fun. Which she did as soon as she woke up. Which was afternoon for me. Dinner break before I checked my phone. Emma struck the perfect balance between sweet and sexy. Her hair was messy with just her eyes peeking over a pillow she was hugging. Those beautiful green eyes I loved to look into. I couldn't see her smile so I could imagine it anyway I liked. The sweet one she often got right before she told me she loved me. Or the other one she got when she wanted me. I loved them both.

Our texts were broken up over the course of the day. Short bursts or long hours between. We talked most days at least for a few minutes. We talked about our days, shared memories, and talked about us. Maybe had phone sex. What didn't happen was whining about being apart or bitching about the time and distance. I didn't hang up feeling angry or guilty. I did my job, hung out with friends, relaxed during my downtime, and did a little shopping. Emma relaxed, did some studying, and practiced guitar. I missed her. She missed me. But we went on with our lives apart, making the best of the situation. It sucked, except it didn't.

I think this is the way it's supposed to be.

Thursday we wrapped for Paris. That was worth a party. Over the next four days production would pack up and move to Rome. I'd spend a day and a half on planes going from Paris to Dallas to San Diego. Then back to Dallas and on to Rome. The time zones were going to fucking kill me.

I called Emma when I got back to my room. I was drunk and grumpy. Hearing her voice helped. Seeing her face was even better. The way she told me exactly what she wanted to do to me and said all sorts of dirty things until I came... I wasn't grumpy anymore.

I had a headache when my alarm rang. I needed more sleep. Hopefully, I'd catch up on the flight. I was still debating going back to sleep and blowing off the weekend when my phone rang. Emma. It was the middle of the night for her. "Why are you awake?"

She laughed, "Making sure your drunk ass doesn't turn off his alarm and blow off the weekend."

I rolled to my side, mirroring her. "I wouldn't do that. I was thinking about it, but I wouldn’t do it."

"Such a professional. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. Advil, breakfast, and a long nap on the plane and I'll be fine. How are you?"

"Good. Big plans laying by the pool with Mallory today."

"Sounds fun. I will be on a plane."

"Yes, but you will walk out of the airport into sunny California. Then spend two days being adored and laughing with your friends."

"That will be fun." I was honestly looking forward to that part.

Emma yawned. I smiled at her beautiful face, "You need to go back to sleep. I need to get showered."

She didn't argue with me. She was tired.

"Thank you for making sure I was up. I love you."

"I love you." There was my sweet smile.

I cannot begin to explain how very disorientating it is to board a plane at nine am, travel for fifteen hours, to arrive at three pm, which is only six hours after you left. I get to relive eight of the hours I spent on the plane. Only thing is, my body thinks it’s midnight. I slept some on the flight and I knew better than to go back to sleep. The closer to "normal" bedtime for this time zone I could get, the better I would feel tomorrow. Anthony and I had press then an autograph session, before the big Marvel event. Sunday was photo ops and an autograph session. Both long days where I was expected to be pleasant despite how inappropriate or rude fans got. Needless to say, a decent night’s sleep would be best for everyone.

I got to my room by four and quickly realized I couldn't stay there. I needed fresh air. I needed to breathe. I changed into shorts and took off to have a look around. There were several hotels in the area that hosted celebrity guests. We weren't all in one place. I'd requested a beach. It was a little farther from the convention center and I was confident I could wander unseen. Most people stayed right around the center since a lot of packages kept prices lower and being so close to the action was appealing. I wanted the ocean.

Down the beach I could see big boulders and took off that direction. I needed some flip-flops. The sand made me think of Emma. The water. The people surfing. The impending sunset. Breathing. I'd like to say the plan I was cooking up was a product of sleep deprivation. It wasn't. It had been bouncing around in my head since this morning as we lay in bed together thousands of miles apart. I'd dismissed it as selfish. On the plane, when sleep was impossible, and I was panicking, it didn't seem so selfish. I shoved the idea away because I knew it really was. The same reasons I didn't ask Emma to stay in Paris or go to Rome were valid here. Asking her to fly literally to the other side of the country to spend two days with me, asking her to amuse herself while I worked a chunk of that time, was peak me as a selfish asshole. The longer I sat on the rock watching the ocean the less of a bad idea it seemed. Maybe not less of a bad idea, but an idea I could give her a choice in, with the difference being if she said no, I wouldn't be angry or make her pay for not doing what I wanted. Growth in action. Hopefully.

