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celiime · 2 months ago

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୨ৎ — .ᐟ Him ‘n his stupid infinity! [Pt.3]

—> Part 3 belonging to the series of him ‘n his stupid infinity. Refer to part 1 and part 2 for earlier parts!

╰┈➤ Gojo Satoru is once more struck with the less than ideal dilemma of his cute underclassman hating him! It seems like no matter what he does, he always remains the object of your hatred—and he doesn’t even know why! Will today be the day where he finally has a chance to reduce your hatred? And maybe find out why you hate him?

Or in which, You hate Gojo Satoru! Him and his stupid limitless technique. Why does he only turn it on around you? A mere first year. Will today be the day you get some closure? Just why is his infinity activated at the mere sight of you?

warnings: fluff, literally one line of angst, reader is in denial and gojo is head over heels, they both r very loud students, takes place in 2006, reader is so cute…even gojo thinks so!! reader is a first year, gojo is a second year. ^.^

p.s—> i really enjoyed writing this! gojo n reader r my roman empire, i need them to get together soon ☹️ also— does anybody notice how gojo’s thoughts contain less exclamation marks when he’s not arnd reader? hehe—she just brings out the whiny man in him.

“I hate the rain! I hate umbrellas! Ughhh—“ A sniffle resounded from the classroom of the third years’ classroom, “Everything is working against me! Even her!”

“It’s peaceful.” His best friend, Geto, retaliated, throwing him a questioning look over his shoulder, “Since when do you not like the rain?”

His gaze traveled over to the six full plastic bags on Gojo’s desk, seemingly filled with all kinds of candies and snacks, did his best friend buy the whole convenience store or something?

“And do these…copious amounts of snacks have anything to do with it?” He thinks he could make quite a lucky guess.

For as long as Geto Suguru has known Gojo Satoru, it was always a silent fact acknowledged between them that Gojo has always been a fan of the rain—mainly due to the fact that he can activate his infinity at will whenever the rain pelts on him too hard.

But, who else does his infinity activate at will at?

“She hates me, Suguru.” A whine left Gojo’s mouth as he squished his cheek against the cool surface of the desk, eyes tracing the trail of the rain as it stained the windows. “Even when I’m being chivalrous! She denies all of my help!”

Geto can’t help himself from rolling his eyes, though with a hint of fondness, at how you’re mentioned once more.

He can admit that their underclassman is especially charming in your own way, but Satoru’s comical whining is getting old.

No matter what the conversation is about, Gojo always finds a way to bring up his dismay about the failure of his advances towards their underclassman.

If it wasn’t so consistent, then Geto would’ve thought that it was cute.

“What? Did you push her into the rain or something?” He chuckled, throwing his dismayed friend one last look before looking back towards the window, watching the raging rain.

Gojo’s expression dropped even more at the mention, “Why do all of you say that?! I’m not a monster!” A sigh left Gojo’s lips, his glasses discarded beside him on the desk as his gaze focused on two raindrops; a distance away from eachother, despite being on the same window glass.

A small smile unconsciously perks up the corners of his glossy lips.

If he could estimate the distance between those two drops, then he would say that they’re five feet apart.

Why, though?

Man! Even rain drops hated eachother! There was no hope!

“I just don’t understand why she has to keep her distance all the time! She’s so cozy with Haibara and Nanami, even with you and Shoko—but me?” He groaned, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “Bleh! I’m trash apparently, according to her.”

Silence persisted in the classroom for a bit, granting peace and only broken by the sound of the storm outside.

Before his best friend’s laugh rang out in the otherwise empty classroom.

“Are you the reason why she came back to the dorms looking like that?”

The smile on Geto’s face was undeniably teasing, shoulders trembling with the evidence of laughter as he shook his head fondly.

“Suguruuu! Don’t laugh! Just listen—“

“I’ll be right back.” Your voice rang out in the first years’ classroom, tugging your bag off the chair as you approached the door. “And you’re not off the hook, Haibara!”

A whine followed your words, but it was quickly muffled as soon as the door to the classroom closed behind you.

A sigh left your lips, hiking your bag over your shoulder, stretching as soon as the door closed. “Man…”

As far as you knew…it is raining, and you love the rain!

Today has been a bit of a hectic day, so you were glad that you would have the time to walk on your own, peacefully, all the way to the nearby convenience store.

“Oh?”

At the, unfortunately, familiar voice, you snapped your head up, hands tightening around the strap of the bag.

“What.”

Ew. Why is this infinity activating idiot here?! Did he never have class or something? You seriously doubt he even attends his classes—based off of what Geto told you.

Does he have nothing better to do than pick on you everyday?

“And where are you going?” Gojo’s voice rang out in the empty hallway, a smug lilt to his tone as he tilted his head at you.

While he worked hard to maintain the cool and unbothered front on the outside. He was mentally cheering on the inside.

Yay! Score for Gojo Satoru!

Man, fate really liked him. I mean—why else would he be bumping into you every other day like this?

An exasperated look rested on your features, eye twitching in irritation, “I don’t think…that’s any of your business, Gojo-senpai.” You emphasized on the honorific, trying to resist the urge to just walk away and leave.

You dislike him…but, you also have to maintain respect to an upperclassman.

At the honorific, though a common thing to hear from the first years, Gojo couldn’t help but feel his heart race—feeling as if a cupid’s arrow had pierced through it. Not the bad kind this time!

Gojo is willing to hang onto any string of hope, even if your current glare was snapping the thread.

“Aw, come on! I can’t be not suspicious if my cute underclassman is leaving class in the middle of the day with her bag.” A huff left his lips, the signature pout making its way onto his lips.

What a man child!

“Are you sick?”

Your eye twitched.

“Tired?”

Your lips settled into a frown.

“Are you injured? But you had no mission today!”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare.

“Or—!”

“Enough!” A cry leaves your lips as you glare up at him, eyebrows pinched together, “I’m going to the convenience store! There! Happy?”

Silence took over, filling the hallway as they remained standing—five feet apart—with you glaring up at him, hands clutching into the strap of your bag.

Huh—why was this idiot so silent?

For Gojo, it felt like everything else you said had went through one ear and left out the other, the tinted view of you through his glasses was almost intoxicating.

The way that you had to look up at him, okay maybe you were glaring but whatever, your eyes rounded with annoyance—it was a sight that he should’ve gotten used to.

But it still managed to make his heart lurch everytime you even looked at him.

“Can I come with?” An excited exclamation left his lips, eyes sparkling as he shot you a small pleading look, “Pleaseee!”

This was definitely his chance!

“No.” So blunt!

“Why nooot? ‘promise I’ll be good company!” A whine left his lips, “Besides, it’s raining!”

…

Hah? What was this idiot on about?

You shot him a weirded out look, “Okay? Thanks? I sure couldn’t guess from the rain pelting on the classroom window.”

Gah! Now he seemed like a total idiot!

“Wait! I mean—you don’t have an umbrella!” He flailed his hands around, a panicked look setting onto his features, “I have one! Who wants to walk in the rain without an umbrella, right?” A hurried laugh slipped from him.

Was the Gojo Satoru nervous? You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow.

Of course he was nervous! He has one chance to make this work!

“I’ll just borrow an umbrella from Haibar—“

Oh, hell no!

“No! No—he’s like—his umbrella is probably not as functional as mine!” He spouted anything he could, trying to salvage anything that could be saved.

You raised a brow.

Huh? What? That doesn’t even make sense! No way his idiocy could reach those levels.

“That doesn’t even make sense! Your cursed energy is messing with your head or something!” You huffed, “Over my dead body will you accompany me!”

“Woooo!”

The sound of an umbrella opening echoed infront of the entrance of Jujutsu Tech, lost in the noise of the rain hitting the concrete harshly.

“Do you even want anything from the convenience store? Or are you looking for any reason to be anywhere but class?” You scoffed, crossing your arms as you watched him open the umbrella.

“You can’t keep skipping, yknow.” He skipped class way too much.

A nervous look was thrown to the storm outside, biting down on your bottom lip as you looked back at the umbrella in his hands.

How was his umbrella going to cover the both of you if you maintained the five feet rule?

Oh.

And the infinity.

Despite willing yourself to not get your hopes up, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would actually be decent this time and would keep his infinity off. No way he went through all this trouble only to have you stand in the pouring rain, right?

Gojo threw you an offended look, “Eh?— I just want to accompany my underclassman to the convenience store, like a good upperclassman would!” Before his shoulders dropped, a faux look of exasperation crossing his features.

“And I guess I could get something or two for Suguru.”

This was it! His chance to impress you and charm you away!

“It is my duty, as your faithful upperclassman, to make sure you’re safe all the time!” A charming smile perked up on his glossy lips, placing his hand over his heart in a display of chivalry.

Yaaay! He was probably looking cool as hell right now! You must totally be falling in love with him right now!

“Keep me…safe while going to the…convenience store?”

On his precious underclassman’s face was a smile, one so soft and sweet that he was afraid he would melt if he kept staring at it for too long.

your eyes carried a glint of a sparkle in them—a contrast to the gloomy weather—and Gojo always thought he had the prettiest eyes but—

He was seriously starting to doubt that now.

“That’s the dumbest thing, ever. I’m a sorcerer too, no?” You let out a small chuckle, exchanging a small glance with his glasses covered eyes.

The carrier of six eyes could pass down the title of the prettiest eyes to someone else now.

And oh—that chuckle.

His hand tightened around the handle of the umbrella, feeling a small lump form in his throat.

