#and sorry if you like Roman I've just been going through it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingkat12 · 3 months ago

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the same rain (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, fingering, semi-public sex(??), angst, smoking, foul language, Roman needs to get his act together omg

summary: after your date with Roman, you find yourself in a sea of questions-- will you drown or will you float?

word count: 8,347 (sorry not sorry)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8

Long ago, back in middle school, I picked up a sentence from a book that etched itself into my mind; "It is the same rain that you loved that drowned you,"

Every minute of every day felt like I was drowning. Thoughts of Roman were continuously holding my head underwater, making it hard to breathe or function properly. Flashbacks to how his hands gripped my hips, the way it felt to have his lips move against mine with unmatched hunger, and his dizzyingly beautiful smile threatened to suffocate everything I was— had I been consumed?

Returning to school was hard, following my date with Roman this weekend. I could barely walk beside Letha without feeling like I was about to faint from the guilt, and I had to get away, just for a moment. So, I ended up in the library, bringing the book I had borrowed a few days ago. I closed my eyes as I leaned against a shelf in a desolate area, enjoying the peace and quiet. Here, Letha wasn't suspicious of me. Here, there were no prying eyes around, ready to bust me as the worst friend in the world.

However, Roman was here. I could sense that it was him before I had even opened my eyes because I could smell the specific cinnamon cigarettes he smoked. It didn't take long for my heart to start drumming in my chest, and I eventually dared to pry my eyes open.

Roman was standing a few steps away from me, holding out an open book in front of him as though he wasn't here to see me at all. It gave me the time to scan him once more; the way his hair hung over his eyes in soft waves, the way his hands were practically the same size as the book, and how he chewed on his lower lip as though he was deep in thought. When he realized that he had my attention, he slowly moved his gaze from the book and to me, his pupils immediately dilating no matter whether he wanted them to or not. However, in pure Roman fashion, he couldn't suppress his growing smirk; "Don't mind me," he said. "Just reading."

"I see..." I held back a giggle; "What are you reading?"

Roman turned the book with a swift flick of his wrist, as though I wouldn't be able to see him do it if he was quick enough. "Uh... It looks like I've picked up Pride and Prejudice,"

It was too late to suppress the snort that escaped me-- I immediately covered my mouth with my hand, watching as Roman's eyes widened, holding back a laugh as well. "Definitely the book for you," I said, trying to recover. "Just perfect. Liking it so far?"

The tension between us was palpable, especially since we weren't addressing what had happened this weekend. It was almost as though I could feel it wrap around me, clawing at my heart-- why was I so happy to see him, and why was it so damn hard to breathe?

All the air I was fighting to keep in my lungs seeped out the second I heard Roman's gorgeous laugh again, watching him smile the most genuine smile I had ever seen splayed out across his lips. "Nope," he said, putting the book away. "This looks like complete and utter shit."

I couldn't help but gasp; "You insult me. That book is a classic!"

"Yeah? Classic case of the snores,"

Groaning, I rolled my eyes as I turned away from him, hoping to suppress my smirk. "What are you doing here, Roman? Don't you have class?"

Roman shrugged, moving closer to me. I watched him lean against the shelf next to me through my peripheral view, holding my breath-- why was this such a thrill? "You're right," he said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he scanned me in a rather obnoxious manner. "I just didn't feel like going. And then I saw you coming in here, so I just wanted to say hi."

I swallowed hard; he wanted to say hi? Roman wanted to... talk to me? Something about that concept was mind-boggling. This definitely wouldn't have happened a week ago. "You didn't call, y'know?" I said, daring to face him.

"Call?" Roman's brows drew together, his green eyes shimmering as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You wanted me to call?"

"Well..." I immediately wanted to take it back-- why had I said that? Stupid! "I don't know, Roman, isn't that what guys usually do after... whatever it was that we did?"

He blinked a few times, biting down on his lips with a puzzled expression on his face. "Did what?"

Something about the way he was batting his lashes at me made me realize he was taking the piss, as always. I groaned, rolling my eyes as I stepped away from the shelf, turning my back to him as I walked to the one opposite us. There was no way in hell I'd adhere to his preferred outcome of this conversation, no way in hell I'd spell it out. "Nothing, Roman. Forget it,"

"Come on!" he said, stepping towards me with a chuckle. "Play along, will you? Just messing around." Roman's arm wrapped around my waist, pulling my back flush against him as he guided my hair to the side, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my neck.

My brain nearly shut down at the feeling of his lips against my skin, but I knew I had to fight it. How would it look if I closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wanted to me right now? In public, again? I let out a squeak, the physical contact feeling like an active elective shock, and I pushed him away as he laughed.

"You can't do that!" I huffed, trying to keep my voice low as I scoped out the area around us, making sure no one saw. As discreetly as I could, my eyes darted down for less than a second, checking whether he was hard again-- I couldn't shake the memory of how he'd gotten aroused after seeing me scared out of my mind this weekend. But I could let out a relieved sigh when I saw that he wasn't, and my cheeks flushed red with the realization that he had just kissed me.

"Fine, alright!" Roman put his hands in the air, taking a step back as he continued to laugh. "So you wanted me to call, is that it?"

Shrugging, I did my best to hide the redness of my face by looking down at the floor. It was rather embarrassing that he knew that I wanted him to contact me-- I hoped he didn't think I was desperate, or something. "I didn't," I mumbled. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You didn't?"

"Nope,"

"Okay... Is this the sort of situation where you wanted me to want to call you?" Roman took a big breath, holding back another laugh. "You girls and your ways... If you wanted to fuck, you could've called me first, y'know?"

That was definitely not what I wanted. Not yet, at least. My eyes rounded out with the realization that Roman's motives were clearly not as gallant and pure as I had made them out to be in my head. "Go away," I mumbled, trying not to look too disappointed. "You know what I feel for you, and I don't need you to rub it in my face. Go to class."

Roman rolled his eyes, taking a step towards me. In my attempt to avoid him, I felt my back hit the shelf behind me, and I looked up at him with big, worried eyes as he cornered me. He pressed himself further up against me as he put his hand next to my head. "I'm not making fun of you. I'm dead serious,"

It felt as though my heart was thudding against his chest, trying to beat him away. "Dead serious about what?"

Roman shrugged, flashing his teeth in a rather sinister-looking smile before leaning down to whisper in my ear; "Call me if you want to,"

"Want to...?"

"To fuck," Roman pressed a kiss right next to my ear, which had my breath hitching. My hand flew up to his chest, ready to push him off of me, but it was as though my body refused to comply with my wishes.

"That's not--" I had to clear my throat before continuing, realizing my brain was threatening to shut down and become another one of his mindless girls. "That's not exactly what I had in mind..."

Roman pulled away from my cheek, nudging his nose against mine. "Tell me, then,"

Why was it so hard to keep a straight thought around this man? "Just... I don't know, is that all you want from me? Sex?" I had to swallow rather hard, letting out a shaky breath against him. Everything about this made my heart drop.

"Well..." Roman paused, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What more would you want from me?"

Looking up at him, meeting his green eyes, was too dangerous. I had to look away and try to discard the fluttering of my stomach at every single touch from him. It quickly became obvious that Roman probably didn't know how to handle anything deeper than just casual sex. Everything about it made me sigh; "Roman, I think you know very well what I want from you... And I think it's time for you to find out whether you want the same. Because if not, I need you to leave me alone,"

I put my hand on his chest, making way for me to leave. There wasn't much time to stare at the beautifully stunned expression on his face, wondering what on earth he had done wrong.

All I knew was that we either did this my way or no way.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I had successfully made it to the next day, eyes a little puffier than before. My heart was practically in pieces after yesterday's conversation with Roman, wondering whether or not he would ever be interested in me the same way I was about him. After everything we had done together, I still hadn't gotten any confirmation from him that he reciprocated-- it made my whole body ache with a numbness I hadn't felt before.

I was getting a little conscious about my puffy eyes, so I decided to put on the pair of sunglasses I had in my bag despite being inside the cafeteria.

Letha watched me, unable to hold back her giggles; "You look ridiculous. Take them off, please?"

"Stop it," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched her finish her lunch. "I think I just had an allergic reaction to something." Lying to Letha again, even if it was something as small as this, made me feel more like a piece of shit than before.

Everything about this situation made me feel horrible. I had put my friendship with Letha on the line, and for what? Some guy that didn't see me as anything more than a sex object?

It seemed that I wasn't the best liar; Letha moved to the edge of her seat, scanning me with a worried look on her face; "Are you okay?" she tried, reaching out to touch my shoulder. "Maybe you're still sick from the weekend... Should I drive you home?"

This was killing me-- absolutely killing me. How was it possible for someone to be so sweet? "No, I'm fine! I promise," The kind look in Letha's green eyes was starting to feel like a drill into my skull, and I didn't know how long I could last with sneaking behind her back concerning my feelings for Roman.

Eventually, Letha made peace with my glasses and odd behaviour, but I still couldn't shake the slight tremble in my legs; I was getting close to confessing, my guilt rising to the brink of my capacity.

Even worse, was that the tremble didn't get any better later that day when I met Roman in an unusually empty stairway. Everything about it made me want to groan and evaporate-- just my luck.

There were barely any people who used this part of the school, which was why I often took this way up to the second floor. It seemed like I wasn't the only one who had taken use of the desolate space; I watched as Roman sat on the banister further up, handing a guy a few dollars in exchange for some cigarettes.

When Roman finally spotted me, I was sure I looked like the world's biggest idiot. It dawned on me that I was staring at him, completely frozen at the sight of his beauty, and I cleared my throat when I finally managed to look away. With shaky steps, I began to make my way up the stairs, hoping he'd let me walk by without making any jokes or mocking comments. Ideally, we wouldn't talk at all. But as I tried to pass him, Roman's hand easily reached out for my wrist, his fingers wrapping around my skin with the gentlest touch.

My breath hitched-- I turned to meet his green, green eyes, noticing that the dealer was gone. The only thing left was him, me, and the pack of cigarettes he had just bought. My eyes darted down to my arm, observing how big his hands were against my skin.

"Did I say something wrong?" Roman eventually asked, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes.

I shrugged, stunned that he was asking that question in the first place. "Why does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't," he said, not missing a beat. Despite his refusal to admit anything, Roman drew his other hand forth to trace circles in the palm of my hand, retracting back into his shell.

My eyes followed his movement, inhaling a shaky breath. What was he doing? Was I really putting my friendship on the line for this? "Roman, I can't be seen with you here--"

"There's no one here," Roman rolled his eyes, clearly not here to fight with me. His grip around my wrist tightened, almost as though he was afraid I'd leave again. "I'm not a fucking idiot, I wouldn't be doing this if I knew someone was watching. What's made you so paranoid?--" His trail of words stopped, eyes rounding out with some sort of realization. " You know what? I have an idea." Roman reached into his pocket, fishing out something silver, something sharp that practically shone beneath the bright lights of the school--

I let out a high-pitched scream, jumping away from him in all-taking panic. "No, no!--"

"Calm down!" Roman barked, holding out the needle over the hollow of the stairwell before dropping it down to the first floor. There wasn't much noise as it hit the ground, other than a high-pitched ringing that lasted for a few seconds.

I realized that I was practically hugging my body, ready to shield myself from any incoming needle attacks, and slowly unwinded my arms from around myself. Letting out the breath I had been holding, I watched Roman's hardening gaze meet mine. "Told you," he said, voice low. "Never wanted to, never planned to."

My eyes dropped to the floor, unable to meet his anymore. "Okay," By instinct, I reached for the sleeve of my sweater, ripping at it with my nails to keep my nerves in check. I hadn't expected to see him today, especially not here and now-- had he noticed my puffy eyes?

Roman sighed, reaching forward to guide me back towards him. "Stop that," he mumbled, grabbing my hands, keeping them separate. "You do that all the time, do you know that?" He nodded towards my sweater, squeezing my hands.

I wondered if it had dawned on him that we were practically holding hands now. If he realized that he was being sweet with me, that he was acting as though he cared. Would it scare him if he knew? I couldn't be sure. All I could be sure of was that this was hurting me either way. With a sigh, I spoke up; "What are you doing?"

Roman's green eyes darted down to our hands, unable to meet my gaze. "I... don't know,"

"Of course you don't," Slowly, I pried my hands away from his, feeling my heart sink into my shoes.

Watching me retreat, Roman opened his mouth to protest; he was ready to speak, but nothing came out. He stared at me with blank eyes for a few seconds, almost as though he had short-circuited.

The air around us started to feel thicker, the tension growing without its needed release-- all until he finally said something; "Look, I don't know why, but you being mad at me is just really inconvenient right now, so... How do I make it up to you?"

It felt as if the air had gotten knocked out of me, and I stared at him in disbelief at his words; "... Inconvenient?"

"Yeah," Roman rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath. It was clear that he didn't know how to properly articulate what he was feeling, and that made everything furthermore frustrating. "I know that you said I have to figure out my feelings for you or whatnot, but I don't think I have any. So, for Letha's sake, I think we should make a truce or something."

"For... Letha's sake?" I had to suppress a laugh-- this was insane. "Since when have you cared about Letha's feelings? Was that before or after you blackmailed me into meeting you everywhere, and then kissed me?"

Not a beat passed before Roman raised his voice in protest; "You said I could! You said 'you can kiss me now if you want to', so I did!"

How was it possible for someone to be so confusing? I balled my fists in an attempt to control my exasperation; "Well, why the fuck did you then?! You say you have no feelings for me, and then you kiss me?--"

"Because I wanted to!" Roman yelled back, gripping the banister with a force that turned his knuckles white. "I've wanted to kiss you again ever since that time we played seven minutes in heaven, so excuse me for taking the opportunity!"

It was immediately clear that he regretted saying that out loud-- his green eyes widened, his plush, pink lips parting in mortification.

However, Roman wasn't the only one that was caught off guard. I was quite sure that my heart had stopped, the ringing in my ears mixing in with the echo of his voice lingering in the empty stairwell. Realizing I had been holding my breath, the rest of it came out in a shaky exhale, my body stiffening with complete and utter shock. "Roman, I--"

"Please don't," His words came out barely more audible than a whisper as he hurried to get off the banister. "Forget I said that. I haven't had my nicotine this morning--"

"Roman!--"

"I don't usually deal with virgins, anyways," Roman mumbled, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he refused to meet my gaze. "Too much work. And you're kind of hard-maintenance."

I couldn't even hold back my reaction to the further blow, letting my jaw fall. "Sorry, what? What is happening right now?"

He shrugged, a forced nonchalance about him as he dragged his fingers through his gelled hair. "Again, I'm not into you like that. And if I wanted a therapist, I would've hired one, right?" That seemed quite funny to him-- Roman's mouth curved up as he let out a nervous laugh, now watching my eyes hollow.

This was probably the biggest whiplash of events I had ever experienced. Completely spellbound by his idiocy, I couldn't do anything other than stare at him. Was he really this clueless, and did he really think these things about me?

I was very abruptly reminded of why I hated him in the first place. I was about to spew verbal acid at him but was interrupted by the door to the second floor swinging open. With quick steps, I moved away from Roman, glaring at him from afar as I hoped to spot a flash of regret.

But hence; nothing.

I realized that the group of boys at the door were Roman's friends, and they quickly spotted him as well. It didn't take long for him to wordlessly join them, bumping fists as they walked past me. Everything about it made me feel like a ghost-- what had just happened?

And why was I so heartbroken over this jerk?

I felt my heart drop, hiding my face in my hands the second I knew they couldn't see me. Everything about this situation was mortifying; Roman didn't have any feelings for me. I hadn't meant anything to him at all, and all of this back-and-forth had been for nothing.

I was ready to run to the bathroom and burst into tears, completely spent and exhausted, until I suddenly heard a conversation coming from beneath;

"Who was that?"

"Who?" This was definitely Roman.

"That chick you were with?"

Intrigued, I pulled myself together before carefully leaning over the banister, trying to get a good look at the gang of boys who were yet to make it all the way to the exit.

"None of your concern," Roman said, giving in to a chuckle.

That wasn't satisfactory enough for the other guy, who proceeded to shrug; "She was cute, though. Do you have her number?"

Roman's eye twitched, his smirk faltering. Without even saying a word, he shoved the other guy rather harshly; "Drop it,"

I immediately stepped away, clasping a hand over my mouth as the rest of the guys laughed, finally leaving the stairwell. Letting out the breath I had been holding, I clutched my heart as my mind raced-- was I imagining things, or were Roman's words betraying his actions?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"It is the same rain that you loved that drowned you,"

It was haunting me, at this point. Genuinely.

All the feelings I had for Roman had nowhere to go anymore. For a week now, I had been like a ghost to him. The one thing I had learned about Roman, at the end of the day, was that he was very, very true to his word-- he definitely didn't like me. I could be very sure about this, now that he suddenly had a new cheerleader on his arm again, making it his twelfth. Everything about that made me want to puke; how could I have been so stupid as to believe Roman would feel differently about me? Was he actually the asshole he made himself out to be? Maybe it wasn't a coping mechanism-- maybe it really was just him?

So, so many questions.

I could only watch him from afar on the bleachers, with Letha sitting next to me and revising her notes for an upcoming test. With a heavy heart, I watched as Roman leaned over to kiss the cheerleader's cheek, and I suddenly recognized the girl from my literature classes; Jessica. Fucking Jessica? Come on!

The sight was enough for me to crumble up my notes, not realizing what I was doing until Letha nudged me; "Uh... What are you doing?" she asked, her green eyes giving me a weird look.

In an instant, I let go of the paper, accidentally letting it fall to the floor. "Sorry," I mumbled, bending down to pick it up. "I just didn't get much sleep. I'm spasming up." It was hard not to shudder-- lying to my best friend had become a habit, and there was nothing I hated more.

Letha didn't seem to buy it, but she also didn't comment. Instead, she wrapped an arm around me, soothingly rubbing my back. "What's up with you these days?" she asked, concern coated in her soft voice. "What's bothering you? You can tell me anything, you know that?"

The soft cotton of her sweater, the kindness of her being-- my heart was actively breaking. I didn't deserve any of it.

Everything felt so worthless at this point; especially while watching Roman's public display of affection to this girl that he barely even knew. Had he actually taken my romance tips and applied them to someone else? Asshole move number one. Eventually, I turned to Letha, a sense of anxiety washing over me as I realized what I was about to do; "Anything?"

My angel of a best friend only held me tighter, shooting me a kind, warm smile as she nodded. "Anything,"

"Okay..." It was getting hard to breathe-- was I really going through with this? My pulse quickened, my words coming out with a sliver of panic; "Please don't kill me, okay?"

Letha tucked a strand of her long, blonde hair behind her ear, worry filling her eyes. "Seriously, you're torturing me at this point, just say it," She squeezed my shoulders as she attempted a smile. Even in the most tense moments, she still tried to put me at ease.

There was no way I could back down now, and I wanted so badly to be done with it. To be done with the guilt, the shame, and the heartbreak. Just as I was about to speak up, it felt as though my mouth had dried up, and I was beyond breathless when I finally blurted it out; "Roman and I kissed at that party where we played seven minutes in heaven. And... another time after that."

Letha might as well have frozen over. There was no single movement whatsoever. Her arm remained wrapped around me as she stared at me with an empty look, eyes wider than I had ever seen them before.

I caught a glimpse of Roman kissing his new girl of the week in my peripheral view, and along with my confession, that was enough for my tears to press their way up in my eyes with a burn unlike anything I had ever felt in my life.

I could swear that Letha was furious. That she wanted to throw me down the bleachers and stomp my face in. But instead, she slowly retreated her arm around me, holding her breath. Letha's green eyes glossed over, unable to meet my gaze anymore. "You... What?"