I should check flights before I even think about calling. Or actually call, because I'm already thinking about calling. Might not be possible.

It was. I flipped my phone in my hands several times before hitting the buttons to call her. Apparently, I hadn't grown completely out of being an ass.

"I'm about to be an asshole."

Emma raised her eyebrows, "Uh oh."

"Yeah." I was going to do it anyway. "Fifteen-hour flight with little sleep because the turbulence over the ocean was a nightmare. I'm grumpy, exhausted, and lonely as fuck. I'm on the beach without you. I miss you. I can get you on a flight in the morning and if you come straight to the venue you'll be here before I have to do anything. It’ll be two days. I have to leave for Rome Monday. I know it's a shitty thing to ask, but will you come see me? So I can see you."

"I'd love to."

I was prepared to step up my game and her easy acquiescence caught me off guard. "You will?"

She nodded with a smile, "I miss you too."

I took a deep breath and let it out, "I was prepared to beg."

Her smile was almost a laugh, "While you begging sounds fun, it's not necessary. Do I need to pack anything dressy?"

"Fuck, I hope not. I have a pair of jeans, shorts, and sweatpants." It's amazing how much better I felt. I ran my hands through my hair. "You're flying out of JFK. Sorry."

"You booked the flight already?"

"Not many seats left. I wasn't risking it. You leave at seven, here at ten. My first thing is noon." I could see her grabbing her carry-on from the closet.

"I'm going to spend the night at your place. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

I scrunched up my face, "Underwear."

"You don't have underwear?"

"The one's I'm in and a spare."

"You may not like what I pick out."

"Emma, baby, I will wear yours as long as you deliver them."

"I think that's a little drastic."

"It's really not."

Emma laughed and touched her screen. I could almost feel her. I could definitely imagine feeling her. She almost gasped and broke into a smile, "I have an idea. I need to call Jill real quick. Give me five maybe ten minutes."

I nodded, "Okay. I'm going to lay here on my rock."

My rock was not soft, but I was very comfortable. I was very happy. The sky was blue and the sound of the waves was calming. I only had to wait until tomorrow to see Emma. It was going to be a good day.

A little more than five minutes later Emma was calling me back. "You've made my little sister very happy."

"Excellent!” I smiled, "How'd I do that?"

"We need to change my flight. Monday I'm going to Seattle pick up Olivia and take her back to New York with me. Then we'll meet up with the family in Chicago."

"That's perfect. You're not just coming out here for me."

She picked up on it. "Yeah, because seeing you isn't enough of a reason. You know I miss you, right?"

"I know, but I'm..."

Emma cut me off, "Stop there. I jump on planes to spend weekends on tour with dad. This is fun for me. Dad's doing sound checks, interviews, and charity shit while I amuse myself. You're not an asshole. I love this."

"You love this?" I did not love jumping on planes at short notice.

She was nodding as I spoke, "I love this."

"And you'd tell me to fuck off if you didn't?"

"Maybe, but this is your lucky day."

"No, my luck day was exactly eight weeks ago."

We talked for another ten minutes or so until she was loaded and heading into the city. We've talked while she's driving many times, but I wanted her to pay attention. The sun was going down where she was and it would be dark before she got to my place. I headed back toward the hotel and ordered room service. By the time Emma texted she was at mine and I was deep in a documentary, struggling to stay awake.

Emma ~ Safe and sound in your bed.

Naturally, she sent a picture. Sheet barely covering her breasts and one arm stretched out above her head.

I sent back a picture of me in the same pose, but making sure to show the empty side of the bed. I drew a red ✗ there.

Sebastian ~ Where you will be in my bed tomorrow.