You shook your head, flashing him a weird look at his sudden silence, “Whatever, Gojo-senpai. Let’s just go. I don’t want to stay around you longer than necessary.”

So mean!

Tipping the umbrella forward, Gojo nodded his head towards the school doors, “After you.~”

He was being such a gentleman! Oh—how your heart must be fluttering for him right now!

“Idiot.” You scoffed.

He was such an idiot. Did he think he was in a movie or something?

A sigh left your lips, shaking your head in reply, “Don’t get me wet.” You mumbled in a warning tone, noticing how he held the umbrella at arm’s length.

A suggestive smirk flashed on his features, “Oh?~”

Your cheeks heated up, “Creep!” You huffed, walking beside him as they exited the building, protected from the rain by the shade of the umbrella above both of you.

“What a shameful excuse for an upperclassman. Good thing we have Shoko-senpai and Geto-senpa—“ You paused, noting something.

Huh…no infinity. You are…walking under the same umbrella.

Sure, you weren’t exactly standing close like you should be under an umbrella, there was some distance, but his umbrella was big enough to cover both of you even while there was a small distance between you.

3 feet!

Hwaaah! They were three feet away and he didn’t activate his infinity! This was…a big achievement.

You cleared your throat, directing your gaze down as you focused on the splashes caused by your steps, pressing your lips into a straight line as you fought back the heat on your cheeks.

“Ahem…”

Confused by the sudden silence, Gojo turned his head to the side, tilting his head as he stared down at you, “Hey, yo—“

Ah?—

Gojo’s breath hitched, feeling his chest constricting as soon as he saw the absolutely bashful look on your face.

Gojo is familiar with looks of bashfulness, he’s a witness to these expressions each time a girl bounds up to him with red cheeks and a compliment. He’s not new to these looks—in fact, they’ve gotten quite old to see.

But…

Gojo thinks that a bashful look is absolutely precious on his little underclassman. It’s a sight that he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of, no matter how much he encounters it.

“What’s with the radio silence, hm? Did I finally charm you? I knew it would happen!” He slipped in a quick remark in order to save face, trying to uphold his cool front.

“What? Cat got your tongue—oh wait, my bad. I forgot you’re like a little kitten, heh.”

It had always been a wish to see you flustered because of him, to see you blush and get embarrassed by him.

He’s starting to take back his words now.

He doesn’t think it will be good for his heart if he sees the sight of you being flustered, it isn’t healthy for it to be tugging at his heart this much.

His hand tightened around the handle of the umbrella, unconsciously tilting it a bit towards you in order to shield you from the rain completely.

His precious little underclassman.

You looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat, before turning your head towards him. This seems like a good time to finally crack the question.

“Gojo-senpai…” Oh, his heart stopped at the honorific, “Why do you always—“

Everything you said went through one ear and left out the other. Fuck. His heart was racing way too much, he couldn’t focus on anything but your bashful expression and that..

Honorfic.

It was dripping with honey whenever you uttered it out.

His eyes rounded behind his glasses, a subtle red flush spreading across his cheeks. His face felt like it was on fire, the heat unbearable. It felt like this is the first time he’s been flustered.

Like the tables have been turned.

“Gojo-senpai?” Fuck. You said it again.

“Are you listening to m— Ah!”

Before either of you knew it, you felt an invisible force repel, no—force you away from Gojo, almost as if a wall had suddenly formed between you.

It quite literally felt like, instead of only forming a barrier between you as usual, it pushed you away.

“Hey—!” A panicked call left Gojo’s lips, eyes widening.

You stumbled over your feet, due to not having time to process the sudden push, a small squeak leaving your lips as you slammed down onto the floor—right on your butt. Ouch.

“Fuck—“ A hurried curse slipped past Gojo’s lips as he looked down at you, “Hey, are you alright? What happened?”

A small hiss left your lips as you felt the cold rain water pelt harshly onto your head, soaking you from head to toe in no time. Your fingers twitched, feeling the hard concrete under them.

So much for not wanting to get wet.

This…despicable man!

You kept your head down, trying to will yourself to calm down, taking a deep breath.

“Hey.” Gojo lowered his voice, brows furrowing in concern at your sudden silence. He kneeled infront of you, keeping the umbrella over him—you were already wet anyways. “What’s up? Did you hurt yourself or something? Let me see.”

At his words, your head snapped up, eyes narrowed into a glare, face contorted into an angered expression, “What’s wrong with you?!” Seriously! Did he find any of this funny?

Huh? What did you mean what was wrong with him? Is it so bad to want to check up on his junior? Arrest him then!

He huffed, tilting his head with a confused hum, “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one who tripped. Don’t blame it on me!” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly, “You really ought to stop being so clumsy.”

He internally cooed. Poor underclassman, these strong winds probably pushed you! Worry not, he’ll protect you!

You sneered. “Do you not have a single serious bone in your body?”

Was this idiot being for real? This really was not a funny joke, this was you constantly getting humiliated whenever you were around him.

This time, you would not only be humiliated, but will also get a cold! Ahh! This was so frustrating!

“Shut up! I’m not laughing! Nobody is!” You could feel the tip of your nose freezing, hair sticking to your face as the water seeping into your uniform weighed you down, a shiver running down your spine.

Seriously, why were you always so against him helping you? Your hatred for him really ran a long way, huh?

“You always do this! How hard is it to not do it? Will you die if you hold back from doing it?” You huffed.

“What are you on about? I think the rain water is getting into your brain!” A pout pulled down the corners of his lips as he looked at you, “Why would I go through all the trouble of getting you to walk with me if I was going to deliberately push you or something?”

You really weren’t making sense to him! He was only being chivalrous and helping you. What did you mean by he always does this? Be a gentleman? Duh!

A frown rested on your lips, “I don’t know? You’re so complex! You always end up doing this. What about me is so intimidating?”

Nothing. Gojo thinks that nothing about you is intimidating except for your beauty, that’s the most intimidating thing about you.

Besides, how could he ever find you intimidating when, even though you were on the ground and he was kneeling infront of you, you still had to look up at him? You were so small.

“You? Intimidating? Please. A little kitten is more intimidating than you.” He chuckled, shaking his head, a teasing smile on his lips.

Gojo thinks that’s the most precious sight he would ever grow to see in his life. He finds himself feeling bad for everyone else that never had the opportunity to view such a cute sight like you in the rain—

but, he also finds himself feeling prideful that he’s the one to see it.

He’s such a lucky bastard, no?

“Nevermind! I don’t want to go to the convenience store! What’s the use, anyways?” You retaliated, a hand raising to your head to brush away the strands of hair sticking to your face—

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t approach me ever again! I’ll tell everyone at school how despicable you really are! Hmph.”

“Wait wait—what?! No! I’m the totally cool and dashing upperclassman that loves all his underclassmen—“ You the most. “And all his underclassmen love him!” Except you. And Nanami.

Bless Haibara’s soul.

You shot him an exasperated look, “Your delusions are stronger than your cursed energy.” You mumbled under your breath, breath coming out in a small cloud of air—a testament to how cold you are.

Internally, Gojo felt horrible, seeing you this cold, fighting to not shiver and your face turning red, but it was also adorable.

“Huh?! That’s so mean! Where do you store all of that hatred, huh?” He pouted, feeling an arrow strike his heart at your direct comment.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, supporting your weight on your hands as you stood up, kneeling down and picking up your drenched bag, “I knew it was wrong to trust you.”

At your words, a lump formed in Gojo’s throat, hand tightening around the handle of that stupid umbrella. He looked up at you from his kneeling position, watching you stand up and adjust your bag over your shoulder.

You always said hurtful things to him, but it resonated a lot more with him this time. Even when you hurt him with your words, you still looked as majestic as ever.

Did you ever think about how alluring you are?

“Hmph. My bad for wanting to help you!” He huffed, standing up and closing the umbrella, tucking it under his arms as he folded them, “Where’s my ‘Oh thank you, Gojo-senpai! You’re the coolest upperclassman ever!’ ?”

Your eye twitched at how he pitched up his voice, a horrible impression of you, “Go die, Gojo-senpai!”

You glared at him, before turning your back to him, walking back to the school, “I don’t want to see your face today.”

What?!— No!

“Wait—! I’m sorry!” He hurriedly followed after. He doesn’t even know what he did!

“I don’t care!” You looked at him over your shoulder, the rain falling harshly on your head, “Don’t—!” In your haste of wanting to berate him once more, you stumbled over your feet—for the second time that day.

Can you really be blamed? The concrete was wet and slippery and your wet shoes and socks weren’t doing you any justice. Plus the soaked clothes!

Gojo’s eyes widened, a panicked curse escaping his lips before—with his fast reflexes, he was the strongest after all—he stepped towards you, acting on instinct.

He hastily slid his arm around your waist, wrapping around it as his palm rested on your clothed stomach, supporting your back against his sturdy frame.

“I got you.” His tone dropped in pitch, holding you close against his chest, “Don’t worry.”

…

A small gasp left your lips, shoulders tensing up as you looked down, gaze falling on his giant palm that rested on your stomach, nearly taking up the whole circumference, your back pressed against his clothed chest, able to feel his sturdy muscles through his wet uniform.

His wet uniform…the rain is falling on him, he’s touching you…his infinity isn’t on!

You swallowed, heart stuttering in your chest, “Huh—“ You looked up at him, eyes round with shock, cheeks heating up despite the cold weather. “You’re…”

This is the first time…they’ve touched—let alone stood this close to eachother.