With swift movements, I pressed the sleeve of my sweater up against my eyes, not wanting to cry in public. "Could I please explain?" I tried, holding back a sob-- why on earth had I decided to do this now?

"What is there to explain?" Letha wrapped her jacket tightly around her body, almost as though to hug herself, her words coming out in a breathy mumble. "You kissed. Twice. Had it been once, I might've gotten it because it was a party game, but... you went back for more?" The hurt in her voice was thick, and I couldn't help but notice how small she sounded; I had never seen Letha so upset.

Her question haunted me, and I buried my face in my hands. "I'm so sorry, Letha, I never meant to hurt you or go behind your back--"

"Is it at least something serious between you two?" Something about Letha hardened, and her words were starting to choke me. "Please tell me you pulled this crap for a good reason?"

I sniffled, wiping away any impending tears with my sleeve. The truth made my confession even more mortifying-- saying it out loud only made me feel worse; "He says he has no feelings for me..."

Letha nodded, crossing her arms over her chest as she slowly started rocking herself. "And you have feelings for him?" When she didn't get an answer, she finally looked at me, meeting my glossy eyes with a glare so harsh that I nearly shuddered. I would've never thought Letha would be capable of pulling such an expression. Enraged, she raised her voice; "You have feelings for him?!"

Panicked, I put my hands over my head, almost as though I was scared she'd hit me. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry, Letha, you have no idea!--" As I heard her shuffle about, I raised my eyes to see her gather her stuff, ready to leave. My tears were burning in my eyes, obscuring my vision as I desperately grabbed her hand. "Letha, please! I made a mistake, I never wanted to do this to you!--"

"But you did!" Letha sneered, throwing her backpack over her shoulder. She turned to me with a look that would etch itself into my mind for days to come, a look so furious that it gave me goosebumps. "You're no different than the rest. Go be one of his whores, for all I care!"

Stunned, I watched as she made her way off the bleachers, not looking back. I didn't know Letha had it in her to call me slurs, but at the same time... I knew I deserved it. However, nothing could prepare me for the avalanche of sadness that would ensue my confession; I was dead sure that I had lost my best friend, and what had I gained in the process? I buried my face in my hands, allowing tears to run down my cheeks, trying to make myself as small as possible. My shoulders slumped, wanting to ball myself up into nothing and disappear.

I did my best to get myself together, sniffling as I wiped away my tears. Reminding myself that I was in public, and that I definitely didn't want to make a scene, I let out a shaky breath as I gathered my stuff and got ready to leave. But just as I stood up, I couldn't help but look in Roman's direction, wanting to get a quick glance at the root cause of my misery.

However, I hadn't thought that he would be looking back at me as well.

There he was, his arm wrapped around another girl, but he couldn't take his eyes off me. He wouldn't-- Roman's gaze didn't shy away as our eyes met. Instead, they rounded out with the realization that I had been crying.

Seeing him again, being acknowledged, was enough to drive me over the edge once more. Letting out a quiet sob, I stormed off the bleachers, clasping a hand over my mouth. Who would've thought my ridiculous crush would lead to these gut-wrenching feelings? It felt as though I couldn't breathe, heaving for air as I rushed to get away from everything and everyone.

"It is the same rain that you loved that drowned you,"

To my surprise, it didn't take long before I heard the familiar sound of long steps following me. My heart beat so hard, I thought it might explode and cover the school grounds in my flesh and blood. The way my pulse quickened made me nauseous-- I needed to get away. "Go away, Roman!" I clutched my heart as I sped up; I didn't need to turn around to know it was him.

His next question could've easily been answered if he'd listened closely to the sob I was suppressing; "Are you crying?" Roman didn't have to do much to catch up to me, but he wasn't lunging at me just yet. "Why are you crying?"

I couldn't believe I had to deal with him on top of everything-- I groaned, turning around to face him despite how bloodshot my eyes looked. "Could you back off? Go back to your braindead cheerleader!"

It was clear that Roman hadn't expected to be confronted head-on like this. His green eyes widened before they hardened, balling his fists as he spoke; "Why are you so fucking mad? What did I do this time?"

"Everything!" I inhaled a shaky breath, burying my face in the crook of my arm to hide my tears. There was no way in hell I was about to cry openly in front of this douchebag. "I just-- I just lost Letha because of you! I got so swept up in you, I caused a fucking avalanche!" My lower lip gave in to a quiver, and multiple tears escaped the crease of my arm, now rolling down my chin and landing on the grass beneath us. "And you obviously don't give a damn about me, and I've been throwing my feelings at you like an idiot, and I just... How could I have been so stupid?"

I swallowed another sob, making an unsuccessful attempt at wiping away my tears. Refusing to meet his eyes, I sniffled as my gaze fell to the ground, shaking my head in denial as Roman stayed silent. "Please, I... need to be alone. I don't want to make myself look even worse in front of you than I already do--"

My ramble escaped me with my next breath; it got caught in my throat as I felt the soft fabric of Roman's sweater against my chin, silently wiping away my tears. It was clear that he figured out I had told Letha. I dared to look up at him, finding an unusually forgiving tenderness about him.

Speechless, I could only stare right back. Roman was focused on wiping away every hint of a tear, his brows drawing together as he carefully traced the bags under my eyes. The kindness of his gesture, the softness in which he was tending to my sadness, made a familiar warmth spread through my chest all up into the tips of my fingers. It became too much-- I reached for his hand, prying it away from my face. "Why are you doing this?"

Roman shrugged, debating whether to say what was on his mind. It was clear that he was conflicted, and I could see it in the way his shoulders tensed up and the way his jaw clenched. "Doing you a favour. Your mascara is everywhere," Roman grew more and more uncomfortable with my silence. "Just stop crying, okay? Do you want me to talk to Letha?"

"I doubt that will help," I mumbled, sniffling. "Look, Roman, I really can't do this right now... You and your bullshit just lost me my best friend, do you realize that?"

He shrugged; "Letha will come around... I guess we'll have to wait it out,"

"We?" I huffed, wiping away the tears that were threatening to spill once more. "There is no we. Letha is family to you, so of course she'll forgive you! Me, on the other hand!--"

"There could be," Roman mumbled, interrupting me. His gaze darted down to his shoes, now chewing on his lower lip as his next words came out with a low whisper; "A we, I mean."

What? I shook my head, immediately going into denial. "... What are you even saying?" Something about his words sent me over the edge again-- I was so tired of the illusion of everything turning out alright between us. The exhaustion brought more tears to my eyes, and I brought my hands up to my face, hiding from him in plain sight. "Go away," I said, my voice shaky from the sadness consuming me. "Go away, please just go away! I don't need you to change your mind every week whether you have feelings for me or not, just-- Go!"

Roman sighed before stepping forward, completely taking my breath away as he wrapped his arms around me. It felt as though he understood that I wasn't pushing him away with malice, but more so to protect myself-- and right now, he was wrapped around me like a shield. I didn't have any fight left in me to push him away, so I buried my face against his chest, inhaling the smell of cinnamon cigarettes that I had weirdly missed.

"Let's go somewhere else, okay?" Roman said, sizing up the people passing us by with a scowl. "I have a feeling you don't want everyone to see this. Just follow me."

It didn't shock me that Roman's first thought was his car-- but I still ended up right there. In the dreaded backseat. Hadn't I promised myself I'd never set foot there? It seemed all my thoughts of reason flew out the window when I was in this state. He was currently tending to my new tears, wiping them away with the pads of his fingers. "Letha will forgive you," he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Do you maybe want a cigarette? They usually help me take the edge off... I have different flavours, if you want?"

I shook my head, feeling my headache swell from all the crying. "No thanks," I said. "And I think Letha would rather cut her head off than forgive me right now. She even called me a whore."

"... You?" was the first thing that came out of Roman's mouth. "The only virgin left at this school?"

Despite how sad I was, it didn't hold me back from hitting his arm. Roman let out a warm chuckle, grabbing my hands, forcing them away from him. "Just stop crying, alright? Pretty girls aren't allowed to cry in the back of my car,"

"... What?" I turned to him, brows drawing together in confusion. Did he just...?

Roman broke into a smile, nodding to my cheeks; "See? Not crying anymore. Flattery works every time,"

I held back a rather large groan-- I wasn't up for Roman's party tricks, especially not in this state. Knowing that he knew what I felt for him, knowing he used it to toy with me just for the fucks, made me even more angry. "I think I'm good now," I mumbled, turning away from him. "I don't think I should be seen here with you... Letha might actually think I have no heart."

There was a thick silence that fell over us like fog-- it made me face Roman again just to check what the hold-up was. And there he sat, his face suddenly completely serious, his brows drawing together in... anger? "Well, you chose this for yourself," he said, clenching his jaw as his black pupils shrunk.

Everything about him right now scared me. Why was he staring at me like that? It was as though he was about to pounce and rip me to shreds. "Roman, what's up with you?--"

"You're not the fucking victim here," Roman's words came out with a sneer, sharp enough to cut through wood. "You asked me to kiss you. You started this. Being seen with me is not what's going to make Letha think you're heartless, so either you own up to your crap or leave me the fuck out of it!"

My lips parted in complete and utter shock. I blinked repeatedly, hoping to blink away the angry expression on his face. "What the fuck?" I sat up, tucking my hair behind my ears as I attempted to size him up. "You're the one who dragged this shit out! You threatened to tell Letha we kissed if I didn't comply to your wishes, and then you damn near dry-humped me in that fucking alleyway!"

"Hey!"

I could barely believe it; in the middle of his outburst, I could see hints of a blush creeping up his cheeks. "You know I'm right!" I barked back, balling my fists. I couldn't believe we were having the same argument over and over. "I wouldn't have been in this mess if you hadn't stirred the fucking pot! You could've said no in that fucking closet!"

Roman quickly got enough of my retaliation; "You know why I didn't!"

"Yeah, and fuck you for that!" The volume of our altercation was rising-- I hoped people passing by the car couldn't hear this. "You shouldn't have kissed me! You should've just told me no, you owed me that kindness!"

Roman's eye twitched, and I was sure he hadn't blinked in about a minute. "I didn't owe you any kindness! You've always been horrible to me!--"

"Because you've been horrible back!"

"And why do you think that is? You think it's easy to be treated like shit by the one person you?!--" Roman inhaled sharply, eyes widening as yet another confession slipped past his lips. It was clear that he was mortified, that he had definitely not wanted to let that slip, but his eyes never left mine in shock and horror.

It felt as though I had been electrocuted, completely frozen in my seat. Uttering my next words felt as though I was walking through a minefield; "Person you... What?"

It didn't take long before Roman started squirming, eyes now frantically doing everything not to meet mine. "Shut up," he breathed, reaching over to open the car door on my side. Now that he was leaning across me like this, it was obvious that he was trying to get me to exit the vehicle. However, his face betrayed him-- Roman's hand gripped the door handle, slowly turning his head towards me. Like this, I could feel his breath hot and heavy against my lips, inches away from me.

I wasn't sure why I was digging my nails into my seat as though I was about to be mauled by a wildcat. The intensity oozing from Roman along with the realization that I had nowhere to run completely engulfed me, and my instincts suddenly pushed all thoughts of reason out of my brain. I had no idea what came over me as I put my hand over his, closing the door to the car before doing what I never thought I would do in this situation; our lips came together in a hot, fiery kiss as Roman leaned forward, laying me flat against the backseat.

I told myself I would never end up in this situation-- in the back of Roman's car. But here I was, splayed out beneath him like all his cheerleader whores, completely out of breath as I gave in to my deepest, darkest desires. The taste of cinnamon tobacco entered my system, and I couldn't help but moan out against him; I had been dreaming of being reunited with him like this for longer than I could remember. So as Roman's weight on top of me gave me a sense of security, the need for his kisses dulled down all my logical thinking.

There was nothing more important than this. There never had been.

The next thing that happened snapped me out of the constant static noise buzzing in my brain; "I want you so bad," Roman breathed against me, the whiny tone in his voice making my stomach flutter and flip-- was I maybe dreaming?

"Fuck Letha," he continued, his kisses now trailing down my jaw and neck, grabbing at me as though he was afraid I'd disappear. "Fuck all of that."

No, no, no. I couldn't. "Don't-- Don't say that," It had never been harder to inhale a simple breath before, and I let my lips part in pleasure as I realized Roman was leaving hickeys in the crook of my neck. Why was he doing that? Did he not know everyone would see them and make conclusions?--

Oh.

Before I could protest, Roman's plush lips were back on mine, melting me against him with the softest kisses known to man. In a flash of passion, my hands went up into his hair in an attempt to bring him closer. I could feel the thud of his heart against mine, realizing his was racing as well-- I wondered whether he reacted like this to all his girls. Warmth blossomed in my chest, sparks igniting as Roman leaned in close, lips brushing together as we tried to catch our breaths. The smell of his cologne and the deep citrus scent of his conditioner made me dizzy to the point where it felt as though butterflies danced in my stomach. But the warmth consumed me, completely in awe of the fact that we were reunited again as I leaned into the next kiss, Roman's lips impossibly sweet against my own.

He didn't have to say anything for me to know he had missed me too. The unspoken words passed between us with each stroke of my fingers against his back, each kiss he placed against the corners of my mouth, and the softness of his thumb caressing my cheek.

Roman pulled away as his long, slender fingers dug themselves into my waist. "Can I try something?"

What? I was too dazed, too content to immediately deny him. But had I known what he would do next, I probably wouldn't have agreed so fast. Roman leaned forward to unite our lips in another passionate kiss, but I couldn't feel his hands on me anymore. It took me a few seconds to realize he was unbuttoning my jeans and reaching my zipper.

My eyes widened against the kiss, and the squeak I let out got muffled against his lips. In a flash of panic, my hand reached down to grab his arm with speed I didn't know I had. Roman hummed, detaching our fiery union as his green eyes met mine, trying to find the reason for my panic. "Come on," he purred, the look of mischief spreading across his lips.

"I'm not doing it in the back of your car!" My fingers were still digging into the skin of his arm, making sure he wouldn't move.

Roman rolled his eyes; "Not what I was getting at, but whatever," A laugh escaped him, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at me splayed out across the backseat. "I'm not that evil. I wouldn't let you have your first time here."

A sense of comfort washed over me-- since when did he take pity on me? "Then what... What are you doing?"

He shrugged, holding back another laugh; "Giving you a sneak peek,"

I wasn't sure what that entailed, but my grip around his arm loosened.

Something about me changed whenever Roman was around. A part of me wanted to please him, appease him, and entice him into staying with me like this forever, no matter what. I wanted nothing more than for us to be together, no matter how hard my conscience was gnawing at me regarding the Letha situation. But thoughts of my best friend quickly evaporated as Roman's finger was suddenly deep in my cunt-- I wasn't quite sure when I had managed to get wet, but here I was. It must've been somewhere in between the fighting and the kissing.

I could only whimper against his kisses, not used to having anything in me at all. There was a certain sting, but it dulled down when Roman was at the hilt of his knuckle. It quickly turned into something I had never felt before-- I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was, but it felt as though all the butterflies in my stomach melted into one, a weirdly pleasurable ache building in my lower abdomen.

As Roman added a second finger into me, careful to go in with slow strokes, my back arched slightly off the backseat of the car. Suppressing a moan, the hand I had in his hair tightened as a certain desperation ran through my veins. I watched as Roman smirked down at me, a knowing look in his eyes as he spoke; "If this feels good, imagine how it will feel when you get the real deal,"

I nearly shuddered-- that thought alone almost sent me over the edge. I could only writhe, my hips meeting the thrusts of his fingers as Roman ran his tongue along my bottom lip.

I was aware that all of this was a bad idea. To get more involved with Roman, to let him unravel me further; it was plain stupid. And horrible to Letha. I knew it was awful, that Roman and I shouldn't be together, and that I should be running after my best friend to keep begging for forgiveness.

Everything was starting to make my head spin.

As I came hard around Roman's digits, letting out a moan against his lips which would later make me blush, I couldn't help but wonder what on earth to do next. Should I let it all spiral? Should I get myself together and fix my friendship?

My thoughts completely shut down as Roman's wet fingers made their way past my lips, making me lap up my own slick.

Filthy. We were filthy, we were fucking horrible, and his following words didn't make me feel any better.

"Let's give it a try," Roman whispered against my lips, sincerity swimming in his green eyes. "You and I... It just has to happen. This feels too good to be wrong, fuck what Letha says."

There they were, the words I had wanted to hear from him all along. But now that he was right here, telling me he wanted us to be together, I found myself unsure what to say. When Roman leaned forward to sneak in a soft kiss, muffling the warmth of his chuckle, I realized I had a decision to make-- I knew it would end up being one of the hardest decisions of my life so far.

I held my breath, realizing the quote that had haunted me was correct after all; "It is the same rain that you loved that drowned you,"

(a/n: here are the links to PART 1, PART 2, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8!! thank you for reading!!<33)

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #fanfic #smut #angst #toxic relationship #JUSTICE FOR LETHA FFS #ugh i love him #highschool!au

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love-belle · 10 months ago

Text

we caught that holiday glee !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which it doesn't take a genius to know that they're actually the icons.

for when you want to spend all of your christmases with them. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

prequel - you got me thinking nonsense ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - hahahahaha hiiii!!!! im so SORRY for being absent i've been going insane over school 😭😭😭 it's all just a mess rn (IM IN LOVEEEEE I MET THIS GUY) and hopefully, i can post often but still, i can't promise anything!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES <3 i hope ur all doing okay!!!! i love u all so much :)

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 2,417,916 others

yourusername here's a lil carol i wrote it's abt u and me 🎀

11,628 comments

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-> username girly did NOT hold back

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-> maxverstappen1 SHUT

-> username nah cindy lou who is PAINFUL

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-> username nah bc i KNOW those mfs giggle while writing songs together

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-> username need that for educational purposes

username "i've been there through the good and the bad" ur honour i am unwell

alex_albon THIS IS WHY HIS NAME IS "north pole💈" IN YOUR PHONE ??????????

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username i will never be as iconic as y/n y/l/n and i don't think i can be

username OPPOSITE OF SMALL?? BIG SNOWBALLS?? girl u used to sing for DISNEY

-> yourusername i js need to cut a few words off and then it's the perfect disney anthem wdym 🙄🙄🙄

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username i played this in front of my mom y'all what am i supposed to DO

username WHAT'S 12-4???? YEAH

lewishamilton certainly an experience listening to this for the first time, seb and i are proud of you xx

-> yourusername i love my unofficial parents thank u xx

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charles_leclerc so proud of you mon ange ( my angel )

-> yourusername thank YOU for writing songs with me ☹️

charles_leclerc forever and ever in awe 🥰

-> yourusername i love you

username THE TSHIRT OMG

-> username it's a need fr

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 2,528,916 others

charles_leclerc we caught that holiday glee

tagged yourusername

comments are disabled for this post

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff

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fatesundress · 2 years ago

Text

⭑ patience, please, and thank you. tom riddle x reader

summary. you and tom have always sought to best one another in school. it doesn’t help that upon graduating, you work for opposing shops.

tags. rivals to … rivals with benefits? lovers? there’s no real animosity just #flirting so i don’t know, SMUTT minors begone, fluff that may be ooc to some but Not Me, reader literally learns archaic latin for this man, poor boy x rich girl trope if you squint, pureblood reader (and mentions of pureblood marriage politics), explicitly f!reader this time sorry!, fem anatomy, fingering, piv, tldr tom riddle would be turned on by the culminated tension of an eight-year-long academic rivalry.

note. i was 5k words into something else (that is probably better) before this came to me and would not go away so. here it is. don't know where all the smut is coming from. head empty

word count. 6.4k

The bell to Borgin and Burkes knells low and hollow in your ear as you enter, and there he is. Prim waistcoat and perfect hair, tucking books away with a wave of his wand. Far too pretty a thing for a dusty place like this, you think, and you smile with your head held high, pretending to take in the inventory as if that's ever been your reason for coming here.