Emma ~ Equally safe and sound Sebastian ~ More. Emma ~ I'm going to sleep. I will see you in the morning. Sebastian- Can not fucking wait

 I was probably asleep before she was. By the time I woke up twelve hours later Emma was halfway here. I felt well-rested and excited for my day. Not just the Emma piece. Mackie and I always had fun together. I'd been sent the day’s itinerary. Noon was press, two thirty was an autograph session, and five was the big deal Marvel panel. We should be done by 6:30. Disney was having a party tonight. I had to make an appearance. It started at eight. That wasn't going to happen. Nine was more likely. I remembered it wouldn't matter because mice can't tell time.

At the venue I was led to a behind the scenes area. There was a large room, guarded by security, set with food and drink. Several smaller rooms encircled the larger area and some were labeled with company names. One of the largest was for Disney, with cloth wall dividers making several smaller rooms, where a stylist would be waiting to make sure Mackie and I looked presentable. Outside of the room was a loading area that was separated from the autograph booths by black curtains. I'd already ducked between them and gave fans nosing around my booth quite a surprise. Those were my favorite interactions. The ones without expectations. Security came over to make sure I hadn't been ambushed. I hadn't, but that was a perfect way to get away and I needed to talk to security anyway. I had them take me to the security office. Some lucky fans got a shot at a sighting of a Sebastian in the wild. I explained what was happening to the head of security and put Emma’s name on a list. They gave me a lanyard with her all-access pass and told me what door to direct her to. Security would meet her and bring her to me.

"About that." Call me paranoid, but I didn't trust they'd remember to have someone waiting for her. They'd call someone when she showed up and gave her name to the person with the list. "I need a Pearl Jam fan."

"Excuse me?"

"Someone on your staff is a Pearl Jam fan. Get them.”

He got on his radio, "Anyone out there a Pearl Jam fan?"

A voice came back, "Big Ed. He works all the shows up the coast."

I looked at my watch then back at the supervisor, "I need to borrow him for an hour."

His face read doubtful, but I was Disney. "Big Ed. I need you in the security office. Anyone see him? Send him."

A different voice, "On my way, boss."

Several minutes later Big Ed came through the door. I knew it was him because he was six-five and an easy two-fifty. He was his name. I held out my hand, "Hey, Big Ed. I'm Sebastian. Nice to meet you."

“You too."

"Walk me back to the guest area." We headed out and I waited until we were away from the office. "Do you know Ed's daughter?"

He smiled, "He has three. Which one?"

"The only one old enough for me to ask about."

"Emma. I've seen her at a couple of shows. I work security up the coast. Great way to see a bunch of shows."

I nodded, "I guess anything you miss at one you can catch at the next."

"Exactly." He pointed to his ear, "And you can always hear."

"Back to Emma. She's on her way here. I'd appreciate it if you would meet her and bring her to me."

"Is Ed coming?"

"No, he's," I stopped myself, "you ask her where he is."

He laughed, "I might take the long way back here."

"I haven't seen her in weeks. Not too long." Two is weeks. Barely.

Emma texted they'd landed. Big Ed changed where he wanted her to go and he headed in that direction. I sat down to wait for her to text she was here. I heard a familiar voice.

"Sebastian Stan? Is that really you?"

"Captain America?" I stood up and turned to the voice.

"Don't call me that. The pressure." Mackie hugged me, slapping my back much harder than necessary. "How jet-lagged are you?"

"Is that code for how much work are you going to have to do because I'm grouchy?"

"Maybe." We laughed.

"I had a good night’s sleep and I'm in a great mood."

"You seem twitchy. Why are you twitchy?"

"I'm not twitchy."

"Yes, you are. You're twitchy."

"If I'm twitchy it's because you're making me twitchy."

He pointed at me, "Ah ha! You admitted it. You're twitchy."

I rolled my eyes and scowled, "Emma's on her way. I might be a little twitchy."

"Here?" He pointed to the ground. With his eyebrows raised.

I smiled, "My girlfriend."

"Yeah, I got that. Plus, Evans told me."

"She’s not a secret." That felt good.

He asked and I answered. Talking about Emma is my second favorite thing having to do with Emma. First is being with Emma. In absolutely any way. My phone went off with Emma telling me she was here. I put my hand on Mackie’s arm. "Stay here. Right here."