“You—“ He let out a staggering breath, arm tightening around your midsection, “See? I helped you..”

Gojo’s heart positively felt like it was about to burst, not only at how soft you felt under his touch, but also at the way you looked up at him.

Hair wet, looking up at him with those round eyes, filled with wonder and awe, rain water dripping down your cheeks—and most of all, the rosy tint on your cheeks that strangely matched the color on his cheeks.

Fuck. You were so cute.

His heart picked up the pace, not knowing how to react to this new overwhelming sensation he felt being this close to you.

“…” You pressed your lips together, feeling your clothes weigh you down as your stomach fluttered, “Gojo—senpai, you—!”

And of course, his body acted on his instincts, on what he knew to do best when the adrenaline rushed in.

Infinity.

A yelp left your lips as you stumbled forward, barely having the time to balance yourself and regain your footing—thankfully you managed to do it this time, and didn’t end up on you already sore bum.

You were just getting thrown around today like a damn ball! This is getting ridiculous! Can’t you get a break?!

“Huh? Is this your way of thanking me?” His annoying whine returned, gone his flustered nature and replaced with a pouting one, “Do you not feel soooo safe and protected in my arms..?”

Gah!— He just couldn’t win! Never with you!

“You jerk! You just don’t know when to stop!” You stomped your foot angrily, the water pooled on the ground splashing at your little movement.

You wholly believe he uses his technique to have fun more than he uses it to kill curses. The universe gifted the wroooong person!

“You’re so childish and you lack any type of common sense. You just enjoy getting my hopes up, huh?!” Damn him and his stupid limitless—his infinity, his six eyes!

“What hopes?! You’re the one who flips a switch all the time whenever I do something nice.” He huffs, crossing his arms, a pout on his glossy lips as he looked away.

Was being mean to him your way of denying you’re flustered? Weird. “You don’t know how to say thank you!”

You ignored how downright attractive he looked with his hair sticking to his face, wet with water and not in its usual style, “That’s because you don’t deserve it. Go die!”

You huffed, straightening your posture, before turning your back to him, stomping back to the school. You didn’t even feel hungry anymore.

Was it from the fluttering you felt in your stomach? That was probably just your stomach turning in disgust at the sight of him!

A dismayed hum left Gojo’s lips, rolling his eyes begrudgingly as he watched you walk away, “Talk about a moody underclassman, gee…” He snatched his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number.

“Heh…she looked like a soaked kitty, I should’ve snapped a pic.”

He held his flip phone to his ear, staring at his umbrella on the floor.

Huh? Why wasn’t he getting wet?

Since when did he turn on his infinity? Must be instinct as a response to the rain. He shrugged.

“Ah! Haibara! My favorite guy!” He grinned, pressing the phone to his ear, “Would you do your cool upperclassman a favor? Do you happen to know what a little moody kitty likes to eat from the convenience store?”

“Huh?— Hey— What happened?”

“Your best friend happened, Geto—senpai.” A sigh left your lips.

“Silly Satoru…what ever am I going to do with him.” A fond sigh left his lips.

“Kill him—“

“Alright alright.” He let out a small chuckle, charming, “Go to your room and change. Don’t catch a cold, ‘kay?”

He was so charming. The perfect example of an upperclassman, not like that other bastard.

Geto chuckled.

Hah…

Gojo would freak out if you got a cold, anyways.

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kingkat12 · 3 months ago

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long legs (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, foul language, roman is an ass as always

summary: you should've known better before you started dating the CEO of Godfrey Industries-- obviously.

word count: 3,335 PART 2: here!

Have you ever felt like you're stuck in an eternal revolving door, and then suddenly you're standing still? That was my life right now; I was standing still with Roman. We had only gone out on a few dates, sure— but I couldn't help but feel that something was different this time. This was a guy I felt like I could finally settle with. Four hour long conversations could feel like fifteen minutes, and the fact that he was the CEO of his own company also added on as a bonus; my life with him would be a life of comfort. Amazing sex and comfort.

I let out a satisfied sigh as my friends and I finally got up from our dinner table; dinner was good, life was good, my relationship was good. What was there not to like? We continued exchanging jokes at the expense of some girl we suddenly remembered from high school, reminiscing, and I had to take a step back; I couldn't believe how amazing my life was at the moment.

As I felt one of my friends nudge me, I blushed, letting out a nervous laugh as I realized I had disconnected from the previous conversation. "Sorry, girls, I've just been so swept up with Roman—"

"Yeah, we know," One of my girlfriends grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around so that I was facing the other end of the restaurant. "But isn't that him?"

They were right; at the other end of the restaurant, sat Roman. With a woman with legs for days. Laughing. I froze, not knowing what to say or do— he hadn't noticed me yet and was probably not going to, by the rate he was checking out the woman in front of him.

"Come on, let's go," said another friend, taking my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He's not worth it, really."

I hated the pity in her voice. I hated everything about this. But me being me, I knew I had to either let it slide or retaliate— and obviously, I'd choose the latter.

I got out of my friend's grip, making my way over to his table with confident strides, shaking off the shock in my system. I watched as Roman's green, charming eyes suddenly found me, rounding out. It was clear that he was trying to save face as he suddenly broke out into a slight chuckle, looking rather intrigued as I approached.

I smiled politely, now standing in front of him. "Roman, what a surprise!" I did my best to sound as casual possible and not like my heart was being kicked and spat at.

"Surprise indeed!" he said, smiling right back up at me with no shame. "This is Cynthia, by the way."

Had we not been in public, I would've hit his head with my purse. Instead, being the calm and collected woman I masked myself to be for now, I turned to Cynthia, shaking her hand as we got introduced. I wanted nothing more than to run away and wash my hands.

With a cool demeanour, I turned to Roman; "Could we talk?"

He cleared his throat, clearly not too happy about the interruption. "Sure," he mumbled, sending Cynthia a charming smile as he got up, following me a few steps away from the table.

"What's this?" I said, letting my smile fall just a smidge. "A date?"

Roman cocked his head to the side, scanning me. "Sure is,"

"... You said you had a business thing,"

"A dinner thing,"

"Oh, is that right?" I took a proper look at him; suited up, hair styled back, smelling like his usual date-cologne. Had this been any other instance, I would've jumped him already. However, there was nothing I wanted more than to smack him and run away crying. "So how many women are you dating, exactly?"

Roman shrugged; "In the tristate area?"

My jaw fell, shocked. I knew we weren't exclusive and I tried to remind myself of that, but I had my pride to protect. If I would date anyone else right now, it would feel like stuffing an already packed luggage— I didn't want to, nor could I. So how could he?

Roman sighed, glancing back at his date before turning back to me, putting a patronizing hand on my shoulder; "Look, I'm a little busy, but I'll give you a call. Alright?"

Angered, I smacked his hand off of me. I refused to be treated this way. "Call all you want, but don't expect an answer. Good night, Roman," I took a sharp turn on my heel, my eye twitching as I held back the urge to burst into tears.

As I reached my friends again, I was immediately embraced as we left the restaurant together.

"He looked shellshocked, my God!" one of them said. "What did you tell him?"

I sniffled; "Not to call me anymore. I'm not going to deal with this bullshit,"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

My phone had rung about seventeen times and I was itching to answer. I laid in my bed that same night, a small tear rolling down my cheek; why did I always do this to myself? Why did I get so swept up in every man I met? I tried to make myself feel better by concluding I wasn't like this with every man— Roman was an exception. Roman was different.

But Roman was also an ass.

I groaned, watching another call come in. I had enough of this. Deciding to take action, I finally answered his eighteenth call; "Roman, I am only answering to tell you to stop calling!—"

"Just hear me out!" he said. "Just... Just hear me out, okay? Could you do that for me?"

Groaning, I buried my face in my pillow, going quiet as I put my phone on speaker next to me.

My silence told him everything he needed. "Look, I didn't know you thought we were exclusive. I should've gotten that cleared up, perhaps—"

"I thought that was obvious," I grumbled into my pillow.

A sigh; "Maybe it was. And maybe I'm just about the biggest jerk in Pennsylvania. Anyway, I'm calling to say sorry. I really thought you were dating other people as well,"

I lifted my head up from the pillow. "And that wouldn't bother you?" I pondered out loud. "If I went out with someone else?"

This is where Roman went quiet. "Well, it's not the most pleasant thought... I suppose I've dulled it down by seeing other people,"

Somehow, I didn't buy it. "Did you sleep with them?"

"Who?"

"All the women with stupidly long legs in the tristate area,"

I heard a loud sigh on the other end; "I thought you were sleeping with others too,"

"Yeah, right," I sat up in my bed, taking the phone off speaker mode and pressing it up against my ear. "This is not how I roll, Roman, and you know this. If you need loose girls to sleep with, have your pick at anyone else, I don't care. I was dead serious about you, about us, and you just... Yeah, screw you. Have a nice life."

I heard him protest as I finally ended the call, burying my face back into my pillow, muffling a scream.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next night, I had decided to go out and bury my mind in whatever cheap alcohol I could find. I stepped away from my friends at the party, making my way back to the bar for the third time tonight, not dull enough for my liking yet.

Sighing, I sat down at the bar, ordering the usual. I hoped that the next drink would drown out all thoughts of Roman Godfrey, his green eyes, the image of him between my legs, and the image of Cynthia and her legs. I should've listened to my friends when they said he only dated models— why had he even looked at me in the first place, bothered me by entering my life and just existed in my vicinity?