“You mightn't consider leaving at all," Tom says, regarding you briefly before returning to his books, “if you're going to return this often."

“Oh, Riddle, but then what would you do without my company? Talk to the bones?"

“A tempting offer when considering my alternative.”

He leans against the counter to watch you as you make your way down the aisle, fingers jolting as they brush the shelves of dark paraphernalia, preemptively casting a locking jinx on a particularly nasty skeletal hand that grabbed you once last year.

“Is there anything you're looking for?"

“Nothing in particular,” you hum as you peruse, “Curiosities of your friendly competitors.”

“Friendly,” he repeats, like he’s tasting a strange flavour.

You smile with just enough polished barb that you hope it bothers him. “Most cordial. And I am nothing if not the dutiful volunteer for the task."

It is an objective truth that you are good at many things. Tom is good at all of them and perhaps one more: being pushed significantly and never showing symptoms of breaking. You'd like to be the one to change that.

“I presume you intend to leave with something?" There's a challenge in his voice, clear as day, as he stands straighter, but — not bothered. Not bothered, just intrigued. His hands fold behind his back and his chin comes up, daring you to say a single snarky thing that isn't true — that you're here to taunt him. Not to buy a thing, and not to enjoy his company.

It was such a boring day before this. If he only knew, he might have a tad more sympathy.

“Breathe, Riddle — if you can through all the dust in here — I've plenty of money to spare; there’s no need to fret about me leaving empty-handed." You select a book at random to prove your point, waltzing closer to hand Tom four sickles from your coin purse.

You're pleasantly surprised to see him actually smile, the corners of his mouth stretching with only the slightest degree of mirth. He reaches out and takes the coins, setting both upon the counter before turning up his nose at the book in your hands. “It must be an enthralling read to capture your attention."

You smooth the cover over with manicured hands and shrug at the indecipherable title. “Well, I’m remiss not to have a clue. I believe it's in Latin."

He runs his hand along the book, thumbing the pages with a raised brow. “It’s a history text. Ancient Roman institutes of magic.” His gaze returns to you. “Will that be all?”

You roll your eyes. He would know a dead language — it's such a remarkably Riddle thing to do — probably just for the sake of knowing it.

“Yes, if that's satisfactory enough that I may be permitted to walk the premises without causing offence."

“Of course. Though I do expect a review of it soon," he adds, “to know whether my time hasn't been entirely wasted."

“A review?" You laugh. “And I suppose you ask that of all your customers? Mind the matter of it being in a language I don't know; it would take me a few months for a crude translation at best."

“Only my best customers," he says with a small shrug, as if that isn't a completely arbitrary standard he's just pulled out of nowhere. “In that case, you've the better part of a year to read it," he adds, and the smile on his face is less thin, less restrained, more cocky.

You raise a brow, scanning over the words on the first page as if hoping something will stick out. It's all gibberish. “I'm being timed now, am I? I don't recall accepting the task."

"Do you not?"

You scoff. "Of course I do."

“Or perhaps I could translate for you?" he suggests, “It's really no bother for me."

You should be offended — he's eternally eager to see you fail — but your stomach flips at the premise of a challenge you haven't felt since you were in school together, and most importantly, you never fail. “Give me a date, Riddle.”

“I think by Christmas would be fair. Does that give you enough time, or shall I set it a bit later?"

“Christmas," you agree, shaking his hand with all professionalism you can muster (this is, after all, a very professional exchange), turning away, and smiling to yourself as the shop bell tolls again.

It’s only weeks before Christmas when it occurs to you that this isn’t even for anything. There’s no prize should you win, no one else is aware of it, it’s a great waste of time when what began as a passable weekend hobby has now drowned you in English-Latin dictionaries and histories of Ancient Rome. The shop surpasses last year’s sales and you’re dozing off into your mother’s pastry dish during the family celebration. Even your father telling a rather pitiful tale of his Polyjuiced visit to Borgin and Burkes can’t keep your attention when he drones on about how easily he fooled Mr Borgin into remembering the details of some spat twenty years ago. Your brain is in a half-scattered language. It tugs you to what might be the most depressing December 25th of your life if you’re forced to give Tom the gift of your failure.

So you double-down. Your social life is nonexistent. You’re three quarters through the textbook and dreaming about duelling Tom under the Arch of Constantine, and he wins, and he wins, and he wins each time. It only propels you more. You’re downing Invigoration Draughts like a drunkard with a cradle of firewhisky.

And you do it.

You finish the damn book, you think you might have actually fucking learned Latin with how deep the words have rooted in your skull, and you win.

You win, in your prettiest dinner dress, snow clinging to your hair, wrapped in a brand new coat as the shop bell tolls and you step inside.

You’re grateful you don’t say as much (which you were planning on doing — planning on slamming the door shut behind you and carolling your bloody success) because it’s Mr Burke at the counter this Christmas evening, not Tom.

“...Miss?” He regards you with perplexity behind the counter.

You blink, recollecting yourself and stepping forward to shake his hand. “Mr Burke. My family wished to extend their best wishes for the new year.”

“Quite a gesture," comes a familiar voice from behind you as Tom steps out from the staircase, dressed in a dark suit and overcoat, like he’s just been out. He’s smiling. He looks disgustingly well.

You glance between the two men, and Burke bows curtly as if made aware of something he’d previously been warned of. “To yours as well, miss.” And then he’s off to assist the only other customer, an elderly woman in fur-lined green with so many glittering pins in her hair she resembles a Christmas tree.

“Riddle,” you say, facing him, unable to hide the triumphant grin that digs into your cheeks. You hand him the book, and atop it, your three pages of articulate, edited review.

“You made it. You read it," he acknowledges, though you doubt he’s surprised, and then nods to the stairs. “Come.”

You follow him up the narrow spiral into a short corridor, taking one look back at the old woman, now clasping a shrieking bauble you gladly turn away from. The door Tom opens is unlocked, presumably where he’d just come from, and — you feel a bit overwhelmed if you’re correct, but you have no idea what else it could be — presumably his flat.

When you enter, the door shuts behind you with an empty click of the latch. The room before you is rather sparse, a kitchenette in one corner, a cramped study in the other, with books upon books and scrolls stacked high on shelves along the dark walls. There's only the barest of seating, two armchairs beneath a dim desk lamp, a small table beside the fireplace, and… a bed, of all things, separated only by a thin divider and the courtesy of enough distance not to immediately draw the eye. You, of course, can't quite help it, gaze lingering on the tidy sheets and back to him.

It isn’t a thought you do well to dwell on. Too many directions for your imagination to roam.

“Well then," you say, hanging your coat at the door and trying not to display any overt anticipation as the parchment rustles in his hand, “Shall I just sit and await your evaluation?"

He raises a brow. “I was going to ask if you’d like tea. Do sit, though.”

Oh. Yes, right, you’re rushing things. Hospitality. Decorum. Consideration. You suppose Tom Riddle would extend those things for the sake of posterity if nothing else. “Something black, if you have any, please.”

The water comes to a boil quickly under the steady heat of his magic, and you’re sinking into a shockingly comfortable armchair taking in every shape and blemish of the room while you’re in it. You don’t have to guess that he doesn’t have many guests.

“Darjeeling,” Tom says as he offers you a steaming cup, “if that’s satisfactory.”

You resist a scowl at his mocking tone, placing the tea on a glass coaster and glancing purposefully at your work (your magnum opus, really) once more. “Perfectly.”

Tom notes your look with a smile, settling into the seat opposite yours.

You take a sip of tea and lean back. “Do go on.”

“Eager,” he mutters, but begins.

He skims over the opening line before flipping the book open as if to be sure you haven’t made it all up, and then you think you probably could have made it all up if you wanted. Read one of the hundreds of magical histories of Rome that certainly existed — probably in your own shop, at that — and gathered much the same conclusion. But you did not. Tom must know you did not.

The silence is thick as he reads, waned only by the crackle of the fireplace and the occasional turn of a page. His brows furrow the way you always remember catching in school, like he's concentrating on a particularly hard puzzle, and you have to busy yourself with a nearly empty cup of tea to pretend not to notice the way his beauty is something almost delicate. Framed by firelight and the indigo gloss of the night shining in through the window, you imagine his hair mussed, his long eyelashes speckled with snow, his cheeks pink from the cold. You wonder about him in a nicer suit than this. You could buy him one, if you liked.

And then, at last, he looks up over the parchment, expression carefully measured. “I'm impressed.”

You put your cup down and you can’t help it. You're smiling. You're proud. His approval is like bottling the tail of a rainbow (which you’ve been told is possible), and it's a feeling that’s been absent from you for so long, it's never come from him — Merlin, you've always wanted it to come from him, haven’t you?

“You’re impressed?” you ask, as you love nothing more than to push. “Is that all?”

He loves nothing more than to keep his face impassive, but there’s a twitch there. Something you’re aware you can only spot because of how much attention you pay him.

“I enjoyed your perspective on the Romans’ utilisation of firedrakes. It was well-thought.”

“Well-thought?”

“Quite good, yes.”

“Good," you say, grinning in the bulk of your triumph, “I suppose that means I win."

Win. You’re not winning anything but the implication that Tom is somehow losing. Still he does not break, and you think at seventeen he would have. At nearly twenty his smile just grows. “Have you ever done anything less?”

Is he pushing too? That could be fun.

“Oh, first year tribulations. Nothing since — you wouldn’t remember.”

“Hm, I do recall an unfortunate lesson with a matagot in Beasts, and that must have been, what—” He tilts his head as though to ponder it— “fourth year?”

You narrow your eyes. “Paid an ever-close watch on me, did you, Riddle?”

“As close as anyone else.”

“And by that you mean to say—?”

“Only that it’s a most fascinating custom, the matter of pureblood marriage. It was hard to avoid your name in a common room full of your particular politics.”

“Ah,” you hum, summoning the teapot from the kitchenette to pour another cup, “so my potential marital affairs are what drew your attention. And here I was thinking it was because I was the only person who could ever best you.”

He stops your tea mid-motion, and you still as he sends both the pot and the cup to the table beside you. “Can it not have begun as one and have become the other?”

“Well, your curiosity knows no end; I should be flattered by such multifaceted interest.”

“So you won’t mind my inquiring.”

“Whatever you wish, Riddle.”

“Upon the current status of your betrothal.”

You blink, and then laugh. “There is no betrothal. At present.”

“At present. Is it subject to change?”

“There’s always talk,” you offer, and it offers impressively little.

“Elaborate...”

“I don’t know that you’re in any position to be making demands,” you gibe, “considering I paid four sickles to prove you wrong and I haven’t anything to show for it but my pride.”

He smiles. “Not enough to sate your desire to make me grovel, it seems.”

“You? Grovel?” You gasp, fingers circling your knee idly. “What a fascinating concept… Wait now, I’m trying to paint the picture.”

“Is that not what you came for?” he asks, and it’s odd to see him amused by the idea. You push and push and he just continues to take. “To prove me wrong? To puncture my pride?”

You shrug innocently, even though you’d just said as much. “I’m here to wish you a Merry Christmas.”

He laughs, a warm, quiet laugh — more of a breath than anything — but true if you can read him at all, and that’s a bit alarming. “Of course. Near nine months of exhaustive translation all to bid me a nice holiday. It sounds almost like grovelling, doesn’t it? Wait, now, I’m trying to paint the picture.”

You bite back your smile. Damn him. He’s never been funny before. That’s a problematic development.

“Fine.” Your legs are already crossed and now you’re crossing your arms too, and you look very reserved compared to his relaxed stature. “A match would, of course, need to be of good title.”

“Of course,” Tom says, without even an attempt at masking his amusement.

“And he would need to be rich.”

“Naturally.”

“It would help to be from one of the Sacred Houses.”

“I should not expect anything less.”

“And I suppose age is a factor,” you go on. You push, and push, and push. Tom is impervious. He takes.

“What age would do well?”

“Near enough to my own. For health, of course.”

“For health,” he agrees delightedly.

What the hell are you talking about?

“It would be preferable that he be handsome.”

“And of his character?”

“Most agreeable.”

“Docile?”

“Hm, docile, yes.”

“It is a long list.”

“I’ve been told I’m a difficult woman to sate. Far too prideful, apparently.”

Your fingers are drawing figure-eights on your thigh now, and Tom’s eyes flash briefly to the motion. You stop as though caught, and you aren’t sure why.

“A defamatory accusation,” he says quietly.

You wonder if his voice has always had that tinge to it: the gravel underlining his polish like the crack of the fire, and — that must be why it’s so warm in here, too. It has been that way since you arrived, hasn’t it? Such polarising temperatures between your walk in the snow to this, you must have only just adjusted… an hour after arriving. It’s completely logical.

“So there are talks,” you repeat, if only because you’ve blanked on all else.

“Well,” he says, eyes boring into yours in a way that makes you feel transparent, “I wish you all the best. If it at all helps, you can now add a moderate understanding of Latin to your list of virtues.”

You drape an arm across your chair to match his easy posture. (And how is it he manages to look regal and informal at the same time?) “My list of virtues? Elaborate.”

He shakes his head with a small smile and you point an accusatory finger at him. “Ah, ah, Riddle — I won, remember? And I indulged your inquiring regardless.”

His eyes narrow. “You do want me to grovel.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“I don’t believe that’s the purpose of the day.”

“And that matters to you?”

He leans forward, looking over you as if your supposed virtues will reveal themselves upon scrutiny. It’s a bit offensive, really. You’d hope he could find more than enough with one glance.

He settles, after a long moment where you feel almost bare, on, “Your pride is agonising.”

It’s — not exactly what you were hoping for. Not quite grovelling, by any definition, but then, what did you expect from him?

“Excuse me?”

“Your stockings are ripped at the calf.”

“Riddle—”

“Your lipstick may have stained my teacup. It is a shade I’m rather fond of, but I do not wish to see a trace of it left behind.”

“Quite good,” you say through gritted teeth.

“And I should not be agonised — incautious and unfettered at a sliver of skin or the gesture of your mouth —” You realise with horror that he’s speaking through something constrained too — “and yet I am.”

It’s — is that a confession? Have you broken him? Have you won again? Your stomach flips and it doesn’t feel at all like winning. He certainly doesn’t look like a man who’s lost. In fact, he’s watching you intently, and at your lack of response, the constraint forming a taut line on his lips seems to slip back into something deliberate. Curious.

You recover to the best of your ability. “It is a short list.”

“Shall I go on?” he asks, and it’s an answer, too: no, you have most definitely not broken him. He looks a bit like he’s found a neat pathway to breaking you instead.

“I’d hate to debase you further.”

He leans in, and he might be about to stand, and that might be an irreversible thing to do. “Are you sure? I can’t imagine you’ve painted the picture yet.”

Oh, you’ve painted the picture. You’ve painted a gallery.

“I find the image regrettable half-done. No point finishing it now.”

You do not.

“And besides,” you add, “I know my virtues.”

He smiles, and he’s half orange in the firelight and half blue in the night, green somewhere in the middle, and he should be condemned for being this beautiful. “Elaborate.”

You shouldn’t. “I’m intelligent.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m a quick learner.”

“So I’ve seen,” he agrees, still leaning in.

“I’m good at my job.”

And then he stands.

It is an irreversible thing. Your heart lurches like it knows he’s going to do something that cannot be undone. Your heart lurches because it is a thing you’ve anticipated, quietly, on late nights in scrolls of Latin so you might be able to pretend to mistranslate them — you know, in your first tongue and any other, that you do not want it to be undone.

“Anything else?” he asks. You aren’t sure if you’re resentful of the proximity of his seat to yours or grateful for it, because it takes no time at all for him to be standing before you.

“I’m well-mannered,” you say, and it comes out quieter than you mean for it to. “Lettered in etiquette.”

“Etiquette," he repeats slowly, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, and you don't quite know how he manages an intonation like that, but there it is, dripping with so much contempt you’re surprised he doesn’t fall over.

It wouldn’t be terrible if he did. He’d land right on top of you and put this little game to rest.

Instead he reaches a hand to your cheek — your hair — and brushes it like it’s an absolutely standard thing to do. He pulls away just the same. As if his hand is familiar with the shape of your face because it’s been there before. You'd definitely remember if it had.

“Of course,” you breathe, “patience and pleases and thank yous.”

“In all your manners, you might provide an example.”

Fine. If he’s going to be difficult. “I’d say I’m displaying great patience right now.”

“Hm.” His hands find yours where they sit on either arm of your chair, and his figure is blocking all light now. It shines on his shoulders, casts him like an aura. “That’s one.”

You look at his lips, and don’t bother to look away. You incline forward as much as you can when you’re caged in like this, until his breath is on yours and you can smell his cologne.

“Please,” you say, and for the challenge in it you don’t feel too humbled.

He is most obliging.

His lips just barely brush yours at first, and you did say you were patient — so you wait. The feather-light touch of them stills before it deepens, his hands pressing down on yours. Your open mouth. His tongue. You're kissing him, breathlessly and frantically and completely, and it is all you want.

Tom pulls back and you instinctively push forward. You will your eyes to open and he’s still right there — he hasn’t gone anywhere (what a deranged concern that is) — lips an inch from yours, and he’s smiling.

“That’s two.”

Oh. Oh, he’s an aberration in human variance. There’s something incredibly wrong with him.

There isn’t a way of turning gratitude into a challenge, you think. It doesn’t ask for anything. It appreciates. In this case it would more closely resemble worship. Thank you for your kiss, Riddle, I’d be nothing without it.

So you search to find a way around it that still gets you what you want.

“I’ll need a bit more than a lousy kiss if you want to see me grovel, Riddle." Your voice is a bit rough. You don’t know that your confidence lands the way it typically does.

But you came here to — what was it — puncture his pride? Push him until he breaks? You’ve already made it halfway, and you are, after all, very good at it.

And you suppose he wants to earn the third, because he scowls and then he’s kissing you again and this time his hands are on your face, and perhaps they are somehow familiar with the shape because they fit around you in some inexplicably whole way, like they were made for it. With your hands free, you’re carding your fingers through his hair, hoping for that vision of him you imagined earlier, with thick, messy waves and flushed cheeks.

Tom brings a hand to your waist and tugs you in, and you’re partly pulled from the chair by his insistence and overwhelmingly pushing to get out of it yourself, lips never leaving his as you stumble past the meagre divider to his bed.

The backs of your thighs hit the footboard and your knees buckle, gasping away from Tom’s mouth as you reach for the bedpost. His breath is heavy as his hand curves to the small of your back to keep you steady, your dress bunched in his fist, and there’s a heat in him pressed against you, like a match being held to kindling. And in the flash of fire when it finally strikes, everything in his eyes is clear, singularly focused, and he's pushing you to your back, splayed across his tidy sheets as he kisses you with bruising ferocity.

There's an urgency now to his movements that wasn't there before, and it's a stark contrast to his usual calculated demeanour, but that feels like winning. That feels like breaking Tom Riddle, whittling years of practised constraint to… this. That draws the third: makes you nice and grateful like he asked, because no part of you wants his careful fortitude here. You want to ruin him.

He appears to want the very same from you, which wrecks the whole thing.