Asshole.

As I finally got my drink, bringing it up to my lips, the man next to me spoke up; "I don't think you should have another one of those,"

Turning to face him, I wondered where I had seen him before. "... Peter?"

I remembered Peter from the time we interned at the law firm together. He quit a while ago, but not before he had managed to kiss the life out of me in the elevator that one evening. A bright smile spread across my face as I put my drink down, embracing him. "Oh, Peter, it's so nice to see you!"

Peter, dressed in black as usual, beamed right back at me, his hand resting on my back. "I've been wondering if it was you all night," he said, pulling away from the hug with a chuckle. "You look good."

I did a little twirl, giggling— maybe the alcohol was finally getting to me, after all. "You think?"

Amused, Peter nodded; "As always,"

I sat down on my chair with a satisfied sigh. "I can't believe you're back in Pennsylvania," I said, taking a sip of my drink. "What brings you back?"

"Nothing special, really," Peter gave me a look, but didn't say anything about the fact that I was continuing to drink. "Just nice to take a trip back home. To see a familiar face in the crowd. You'll get it once you get out of here, yourself."

I shook my head; "I'm not moving,"

"Why not?"

"I don't know," I used to have a good reason before I caught Roman with Ms. Long Legs. "I'm doing good at the firm. And guys here are prettier than in any other state I've been in."

Peter chuckled, rolling his eyes; "I see you're still single,"

His words made my heart sink. "It seems I am," I took a rather big sip of my drink, hating that I was right back to square one again. "I thought I'd be in a different place by now, I suppose. I don't get what I'm doing wrong."

Peter moved closer, giving me a sigh of empathy. "You always go for the bad guys," he mumbled. "The unavailable ones. Am I right, or was this only when you were an intern?"

Embarrassed, I nodded; "I guess,"

Peter watched as I took another sip of my drink, finally getting enough of it; he put his hand over mine, gently forcing the drink back down on the table, his hand lingering on top of mine. "I'm a nice guy,"

My eyes widened, finally meeting his gaze. Was this going the way I thought this was going? I watched his pupils expand, the brown in his eyes shimmering with hope. "Give me a chance," Peter said. "Us. The chance we should've had all those years ago."

I held my breath-- I wanted to give in, relent.

"Come to my place tonight," he continued, his thumb stroking over my knuckles. "Let me treat you right, for once."

I was so close to giving in, saying yes and settling for something good for my soul. However, my heart was screaming— I couldn't do this while I was still crazy about Roman fucking Godfrey, the biggest asshole on the planet. The asshole who got me flowers before every date, brought me coffee to my work when he was free, gave me the best orgasm I had ever had in my life in the back of a cab, and bought me a fucking Birkin when he went to Venice.

"I—" I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. This was Peter; I didn't want to hurt the sweetest guy I had ever known. Before I could give him an answer, I needed an answer for myself; "Hold that thought, Peter, I'll be right back."

I got up, making my way to the outskirts of the party with hurried steps. Finally drunk enough for this stunt, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, dialling the guy I had sworn to myself I would never call again; "Roman?"

I didn't have to see him to know he was smirking. "Hey you,"

Beaming at the sound of his voice, I felt the hurt in my soul being mended by the second. I had craved this all day, every minute, every second. However, I knew I had to pull myself together. "I'm just calling to let you know I'm going home with someone else tonight,"

"... Are you drunk?"

I huffed, offended despite the correct guess. "Am not!"

"So this loud music is just something you play in your room at three in the morning?"

I had to do everything in my power to not hit myself. "I'm calling to say that you screwed up,"

A sigh; "Where are you?"

Grimacing, I wondered why he wanted that information. There was no way in hell I'd give it to him, anyways. "His name is Peter. He's super sweet, we used to work together, and he doesn't need me to have long, model legs,"

"... I like your legs,"

I rolled my eyes; of course he'd say that.

"Quite frankly, I miss your legs... dearly,"

Doing my best to not become a puddle of mush on the floor, I had to shake my head to come to my senses. "Well, good luck missing them, because they'll never be anywhere near you again!"

Roman got silent at the end of the phone, clearly moving around wherever he was at the moment. "I'm coming. Where are you?"

I glanced back at the party, scanning my surrounding. To be frank, I wasn't so sure. "Somewhere near Clifford Park," My eyes widened-- had I just blurted that out?

"Clifford Park," he echoed. I heard the jangling of keys and the shuffling of what I could only deduct were jackets. "Meet me at the front gate."

"No, I'm leaving with Peter," I said, sticking to my plan despite how hard my heart was beating at the thought of Roman racing to meet me.

"Yeah, sure you are," I heard a door close on the other end. "Fifteen minutes. Be there."

Realizing he had ended the call, I did a small jump of glee before pulling myself together. It suddenly dawned on me what I had roped myself into.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It hit me that I was in Clifford Park at half past four in the morning. Having waited nearly half an hour, leaving the party behind, I started feeling more and more like a fool. Why had I agreed to this? Peter was definitely right; I always went for the wrong guys.

I was about to leave and get a cab until I saw a familiar silhouette in a long, dark coat nearing me.

"This is not the front gate," Roman said, walking towards me like he didn't have a care in the world, hands tucked into his pockets. His voice had a hint of frustration, which only made me further upset.

"It is!" I said, wrapping myself further up in my jacket. "This is the front gate!"

"No, this is the back,"

"It isn't!" I let out a big huff, my eyes narrowing as he finally caught up to me, his face illuminated by the lamp we were standing under. The hues of orange and black complimented him, the green in his eyes practically sparkling.

Despite being breathless by the sight of him, my angered pride simmered in my chest; "I have been waiting for you for half an hour,"

Roman let out a groan, clearly frustrated as well; "I came about fifteen minutes ago, spent ten minutes waiting for you at the front gate, and then finally came all the way around here after having an unexpected jog in hopes of not finding you killed on the curb,"

Taken aback, I shut down the upcoming trail of curses. He had... worried about me? "Why are you here?" I finally asked. "Why did you come?"

Roman ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed. I was pleasantly surprised to see him like this— hair not styled, dressed in casual wear, lips parted as he tried to find the right words. "There's been a big misunderstanding,"

"Clearly,"

Roman nodded to himself, his gaze falling down to his feet. "I thought this was casual,"

This was not what I wanted to hear. Still a little drunk, I started to turn around, ready to walk away from him. I didn't have the energy to waste any more time on him than I already had.

However, Roman simply followed; "And where do you think you're going in those heels?"

"Anywhere," I mumbled. "I don't want to hear this again."

"You're not even going to hear me out?" he said, a hint of a whine in his voice. "After I came to see you at half past four in the morning in a random park? How often do you think I do this, huh?"

I stopped, feeling my feet ache from the heels. He had a point. I turned around with a hardened gaze, meeting his, my heart beating hard in my chest.

Roman took my silence as a means for him to speak; "Look, I'll come clean. I've been going out with others, sleeping with others, and I've been doing it to dull down the ache I get when I think of you doing the same,"

I blinked twice. "That doesn't make any sense,"

"Yeah... maybe it doesn't," Roman sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. "I'm just used to the girls I'm dating still... dating others, I suppose. I couldn't even bring myself to think you'd be different about it, I just thought that this was how the world worked. Like, imagine I ask for exclusivity and you just... run?"

"I wouldn't run," I took in his every word, not meeting his eyes anymore. I couldn't look at him when he looked so pretty. "I thought I was clear that you were the only one for me.”

There was a twinge of hurt on display in Roman's eyes; "I thought that was just something you told everyone..."

Sighing, I couldn't believe the conversation we were having. How was it possible for such a successful man to be so unsuccessful in his deductions? "And the flowers? Is that also something you give everyone?"

"No,"

"Who else did you bring coffee to while they were at work?"

"No one,"

I finally looked back up at him, my pulse rising as a sliver of hope returned to my body. Why should I believe him? God, how I wanted to.

Roman took a step towards me; "You think my position at my company allows me to run coffee errands everywhere?"

I shrugged— I had no idea.

"You think it's easy to get a Birkin, let alone multiple?"

Embarrassed, I looked away again. I didn't need him to know how little I knew about Birkins.

Roman sighed, running his hand through his soft, brown hair once more. "I've been driving myself crazy about you, y'know? Have you ever had the feeling that you've been... Fuck, I don't know how to properly explain, but like... have you ever felt like you're in an eternal revolving door and then suddenly you're standing still?"

My head turned to him as though I had heard a gunshot. "I have,"

Roman put his hands back in his pockets, chewing his lip. It was clear that he was anxious— I hadn't seen him like this before. Ever. "I'm so tired of running. I'm so tired of others. I just... want to stand still. With you,"

I bit down my growing smile. This was all I had ever wanted to hear. "Even when it's half past four and the standing takes place at Clifford Park?"

Roman let out a slight chuckle; "Especially when it's in Clifford Park,"

"The best place in the world," I said, feeling remnants of happy tears start to poke through my exterior. "Definitely not the third most dangerous park in the state."

"Yeah, fuck," Roman broke out into a smile, his laugh being pure music to my ears. "Let's stand still somewhere else. What do you say about standing still outside the coffee shop until it opens?"

Suddenly, I didn't feel so doomed anymore. I didn't need to start from square one again-- this was it. We both knew it now. "Sounds good,"

Roman hummed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we started our stride. He leaned down to press a kiss against the top of my head; "I missed you. I don't ever want to miss you again,"

link to part two here<3

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #peter rumancek #bill skarsgård #x reader #roman godfrey x reader #fanfiction #corporate!au #roman godfrey fanfiction #bill skarsgard

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 months ago

Note

After Brucequest, Tim just… doesn’t come back. He doesn’t fake his death necessarily- he actually ends up making a blog where he uploads photographs he’s taken (of course, they’re all old photos, from years and years ago, so it doesn’t help anyone find him) just so that his identity isn’t “dead”.

But he just never goes back, and the Bats have no idea where he is. No way to track him. No way to contact him. No way to know he’s actually okay.

(Maybe one day, they find him. But then what?)

Yes. 100%.

The only issue is Ra's an his retaliation. For this to work, Tim would either need to stop/prevent the retaliation somehow outside of Gotham, or there needs to be none in the first place.

And what's Tim doing in the meantime? Did he escape being a cape? Did he retire? Does he become a very secret (not even known) vigilante somewhere? Is he stationary or is he traveling?

I'd like to imagine part of the issue with finding Tim is that he assumes multiple identities at the same time.

[I'm using a random name generator]

Grace Roman a foreign exchange student in England

Flynn Freeman a traveling buisnessman

Ida Berry a resident in Greece

Jerome Levy a rich kid traveling different countries on his parent's dime

Etc. He develops entire backstories, likes, dislikes, personalities, relationships, etc. based on these identities. He sheds them and picks them back up with a dizzy frequency.

I think he'd still help people, but he spends his time exploring. He meets a ton of people, gets wisdom from around the globe, brings his camera to take pictures, and maybe visits some of the places his parents gushed about. He spends a ton of time healing, learning to live with himself, and discovering what he truly wants.

After a few years, when the pain of betrayal and being wronged aren't as prominent, he stops hiding. He doesn't return, but he allows them to find him if they want to.

#tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au

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sadesluvr · 3 months ago

Text

The Bride — PART TWO.

PART ONE

Thad, yes, Thad (short for Thaddeus) went by the common name of Jude. He was one of those men with Roman numerals at the end of his name; the same kind who had summer houses and Fortune 500 companies, which was why your ‘marriage’ had made sense in the first place. Whilst you weren’t a millionaire, you came from a stable home with decent money, making you the perfect partner for someone like Jude. You’d met at college, and as soon as you’d graduated, he’d taken you home to his parents and popped the question.

And being a foolish, naive little twenty-one-year-old...you said yes.

Contrary to how these ordeals typically went, Jude wasn’t an old man – at least not biologically, his mentality was debatable - but two years older than you. As they often did, your relationship started off as a fairytale; with financial stability and relative freedom, at least until you found out that his fathers’ company – the place he’d one day inherit – had been moving donations from the children’s and elderly charities they sponsored and pocketed it for their own.

This revelation came at a time when you’d also found that Jude had been screwing one of his secretaries...so naturally, you decided to blackmail him.

Which turned into extortion.

It wasn’t really your fault; it was an eye for an eye. So long as he added your name to his will – which he’d neglected to tell you he hadn’t done – no one would hear about the funds.

He then retaliated with hiding assets, routinely checking wads of cash with a UV light for your fingerprints so you could be left without freedom.

You responded with a car crash and insurance fraud in his name.

It was this kind of push-pull, give-take, fucked up excuse of a relationship that continued for seven years, ultimately bringing you to Havana today. Jude’s 30th birthday, one set to be shared with both of your families - and his mistress of the week.

Even throughout all your chaos and drama, you had never expected it to end in a murder. Luckily for you, you’d evolved to become someone who thought two steps ahead. Just how ‘coincidental’ had it been for you to receive an unexpected drink from a mysterious gentleman, only two weeks after you’d overheard a conversation between Jude and his friends?

“She’s fucking crazy, man. Straight psycho. I don’t know how she got this way, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll put up with it.”

“Be fucking serious, man. You’ll never leave her. She might leave you, but you won’t. For one, you like the attention, and for two there’s too much wrapped in it. Your parents like her, and imagine all that stress going through in changing those estate papers? The only way you get out of this looking good without her tearing you to shreds is if she dies, and you become the sad, grieving widow.”

“…So you see my predicament?”

Tangerine was frowning, his moustache comically pointing downwards as his eyes remained blank, trying to take in everything you’d said, whilst Lemon, equally shocked, was also somewhat impressed; a hand covering his face as he tapped his lips with his index finger. It was silent until Lemon spoke, stretching as he did.

“So, you’ve single-handedly committed fraud, blackmail, theft and staged a car crash —“

“—Whilst shaggin’ a Cuban bellboy three times a boy three times a year.”

“— Whilst shaggin’ a Cuban bellboy three times a year, but never went and offed this bastard yourself? What’s taking you so long?”

“I don’t know how to use a gun.” You said earnestly, earning a nod of approval from the two men. It wasn’t a lie; just easier to say than the much larger, uncomfortable fact that you’d never really seen a way out of it all.

The two men looked between each-other before glancing back down at the $20K. The money was there, and you’d presented a convincing enough argument – they just had to make sure there were no underlying risks.

“And this husband of yours, he hasn’t got any hitmen or gangs around him has he?” Tangerine said, and you chuckled before vehemently shaking your head. “How do we know there ain’t a bounty on us if we don’t get his job done?”

“I promise you, he’s just an ordinary white collar worker, nothing close to a Steve Jobs. You’d only have to worry about an enquiry, but I know a way of making this all spotless…Do we have a deal?”

The Twins glanced at each-other again, with Tangerine raising a finger before dragging his brother around the corner, hands placed on his hips in frustration. Lemon looked behind him cautiously, his deep brown eyes painted with an inexplicable expression.

“Right, now what do you make of all this, then?”

“I think she’s a Mavis.”

“Oh, fucking hell, Lemon —“

“No, no, no, hear me out on this one,” his brother interjected, raising a hand to silence him.

“Mavis is a Diesel, but she’s one of the good ones. Look, she starts off arrogant, feisty, a little naïve…but throughout time she matures and respects the other engines,” he said before nodding in your direction. “She got hitched at twenty-one, mate – maybe once we kill this fucker she can mature too. And hopefully go to therapy…”

Tangerine shook his head, not because of the annoying tangent Lemon had taken, but the fact that it actually made sense. Running his tongue over his lips, he exhaled before taking out his phone and texting their handler, simply stating that ‘plans had changed’.

“Right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go bring her the good news.”

When they returned you had opened the balcony doors, sat on the patio whilst indulging in another cigarette, staring out onto the streets of Havana. Couples walked hand in hand down the roads, whilst some men sat on the corners, laughing to themselves in the sunset and the dimming street lights, unbeknownst to the Shakespearean situation you’d found yourself in.

Whether it was the buzz from the nicotine filled stick, or simply the fact that you’d become nothing but a black hole over the years, you were eerily calm; indulgent scenarios of Jude’s death playing in your mind like a movie.

The two men – Lemon and Tangerine as you’d figured out – seemed decent enough, as decent as assassins could go, but you had no doubt that should your plan fall apart you’d be able to wriggle your way out of it. Because somehow, you always did.

“Alright, love. Listen up,” Tangerine announced clapping and rubbing his hands together as he drew a seat opposite you, with Lemon leaning up against the balcony, arms folded over his chest. “We’ll do it. But we’ve got a few rules for ‘ya–“

“- We’re the professionals,” Lemon interjected. “You can give us your ideas, but if we don’t like it, we ain’t doin’ it. Capeesh?”

You nodded.

“That’s right. If you fuck us over, or if we don’t get our money, your head is goin’ to be first on the chopping block, d’ya hear me? No second chances.”

“Got it.”

“And finally,” Lemon said ominously, walking over to you in his attempt to be intimidating. He was deadly, of course, but he didn’t have an inherent instability like Tangerine did. “You must never speak about this. If this shit blows up in our face, we don’t wanna see you crying on the news about ‘secret assassins’ n’ all that bullshit. We appreciate your discretion, yeah?”

“I understand,” you hummed before rolling your eyes. “Why are you so convinced I’m going to turn on you? I hate my husband, and you’re practically giving me a way out.”

“Well, I don’t know darling, maybe it’s got somethin’ to do with the fact that ‘yer first instinct was to blackmail ya husband when you found out he was cheating,” The moustached man said, raising his hands matter of factly. “Not knockin’ you darl’, it’s a good move, but you’ve got a pattern.”

“You’re a Mavis.”

“A who?”

“Mavis from Thomas the Tank Engine. She’s a Diesel train, but she’s not like the others. You see, when she arrives in Sodor –“

“Can we hold the Thomas talk for one second, Lemon?” Tangerine scoffed. “We’re talkin’ business here.”

“No, no, I wanna hear this,” you said with a smirk, cocking a eyebrow as you leaned in and stumped out your cigarette. “Besides, it’s getting late. Can’t we figure this out in the morning?”

The man opened his mouth to protest, but Lemon nodded in agreement.

“Ignore him, love. He gets cranky when he hasn’t had a nap,” he said, and you covered your mouth to giggle, much to the chagrin of the man next to you. Lemon looked down at his watch. “It’s only 9PM. We’ve pulled all-nighters before; I don’t see why we can’t do it again...”

The two of you made googly eyes at Tangerine, as if you were children asking their parents to stay up for an extra hour. He looked between you both, ultimately letting out a frustrated sigh before popping his collar.

“Alright,” he huffed. “I’m goin’ to get a fuckin’ drink because I don’t have the patience to deal with you two babies. When I get back, we’re dealin’ with this arsehole, got it?” He finished with a sickly faux smile.