Your legs move to wrap around him and he stops you, one hand pinning you by the hip and then down, past where you think he’ll go, as he finds the hem of your dress and lifts it from your calf to your knee. He draws circles over the thinly-clothed skin and you can do nothing but lie there, panting a little, staring at him with less patience than you’d proclaimed to have. And then his fingers move upwards, and they’re drawing figure-eights, and you understand that if this isn’t a taunt, nothing is. He copies your earlier motions. He does not kiss you. His fingers trail higher and higher and they’re soft like the shadows framing his face.

Finally he finds the waistband of your stockings and begins to tug them down your hips, stopping when he reaches that sliver of skin revealed by a tear in the fabric, taking your leg and hiking it up so he can look closely. He smiles, finger sliding down the tear in such a precise, meticulous fashion you can’t help but think he’s doing it on purpose. The moment does not linger when he pulls away, shuffling your stockings down the rest of the way so your legs are unclad before him, your heels already kicked off somewhere across the floor.

He watches your sharp exhale when he ducks down to kiss the skin of your thigh. A shiver runs through you at his softness, another when you see his face, see his eyes go dark with want of you.

His constraint is back, and it’s fucking detrimental. The only silver lining you can find in it, and you hope to be correct (haven’t you been so far?), is that maybe that means Tom Riddle can be broken in litany. Maybe he amends his ruination now but you can carve it out of him again later.

“Come here,” you say, your voice ragged.

Tom frowns, one hand pursuing a dangerous path up the inside of your thigh. “And here I was under the impression you wanted me to grovel.”

“Oh,” you huff, “is that what this is? Not some feeble attempt at winning after I —”

You grip his hair as his fingers curl under the lace of your underwear, as he smiles at the dampness there, the way your argument dissipates beneath his touch. “Winning?” he derides, breathy to match your tone in a way that feels cruel rather than considerate. You nod even as your breathing accelerates and he lifts the skirt of your dress to rest over your thighs, his eyes darting between your legs and your own heavy gaze as if he can't decide which is more intriguing. And then he slides a finger across your heat and you think he’s made his choice. "Is that what you think I want?"

You blink, feeling a bit lost. "What else is there?"

“Will you thank me after this?”

Right. That. You swallow, head falling back on his pillow. “Doubtful.”

“Hm,” he mumbles, some kind of consideration that can only be answered by the movement of his fingers against you, slow as they seek to learn you.

You arrest the moan that rises in your throat, teeth clenching together as Tom climbs over you once more, his body keeping you in place to watch the sustained details of your expression as one of his fingers dips inside you. You hiss, and his gaze burns into you, his mouth parted with a degree of awe and you think perhaps this is the picture he painted — you, under him, eyebrows pinched together as your hands scramble for purchase on his chest, fighting to remain intact.

But then his thumb brushes up against your clit and you let out a sound — half a moan, half a mewl. Tom doesn't give you a second to recover as his lips come down on yours again, hard, desperate, like he's trying to inhale you. And you let him, you take the little bit of ruin he surrenders in the great expanse of yours.

Even if you could quiet your noises you stand to think Tom would feel them, taste them, bite down on them like he does your lower lip, a second finger coiling into you. Your hand smacks at his wrist, clutching his arm with such intensity you can feel every sinew of his movement as he works away at you. Your legs are trembling, pressing around his waist an act of simultaneous resistance and desperation as you push upwards for friction and conquest.

You find both. Undeniable hunger — how he groans softly against your open mouth, how the imprint against your thigh is hard under his trousers, how he wants you.

His ministrations only intensify when your hand searches for the buckle of his belt, gripping your jaw like he needs to watch you fall apart before you can find parity in your desperation. It isn’t an impossible wish; your mind is hazy at the push and pull of his fingers, curving where his thumb draws ceaselessly on the other side, and you think, as much as you’re able right now, that he could succeed. But you force your eyes open to the space where your hand is wedged between your bodies, yanking hastily at his belt and sighing into his shoulder as it unfastens.

His trousers are unbuttoned, unzipped, and you’re arching into him with laboured pants even when your hand slips past them to find skin you've never travelled before.

Tom’s motions stagger when your fingers brush experimentally over his length, and you suddenly understand his ardent focus. You can’t help but stare at the way his jaw ticks, a hiss parting through gritted teeth, and the fact that you’re doing this to him is almost enough to push you over the edge. You grip him in one hand, and his fingers move again like some act of defiance, tightening his hold on your jaw. And then you’re pumping slowly, carefully, the only way you think to with the intention of pleasing him. Of weakening him.

He turns your head so you’re gasping into the pillow, neck exposed for him to press his mouth to. His teeth and tongue are on you and your hand slips from him for a moment as you shudder. Fuck him. This isn’t enough. You won't lose like this.

You tug at his waistcoat now, snapping open the buttons until the last few are clinging on by cheap threads. You’ll buy him that suit, you think. One that you can shrug off as fervently as you like without worrying about tearing the seams.

Your removal of his shirt is not aided by the swelling fire inside you, how the attention of his fingers has remained steady through your squirming and it feels like it’s culminating to something fatal. Your fingers grow shakier but don't stop their pursuit until every button is undone and you can soothe their trembling by pressing your palms against the warm expanse of his chest.

And then they’re back in his trousers, pushing them down his thighs as he continues to chip away at you. You bite back moans and blink through your dizziness.

Tom stops, and it might be more devastating than if he hadn’t. Your body is taut, a fine, thrumming wire spared a moment before snapping.

“More,” is all you say, tracing the shape of him through his briefs.

“More?” he asks. There’s a small mercy in the rasp within in his voice, the uncertainty despite himself. “I suppose that means I win.”

“Win?”

His gall almost, almost pulls you back to reality. But he’s — he’s pulling his trousers further down and your body, like some separate entity to your mind, is flush against him when he’s finally free of all obstructions.

“Mhm,” he hums, and almost-reality dwindles away into fucking nothing — disappears before your eyes when he brings his finger to his tongue and tastes you.

You tear him back to your mouth with a sound that so desperate your humility shouldn’t be able to take it but that's all gone now. His lips are wet and swollen and you’re adjusting yourself so his hips are lined with yours, and your head rolls back when he positions himself against your core and stays there.

“I win,” you breathe. “Everything else is just—”

He moves, hands on your waist as he presses ever-so-slightly inside you. You clutch wildly at his arms, your eyes wrenching shut.

“Look at me,” he says softly. His thumb caresses your cheek as if any act of his acts of tenderness are at all actually tender and not depraved requests for your resignation.

You shake your head. “It’s ju-just—”

He sinks further, unhurried, and you feel like crying, your body clenching around him as the pressure deepens.

“Just what?” he asks, peppering kisses along your jaw.

“Just… um, just…”

“Hm?”

“I win... s’just… cheating…”

You feel him smiling against your neck, and then he detaches his lips to observe you, nodding with false sympathy. “You win.”

And he shifts himself forward so he’s pushed to the hilt.

It’s a lie. It’s a lie as Tom holds you against him, carving kisses into your skin that burn, as you shudder a moan into the thick, hot air, as he begins to move rhythmically inside you, your fingers digging crescent moons into his spine and dragging.

You don't win.

If you are steel honed over years, it’s this moment that you melt, and you think if you were to be fused again it would be in a different shape.

And you mean that. You honestly feel liquified when he splits you slow like this, rolling his hips as you cling to him for strength like he isn’t the thing shattering you.

You rock to meet him, you bury your nails in his back, you rest your moans with your teeth in his shoulder — whatever you can think to make this fair. Make true to your word. You are going to break, it's true, but you are going to break Tom Riddle too.

“Fingers,” you mutter, far too much of a demand for the way it almost stumbles into a sob, but Tom makes a strained sound in the back of his throat as if it gratifies him that you want it enough to ask.

“Thank me,” he answers on a harsh exhale.

You bite at his collar, shaking your head, but your legs are starting to shake and you wouldn’t ask if it was something you wanted — you mask it as an order because you need it. Because you imagine what he’s doing now combined with his thumb on your clit and it’s enough to make your abdomen clench just thinking about it.

Instead one of your hands forsakes the sweet curve of his muscles every time he thrusts into you so that it can snake between your own legs, and you mimic his earlier ministrations just long enough to drive a moan from your lips before Tom’s eyes dart from your lips, the rise and fall of your chest, to the hand missing from his back.

He grabs it with a scowl, pinning one wrist and then the other above your head.

“Stubborn,” he hisses, and he buries himself inside you like it's something personal, persistent in his strokes when his fingers finally rub over you how you wanted.

And you know you’ve done it when his head falls on your shoulder and you feel yourself tighten around him. His grip on your wrists is punishing. His mouth on your shoulder is stringent. He’s hard and full inside you and his fingers slide against you in delicate, torturous contrast. You know because it all stutters a bit when you pull him into a kiss, when you know you’re about to plummet into oblivion and he’s gripping you through it like you might steady him — like you aren’t the thing shattering him.

When you do, it’s something visceral. You think you might be spinning, or floating — screaming, maybe — spilling ill-mannered expletives in strings with his name because your hands are still trapped under his and your body can do nothing else. What you know, undoubtedly, is that you’re coming down from it for a long time, in a haze when you manage to breathe the words into his ear. “Thank you.”

Tom breaks. It’s the most beautiful you think he’s ever looked; eyebrows cinched and pink mouth parted, hair mussed like you wanted, neck tense as he stills inside you and you feel every part of him let go.

Your legs are too weak to cling to him through it, and you just pant under him, blinking languidly and in awe.

You stay like that for a long time.

He leans in when he finally pulls out of you, kissing you like one form of contact must be replaced with another. It's the same with his hands. He sinks into the space beside you and releases your wrists just to cup your face instead.

Yours come up instantly and shamelessly to his hair, craving nothing more than to curl your fingers through the dark mess of it. You trace the sharp shape of his cheeks, too, like his did to yours, like you need to memorize the lines of his expression and the heat of his skin before the world outside seeps in and it all goes cold.

But you pull away and you can't imagine it will.

There’s something in his eyes that feels new. Longing like he’s shed all pretence of acting like nine years of treading the lines of this rivalry has ever been anything but a pathetic display, like he knows you've shed it too. It makes you catch your breath to think this is what it feels like to be desired by Tom Riddle; that you desire him all the same; all this time.

“You know,” you say, and your voice sticks dry to your mouth, “I still win.”

He shakes his head. He smiles. You want terribly to kiss him again.

“I’ll just have to find something else to best you in, won’t I?”

You pretend like you’re considering it and not just staring at him.

“I think by Christmas would be fair.”

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle oneshot #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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rootedinrevisions · 24 days ago

Note

Let's just say Nia Jax joined Solo's Bloodline around the same time that Tama Tonga joined.

Y/N was a member of the OG Bloodline along with The Usos and her boyfriend Roman Reigns, aka the Tribal Chief. When Roman went M.I.A. after Wrestlemania 40, Y/N along with Jimmy Uso were both kicked out of the Bloodline by Solo, and Y/N was attacked and injured by Nia Jax, which led to her being out with injury for a few months. At Bad Blood, both Y/N and Jimmy return, and they go after the bloodline, with Y/N attacking Nia.

Cue Y/N's emotional reunion with Roman afterwards.

Thank you so much for sending this request in! I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to get it written and posted! I've gotten a little behind with writing all of the Kinktober stuff, but hopefully, this is worth the wait!

The energy in the stadium is electric. Roman Reigns and Cody Rhodes are in the final stretch of their brutal match. Roman’s face is a mix of determination and exhaustion. Cody counters one of Roman’s final moves—a Superman Punch—and manages to hit him with a Cross Rhodes, but Roman kicks out at the last second. The crowd erupts.

Roman struggles to his feet, breathing heavily. He throws Cody into the corner and goes for a Spear, but Cody dodges, sending Roman into the turnbuckle. The momentum shifts as Cody seizes the opportunity and hits another Cross Rhodes, and then another for good measure. Roman is down. Cody covers him.

1... 2... 3!

The bell rings, and the crowd explodes as Cody Rhodes is declared the new WWE Champion. Roman Reigns is lying in the ring, stunned, his chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling lights. He’s no longer the top guy. The reign is over.

Roman rolls out of the ring slowly, his face emotionless, but the weight of his loss evident in the way he moves. The crowd cheers for Cody, but there’s an eerie silence as Roman walks up the ramp, his head down. The camera catches the WWE Universe watching him, shocked that his 4-year reign has finally come to an end.

As Roman reaches the top of the ramp, he hesitates, looking back at the ring one last time before walking through the curtain.

The second he steps through the curtain, you’re there. You’ve been watching the match from the monitors, anxiously waiting to see the result. When you saw Cody pin him, your heart sank. You knew how much this match meant to him, not just for his career but for his identity as the top dog in WWE.

As soon as Roman comes through, you rush toward him, your eyes full of concern. He looks like a shadow of himself—defeated, vulnerable, nothing like the unstoppable force you know him to be. You don’t even think twice before reaching out to him, wanting to offer comfort.

“Roman...” you start softly, trying to get through to him.

But he doesn’t stop. His eyes avoid yours completely, and he brushes past you, almost as if you’re not even there. It’s as if acknowledging you would make his failure real. He can’t bear to see the disappointment he imagines must be in your eyes. Without saying a word, he keeps walking down the hallway, shoulders slumped, eyes fixed on the ground.

The sting of him walking past you hits harder than you expected. He’s never done this before—never shut you out like this. You stand there, frozen, watching him disappear into the back, feeling helpless.

After Roman disappears around the corner, you stand in silence for a moment, the noise of the arena a distant echo in your ears. You know this isn’t just about losing a title. It’s deeper than that. Roman’s silence says everything: he’s not just upset—he feels like he’s failed you, his family, and himself.

You try to shake off the sinking feeling in your chest, knowing that whatever Roman is going through, you’ll be there for him, even if he isn’t ready to face you yet.

* * * *

The lights in the arena dim, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. The New Bloodline’s music hits, and Solo Sikoa, flanked by Nia Jax and Jacob Fatu, makes his way to the ring. The faction’s presence is as dominating as ever, but something feels off. You can feel it.

As you step into the ring, Solo’s eyes bore into you. The tension is palpable.

You stand tall, despite the unease gnawing at you. Roman’s absence has been felt deeply by everyone, but for you, it’s been more personal. You’ve remained loyal to him, refusing to let his legacy fade. But now, Solo has taken control, and everything feels fractured.

Solo grabs a mic, his voice is cold and commanding.

"You’ve been standing in Roman’s shadow for too long. It’s time you acknowledge the real Tribal Chief. Me."

The crowd lets out a mixture of gasps and boos as Solo takes a step closer to you, his imposing figure radiating authority. His demand hangs in the air like a challenge.

You clench your fists, heart pounding, but your decision is clear. Loyalty to Roman runs too deep. You can’t betray that, not now, not ever.

You shake your head, standing firm. "I acknowledge...Roman Reigns."

The crowd roars in support of your defiance, but Solo’s face twists into a smirk of disdain. His expression is dark, filled with contempt, and you can feel the shift in the air. Something bad is about to happen.

"Wrong answer."

He steps back slightly and motions to Nia Jax. The crowd goes silent, sensing the danger. Nia steps forward, her eyes locked on you, a predator stalking her prey.

"Nia… deal with the problem."

Your heart sinks as you realize what’s coming. But before you can react, Nia charges at you, delivering a brutal clothesline that sends you crashing to the mat. The impact rattles your bones, but it’s not over.

You try to get to your feet, but Nia is relentless. She grabs you by the hair, dragging you up before hitting you with a devastating Samoan Drop, slamming you hard into the canvas. Pain shoots through your body, but it’s nothing compared to what’s coming next.

The crowd screams, pleading for mercy, but Solo watches on with cold detachment. Nia isn’t finished. She circles you like a shark, her eyes narrowing in on your knee.

With a vicious smile, Nia grabs your leg, twisting it in an unnatural angle. Then, with all her force, she slams her elbow down into your knee, and you scream in agony. The sound of something snapping echoes in your ears, and you know immediately—it’s bad.

The crowd is in a frenzy, medics rushing down the ramp, but Solo raises his hand, stopping them from interfering. Nia delivers one final stomp to your knee before stepping back, her job is done.

Solo leans down over you, his voice low and menacing.

"Roman’s not here to save you anymore. This is my Bloodline now. If you show your face again, I’ll make sure you’re not just out of the ring… but out of this business for good."

He tosses the mic down beside you, and with that, Solo, Nia, and Jacob leave the ring. The medics finally rush in, placing you on a stretcher as the fans chant your name in support, but all you can focus on is the searing pain in your knee and the betrayal burning in your chest.

As you’re carried up the ramp, one thing is clear—you’re out of action, sidelined for months, but this fight is far from over.

* * * *

The Bad Blood main event is at its peak. Roman Reigns, bruised and battered, fights on instinct alone. Across the ring, Solo Sikoa stands tall, the upper hand clearly his. At ringside, Tama Tonga and Tonga Loa are prowling like sentinels, ensuring that no one interrupts their plans. The crowd roars with a mix of anticipation and tension as Solo prepares to deliver the final blow.

Roman stumbles backward into the corner, clearly exhausted, his chest heaving. The look in his eyes—defeat seems inevitable. Solo stalks toward him, ready to strike, and you can feel the electricity in the air.

Suddenly, from the crowd, a figure darts toward the ring. Dressed in a black hoodie and bandana, the person’s face is obscured, but the intention is clear—they're coming for Tama and Tonga. The crowd erupts, unsure of who this mystery person is, but thrilled by the sudden turn of events.

Tama and Tonga’s heads snap toward the intruder. They move to intercept, but the figure is too quick, dodging their blows and delivering a series of fast, brutal strikes that send both men tumbling to the ground. The figure stands over them, breathing hard, before pulling off the hood and yanking the bandana down.

It’s Jimmy Uso.

The crowd explodes in a frenzy of cheers. Jimmy stands tall, glaring at the chaos around him before his attention shifts back to the ring. Solo’s eyes widen with shock, but before he can react, another distraction comes into play.

Nia Jax’s music hits.

The powerhouse walks down the ramp, her focus solely on the ring. She climbs onto the apron, shouting at the referee, who is caught between her and the chaos unfolding. The distraction is working—until your music hits, and the crowd surges to life.

The roar of the crowd swells as you sprint down the ramp, your knee healed and ready for revenge. With determination in your eyes, you target Nia. Reaching the ring, you grab her ankle, yanking her down from the apron. She stumbles but turns to face you, a menacing glare in her eyes. But you’re quicker—you charge, hitting her with a swift, decisive running knee strike that sends her crashing to the floor. The crowd loses it, chanting your name as you stand over Nia, breathless but victorious.

Back in the ring, the distraction is all Roman needs. As Solo turns back around to refocus on Roman, he walks right into a massive Spear. The impact is earth-shattering, and the arena trembles with excitement. Roman covers Solo, hooking the leg, and the referee drops to the mat.

One… two… three!

The bell rings. Roman has won the match, but there’s no time for celebration as emotions swirl. You and Jimmy slide into the ring, and the crowd’s roar grows even louder. The reunion they’ve all been waiting for.

You and Jimmy embrace first, the weight of the last several months lifting off your shoulders in that single moment. As the two of you pull back, your eyes naturally shift to the man standing just a few feet away.

Roman Reigns.

He stands in the middle of the ring, sweat dripping down his face, chest heaving from the effort of the match. For a moment, he looks stunned, his eyes wide as he takes in the sight of you and Jimmy standing together in the ring—his family, reunited.

Roman's expression softens, the weight of everything he’s been through—the loss, the disappearance, the betrayal of his own blood—seems to crash over him all at once. He turns to Jimmy first, pulling him into a tight, brotherly hug. The crowd erupts, the bond between the two undeniable.