“Is he always like this?” you murmured to Lemon.

“He’s a Gordon, he has no choice.”

“Fuck me...” the man grunted, shaking his head as he made his way towards the door, pretending to ignore each of your requests for a drink and some snacks, with you specifying that yours weren’t poisoned.

He breathed a sigh of relief once he reached the hallway, striding towards the stairs to the lobby and in the direction of the bar, fiddling with his clothes upon reaching the counter. It wasn’t often that he made alliances, but he couldn’t deny that you were promising – already possessing the art of manipulation and recklessness needed to be an assassin.

Raising a finger, he ordered a drink with the bartender, making a mental note to stop by the lobby vending machine for Lemon’s items, before glancing around at the clientele.

Some of them seemed to be well off, like you, whilst others seemed middle to working class, and the longer he looked around the more it became apparent to him that he was looking for someone – the nameless bellboy you’d hooked up with – only to find Jude himself, (he recognised him from the photos you’d shown them) sat across the bar with his mistress, laughing obnoxiously loudly. She wore a skimpy red dress, and if he hadn’t had known better, he would’ve considered her a sugar baby, prostitute, or somewhere in between.

Squinting, he found himself fidgeting again as he watched the sordid scene in front of him, with the bastard probably thinking that his wife was hunched over, puking her guts out into a toilet before she inevitably keeled over and died. He normally didn’t care about interpersonal relationships – it wasn’t part of his job – but he knew enough about the man to know that he wasn’t worth saving...even if you yourself weren’t morally infallible.

Perhaps that was the reason he was resisting the urge to beat the life out of him. Either that, or the fact that he wanted you.

Grumbling to himself, he downed a glass of whiskey before lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag as held the nicotine in his lungs and puffing it out like a dragon.

All was fine until the bastard himself decided to make a comment.

“Hey -- You can’t smoke here, dude,” Jude said in his snotty American accent. “Have some respect for the lady.”

Tangerine shrugged, plastering a fake smile onto his face.

“My apologies, I didn’t realise you worked here, mate.”

Jude winced, his mistress shifting uncomfortably in his arms.

“I don’t, but I’m sure you can --”

“Well, that settles it then, doesn’t it?” the man interjected, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Bloody smart-arse, you are.”

The woman clambered off him, watching as Jude became visibly more agitated, hands fidgety and eyes bulging.

“They’re not good for you, anyway,” Jude continued, clearing his throat. “My ex-wife could barely pry herself from those things. No wonder she died.”

Tangerine didn’t visibly react but found himself wholly amused at the fact that he was so confident to have thought you were dead already. Rigor mortis hadn’t even kicked in yet.

“Yeah, well, if I had a partner that was anything like you, I’d smoke twelve packs a day fucking hoping that my lungs would dry up like ‘yer nan’s fanny,” he sniffed. “Fucking headache, trying to deal with you.”

Jude winced.

“I wouldn’t go there,” he said, his voice stern, but there was something in his stature that was rather unconvincing. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Oh, I’m real scared. Fucking quaking,” Tangerine laughed. His hands itched to knock the life out of him, but knew that watching you slaughter him would be far more stimulating. “I pity you. You don’t even know what the fucks coming.”

Slamming a note and a few coins on the table, he walked off without a second thought. It may have been one of the few times he walked away from a battle, but he was certainly not going to lose the war.

PART THREE

Taglist: @mylatest-hyperfixation @thewizardcat @j23r23 (For commenting!🤍✨)

#florence writes!!#tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train x reader #tangerine imagine #bullet train x reader #bullet train imagine #atj x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader

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crownofgildedlilies · 7 months ago

Text

tellin' myself i can always do with out it -> cool about it [3]

in which: a son of jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.

pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader

warnings: cursing, angst, threats of violence, actual violence

word count: 6.6k

a/n: I simply cannot talk enough about this fic. also, reminder, this has a nonlinear plot!

one two [three] four

Thunderstorms sent your blood singing.

The drop in temperature, the racing winds, the sound of torrential rain and striking lighting. You loved it all. When you were little, sometimes the only sense of stability and routine you had would be the clap of thunder following the bolt of electricity arcing from the skies.

You loved thunder.

But thirty seconds ago, there hadn’t been a cloud in sight.

You had noticed the change in the air instantly, maybe even quicker than your half-siblings seated around the Mess Hall table with you, arguing over where the best vacation spot would be, if demigods could safely vacation.

"Somewhere warm!"

"Somewhere with a view!"

"Somewhere with lots of tourists to pickpocket."

"This is why us kids of Mercury have a bad name, Reggie."

The storm was centralized over the field set aside for War Games, which piqued your curiosity even more, because you knew Jason volunteered to oversee the group assigned to clean the shrapnel from the grass.

There had been some disgruntled comments over the fact that you hadn’t been assigned clean-up duty, considering it was entirely your doing during the last games that led to so much damage on the field. Jason had stepped in to settle the issue, and somehow ended up leading the group.

He's always sticking up for her, a daughter of Mars named Janis that followed after Octavian like a leashed dog had muttered. It’s not fair that the Praetor has favorites.

And though Janis had meant to insult you, you took the comment with a smile full of sharp teeth. Because you couldn’t exactly deny that you were one of Jason’s favorites, and the fact was so far from upsetting.

"All you, Centurion," Your half-sister snickered, shoving your shoulder in the direction of the vicious storm. And really, you couldn't deny that you were probably the only one capable of breaching the gale force winds to calm the source at its heart.

Meaning, no one but you could get close to Jason when he was in such a state.

"Pride of the Praetor!" Another sibling shouted as you stood, and they should have counted themselves lucky that you were more worried about finding Jason and not launching the remains of your lunch at them in retaliation. Your face flushed, but you didn't give any reaction beyond your middle finger extending over your shoulder as you turned to leave.

You would be lying if you said that you didn't walk just a little faster than typical towards the source of the storm. The alarms hadn't been raised, so it wasn't an attack, but the wind had picked up and rain was hammering the ground in an almost perfect circle, a ring of soaked Romans clad in purple standing at the edge.

"It's bad, this time," Rico, a fellow member of the Fifth Cohort, winced when he saw you approach, his dark hair stuck up in every direction from the wind, his hands wringing the rain from hem of his shirt. "Like, bad. You sure you want to go in there?"

You made a low sound in the back of your throat, almost like a hum, more similar to a warning. Through the haze of the rain, you could see Jason hunched on the ground, right in the eye of the storm. Head tucked between his knees, shoulders heaving with his heavy breaths.

"You think this is bad?" You settled on asking, tone almost scoffing. Rico shot you a glance, like he couldn't believe careful, curated Praetor Grace could get much worse. "You should have seen him after Krios almost killed me."

Rico shuddered at the mention of the Titan, killed only a few short months back. Or maybe it was at the memory of war, but maybe it was at the memory of how Jason had nearly torn down all of Mount Tamalpais after the battle, searching for your injured body in the rubble.

"Henry almost got blasted just now." Rico tried to counter, after a moment, nodding his head in the direction of the storm crackling with lightning every few seconds.

"Henry probably deserved it," You said flatly, not missing a beat and tugging an elastic from your wrist to tie back your hair. It wouldn't do you any good, flying around in your face while you fought to get to Jason through the storm.

A dozen feet to your left, Henry let out an offended 'hey!', but you had already grit your teeth and stepped into the bubble of chaos.

Towards Jason. Always, to him.

Rico murmured something about you being crazy, probably for being stupid enough to dive headfirst into one of angry Jason's thunderstorms, but you had never really seen him as a scary son of Jupiter.

The myths about the king of the gods were… less than flattering. Egotistical, paranoid, cheating, lying, lord of the heavens, Jupiter.

But your Jason? He was all that was good in the world.

A protector, a fighter, a total sweetheart. Real pretty, too.

And yet, as he sat in the middle of swirling winds and torrential rains that no one wanted to get close to, you saw his father in him.

The anger, the depths of power. It was, always, all in Jason. Hidden, yes, under his bright smile and caring temperament, but there, nonetheless.

The anger wasn’t enough to scare you off. You weren’t sure anything about him would be enough to do that. Besides, hadn't you shown him time and time again just how relentlessly angry you could be?

And he still stayed. Still paid for your coffees in New Rome and let you borrow his books on military strategy, which you would have found unendingly dry if it weren't for his annotations, written in blue ink in the margins. Sometimes, you found yourself reading his thoughts more than the actual text.

Once, he’d written your name at the bottom of the page, next to a star, and when you had asked him about it he had flushed and claimed it was a reminder to himself to ask your opinions on the strategy listed.

You could have kissed him right there. You should have.

He wasn’t a bad guy. He just had rotten luck in fathers and temperament when pushed too far.

So you planted your feet in the dirt and fought against the winds and rain to get to him. You didn’t even care that you had an audience, or that your clothes stuck to your body with the sudden onslaught of rain and storm chilling you to the bone.

All that mattered, ever, was Jason.

Reaching where he sat, tucked tightly in on himself, you dropped into the spot beside him, so close your knee dug into his thigh.

The moment you joined him, he turned to face you with red-rimmed eyes, and the sight was enough to clench your heart in a cold, fearful fist. Anger knitted his brows together, a wolf’s snarl on his lips, but it all softened when he saw it was you beside him.

You had expected him to be angry, yes, but you had rarely ever seen the total fury that now shone bright in his eyes.