But then… Roman’s eyes meet yours.

For a split second, everything else fades away—the roar of the crowd, the lights, the chaos—it’s just the two of you. Roman's gaze is intense, filled with everything he hasn’t said, the regret, the guilt, the longing. His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but instead, he just opens his arms to you.

Your feet move before your brain catches up. In a daze, you find yourself walking toward him, and before you know it, his strong arms wrap around you. The instant you feel his touch, your body melts into his, the months of separation, pain, and uncertainty dissolving in his embrace. His hold on you is firm, like he never wants to let go again.

He leans down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m sorry… I’m so sorry."

You don’t respond with words, but your arms wrap around his neck, your face buried in his chest. Tears sting your eyes as you hold him, and you can feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body shakes ever so slightly from exhaustion and emotion.

Without thinking, Roman lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he holds you tightly against him. The crowd’s cheers reach a deafening pitch, but it’s all background noise to you.

Roman is holding you like he never wants to let you go again, and it's all you can focus on at the moment.

You pull back slightly, your forehead resting against his as you gaze into his eyes. The connection between you is undeniable, electric, and for the first time in months, you feel complete.

Smiling softly down at him, you lean in, your lips finding his in a tender, emotional kiss. Roman’s arms tighten around you, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that speaks volumes—he missed you, he needed you, and he’s never letting you go again.

The crowd cheers wildly, the reunion of the three of you—Roman, Jimmy, and yourself—something they had all hoped for.

As you pull away from the kiss, you rest your head against Roman’s, still wrapped around him, savoring the moment. The weight of the world seems to lift, if only for this moment, as the three of you stand united once again, ready for whatever comes next.

#Roman Reigns #Roman Reigns Fanfiction #Roman Reigns Fanfic #Roman Reigns x reader #Roman Reigns x you #WWE Fanfiction #WWE Fanfic

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disinherited-dornishman · 3 months ago

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Personal thoughts on Team Black, Rhaenyra, and Misogyny.

This is going to be a messy one as regard structure but also topic. Stay with me, people.

I've been seeing a lot of accusations of misogyny against anti-team black, anti-rhaenyras, and anti-hotd posters for criticisms uttered, and I can't help but be a little dumbfounded. Like are we really doing this? Pointing out that Rhaenyra was reckless for having 3 bastards is not misogyny. I'm sorry, as much as you guys might love your make-believe character, I'm just not humoring it. Not if you're going to make the conversation about feminism and sexual liberation.

Okay, let me just say. Rhaenyra having Jace I can understand. An experiment that was stupid but also respectable in a way, because Laenor was definitely traumatized and not fit for keeping up their agreement, so I can support that mistake wholeheartedly for the empathy behind it. But Luke and Joffrey? After finding out that her genes get overriden by Harwin's?

Plain stupid. I'm sorry, that's just playing with fire, especially since she should know how precarious her position would be after the precedent of the Great Council that robbed Rhaenys of her birthright on the basis of her gender.

And like, I'd be fine with it if the show didn't portray it as this girlboss, don't-give-a-fuck win, because all it does is highlight how ignorant the showrunners are about the world in which their show is set! I liked selfish and decadent Rhaenyra in the books, she didn't need to be treated as a hero for it.

And the fact that the rest of the world and everyone in it is portrayed as being at fault for not going along with what's basically that society's equivalent of a political clown show is absurd. Pointing this out doesn't mean I'm condoning it either, I'm criticizing the show's lack of self-awareness. It's so obvious the showrunners are disconnected from the their world.

GRRM writes all his characters as believable people grown up in a medieval society, but critiques it through his own modern moral lense in a way that's seemless, yet in this show they use characters as mouthpieces to spout modern feminist and egalitarian ideals from characters who are ruling class. Who the fuck are they kidding? If you want to make a feminist show, don't use bourgeoisie feminism!!! Idgaf about some Princess' sexual liberation while she's allowed to hold feasts that rips the food from the tables of peasants! There's nothing inspiring about that!

Rhaenyra, one of the single most bourgeois figure in the show, is supposed to be praised for her "sexual liberation" when it literally threatens the stability of the entire realm, and directly caused a war in which countless sexual atrocities were committed and will still be committed? Forgive me if I can't find it in me to be inspired.

If you want the show to be feminist, display the themes through the people at the bottom, the normal workers, the whores, the thieves, the daytalers and smiths and carpenters and undertakers and farmers, etc etc. Don't ask people to cheer for a reckless white woman from a colonizer background with a biological WMD at her disposal for breaking the social contract of a ruling class SHE'S A PART OF and risking destabilizing her entire country, it's fucking insulting! And don't get me started on the gender essentialism of the whole "women good, men bad" horseradish horseshit.

I'd love to discuss and analyze these concepts if we're talking about Rhaenyra's character arc, her as a person, and the themes of patriarchy that one can glean through her. But if we're talking actual, meaningful, proletariat feminism that means something to the medieval society they live in?

You wanna praise this brave monarch for sexually liberating herself, go ahead and praise the female Romans in Spartacus while you're at it. Praise their sexual liberation when they avail themselves of sex slaves taken from Thrace and Gaul and wherever else the Roman Empire had reach and rape them for fun. Understand I'm not comparing Rhaenyra's actions with having her kids with Harwin to rape, I'm pointing out power dynamics. And at least that show had the decency to show that the patrician romans were cruel and vile alongside their humanity, unlike HotD which seems to insist its ruling family of dragonriding depraved incestuous monarchs are actually virtuous while literally having Meleys burst through the floorboards and massacre a crowd.

P.S.: for any Anti-Rhaenyras, please don't start shit about her unless you wanna discuss how the writers fucked up her beloved character. I actually liked her in the books and she should've gotten a bigger part than Daemon, so don't slander her all willy nilly. It's unconstructive and I feel no desire to engage.

#anti hotd #anti team black stans #anti ryan condal #anti sara hess #anti team black #bourgeoisie feminism #proletariat feminism #feminism #team green #hotd #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen

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overrboarrd · 18 days ago

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sanctuary [3]: kick off

firefighter!roman reigns x azure clarke [oc]

warnings: brief mention of spousal loss, light drinking, lots of football

word count: 5.5k

a/n: hello my beautiful peoplee <3 sorry this update kept getting pushed back, i've been annoyingly busy these past couple weeks. this chapter is a chill one, but i really hope y'all like it! the next update may be delayed a couple days cause my birthday is next weekend and i'll be outsideee 🤪 but yeah, i appreciate y'all always! thanks for reading <3

Azure stood at the kitchen counter, pulling a few dishes from the small box she had finally decided to unpack. It wasn’t much—just some mugs and plates—but it felt like progress. The morning sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a warm glow over the bare kitchen. She leaned against the counter, staring at the mess of cardboard and packing paper, absentmindedly turning over a mug in her hand.

She pulled out a few plates, stacking them on the counter, then paused when her phone rang. With a soft smile, she picked up the phone and answered, cradling it between her ear and shoulder. “Hey, Jade.”

“Hey girl! You settled in yet or still living out of boxes?” Jade teased, her voice bringing a bit of comfort to Azure’s morning.

“Definitely still in the 'living out of boxes' phase,” Azure laughed lightly. “I’m unpacking the kitchen right now, but it’s dragging.”

“Ugh, I hate unpacking,” Jade groaned. “But you doing okay? I’m sorry I didn't call sooner, my father in law’s birthday was this past weekend, and you know how Reggie is when it comes to going to his parents’ house.”

A soft smile spread across Azure’s face, “It’s okay sis.” Her teeth captured her bottom lip in contemplation. “I’ve actually met a few people,” Azure admitted, trying to sound casual, but she knew Jade would pick up on any hesitation in her voice.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Just some neighbors. They helped me move some boxes.”

“That’s good!”

“Yeah, they’re... really nice. Two guys, twins, Jimmy and Jey. Invited me to a cookout later on today.”

“Wait, twins? And they already invited you to a cookout?” Jade teased, a playful edge to her tone. “That sounds promising.”

“It’s not like that,” Azure laughed. “They’re really nice but definitely married. And then… there’s their cousin,” she hesitated. “Roman.”

“Okay��” Jade’s voice trailed. Azure swore she could hear a hint of a smile as Jade continued. “Tell me more about this Roman guy.”

“We talked a little. He welcomed me to the neighborhood, but I think I might’ve rambled. I was telling him about my day at work, how Dr. Rollins pulled me aside because I was running late.”

Jade hummed thoughtfully. “And?”

“And, well… I don’t know. Roman just seemed kind of tense when I mentioned Dr. Rollins. I might’ve made things awkward.”

“Girl, you did not make it awkward. You were just trying to spark up a conversation, right? You haven’t talked to new people in a while… it’s going to feel a little weird. But that doesn’t mean it was bad.” Jade’s voice softened, offering the kind of encouragement Azure needed. “Maybe he’s just one of those quiet shy guys, you know?”

“Maybe,” Azure said, biting her lip. “It’s just—I don’t know. It felt like I was rambling, and he didn’t say much.”

“Azure, stop,” Jade said firmly. “You’re doing great. You’re starting to meet people, and that’s good. Just because it wasn’t a perfect conversation doesn’t mean you blew it.”

Azure sighed, knowing Jade was right but still feeling that small nagging doubt. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And what’s this about the cookout?” Jade’s tone shifted, playful again. “Are you going?”

“I don’t know if I should. Jey and Jimmy invited me, but I feel like it might be too soon, like I don’t really know anyone well enough to go.”

“That’s exactly why you should go! You’re invited, Azure, and it’s a cookout. You’ll meet more people, and it’ll give you a chance to see Roman again. Maybe even smooth out any awkwardness from yesterday. Come on, you gotta go.”

Azure leaned against the counter, cracking a few of her knuckles. “I don’t know…”

“No ma’am. No excuses. You’re going. Next time you see the twins, tell them you’re coming,” Jade insisted.

After a long pause, Azure sighed with a small smile. “If I see them, I’ll let them know I might be there.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing. You’ll have a good time, I promise.” Azure heard Jade exhale a deep breath before she continued. “Azure...” Jade’s voice softened, “I know it’s scary. You’ve been through so much, and it makes sense that you’d want to protect yourself. But you can’t close yourself off forever. You deserve happiness, too. And maybe that happiness is waiting for you in this new place, with these new people.”

Azure’s eyes stung with tears. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that. “It’s just... hard. Every time I think I’m ready to start over, it feels like…” A lump starts to form in her throat. “Like I’ll forget about him.”

“You’re not going to forget about Derrick,” Jade said firmly. “You’re honoring him by finding a way to live again.”

Azure swallowed, her emotions swirling. “Thank you for that sis.”

“Of course girl,” Jade said, her voice lightening. “And remember, I’m always here if you need to talk, okay?”

“Thanks, Jade. I really appreciate it.”

After they hung up, Azure looked at the small kitchen box she hadn’t quite finished unpacking. Jade was right; she needed to put herself out there, even if it felt strange and unfamiliar. Jade’s words echoed in her mind, but the fear remained. She had come here to start over, but every step toward something new felt like she was leaving pieces of herself behind. She wanted to blend into the newness of this place, to feel the laughter, the warmth, the life around her. But what if it hurt too much?

What if joy felt like a betrayal?

Could she really open herself up again?

The thought of Roman tugged at her, though she quickly brushed it aside.

Azure strolled out to the front porch. With a sigh, she pocketed her phone and made her way to the car; the gentle warmth of the Pensacola morning wrapping around her like a light blanket. The street was quiet, a slight breeze rustling the trees overhead as she unlocked the car and leaned in to retrieve a bag of things she had left the day before.

As she pulled the bag out, she heard the familiar rumble of a car engine from across the street. Glancing up, she noticed Jimmy pulling into the driveway at Roman’s house. He hopped out first, his usual energetic self, followed by a woman she recognized but had never formally met. Jimmy’s wife, she assumed, was stunning, her dark hair framing her face perfectly as she moved with an easy confidence.

Jimmy noticed Azure first. He waved enthusiastically before leaning over to say something to his wife, who looked in Azure’s direction and smiled.

“Aye, Azure!” Jimmy called out, his voice warm and friendly as always.

Azure froze, caught in his enthusiasm. She smiled politely and gave a small wave. “Hey, Jimmy.”

Without missing a beat, Jimmy nudged the woman, and the two of them started walking across the street toward her. “Thought we’d come say wassup before we head inside,” he flashed her a grin.

“Hey, I’m Naomi. We haven’t officially met, but I’ve seen you around.” Naomi smiled brightly, her energy as vibrant as her husband’s. Azure nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease as she introduced herself. “Yeah, I’ve seen you, too. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Naomi’s eyes sparkled, and she gave a quick glance toward Roman’s house. “We’re getting ready for the cookout at Jey’s, and Jimmy mentioned you might be coming?”

Azure shifted her weight slightly, unsure how to respond. “Yeah...I was thinking about it.”

Jimmy chuckled, nudging Naomi with his elbow. “What’d I tell you? She’s still on the fence.”

Naomi swatted his arm, turning her attention back to Azure. “You should come. It’s gonna be fun—nothing too big or formal. And Jey always makes sure everyone feels welcome.”

Azure bit her lip, feeling a mix of nervousness and uncertainty. “I appreciate the invite. I guess I just feel... out of place since I don’t really know anyone yet.”

“You won’t be out of place at all.” Jimmy chimed in again, his tone playful but sincere. “We all family. Besides, if you ever need someone to talk to, you got us.”

Naomi seemed to sense her internal debate. “Hey, no pressure. If you decide to come, we’d be happy to see you. If not, there’s always the next one.”

Azure glanced down at the bag in her hands, weighing her options. She didn’t want to keep feeling like she was isolating herself, not after Jade had basically given her an entire pep talk over the phone.Yes, it was just a cookout, just an afternoon with her neighbors. But it was more than that. It was a choice, a small crack in the armor she’d built around herself, a chance to remember how to belong again. Finally, she took a breath and looked back up at Naomi and Jimmy. “You know what, I’ll come. I could use some fun.”

“Great!” Naomi’s face lit up. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“Yeah, we’ll have a good time,” Jimmy added with a wink. “Glad you’re coming.”

Azure felt a weight lift off her shoulders. It wasn’t much, but agreeing to the cookout felt like a step forward. “Thanks y’all, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Here, give me your number.” Naomi said, pulling out her phone. “That way, if you need anything or want to come over early, you can text me.”

Azure quickly rattled off her number, feeling more at ease while Naomi typed it in and smiled.

“Alright, we’ll let you get back to it,” Jimmy said, giving her a quick wave before heading back to Roman’s with Naomi.

“See you later!” Naomi called over her shoulder with a friendly smile.

Azure watched them go, feeling lighter as she stood by her car, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Roman stood in the doorway of Audrey’s room, watching her small figure nestled under the covers. The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the quiet space. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of his daughter. She always slept so peacefully, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities that often swirled around them.

He took another sip of coffee from his mug, savoring the warmth. His mind drifted back to his conversation with Azure the night before. She’d been so open, talking about her day at work and how Seth had checked in on her. Her words replayed in his mind: “He pulled me into his office just to make sure I was adjusting okay.”

A familiar tension crept into his chest, his grip tightening around the mug. Rollins. Even just hearing his name brought up old resentments, ones he hadn’t realized were still buried so close to the surface. But this wasn’t Azure’s fault; she didn’t know the history, and she definitely didn’t need to bear the weight of it.

The sound of soft footsteps broke his thoughts, and Roman looked down just as Audrey appeared at the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

“Mornin’, angel,” he murmured, setting his mug down on the side table. He scooped her into his arms, her tiny body warm and heavy with sleep, her head nestled against his shoulder.

“Morning, daddy,” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

He ran a gentle hand over her back. “Did you sleep okay?”

She nodded, her cheek pressed against his shirt. “I dreamed about Uncle Jey’s dog. He was chasing Kitty around the house.” A little giggle escaped her, and the sound brought a lightness to his chest he didn’t realize he’d needed.

“Oh yeah?” Roman chuckled, hugging her tighter. “You think Kitty’s ready for the cookout today?”

Audrey perked up, her eyes brightening as she pulled back to look at him. “Are we going to Uncle Jey’s?”

“Mhm. Uncle Jim and Auntie Naomi are comin’ over soon to grab some stuff for the party. You’ll get to see everyone.”

Audrey wriggled out of his arms, a new energy lighting her face as she ran back into her room, ready to find the perfect outfit for the big day.

A smile still lingered on his lips as he made his way downstairs, only to hear a knock at the back door. He set down his coffee as Jimmy strolled in, his familiar grin lighting up the kitchen, Naomi right behind him.

“Morning big uce!” Jimmy called, already heading toward the fridge.

“Morning, Roman,” Naomi added warmly, giving him a quick hug before playfully swatting Jimmy’s hand away from the orange juice.

Jimmy leaned on the island, his grin unfazed. “Thought we’d swing by early, help you grab the cooler and some extra chairs for later.”

Roman nodded toward the garage door. “Should have everything in there, but let me know if you need an extra set of hands.”

“I’ll handle it,” Jimmy said, sauntering toward the garage.

Naomi took a seat on one of the barstools, resting her elbows on the counter as she looked at him with a curious smile. “You ready for today?”

“After all this work I’ve been doin’, I definitely need a break.” he admitted, but his thoughts wandered back to Azure, and the tug of their conversation lingered in his chest.

Naomi’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “Oh, by the way, Azure’s coming to the cookout.”

Roman looked up, surprised. “She is?”

Naomi’s grin grew wider, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Yep. She was hesitant, but I convinced her. Got her number and everything.”

He exhaled, trying to act indifferent, but his gaze softened. He hadn’t meant to come across as distant last night; he was just... caught off guard. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

Naomi must’ve noticed his thoughtful silence because she placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Want me to help Audrey get ready?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Roman said, the slight edge in his voice fading away. “She’ll be excited to see you.”

As Naomi left, Jimmy returned with the cooler and a few chairs. He noticed Roman’s thoughtful expression and raised an eyebrow. “I was gone for two seconds, uce. What got you lookin’ like that?”

Roman shook his head. “Talked to Azure last night. She mentioned Seth.”

“Rollins?” Jimmy’s face shifted, his casual demeanor replaced with a more serious look.

“Yeah,” Roman murmured, the bitterness creeping back. “Can’t believe he’s still tryna charm his way around. She doesn’t know, though. She doesn’t know what went down with him… with the chief.”

Jimmy rubbed his chin, his gaze sharp. “You still holdin’ onto that?”

Roman didn’t answer immediately, instead staring at the floor. His muscles tightened with a memory he wished he could bury deeper. "It’s hard not to hold onto it," he said quietly. "You know what almost happened. That mess with the chief… my career was on the line. All because of him."

“Yeah, I remember.” Jimmy grimaced, the weight of the past hanging in the air. “But come on, that was years ago. You made it through. Hell, you got promoted after all that.”

“I know, but it wasn’t easy.” Roman shook his head. “I had to work twice as hard to get back in their good graces. The way Rollins played it, he could’ve ruined me. I can’t just forget that.”

Jimmy crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “Look, I get it. Seth fucked you over, no doubt. But that’s his problem now, uce. You moved on, and you been solid ever since. He don’t get to mess with your head every time his name comes up.”

Roman met his cousin’s gaze, his grip on the mug loosening. “It’s just… hearin’ her talk about him like that— like he’s some kind of good guy? I can’t stand it.

Jimmy grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’re protective of her already, huh?”

“Not like that.” Roman’s voice was defensive, though he felt a flicker of something he couldn’t name. “She’s new. Tryna be neighborly, s’all.”