"Jase?" You had to shout to be heard over the wind, but your voice still came out quiet. Instantly, the winds died around you, though they raged in the greater circle around the both of you that you had already fought through, creating a bubble of peace and serenity between you and nosy Roman onlookers.

Silence roared in your ears, a dozen sets of eyes burned holes into your back, waiting to see how Fifth's most violent calmed New Rome's most powerful.

"I don't—" Jason started, voice tight, but you stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Hold on," You murmured, then twisted in your spot to face the drenched crowd at the edge of the storm. They couldn’t hear you, not as wind and thunder still raged around the bubble Jason had granted you, but they could see you.

More importantly, they could see your middle finger, raised once more.

Fuck off and leave us be, you said in your own form of sign language.

Rico got the message first, started shoving the other Romans in the direction off of field and back towards main camp without further prompting.

“There. Better.” You hummed, turning back towards Jason. You knew things were bad, this time, like, bad as Rico had so eloquently put it when Jason didn't even humor you with a teasing, chastising grin.

You're not going to make any friends that way, he had once shook his head and smiled, fist knotted in the back of your shirt between your shoulders as he practically dragged you away from Octavian's gaggle of brainless bruisers. You had long since given up on trying to fight back against him, because he was bigger and stronger and had thoroughly kicked your ass in sparring once that day already.

Good. I don't need any other friends. I already have you, you had spat, letting yourself be led like a feral kitten picked up by the scruff of their neck by some heart-of-gold animal rescue volunteer.

Might not have me forever, Jason had suggested, and you dug your heels so deep into the ground you actually managed to force him to stop.

Don't even joke about that, Jason Grace, you had seethed, voice tight, and you had watched the panic cross his face at the lethality of your glare, the silent promise of what you would do to him if he kept making comments about his exit from your life.

Sorry, soldier. Won’t happen again, he had promised. I’ll be by your side forever.

Point was, even when he didn't exactly approve of your actions, he still granted you the privilege of his scar-flecked smile.

“Jase,” On instinct, your fingers carded through his soaked hair, moving it off his forehead for just the chance to touch him. “Baby, what happened?”

“You only ever call me that when you’re worried,” He pointed out, dodging the question. You frowned, tilting your head towards him involuntarily, as if you could physically see what was bothering him if only you moved closer.

"I am worried." You told him flatly, still trying to get him to meet your eye, wondering if maybe it would be affective if you tried to physically smooth away the anger living in the knot of his brows. "Forecast said we weren't supposed to have rain until next week."

"I don't want to talk about it," He grunted, holding his head between his hands. You told yourself it was because he was growing overwhelmed by his fury, not that he did so to stop your fingers from brushing comfortingly across his skin.

"What did Henry do?" You took a shot in the dark.

"Henry?" He asked, momentarily startled out of his frustration by the sudden, out-of-place question. He lifted his stare towards you, confusion briefly breaking up the anger displayed across his face. "Nothing."

"Right, remind me to apologize to him later." You kept your voice light, praying to gods that only ever picked and chose when they listened that he would take the bait and grin along with you.

It didn't work.

"Don't make me kick your ass for keeping secrets from me," You puffed out your chest like you ever had any hope of being intimidating to Jason. Sure, a good chunk of Camp Jupiter groaned and lamented when they learned they were going up against you in the War Games, but Jason had never.

He ducked your gaze, and your patience started dangling on a very thin thread, so you leaned to the side and placed your chin on his shoulder, proving to him that you weren't giving up so easily. Not that he needed the reminder. He had once seen you, for weeks, track down the legionnaire that had unintentionally taken your unassigned assigned seat in the Mess Hall, slightly inconveniencing her every chance you had.

Romans were known for their relentless dedication, after all.

"Jason Grace," You tried again, forcing a feigned disappointed edge to your voice. Your next step was to start whining, then maybe you would set your hand on his leg, the shortest inch above his knee. That always got him flustered, and you enjoyed rosy-cheeked Jason far more than you cared to admit. "Give me a name, at least. I wanna know who we're mad at."

He sighed, and even though he still wasn't looking at you, you took that as a victory.

"Damien," He huffed the name, hands flinching into fists atop his knees and scar flexing as he spoke.

"Oh, that dick," You cursed, grinning, because sure Damien might have been the most obnoxious son of Venus you had ever met, but he was leagues above Octavian in terms of summon a thunderstorm types of anger inducing. Jason grunted, in agreement, and you dug your chin harder into his shoulder, a silent reprimand for not looking at you. Maybe you should kiss him there, as punishment. "Why are we mad?"

We. It wasn't even a question. If someone pissed off Jason, chances are you were already plotting their demise. And if someone pissed off you? Well, that was just an average Tuesday, but Jason still had your back.

"Don't make me say it," He pleaded, the broken edge to his voice shattering through both his anger and your chest, rocking you to your core.

"Humor me." You asked, because the alternative was tracking down Damien and beating the truth out of him, but you had searched out Jason with the intentions of helping him calm down, not riling him up more.

Even if you were probably going to find Damien the moment you left the field, anyways.

He sighed, again, and lifted his stare to yours. His blue eyes were still cracking with lingering fury and rain raced down the slant of his nose, dripping off the end and falling into the soaked grass.

They said lightning never struck the same place twice. But Jason's did, scorching your heart each time he caught his gaze against yours.

And maybe that was only a metaphor, or all in your head, but his real lightning blasted a crater into the dirt thirty-some odd feet to your left, in a spot you were pretty certain had been the same one in which he had used a bolt to shred apart a water cannon during War Games, once.

“It can’t have been so bad." You reasoned, because if you stayed silent any longer, you would have done nothing but stare into his eyes for the rest of time. "I hit Damien too hard over the head during training a few weeks ago for him to think of clever insults.”

Jason offered you a dry chuckle then, darting his stare to his fists, still clenched atop his knees. Without thinking of the consequences, you settled your hand over one of his.

"He called you annoying,"

"I am annoying," You stated plainly, face twisted in confusion. While Jason had always refused to play along with your whole self-depreciating bit, he had never gotten so worked up over it. "That can't be all he said."

"I'm not saying the rest," Jason shook his head, clenching his jaw so tight you had to knot the hand that wasn't covering his fists in the hem of your shirt to keep from tracing the carved edge of it. "But it was... horrible stuff. And I would have beat the shit out of him, right here in the fields, except that new boy, Sammy, was watching all of it."

Any other day, you would have grinned and called out the Jason Grace for cursing and fighting, but the anguish in his voice was almost too much to bear. Clearly, he wasn't only mad about what Damien said about you, which was a relief.

You could fight your own battles. You didn't need the praetor doing that for you, no matter how pretty his smile was.

And you knew what he was worried about, too. Sammy was the camp's newest arrival, and the youngest they had seen in a while at only nine. You had seen him around, wobbling lips and watering, frantic eyes.

Sammy was scared, of camp, of the monsters he had already seen, of the big kids with big swords he saw at every turn.

You couldn't blame him. You had been the same way, too.

"He looked... so scared when I started yelling," Jason's voice shuddered, his face once more pinched in anger and anguish. "I didn't want him to be any more scared, and especially not of me. I'm his praetor, and I got worked up and scared him. He's going to think I'm some brute he can't trust, and—"

"I'll talk to him, later," You interrupted, because as much as you talked badly about yourself, you couldn't stand when Jason did the same. "Alright? I'll make sure he understands that Damien is a dickhead and you are the sweetest, smartest, safest fucking person in the world, who just happens to have a built in lightning show attached to his emotions."

Slowly, the remaining thunderstorm tapered out, until even the light drizzle disappeared and you were left with your golden boy under the rays of sun, just like the forecast had predicted.

Jason's shoulders briefly shook with a silent chuckle, the corners of his lips curling up the slightest bit as he turned to face you, eyes still rimmed with red but not quite as distant anymore.

"Maybe don't use those exact words. The kid's only nine." He teased, bumping his shoulder into yours and causing you to roll your eyes, a familiar and well-loved chain of events.

"I was worse when I was nine," You countered, taking his fist from his knee and pulling into your lap, eyes tracing the outline of his skin against yours.

"I can imagine," He fired back, voice quiet, distracted, as he watched you slowly ease his fist open, splaying his fingers and pressing your palms together, heels lined up, so you could see just how much larger his hand was than yours.

An old trick, but it made your face warm all the same.

"Fine," You hummed, studying how nicely his hand slotted against yours. "I'll tell him that you're the most dedicated praetor to exist—Reyna included, so she doesn't get mad at me. I'll tell him that you insist on checking my armor for me at the start of battle, even though I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."

You sent him a pointed look, because you were capable of doing your own armor, but it was more a part of Jason's routine than any distrust of your skill, anymore.

"I'll tell him you walk me to my bunk each night to make sure no one is ever messing with me, even though the teasing comes after you leave." You made that comment just to watch him flush, finally threading your fingers through his. "And I'll tell him that your hands may summon lightning, but they are also kind and gentle and not meant only for hurting."

You turned to face him, but he was only watching how your hands fit together like they were always meant to, a conflicted look on his face. Lips slightly pursed, you had the sudden urge to kiss his pearly scar.

It was far from the first time you had dreamed of doing so, but never had you felt so close to saying fuck it and committing.

Instead, because you knew your self control hung on a thread, you leaned close to his ear, voice dropping and warm breath brushing against his damp skin.

"Besides, I think it's hot when you get all protective of me," You whispered, then blew a puff of air into his ear that had him flinching away from you, startled by the sensation.