“Sure, uce.” Jimmy clapped a hand on his shoulder, bringing Roman back to the moment. “Just remember, today’s about family. Rollins can’t mess with that.”

A soft sigh fell from Roman’s lips, finally feeling a bit of the tension drain away. He nodded, letting Jimmy’s words settle over him.

As Jimmy took the cooler outside, Roman took a long breath, listening to the house come alive around him—the sound of Audrey’s voice drifting down the stairs, Naomi’s laughter mixing with it, and the faint hum of the van outside. Today was supposed to be about family, about finding peace in their little corner of the world.

But as the day unfolded, he couldn’t shake the feeling that seeing Azure again would bring more than he was prepared for.

The late afternoon sun bathed Jey’s backyard in a warm, golden light as the cookout got underway. Azure felt the humid warmth settle on her skin as the smoky, savory aroma of grilled ribs and burgers filled her senses. The laughter and familiar scent made the yard feel like a haven she hadn’t realized she needed. Picnic tables were scattered around, some with folding chairs and coolers brimming with drinks nearby. The end-of-summer air mixed with the distant sounds of football from the TV inside, made for the perfect backdrop to the Saturday afternoon. Kids ran across the grass, their voices blending into the hum of the adults chatting around them.

Azure arrived a little after two o'clock, gripping the strap of the small bag that hung over her shoulder. Her steps were careful as she approached the yard. Her eyes scanned the familiar faces of Jimmy and Jey, who were already loud and welcoming, laughing as they teased each other near the grill. Watching Jimmy and Jey bicker lightheartedly made her smile, but a small pang of loneliness crept in, a reminder of the family gatherings she missed back home.

Roman, she noticed, was there too. He leaned against the wooden fence a bit further back, but still near his cousins with a beer in his hand. As soon as Roman caught sight of her, he offered a small, friendly smile. It was a polite acknowledgment—nothing more, nothing less—but enough to make her stomach flip. She smiled back, feeling his eyes linger on her for a moment longer than needed, but he didn’t approach. She quickly moved to Naomi, who was arranging plates and utensils on the table.

“Hey, girl!” Naomi greeted her warmly, her bright smile infectious. “You made it! Jey was starting to think we’d have to send Jimmy over to drag you out the house.”

Azure laughed, feeling some of the tension melt away. “Ixnay the wellness check y’all, I‘m here in the flesh.”

“There you go!” Jey happily chimed in from the grill, flipping a row of burgers with exaggerated precision. “Stick around—it's gon’ be a great time.”

Jimmy sidled up beside the women, grinning ear to ear. “And don’t forget the game! It’s the best part of the cookout. You watch football?”

“Here he goes.” Naomi shook her head smiling while she finished setting up.

Azure smiled sheepishly. “I might be a little into it. I usually watch a lot of the games with my dad.”

“Aye, that's what we like to hear!” Jey exclaimed, transferring some of the food off of the grill and into an aluminum pan. “We take football very seriously ‘round here.”

Naomi rolled her eyes, though the fondness in her voice was undeniable. “That’s one way to put it. These two are like little kids whenever football's on.”

As they continued to talk, Azure felt a little more at ease. She enjoyed the lighthearted banter between the twins and Naomi, appreciating how they welcomed her. Naomi, especially, seemed attuned to Azure’s hesitance and kept things easygoing.

Roman, who had been watching them from a few feet away, finally stepped forward, offering a drink. “Hey, Azure,” he said quietly, though his voice carried easily over the noise. “Glad you could make it.”

Azure looked up, meeting his gaze. “I almost didn’t.” She admitted, accepting the drink with a gentle smile. “Y’know, your family is very persuasive. But this,” she gestured to the yard, “It’s nice.”

“They are.” He gave a firm nod in agreement, though his tone remained soft. “And I get that. Sometimes, meetings’ new people feels… complicated.” His words carried a weight she understood, a vulnerability that was subtle but genuine.

“Yeah,” Azure replied, pausing as she gathered her thoughts. “Especially when the past tends to follow you wherever you go.

Roman’s eyebrows rose just a bit. “Yeah, exactly.” There was a moment of silence between them, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, it felt like an unspoken understanding, a quiet space where words weren’t needed.

“So, yesterday-”

“Man what kind of play was THAT?!” The sound of Jimmy shouting at the TV drifted over from the back door of the house, interrupting Roman.

Azure chuckled nervously, nodding in the direction of the commotion.

“They weren’t playing when they said they took football pretty seriously, huh?”

Roman let out a small laugh, glancing toward the house. “Oh yeah, it’s basically a family requirement. You’re either all-in or on the sidelines, and there’s no in-between. But-”

“I think I’m gonna head inside, the game sounds like it’s getting pretty good.” Azure gently tapped her fingers against the glass bottle of her beer, cutting Roman off.

“Right,” he replied, her heart racing slightly as she stepped away from him, grateful for the excuse to avoid the conversation. I’ll see you in there?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Roman cleared his throat, watching her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

•────────────────•

Inside the house, the game was in full swing, and Azure eventually found herself in the living room, drawn to the TV. She smiled as she watched the players race down the field, her heart speeding up with the game’s intensity.

A little girl soon wandered over to her, eyes wide with curiosity as she plopped down beside Azure on the couch. "Are you watching the game too?" The girl asked, her voice small but full of interest.

Azure looked up, recognizing her immediately. Roman’s daughter. "I sure am.” Azure grinned. “Do you like football?"

Audrey nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Jey always watch. Daddy watches sometimes too."

She hadn’t even noticed the little girl mimicking her movements, sitting cross-legged on the couch and watching the game with the same focused expression. It was hard not to smile at the sight.

"I bet your uncles get really into it, huh? They’re over there shouting louder than the TV." Azure smiled, her eyes flicking towards the open back door where the twins were already deep in a loud debate over a recent play.

Audrey giggled, her eyes lighting up. “They do! Uncle Jimmy says the refs are ‘blind as bats,’ but I don’t know what that means. And Uncle Jey is always yelling.” Azure laughed as Audrey went on about her time with her uncles, with a mix of childlike intensity and joy.

Azure noticed Roman from the corner of her eye, catching his gaze for a brief second before looking away. Her heart raced, the conversation from the previous evening still lingered between them, but the last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself even more.

“Aye, uce! You just gonna stand there and look moody all afternoon, or you gonna go inside with everybody?” Jey yelled across the yard.

“See.” Audrey added, causing Azure to to suppress a laugh.

Roman chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way over to the group. As he settled onto the arm of the couch next to Audrey, he glanced at Azure, the playful spark in her eyes meeting his own.

“Think you’re stealin’ our cheerleader here.”

Azure raised an eyebrow. “Maybe she just knows a good team when she sees one.” She glanced down at Audrey, who giggled and nodded in agreement.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Roman said with mock offense. “Guess I’m just the backup then?”

“Looks like it,” Azure shot back, a glimmer of humor in her eyes. She relaxed against the couch, her hands resting on her lap as she kept a slight distance.

“Careful, Roman. You might lose your spot for good if she keeps this up,” Jimmy teased, settling in his own seat as he glanced at the game on the TV.

“I don’t know, uce.” Roman rested his arm on the back of the couch. “I think I can handle the competition.”

•────────────────•

Throughout the afternoon, Azure caught him watching her more often than she expected. Their eyes would meet and there he’d be—his gaze lingering on her, studying her. It’s just curiosity. She told herself. Just the same polite interest people held when meeting someone new, yet there was an intensity to it she couldn’t ignore.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard, the cookout started to wind down, with people moving inside to clean up or grab their last plates of food. Azure decided to stay behind in the kitchen to help clean up some of the dishes. She saw Roman out in the yard, gathering up plates and empty cans, her eyes following him as he stepped through the sliding glass door and joined her at the counter. The sound of clinking dishes filled the silence between them for a few moments before Roman spoke.

"Thanks for helpin’ out," he said, his voice low but sincere.

"No problem. It’s the least I could do." Azure looked up, setting a plate back down in the sink.

“You mentioned Seth Rollins yesterday," he started, his jaw tightening slightly at the name.

“I didn’t mean to bring up anything uncomfortable...”

“It’s fine,” Roman paused, drumming his fingertips on the marble counter before continuing. “Let’s just say we had some...disagreements in the past.”

Azure’s gaze softened as she watched him, noting the tension that crept into his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too much,” she said gently, sensing the weight behind his words.

“It’s not that,” He stared down at the plate in his hand, his voice measured. “I just don’t want you gettin’ blindsided by him if he decides to get involved in anything…beyond work.”

She furrowed her brows, curiosity blending with concern. “Involved how?”

Roman lowered his voice before leaning against the counter, facing her. “Seth’s got a habit of getting close to people, making them trust him, and then…things go south fast if he doesn’t get his way.” His gaze flickered to hers, a shadow passing through his eyes before he glanced down.

“Sounds…complicated,” Azure chose her words with caution. She could sense this was something he didn’t open up about easily.

He shrugged, though a glimpse of hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Just be careful. I’m pretty sure you can handle yourself, but he’s… persuasive. And I wouldn’t want you caught up in his web.”

She nodded slowly.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the noise from outside fading into the background. Roman’s gaze softened as he looked at her, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “Just… watch out for yourself, alright?”

Azure’s voice softened in response. “I will.”

The intensity in Roman’s his expression faded to something warmer. “I have to admit,” he said, crossing his arms casually, “I didn’t expect you to be such a football fan. You might even give Jimmy and Jey a run for their money.”

Azure laughed, a sound that seemed to light up her whole face. “I don’t know about that. Those two are intense,” she replied, glancing toward the yard where the twins were laughing loudly and nudging each other as they sat at one of the tables, sipping their beers. “I just grew up around it, so it sort of stuck.”

“Oh yeah?” Roman raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “Your family must be football people then?”

“That’s definitely an understatement,” Azure nodded. “Every Sunday was a huge thing growing up. My dad’s a big fan of it, and I’d just sit there with him, getting into the game and the whole atmosphere.” Her eyes softened a little, lost in thought. “I guess it just… reminds me of home.”

Roman watched her carefully, noting the brief flicker of nostalgia in her eyes. “Well, you came across the right people,” he said, gesturing to the yard. “Between the twins and Audrey, they’re all in serious need of someone who actually knows what’s happening on the field. I swear Audrey’s been pickin’ up their bad habits.”

Azure chuckled, shaking her head. “She’s already got a bit of Jey’s attitude in her cheer, I can tell.”

He glanced back at the living room where Audrey was napping. "So you’ve converted my little girl to your team, huh?" he teased, still leaning casually against the counter.

Azure raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I can’t help it if Audrey has good taste. Besides, she was all in after a few plays.”

“I noticed.” A bit of pride evident in his smile. “But I can't help but feel a little jealous that you stole her away from me today."

Azure placed a hand on her chest, playfully taking offense. “I would never! Maybe you should join us and see what it’s like to be on the winning side for once.”

Roman raised his hands in defense, playing along. “Oh, it’s like that, huh? Careful, you might just end up recruitin’ me to your team.”

Azure’s smirk softened, her eyes holding his for a second longer than she’d intended. She liked this playful side of him, a glimpse into something that felt less guarded. “Not sure you’re up for the challenge,” she shot back.

Roman chuckled, his usually stoic demeanor breaking with the smallest of smiles. “Tell you what,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his phone, “maybe next game day, you can give me some pointers. Since you’re so sure I’d lose.”

Her eyes widened slightly, the offer surprising her. She paused, then nodded, taking her phone out too. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, her fingers hovering over her screen. “And if Audrey sticks to my team, you’ll know why.”

Handing his phone to her, Roman watched as she keyed in her number, a spark of warmth flickering between them. When she handed it back, he gave her a small nod, glancing down at the new contact saved on his screen. “Guess I’ll just have to work twice as hard to win her back,” he said, his voice low, but his smile hinted at a more personal admission.

Azure gave him a playful side-eye, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

•────────────────•

Dear Brother I know I said I’d write to you sooner, but I keep finding it hard to put everything into words. I feel a lot worse than I let on, and it dredged up so much I’d been burying. I couldn’t take it anymore—the control, the way everything's been twisted to make me feel guilty. I thought putting distance would help clear my mind, but the past just won’t stay in the past. I hate feeling like this, and knowing that there’s nothing I can do to change it. Oh, and about that person I met a while back…it’s been…really good, actually. It’s comforting and freeing in ways I hadn’t imagined. And I didn’t realize how much I needed that until now. I think this might be something real, and that thought scares me but also excites me. You two would be the best of friends, I know it. I just wish you could be down here with me. I love you, always.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #firefighter!au

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 10 months ago

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hey maggots PLEASE CALM DOWN ONE MOMENT PRESS CONFERENCE.

Okay. Have we stopped screaming? Okay, nice. *taps mic* Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your--I mean, hi, Good Omens fandom and maggots. I was going to make a new intro post eventually, but after you all flattened my notes with eldritch screeching I think a press conference is more fitting. Especially considering the phrasing of these beauties:

Maggots I love you but look me in the eyes and tell me you're not journalists reporting straight to the Times, with full honesty. You cannot. The how do you feel about this is only missing several microphones with news outlet names all in my face and that's wonderful. Entirely valid. Press conference time it is.

First, for those of you who do not need a Q and A, a quick note: Um hello maggots, yes I am still grieving, cheers to the people who queued sad Good Omens posts for the exact time I finished watching. That is dedication, truly, to torturing your mascot. A most sincere fuck you to all of those kind folks.

Next, Neil, thank you for showcasing my madness. I barely remember making that updated post. It was 2 am and I tried to convince myself it was a bad idea. So of course I did it anyway and now I am staring in horror at how unhinged I have revealed myself to be. You picked the most perfectly awful time to delve into the fray. I raise my glass to you.

Alright. For everyone else who is utterly confused and/or has just entered this madness, below is the press conference you have instigated, my loves.

You: ASMI WAKE UP NEIL REBLOGGED YOU. Me: I'M AWAKE I PROMISE THANK YOU ALL THE TWENTY ODD PEOPLE WHO SHOUTED FOR ME TO WAKE UP, YES I WAS NAPPING. BUT I AM AWAKE. IT IS DIFFICULT NOT TO BE. You: HOW DOES IT FEEL BEING LESS THAN A MONTH IN THE FANDOM AND-- Me: I was kidnapped, so with the blindfold and all the ropes, I'll be honest, I lost track of time. It could have been less than a month. *stares into distance* It could have been eighty years since Jan 4th 2024. You: YOU'RE AN ADOPTIVE MAGGOT. Me: Now hang on one second y'all you're stealing my term. I coined maggots to describe all the people, in the Good Omens fandom or otherwise, who kidnapped me or followed me or watched me descend into madness. Why? Because I was made the Mascot of the fandom, and Maggot sounded like Mascot. Kind of. I didn't know at that time that there was a bloody maggot scene in Good Omens. I also didn't know that apparently in the Bible, Bildad the Shuite calls mortals 'maggots'. But either way. I'm the adopted mascot. And the adopted child of divorce. You: If people who follow you or watch your descent are maggots, does that make Neil a maggot? Me: Uh okay I've got this question several times. @neil-gaiman, Neil I'm sorry, I'm going to pass this question to you. You are free to reply or not as you choose. *hands one of the mics over* You: ARE YOU OKAY, ASMI? Me: THANK YOU FOR CHECKING IN. *clutches Crowley even closer* NO I AM BLOODY NOT. I'M ON DAY FOUR OF GRIEVING AFTER THE SECOND SEASON. ANY MENTION OF POTTED PLANTS MAKES ME EMOTIONAL. THE GOOD OMENS BOOK IS ARRIVING TODAY IN THE MAIL, THANKS JEFF BEZOS FOR AMAZON. OH WAIT AMAZON IS THE STREAMER FOR GOOD OMENS. THANKS BEZOS AGAIN. IF I HEAR THE WORDS RITZ, EDINBURGH, PLANT, RED, BLACK, DEMON, HELL, STARS, CONSTELLATIONS, ESPRESSO, I WILL START TO UGLY CRY. *SHOVES MICS ASIDE, RUNS THROUGH THE CROWD TO GO SOB IN A CORNER ABOUT CROWLEY IN EDINBURGH NEXT TO ELSPETH AND WEE MORAG UNTIL THE GOOD OMENS BOOK ARRIVES AND I CRY OVER MY BABY ANTICHRIST AS WELL*

Cheers everyone conference over because your poor Good Omens Mascot is currently incapacitated with grief goodbye I'm sure you understand--

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starlightshadowsworld · 10 months ago

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Heroes of Olympus but when Jason returns to Camp Jupiter, he's pissed.

He doesn't cower at the sight of his camp but stands taller. A steelness in his eyes no one at Camp Half Blood has ever seen before.

But one those in Camp Jupiter know all to well.

"Twelth Leigion Fulminata, stand at attention."

He doesn't even need to raise his voice as every single Roman demigod stops what their doing to look at him.

The only thing on their faces is fear.

"Oh would you look at that, you do know how to follow orders." Says Jason, strolling forward and.

Two centurions scramble to get a seat for him, Jason sits down nodding in thanks and dismissing them.

"Does anyone care to explain, just what the fuck has been going on here in my absence?"

Octavian raises a hand and Jason snorts.

"Augur, why am I not suprised? The floor is yours."

Octavian nods, a grin on his face and began to explain what had occurred.

All the while Jason listens, his expression giving nothing away. When Octavian finished, Jason sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.

"If there's one thing I can't tell you idiots off its for making my life boring. Your dismissed...actually one last thing Augur?"

Octavian paused, turning back around to face Jason. "Yes, sir?" Jason frowned "wipe that smug look off your face before I do it for you."

Octavian went pale, all traces off amusement gone from his face.

"Thank you. Your dismissed, get out of my sight." Octavian left without a second word.

"Jason"

"Praetor Ramirez-Arellano"

Reyna winced, and she wasn't the only one. Jason never called her by her title unless they were in the Senate.

He was hurt.

"Do tell me, has Augur Octavian missed anything in his explanation?" Reyna shook her head, for as pretentious as he was Octavian had spoken the truth.

Jason rose to his feet.

"Oh but he did, he neglected to mention that there were 3 Praetors standing before us. Now, unless the rules have changed their are only supposed to be 2."

Jason looked past Reyna, his gaze resting on Percy who waved awkwardly. "State your name."

Percy, feeling very much like he was intruding in on something answered him. "Percy Jackson."

Recognition flashed in Jason's gaze, and he softened momentarily. "Percy Jackson, son of Posideon? Formerly apart of this Camp?" He asked, gesturing to his orange Camp Half Blood top.

"Yup."

Jason nodded "apologises, Jackson. Your friends and I traveled here, you may wait in the Senate. I will release them to you momentarily." Percy grinned "thanks, erm... Sorry about all of this I really didn't know."

Jason held up a hand "that's quite alright, you are not at fault for this." Percy left and Jason's smile vanished.

"Tell me, when did the Senate allow for a new Praetor to be reinstated? And why someone so new? I'd get if it was due to an it emergency field promotion, but that wasn't the case."

He couldn't even look at her and it hurt.

"I thought you were dead, Jason.

Jason laughed, but there was no humour in it. It sent chills down everyone's spines.

"Really? Than please, show me the search parties, point me to the evidence you collected that bought you too such a conclusion. For that matter, where's my funeral pyre?"

Jason shook his head, anger and sadness in his eyes. "Don't bullshit me. You didn't think I was dead, you didn't even look. And frankly I don't think you cared too."

He looked Reyna in the eye. "You replaced me, with a Greek. I get shit for being named after a Greek hero, but none of you had a problem with this. You wanted to replace me, Reyna. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you."

He shook his head, turning his back on her.

"Jason, wait I-"

"We have several guests at our gate that we need to welcome. I've already had their weapons checked but you've proven how little you trust my authority so you might want to hurry up on that."

And with that he left to the Senate.

Jason swapped his outfit with Percy who apologised once again.

"Really man, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. My Leigion had been trying to get rid of me since the day I showed up. Unfortunately for them, I'm more valuable alive than dead." Explains Jason, Percy frowned.

"Well, fuck em." He grinned when Jason laughed in suprise. "You are definitely something else, Jackson." Percy grinned wider "see you're learning fast. I think we'll be good friends you and I."

Jason raised an eyebrow "you sure? Most of my friends stab me in the back." Percy nodded, a sincerity in his eyes that made Jason almost believe he wouldn't.

It felt too good to be true.

"Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong." Percy put a hand out "Percy Jackson, son of Posideon and former Praetor." Jason shook his hand. "Jason Grace, son of Jupiter and current Praetor."

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

#long post #jason grace #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #reyna avila ramirez arellano #octavian pjo #... I don't think it's bashing if it's canon?

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ratretro · 5 days ago

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So because I'm not normal about them I kind of wanted to look at a specific page of this comic:

Buckle up this is gonna get long

I think it's very interesting that Till isn't in his own art piece, to start with, but also how this scene is portrayed. Throughout the 4nakt Garden pages you see a different side to Till. The side where you get an idea about how serious music is to him and how deeply he loves it (maybe even because it's one of the last connections to his mom that he has). You see how deeply he loves to create in the way he draws. Almost as if he wants to leave pieces of himself behind, to show he was in this world and that he had lived.

In his biggest artwork, while he's not in it, the other 4nakt are a centerpiece of it. You have Mizi (she's a bit more detailed and so a bit more noticeable right off the bat) underneath the tree, wind blowing through her hair and it feels very free. Like she could do anything, be anyone, lead everyone around her.

Behind her is Sua at a slight distance which we've never seen before. Where Mizi is, Sua will always follow, but here she seems to hang back. She's not showing movement as if she means to follow like Ivan who's walking.

Now, Ivan is separate from the other two, but he's walking forward with what feels like intent to me. Who knows what he's up to or where he's going. We just know he's moving forward. But this is often how Till felt about Ivan anyway. Till has always said he doesn't understand Ivan; Has even called him annoying lol but it's the gap between the 3 that has me curious.

Maybe Till was wondering if that was where he should be. Maybe I'm delusional because he was consistent in his affection for Mizi (whether it be seeing her as his god or just having a boy crush) but I'm thinking about the way he hesitated in the meteor scene. I'm always thinking about the meteor scene it's my roman empire.

What if Till isn't in the piece because he doesn't know where to be. Is he moving forward with Ivan or staying behind with Sua to always be behind Mizi but not dare to be near her? What if this piece holds his slight confusion.

He hesitated before leaving Ivan behind in the meteor scene. Art portrays the emotions of the artist is what I've been told and Till is at his core very emotional. Till feels with his entire being. And that has always seeped into his work whether it be songs or sketches. Examples: drawing Mizi on his music sheets, drawing Ivan on the Cure lyrics after he died. A mixture of music and the things he's thinking or feeling in that moment.

Now, I'm sorry to be delusional it's my fatal flaw

But in the scene where we get to see the finished work it says that the 'product' was not left to be lonely and Mizi is clearly in front of him but he's not interacting with her; he's interacting with Ivan. This page that's putting emphasis on Till not being lonely does have the people he cares for in his art and Mizi does have a clear place in that, but physically he's hanging back with Ivan.

Everything is always a bit too late with those two but maybe Till had finally made a choice to walk forward with Ivan.

Anyway thanks for reading my delusional take on ivantill

#ivantill #alnst friday #alnst #alnst ivan #alnst till #just thoughts but like a lot of them #cause im not normal about them

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personasintro · 2 months ago

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i know mentioming kiko triggers most of the readers but i think yall should grow tf up like shes my roman empire and i think about her a lot u know 😔😔 when this chapter, where she told jungkook the truth, came out i hated her just like others and i was like "shes so evil like how can she do this to jungkook". but as time passed i just realized that shes the realest character because if i were in the same situation i might have done the same thing(?) Like i dont know exactly what id do but because of fear i couldve done the same so i cant really judge her. like we all know having a child is a big responsibility and she was scared and of course she wasnt ready for this and obviously its her body and her choice and she did whatever she thought was good for her. I think throwing a mud at her and criticising her is too much because she suffered enough already and i truly dont understand why do yall hate this woman so much?? I mean yeah she shouldve told jungkook everything because jungkook really deserved to know and we all knkw he would understand her and her choice but she was scared and not ready. Like we cant even imagine the pain she was going through because as i mentioned before having a kid is a big responsibility and she was the one who had to carry the baby for 9 months and give birth and everything and she was not ready. like yeah jungkook would be on her side but so what?? his support would be a great help but mothers still have to go through pain, fear, uncertainty and so many emotions and i think men would never get this (im sorry, i know jungkooks an amazing man but he still wouldnt get it okay???) and i trully feel sorry for her and of course the way she handled the situation was so wrong and i do not support her for that, for example, for lying to jungkook, breaking up with him without telling him everything, then lying to him that she cheated 😭😭like she was so stupid for that and she made him suffer so much like imagine u told him u cheated on him and he still wanted to give u a second chance,even though he was in so much pain??? like i understand him and yes he deserved to know everything and she was so wrong for getting back to him and still makkng him believe she cheated but I feel so sorry for both of them and i really understand kiko and her fears and im her apologist because everyone makes mistakes and obviously she wasnt a perfect person. I hope she will be happy in the future because she dont deserve all this pain.

thank you for sharing your thoughts on this! we've had quite a lot conversations about her character and to be honest, she might be one of my favorite characters i've ever written. not because I love her or anything, but because she's so interesting to me. and i've said this before many times, but i guess people perceive things differently based on the point of view which is completely understandable – if the story was about them, kiko being y/n – some opinions and reactions might've been different. i do believe there would be many opinions of what she did and it being not right, but i guess readers would show more mercy with the way of how they talk about her character or they would definitely not use so many curse words ahaaha

#ask #ask: mutual help

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kingkat12 · 2 months ago

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hickeys (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, softcore-y smut, tw!bullying, Roman using his powers for no good, he's being so weird about virgin!reader, angsty fluff lol

summary: after having sacrificed your friendship with Letha for Roman's limited understanding of love and affection, you suddenly learn the consequences of your actions...

word count: 7,406 (you know me, not sorry anymore)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8

Roman had a hickey right on the side of his throat. Thankfully, I knew who gave him that one-- me.

It dawned on me that I had never seen him with one before. Despite how easy it was for me to get lost in the feelings of joy, finding a sense of pride at being the only one allowed to do that to him, I remembered Roman hadn't always been open to these sorts of things. He had warmed up to it gradually, with everything starting as a small incident at my place a week ago.

We had been splayed out on my bed, my face buried in his chest as I took a casual mid-day nap on top of him. It had become a habit-- Roman would come over, we'd bicker about something, then make out for about an hour until he decided to take his smoke break on my balcony. But today was different; the both of us had just finished a rather hard math test, so we were absolutely spent by the time we hit my bed. Roman didn't even have the energy to smoke, and seeing how tired he was, I decided to be bold and cuddle up to him; however, I hadn't expected us to fall asleep like this.

Weirdly enough, he didn't resist my advances. He'd usually start feeling uncomfortable as he wasn't used to affection like this, but today, Roman had his arms around me as I laid with my head on top of his chest. I had been a little embarrassed to wake up to the sight of a tiny puddle of my drool on his sweater, and I tapped the spot with my fingers as though that would make it go away.

Roman awoke, groggy. He let out a low grunt as he raised his head, trying to get a look at what I was doing. "Is that what I think it is?--"

"No," My words barely came out louder than a whisper, now covering the spot with my palm as I looked up at him with a soft smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Roman, being the stubborn asshole he was, didn't even register my question. "Did you drool on me?"

Oh God, this was mortifying. I figured he'd find out anyway; I slowly removed my hand from the spot, sliding off him. "Sorry..." As I rolled over, my back against the bed, I could only sigh. Being Roman's unofficial official girlfriend was hard, especially now that I didn't have any friends to discuss it with.

However, there were moments where the hardships were worth it. Moments like these ones, where Roman now flipped over and unexpectedly snuggled up to me, his face hiding in the crook of my neck. "I've never been drooled on like that before," he said, his words muffled in my hair. "This is my favourite sweater."

With wary movements, I brought one hand up to his brown locks, gently stroking through them. I wasn't sure what the next sound from Roman was, but the closest thing would be a purr. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, my other hand running up and down his broad back. "Want me to buy you a new one?"

Roman huffed; "Don't be stupid. I'll just leave it in the washer here if you don't mind,"

"The washer?" My hands froze, no longer ghosting over his skin with gentle touches. "It will dry up in a second, Roman, get yourself together. And even worse, I might get the urge to wear it if you leave it here." I immediately regretted that joke the second it slipped past my lips-- in hopes of brushing over it, scared he'd climb off me and go back to being his usual self, I resumed running my fingers through his hair and up his back.

To my surprise, Roman didn't react much. The only thing I could notice was a rather shaky breath against my neck, almost as though he had just had a really tempting thought. Eventually, he spoke; "It wouldn't fit you very well,"

I did my best to shrug, although that was hard to do with someone on top of me. "That's not the premise," I huffed. "People usually wear each others' stuff when they're into one another. It's a cute thing."

"... So you'd want me to leave my sweater here?" Roman eventually propped himself up on his elbows, meeting my gaze. "Why? It's not like you'd be able to wear it anywhere."

It was in moments like these that I realized how little Roman actually knew about girls. He was supposedly very good in bed, but with feelings and affection? He was like a very aggressive puppy with gorgeous fur-- some men you simply have to train to be soft. "I'd wear it at home," I said, reaching out to brush his messed up hair away from his green eyes. "Especially when it's stormy outside and I'm doing my homework."

Something about my words seemed to be leaving small cracks in Roman's shell-- had I not been so observant, I wouldn't have noticed the way his pupils dilated or the way his features softened as he looked at me. "Would it be a one-way thing?" he asked; was I imagining things, or did he sound shy? "You get my sweater, and I get..." Roman propped himself up further, taking a quick glance around my room. It didn't take long before his eyes landed on the plain, black hair ties on my nightstand, and he wasted no time reaching for two in one go. "I get these."

Seeing him so serious about this exchange was too funny-- I couldn't help the giggle building in my chest, suppressing a rather obnoxious laugh. "Yeah, I think that's smart," I murmured, stroking my thumb over his cheek. "Your hair is getting a little long... Would probably make your life easier."

Roman rolled his eyes, huffing. "It's not exactly like you have anything else lying around here!"

There was no way in hell I was about to tell him that my room was this clean because I had predicted he'd come over. "Okay, but it still works," I reached for his hand, taking the ties into my palm before rolling them over his fingers, watching as the rubber bands now sat comfortably at his wrist. "There you go!" I exclaimed, beaming up at a rather perplexed Roman. "Sweater, please."

It took a few seconds for him to react-- his eyes fixated on the black rubber ties around his wrist, and before I knew it, I saw slivers of pink appearing on his cheeks. I had never seen him react to anything like this before, and I had no idea why Roman was suddenly unmistakably blushing. "Fuck," he breathed. "That's cute."

To hide his blush, he quickly wried his sweater off his body, throwing it away on a chair nearby before burying his face in the crook of my neck again, putting his whole weight back on me. "Promise to use it for dirty stuff too," he grumbled, probably to save face, before pressing a kiss to my neck.

I was happy Roman didn't see how brightly I was smiling-- I would've been told off immediately, and he'd most likely retract right back into his shell. It was unusual for him to accept any sort of affection, and I wondered whether he had let anyone this close before. The more I got to know Roman, the more he was sleepy and babbling around me, I realized that I had to gradually ease physical kindness into his life to make our weird whatever-ship work.

The whatever-ship I had sacrificed everything for.

And I would've spiraled deeper into thoughts about it, but the sudden pressure I felt against my neck made me snap out of it-- I realized he was giving me a rather hefty hickey, a familiar tingling sensation coursing its way through my body. I let out a satisfied sigh, my fingers burying themselves deeper into Roman's hair as he moved elsewhere on my neck to make a second one. "These will go well with the sweater," he purred against my skin.

I held back a shiver-- The hate I had once felt for him had quickly turned into whatever this was. All I knew, was that it felt good enough to distract me from the guilt that kept gnawing at me after betraying Letha the way I did. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next day at school actually marked a month since the last time Letha and I had spoken on the bleachers. A month of staring at her longingly from afar like a kicked puppy and asking our mutual friends how she was. It didn't take long before they all heard what had happened between Roman and I, and they suddenly became Letha's friends only.

I didn't know how lonely I would be after I chose Roman, and it was slowly breaking my heart. Being blacklisted by nearly all the girls at school was tough, to say the least.

So as I rummaged around my locker, getting ready for my next class, I didn't expect Letha to approach. There was no way I could imagine she'd do that, especially after the way she had been denying all my attempts of reconciliation. But here she was, blonde hair styled to perfection, and her green, stern eyes meeting mine the second I closed my locker door.

I stared right back, at a loss for words despite opening my mouth to speak.

Letha cleared her throat, pressing her books tightly against her chest. "It's been a month," she tried, something about her softening with the weight of her words. "I think I might be ready to... talk."

My heart jumped up like never before, immediately thrown into a feeling of ecstatic victory. "What?" I squeaked, unable to stop my beaming look of joy. "Are you serious?"

Letha shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress her smile. "I think it's time to try, at least?--" Her words came to a halt the second I turned to face her fully, and her green eyes immediately found my neck.

My hair had moved to behind my shoulders as I turned around, revealing the hickeys I had tried my best to cover with setting powder and foundation. It didn't take long before Letha's softening look became one of horror as she took a step back, clearly repulsed.

I immediately went into panic, piecing it together. "No, Letha, wait!--"

There was no stopping Letha before she turned on her heel, bolting down the corridor with heavy steps.

I turned back towards my locker, pressing my forehead against it. There was no way in hell I'd let everyone see me cry in public again. It felt as though Letha had dug her hand into my chest and ripped out my heart, now squeezing it until it finally popped. My breath hitched as I stepped away from the locker, sniffling as I felt a sob build.

Just as I was about to leave and get to class somehow, the familiar scent of cinnamon entered my system. "What did Letha want?" Roman asked, his hands tucked into his pockets as he approached. His brows were drawn together in a disapproving look as he watched Letha disappear down the hallway in unmatched hurry, and I got a good glance at him when I finally turned around to face him. How long had he been watching me from afar?

Roman's glare quickly faded away when his attention shifted and he noticed the way my eyes had glossed over. His whole tough look disappeared within a sliver of a second, and I was unsure whether he noticed it himself. "... Nothing good, I see?"

I shied away from his gaze, my eyes darting down to my shoes. "She wanted to make up all until she saw... well," To demonstrate, I turned a little, showing Roman the once blank canvas which was now covered in about six hickeys that I counted last night. It was clear to me that my attempt at hiding them had failed.

Roman could only sigh, an infuriating grin now spreading across his face. "I'm going to say sorry now, but know that I don't fully mean it because... the sight of you like this is so damn hot," He leaned down, pressing his lips against my forehead as he took my face into his hands. I couldn't help but notice that he was still wearing my two black rubber bands just as my breath hitched at the loving gesture.

Something about the kiss made my heart skip, but another part was ripping at me; Roman clearly cared more about the fact that he had marked me than how upset I was. I hummed in response, not knowing what else to say before much later; "Don't do that,"

"Do what?"

"Don't kiss me like that," I mumbled, pressing my back against my locker to make as much space between us as possible. "Just... Don't."

Roman's first reaction was on display with a stunned expression, up until his brows drew together in what I could only read as annoyance. "Fine," he said, teeth gritted. His hands fell down at his sides, trying to save face as he took a step away from me; "I'm just trying to make you feel a little better, it's not that fucking deep." In true Godfrey fashion, he also proceeded to storm down the hallway, clearly flustered after being shut down.

I had to take a long breath-- this was a lot to take in for one day. Roman being in denial about his feelings also didn't help much. I wanted to run after him, grab his hand and tell him that he could do absolutely whatever he wanted with me, that I'd love for him to kiss me like that once more, but I knew I couldn't.

It was hard to believe how badly I had fallen for a guy who could barely regulate his own feelings. Someone who insisted on making it apparent to everyone that I was his without actually wanting to put a name to it. I let out a sigh, watching Roman get further and further away. Something told me I maybe should've followed him, at least asked him whether he wanted to come to my place later and sleep next to each other, but my plans quickly fell apart when I witnessed the one thing I hated seeing most in the world.

In the midst of his angry storm-off, Roman managed to turn his head to allow for his eyes to follow a girl with an exceptionally short skirt passing him by.

I wanted to throw up-- the hungry look in his eyes made me nauseous. Everything about Roman looking at someone in the way he usually looked at me made me want to burst into tears all over again.

No matter what I felt for him, one thing would never change; I hated Roman Godfrey. I hated him and the way he made me feel like a stomped bug. Hated the way he'd look at me after he'd make me cum around his fingers, the way he'd stroke my hair away from my forehead with the gentlest touch as I fell asleep, and the way he'd insist on driving me everywhere just to spend some extra time together.

I hated him. I hated this feeling, and especially what it had done to me, my friendships, and my reputation.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... Thoughts of my reputation went out the window now that Roman was back in my bed. Nothing suggestive, of course-- he was currently half asleep next to me. Even more heartwarming, was the fact that he still wore my two hair ties around his wrist, and I could get a proper look at him now that he was resting. I loved this feeling; we were both wearing the items we had exchanged.

"It looks good on you," he mumbled, tugging me closer with the arm he had around me. "My sweater. I thought I would hate seeing you in it, but it's not so bad."

My body was halfway on top of his, and I couldn't help but giggle as he pressed me closer to his chest. "Why did you think you'd hate it?" I adored the feeling of being completely engulfed in Roman-- the lingering scent of his perfume stuck to the gigantic sweater I was in, and his big arms around me made all my pain feel worth it.

All up until Roman hummed, eyes still closed as his hands raked through my hair; "You wearing my stuff makes it real... Like you're mine. I don't know whether I want that responsibility,"

I could only sigh, unsure whether I should let my heart sink just yet. Sometimes, it was best to dig around in Roman's mud of a brain before settling for the version he wanted me to believe. "So you would be okay if I was with someone else?"

Roman opened one eye, glancing down at me as he raised a brow. "Are you with someone else?"

"... No,"

"Would you want to be?"

What an odd question; one he didn't need to know the truth of. "Would you care if I did?"

Roman opened his second eye, now scouring my face to check for cracks in my facade. Something told me he wasn't buying it, but that he wasn't about to take any chances. Eventually, he scoffed, rolling his eyes before closing them again; "Fuck off,"

"Fuck off yourself," I mumbled, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I tried to dull out the fact that his arm automatically wrapped itself tighter around me before I spoke once more; "Answer the question."

"Why?" Roman shifted, pulling my whole body on top of his, letting out a satisfied sigh now that all of my weight was laid on him. "It's a stupid question. Why can't we just enjoy this moment?"

He had a point, sure-- I just didn't deem it enough. "I hope you remember that I have a lot on the line here," I placed my hands next to his head, pushing myself up to get a proper look at him. Roman eventually opened his big, green eyes, and they quickly rounded out as they met mine. Everything about looking into his eyes made me want to squeal and pepper him with kisses; this was dangerous territory. I knew had to pull myself together; "I have, like... zero friends because of this. Because I chose you. And you not wanting to take on that responsibility or whatever it was that you called it, makes me feel like crap. You make me feel like crap."

It was clear that Roman was holding his breath without thinking about it. He stared up at me, unsure what to say; "... All the time?"

"What?"

"Do I make you feel like crap all the time?"

That was certainly a way to spin it-- taken aback, I furrowed my brows as I pondered the question. "Not... all the time, no,"

Roman hummed; he seemed content with that answer. "I know you're upset about the whole Letha thing," he said, his big hands traveling down to grab at my hips as he shifted me to sit in his lap. "I also see that I'm not exactly helping the situation, but... you can't keep blaming me for your decision."

"... Okay," His request was simple enough-- I was ready to adhere to his wishes. "But then you have to say it out loud."

"Say what?"

"That you like me,"

I watched as Roman's eyes widened, his grip on my hips tightening. His whole body tensed up, unsure whether to speak or not. It was clear that he was conflicted about how to tread forward, and I held my breath the second his plush lips parted. Roman sat up, his back now supported by my headboard. Like this, I was sat in his lap with my arms draped around his neck, and he connected our foreheads with a sigh. Roman's words eventually came out like a slow, warm whisper; "I don't know what I feel,"

It felt as though my heart had lodged itself into my throat-- what? I was about to start arguing with him, cursing him out for dragging me through the mud for nothing, all until Roman suddenly reached for my hand. He placed my palm over his heart, his eyes finding mine as he steadied his breathing. "I don't know what I feel," he echoed. "But I know that looking at you makes my heart beat faster. Feel how hard it's going?" He pressed my hand further up against his chest, something about his touch giving away the sincere nature of this gesture. I hadn't seen Roman doing anything this romantic before, and everything was practically perfect all up until he opened his dumb teenage mouth; "I'm serious. It usually only beats like this when I look at pictures of Sydney Sweeney in a swimsuit."

That's it-- I groaned and ripped my hand out of his grip. "Okay, that's enough. You need to leave, it's almost midnight," In an attempt to climb off him, I almost made it out of his lap before his hands grabbed my hips once more, forcing me back down as I yelped. My eyes widened as they met Roman's, watching his signature smirk spread across his lips.

"Where do you think you're going in my sweater?" he purred, suppressing a chuckle. "My sweater, my rules. Give me a kiss before I leave, at least."

I huffed as I snaked my arms around his neck, feeling his hot breath against my lips. "And why should I kiss you?"

"Because you want to?" Roman didn't care to try to suppress his grin, gently nudging my nose with his as his grip on my waist tightened. His voice dropped, getting airy as he whispered against my lips; "You want to so bad."

Everything about him made the butterflies in my stomach flutter-- it didn't help that his hair was tousled in a classic heartbreaker look, along with how ridiculously soft his lips suddenly looked.

Roman definitely noticed the reddening of my cheeks, concluding why I had gone mute. "Don't be like that," he teased, not doing a good job with hiding his amusement. "Just kiss me first, for once. Have you noticed that you never initiate anything?"

I held my breath-- "I just... don't know what I'm doing," My confession was unexpected, but it felt nice to get it off my chest. "I don't want you to think I'm clueless."

"But you are?" Roman's chuckle was one of mischief as his hands shamelessly trailed down my body, now grabbing my ass as he pushed me closer to him. "It's not a bad thing. Just means I can program you to my liking."

I didn't even act as though I wanted his hands off of me, giving in to his antics. Something about the way he was holding me made me feel awfully warm-- maybe it was time to take off the sweater? "Tell me what you like, then," I purred, putting my hands on his chest. I figured that if I had gone down this route, I'd continue my path with conviction.

Roman's smirk only grew, letting out a breathy laugh against my lips as he gave my ass a firm squeeze. "That's my girl," he cooed. "We'll start simple." He nudged his nose against mine once more, his lips parting before his words came out in a hot whisper against mine; "Kiss me."

His words were too alluring to deny-- I leaned forward, my hands carefully laying against his broad shoulder as I kissed him. A sigh of satisfaction escaped Roman, who immediately dug his hands into the flesh of my behind to tug me closer. Everything about the way he was reacting to me reminded me of our first date, and the way he had held and kissed me in the alley when we were hiding from Letha.

The kiss was slow, almost lazy; something about the moonlight hitting us was making it more intense. It mostly consisted of small, loving pecks, and many pauses to simply smile against one another. I wondered whether he had ever kissed anyone like this before, with a softness I didn't see in him very often.

It was hard to believe that this was the same guy that had me running around scared for him to prick me with needles. The only thing pricking me right now was the hardening of Roman's cock beneath me. With every twitch, every time his hands dug into my hips in an attempt to grind me against him, I could only grin into the kiss. There wasn't exactly anything sexual about this kiss, but he would always get hard from the smallest little things-- I couldn't help but find pride in it. At least this was another confirmation that he wanted me.

Roman eventually grew frustrated, now trying to rut up against me just for any sort of friction. With that, I grabbed the headboard, raising myself with my knees so that he wouldn't succeed. As he groaned, I had to bite down on my growing smile; the look on his gorgeous face was too damn thrilling.

Roman's eyes were round, his chest sinking with a shaky exhale as a rosy flush lingered in his cheeks. "Anything," he breathed. "Just give me anything. I'll take it."

"Anything?" I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at; "What do you mean?"

His hands grabbed at my waist, signalizing that he wanted me to sit down on his arousal once more-- perhaps that felt like a relief in itself? Roman stared up at me through his brows, his fingers digging into my flesh. "I'm not asking you for sex. I'm being nice. So I'm saying I'll take anything you'll give me... Even the smallest thing," He leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss against my neck which had me losing my breath within seconds, now whispering against my skin; "Just touch me." Roman's needy kisses trailed up my neck, jaw, and cheeks until his breath was hot against my ear. "However you want. Don't be shy, try it out."

Something told me that Roman was secretly into me being a virgin, after all this time of making fun of me for it. However, I wasn't about to say no to the opportunity to explore with the Roman Godfrey, and I eventually sat back down on his arousal, my cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red at the sound of his muffled grunt.

My hands went up into his soft hair, pressing a kiss against his temple as my fingers stroked through his locks. "There's one thing I might want to try..."

Roman turned to nip at my jaw, his hands traveling back down to my ass. "Go for it,"

I didn't want to give him time to change his mind; my hand in his hair tightened, pulling him away from me with an unexpected roughness. I was about to apologize until I noticed the way Roman closed his eyes, and the way his lips parted in what looked like pleasure. It suddenly dawned on me that he might be the type to like a little pain, not only cause it. However, I wasn't ready to explore that at the moment-- I had another thought to attend to.

Roman's head lolled back against the headboard as I leaned down to kiss his neck, and it was clear to me that he was enjoying himself. It was only when his fingers dug themselves back into the flesh of my behind that I got the confidence to pull through with my original plan; I sucked down on a particular spot, hard enough to leave a mark.

I didn't need to see his face to know that Roman's eyes were wide open with the realization of what was happening. I was ready for him to push me away, tell me off, tell me to stop-- but his arms only wrapped around me, pulling me closer in a swift motion that had me grinding up against his hard cock, and Roman let out a sigh of pleasure as he let himself be marked with a blooming hickey.

Something told me I had to be somewhat special for him to allow me to do such a thing, and it quickly dawned on me that I had never felt this happy with anyone before, despite his shortcomings.

I liked Roman more than I had ever liked anyone before, and I had an inkling that he felt the same. Who knew something so simple could feel so incredibly good?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Knowing I had Roman wrapped around my finger, despite him not being able to properly say it out loud, had me floating around in my own little bubble. Everything concerning Letha suddenly felt irrelevant, and it wasn't taking up as much space in my mind as before. All I could think about was the way Roman had smiled at me as he passed me in the hall, the red hickey on the side of his neck peeking out past his shirt. The cherry on top of it were the two hair ties he still wore around his wrist-- he was enjoying this, wasn't he?

However, I was yanked back into the absolute shitshow I had caused for myself concerning my girlfriends later that same day.

My previous friends had never done anything more than glare at me from across the hall. Maybe the occasional overdramatic huff when they passed me, an extra eye-roll my way, and so I did my best to not pay it any mind.

Which is why I was so shocked when the proceeding followed.

It didn't bother me to sit alone at lunch-- not anymore, at least. I wasn't about to reach out to Roman to ask where he was and whether I could join him either; but just as I picked up my phone, ready put away my nerves and text him, my gaze was diverted from the screen and to the three girls that sat down in front of me.

I held my breath, my eyes widening with the realization that my previous best friends were staring at me with the nastiest looks I had probably ever seen.

Oh no.

Breathing deeply, I did my best to harden my gaze and keep my guard up. "What do you want, Jasmine?" I asked, putting my phone down on the table as I stared down the girl in the middle. Jasmine was the one I had liked the least in our friend group, and I wasn't surprised that she was the one to take action-- the rest of the girls always followed her like dogs, and it had always made me sick; especially now that they were sitting by her like docile animals.

Jasmine cleared her throat, leaning further over the table in an attempt to intimidate me; "We're just here to make you aware of something,"

"Which is...?"

Taken aback by my lack of reaction, Jasmine's eye twitched just slightly as the girls next to her grew more and more uncomfortable. "Letha told me what she saw on your neck. And sitting this close to you, I see it too... Do you not understand how it makes you look?"

There was no way for me to hold back my sarcasm; "How does it make me look? Do indulge, Jas," I couldn't even hold back my grimace at this point. "Why does it even matter to you?"

Jasmine's eye twitched once more, and she slammed her hands against the table with a loud thud. "What upsets Letha, upsets me! I'm just glad I found out what kind of person you truly are, and it brings me immense joy to realize everyone is starting to catch on to the truth as well!"

Despite how hard I attempted to stay neutral, unaffected, and unfazed, I couldn't do anything about the way my heart sunk. I couldn't even muster up anything to counter Jasmine's words, taken aback by the bluntness of my previous friend.

"Letha really wanted to reconcile, do you know that?" Jasmine continued, an evil snicker building in her throat. "But it's fucking disgusting that you walk around like you're proud to be fucking Roman Godfrey, especially when you know how much you've hurt her. Fucking traitor!"

Before I could protest, she reached for my phone which I had left unattended. There was barely any time to pry it out of Jasmine's hands before she stood up and smashed it into the table, the rest of her posse scurrying away from the table before the pieces of glass could hit them. I didn't have to look to know that the whole cafeteria was watching this scene play out; it was only when I heard gasps coming from around us that I truly realized the extent of what had happened.

As the glass from my phone had bounced off the table, the sharp pieces flying in every direction, I had covered my face with my hands. So, when I slowly pried them away from my eyes, turning them around to identify where the stinging of my skin was coming from, my eyes fell on the three pieces of glass lodged into the back of my hands. It wasn't too deep, not enough to scar or cause real damage, but damn-- it burned like crazy.

With tears in my eyes, I watched as Jasmine snickered, clearly unaffected by the fact that she had caused me physical harm; "We're ready to make your life a living hell," she hissed. "That'll show you. Fucking whore."

Something inside me broke. Usually, I would've fought back, I would've said something-- but I froze. Completely. I had never felt anything like this, the mix of both physical and mental pain turning me to stone.

Fuck. Was this truly how everyone saw me? Nothing more than one of Roman's countless whores?

I knew this would haunt me for the following weeks to come, and I couldn't fight the way my mind shut down. The need to get away overcame me; with shaky steps, I got up from my table, realizing I was about to leave school despite the day not being finished.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I had avoided Roman like the plague for the rest of the day-- I was almost as broken as my phone. I held the pieces in my hands under the dim lights of my desk in my room, nudging the glass around on the table. My phone had completely shattered, now just a heap of technology I held onto for the sake of nostalgia in a deep state of shock.

I kept glancing at my hands, my fingers ghosting over the three thin cuts that had parted my skin. They were thankfully not that grotesque to look at, and I was quite sure I could play it off as a scratch from a particularly large cat if anyone asked.

Or... so I hoped.

I wondered whether Letha knew about what had happened. Did she condone it? Had she been the one who ordered Jasmine and her gang to mess with me? Everything about this situation made my head spin-- Choosing Roman might've been the wrong decision. I kept thinking about an alternative universe in which I had never asked him to kiss me in the first place, or one where I had told Letha about my feelings for her cousin before it was too late.

It dawned on me that I had mostly likely made the wrong choice-- how was I supposed to deal with this?

Just as I was about to toss the remnants of my phone into the nearby bin, I heard a few knocks at my window which made me turn towards the sound. There he was, the last rays of today's sunlight making the bronze hues in his hair shine through; Roman tapped against the glass once more, eyes round with an emotion I couldn't piece together from afar.

I walked towards the window and opened it, leaning against the frame as I spoke; "What are you doing here?" My tone was sharper than expected-- seeing him didn't exactly make me feel any better.

"You haven't answered my messages," Roman didn't seem to be in a hurry about getting off my roof, making himself comfortable by sitting down by the window. "All day. Radio silence. I'm not really used to that from you, so... just checking to see whether you're having a stroke or something."

I did my best not to roll my eyes; "A stroke?"

"I don't know?" Roman shrugged, his green eyes never leaving mine. "What other explanation is there for a girl not answering me?"

I grimaced as I watched his expression. It was impossible to push down the intense feelings of frustration when I looked at him, all my love for him manifesting back to its usual hate-- I wouldn't have been in this situation if I hadn't met him. This was technically just as much his fault as mine.

Why did he look so confused? It suddenly hit me that he was being dead serious; he didn't get it at all. He genuinely couldn't find another reason for my absence. "Oh," was what I managed to say, clearing my throat as I sat down on the window sill. "Have you not heard?"

Roman blinked twice, clearly lost as he looked up at me. "Heard what?"

My eyes darted down to my hands, which I had covered with the sleeves of Roman's sweater without even thinking about it. "I thought everyone would be talking about it," I mumbled. "I guess that's a relief, then."

"What are you talking about?" The green of his eyes nearly swallowed me, and I found a tiny trace of genuine concern behind them, so miniscule I could barely notice it. "What happened?"

I wanted to disappear into a heap of nothing; it was so embarrassing that I had let this happen. My pride was definitely trying to choke the life out of me. "My phone broke," I breathed, automatically reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt out of nervous habit-- I felt my cheeks flush, nervous to be revisiting the moment that had haunted me all day.

Roman's brows furrowed, unsure how to react; "You made it sound like something really bad had happened. I could buy you a new one, no problem," He watched me pick at the sweatshirt, now reaching out for my hands to stop my destructive fidgeting.

I let out the breath I had been holding the second our fingers intertwined, feeling the roughness of his hands against mine. My eyes rested on the black hair ties he still wore around his wrist, a blooming warmth igniting in my chest and wading through all my anger. I was so swept up in the moment, comforted by the way he squeezed my hands twice, that I didn't catch the moment the sleeves of the sweater bunched up and revealed the cuts on the back of my hands. "You don't need to buy me a new phone, don't be ridiculous," I said, watching a single strand of his brown hair slowly fall over his eyes as he glanced down. "I'd feel bad--"

"What's this?" Roman's grip around my hands tightened, now bringing them up to his face.

It felt as though my breath had gotten lodged in my throat as I watched Roman's widening green eyes scan the surface of my hands. His brows drew together once more, thumbs swiping over the unhealed wounds. The touch made me hiss, attempting to get out of his grip, but to no avail. "It's the neighbour's cat," I tried. "I bent down to pet it, and--"

"This is not from a cat," Roman's gaze darted up to meet mine, suddenly a lot more intense than usual. "I'll ask you again, what happened?"

I tried to squirm out of his hold once more; "It's not important, Roman... Forget it, please. Actually, I'm going to have to ask you to leave--"

"Tell me,"

"No, seriously, drop it! Can't you just go?!--"

Roman's grip around my hands tightened further, almost to the point of making me wince. "Tell me," His pupils widened at an eerie rate, transfixed on mine. It felt as though his words were echoing through my head, and it didn't take long before I suddenly felt as though my inner monologue froze over.

And before I knew it, my mouth had a mind of its own; "They broke my phone,"

"Who?"

I really, really tried to fight it. Getting Roman involved in this drama was certainly not ideal, and I did my best to push away the urge to tell him; why was it so strong, all of a sudden? It almost felt as though he was controlling my mind, but it was ridiculous to even think so-- that was obviously impossible. Right?

I eventually got around to answering; "Jasmine,"

"... Who?" Roman was beginning to sound like a really confused owl.

"Jasmine," I echoed. "Letha's friend. She brought a few girls over to my table and smashed my phone. Called me a whore."

Roman was silent for a few seconds, his face going unnaturally blank. "These cuts are from your phone?"

"Yeah,"

"And she did it because you're with me?"

"... Yeah," Did he just insinuate that we were together? I held my breath, unsure why my mouth wasn't adhering to my orders-- I so desperately wanted to point it out, but I physically couldn't. What on earth was happening?

Roman hummed, his grip around my hands loosening. "What else did she say?"

I blinked several times in an attempt to get out of the trance-like state I found myself in, but nothing seemed to be working as long as Roman's gaze was locked on me. "She said she's gonna make my life a living hell," As I sniffled, I realized tears were pooling in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, shaking my head to try to snap out of it once more. "I- It's fine, though." It dawned on me that the trick was to not look at him-- I finally started feeling like myself again. "I just need to talk to Letha and check out the options for a truce, or whatever."

As I dared to open my eyes, I watched his blank face. Something about the lack of reaction was unsettling, on the border of uncomfortable, and it almost made me want to squirm. It was in this silence that a thick, red drop of blood suddenly made its way down Roman's nose, and he didn't react when it met his lips. It was almost as though he had frozen to his place on my roof, and I couldn't remember the last time he had blinked.

My eyes widened, concern filling my body. "You're bleeding," I breathed, trying to get my hands out of his. "Let me get something for you, Roman, it's gonna run down to your shirt!--"

Abruptly, he got up with a quickness I hadn't seen in him before, still not saying a word. Suddenly, I couldn't help but notice it-- the hickey on the right side of his throat. One he wasn't even trying to cover up. Despite how much Roman kept denying wanting to be with me, here he was, getting up to do God knows what whilst quite literally baring my mark on his skin.

I watched him, my brows drawing together in complete and utter confusion. "Roman?" Calling out his name didn't seem to do anything; he let the stream of blood run down his chin, now dripping down onto his shirt. I could only look up at him, unsure why he was acting like this.

Finally, Roman spoke; "Living hell, you say?" His voice was low, threatening-- it was suddenly clear to me that he had gotten a very dark idea.

These sorts of proclamations coming from a guy who had an affinity for pricking girls with needles genuinely concerned me. I got up from the window sill, ready to climb out onto the roof to join him. "Come on, Roman, let's just talk!--"

It was as though he was on auto-control, rushing to the edge of the roof before turning around to climb down. My heart beat hard in my chest as I nearly lunged out of my window, hoping to reach him in time. "Hey, where are you going?!"

I didn't make it-- Roman had already managed to land on the grass beneath him, his long limbs an apparent advantage, and he was now storming down my lawn towards his car.

"Roman!" I yelled, crouching down on the edge of my roof; this was definitely not looking good. My mind kept racing as I gave up trying to catch up to him, burying my face in my hands.

I was screwed. I was so screwed.

(a/n: check out PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8 if you haven't!! thank you for reading, more to come!!<33)

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #fanfic #angst #toxic relationship #ARGHHH THIS SERIES LMAOOOO ROMAN IS A MENACE

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