Your head tilted back in a laugh so loud it would have carried all the way back to camp if Jason's winds had willed it. There was a flush on his cheeks, lips moving as he grumbled out complaints about you, none with any real heat, none that ever crossed any of the boundaries that protected your heart.

Still, you jumped to your feet and sprinted away from him, knowing his retaliation would be swift, imminent, and lethal. As expected, Jason stood, too, ready for the chase.

He was smiling, though. So you considered it a victory.

There had been some complaints, some valid arguments made, when you declared that you would be joining the party that would follow the Greek trireme.

"You won't be able to make the hard choice, when it comes to it," Rico had murmured, voice dropped low. Dakota wasn't stupid enough to say it to your face, but you knew he felt the same. Most of the legion did.

How could they not?

The hard choice in question involved killing Jason Grace, and you had yet to remove the key to his bunk room from around your neck, even as you readied your eagle for flight while Rico desperately tried to talk you out of it.

"Centurion, just listen to me, for a second!" He pleaded, your back to him. Takeoff was any minute now, you knew, and if you wasted time kicking Rico's ass for what he was suggesting about your Roman loyalties like you wanted to, you would miss it. Besides, you couldn’t even convince yourself where your Roman loyalties laid. "You don't have to do this to yourself—"

"Legionnaire," A commanding, familiar, and almost haunted voice called out to you. Reyna. "Leave us."

Rico nodded his head and left, and for a horrifying moment you thought that Reyna would tell you that she was ordering you to stay behind. That she bought into the fact that Jason had, of his own free will, left with the group that had destroyed the only home he ever knew, the one he knew held you.

And maybe he didn't exactly remember you, but you had to trust that his instincts ran deep. He would never hurt you.

"Rico has a point," Reyna stated, and the only thing tethering you to your body was the massive but you heard silently tacked onto the end of her sentence. "You and I both know what's at stake here. Beyond Jason Grace, beyond the borders of camp."

"Gaea is rising. And she won't care whether we're Roman or Greek when the killing starts." You confirmed. You hadn't stopped to let yourself think of anything other than the news of war the Greeks had brought. What it meant for you, for your chances of tracking down Juno and pummeling the shit out of her until she relented and gave you your Jason back.

It was a good distraction, you had to admit. And you trusted the Greeks, because Jason trusted them.

"Then I know you will do what is necessary when we find the trireme." Reyna nodded, and just as fast as she appeared she was gone, leaving you with more questions than answers and a heart made of lead.

Reyna's words echoed in your mind on a loop, all the way to Charleston.

And suddenly, you were standing in the harbor, searching through the chaos for Jason and the others, hoping against hope that after the Roman chariot had just collided with Jason midair that you would find him in one piece.

That you would find him.

Because you were certain no one else received Reyna's cryptic message.

You opted for a sword, because you always found it more useful during single combat than a lance. The moment you jumped off the back of your eagle, you had slipped from the group, knowing that you couldn't even convince Dakota that you were doing the right thing.

Fort Sumter was one hell of a piece of military history, and if you had cared much at all about American history you would have been jealous that Jason had already visited the site once before, instead of being jealous that Reyna had been the one to go with him.

But, standing on the paved walkway, your back to the trireme with Jason, Frank, and the Greek named Leo at your front, you were jealous of the screaming mortals, able to run away from the scene, guilt-free.

Jason was ten feet in front of you. The only time you had ever been on the opposite side of battle than him had been in drills. It hurt, far more than you would have thought, to have Jason hold his sword out and study you for weaknesses he should have already known about.

You favored your right side, moved your feet around too much. Dropped your elbows, too. He should have known about those factors, because he had been the one to point them out to you.

"'Morning," You called out, voice tight and knees locked, shoulders back and shield raised. And though Jason trusted him for reasons you were yet to understand, you couldn't help but pin your glare on Leo and snarl. "You blew up my city."

Children lived there. Families you knew and vowed to protect, who had humored your constant streams of questions about Jason's whereabouts and never, ever, made you feel like a monster.

You sure as hell felt like a monster, then, at the look on his face.

"If it helps, I didn't mean to," Leo called back. You barely remembered hearing him when he had spoken back in New Rome, but his tone was the same. Light, joking, not taking a damn thing seriously. Or maybe you didn't know him well enough to hear the strain in his voice.

"Maybe when I kill you, it will be an accident, too." Gods, it was like you were ten again. Making threats you didn't mean, hating people because people had always hated you.

How quickly had you reverted to the person you had been before, when Jason was no longer around to calm your temper.

"You don't mean that," Jason commented, though it sounded more so like a question than the truth that it was. "I don't know how I know, but I do."

You wanted to scream and swing your sword because Jason did know how he knew that. Years and years of following at your elbow, of teasing and conversations and comfort taught him when you were being serious and when you were bluffing.

"The killing me part or the accident part?" Leo asked, darting a glance to Jason as Frank looked like he wanted to be anywhere but beside him. "Because I'd like some clarification on which part she doesn't mean."

"We need to get to that ship," Jason ignored Leo, his stare locked on you so tightly you wanted him to close his eyes. "Please,"

"It's three against one," Leo glanced at his friends, confused, pulling a hammer from his tool belt you were beginning to realize was magic. "Frank doesn't even need to go elephant mode, and we're home free."

"Are you kidding me?" Frank glared at Leo. You could only watch the boys carefully, hands never wavering on your sword or shield as they decided on their plan of attack. You didn’t want to hurt any of them, but you would if they tried you. "You've never seen her fight. We'd be dead before I could even think of an animal to become."

"She's got powers?" Jason murmured, like the idea didn't sound right to him, but the possibility was still there. There was shouting in the distance, Romans trying to find where the three traitors standing before you had ended up.

"Skill," You clarified. And maybe your Mercury blessed speed might have counted for a power, but you would never wield it against him maliciously. You would never wield anything against him. "We've got about two and a half minutes before someone finds us, and I stop being so nice."

"Nice?" Leo questioned, darting another glance to Jason. "Bro, first Khione falls in love with you and tries to freeze you forever in her palace, then Medea wants to get me and you to kill each other because you've got the same name as her old boyfriend. Now, your old girlfriend thinks it's nice to threaten to murder me? Dude, what is it with you and scary girls?"

"Leo," Jason hissed through clenched teeth, and you knew he saw the hurt and shame and embarrassment crash over your face, but what you didn't know was if he knew what it all meant. "Shut up."

"Yeah, maybe I'll try that."

You didn't have it in you to see the humor in the situation.

"If you know me as well as Hazel claims, then you'll understand why I need to leave." Jason reasoned, taking a step towards you, and gods if you weren't trying your hardest to not be bitter.

How had you forgotten about Hazel? The sweet young girl who had been the only one on the trireme that had seen you and Jason together, and then your downfall after his disappearance. If he had wanted to ask about you, she had plenty to say, no doubt.

But Hazel had only ever seen the two of you from afar. She hadn't been privy to the ways you and Jason had seemingly shared a mind and soul.

"I know you better than anyone, Jase." Your voice was more ragged than it had been the last time you had spoken. Somehow the conversation and Jason's almost indifference had taken a physical toll on you. "Apparently, better than you know yourself."

"Look, I'm sorry for not remembering." He apologized, as if any of it was his fault. The wolves, the bullies, the monsters, and the wars. The gods that always needed his help for just one more thing, dangling the promise of a few months respite in front of his face like it was a reward instead of the norm.

Your lip curled in a snarl, then softened into a frown. Anger had always been easier than vulnerability for you, but never when it came to Jason.

"They will kill you if you're caught," You warned, because maybe he didn't remember that, either. Almost of its own accord, your sword lowered. "Then they'll kill me, for this."

You stepped to the side, nodding your head in the direction of the trireme in the near distance. Leo and Frank took off at a sprint past you, but Jason's pace was slower, stopping at your feet like he had never once feared the weapon in your hand.

No matter how many times you had pointed it at his throat during trainings.

"Thank you," His voice was sullen but strong, like he was upset it had come to such a point though he would never back down. Little soldier Jason, always doing what he must despite how he felt.

You wanted to berate him. To take his face between your hands and hold him until he remembered you, your touch, just how deeply you meant to him. It was embarrassing, really. How much Roman training did he manage to override in you, with only his stare and few words?

"Save the world for me," You ordered, deflecting. Giving directions to others was easy. You were a centurion, after all. But making yourself listen? That was a trick not even Jason had quite figured out, yet.

And now, maybe he never would have the chance to keep trying.

"Gods, I wish I remembered you." He muttered, voice almost pleading. The sound was like Aphrodite herself cracked open your chest and carved out your heart. You had half a mind to track down Juno that very moment. "When I get back, we'll figure this out."

When I get back.

Because he was still leaving you.

This time, at least, you would know where he was. But the Ancient Lands were forbidden from you. If something happened to him on such a wildly dangerous quest, you might break off to find him, sure, but you had no way of getting to him.

You might have known where he would be, but he was still just as removed from you as before.

"Do me a favor?" You tilted your chin up defiantly, the same way you always did whenever someone questioned you. Jason nodded, like the sweetheart he was, had always been, eager to help you with whatever you needed. "Don’t think about me any more than you have to."

Because you weren't naive enough to believe that his missing memories of you wouldn't be wildly distracting for him, especially after whatever Hazel shared, and you couldn't live with yourself if he got hurt on his quest.

"I can't just not—" Panic flooded his devastatingly handsome face, obscured only by a few scrapes that would heal in no time.

"Go," Interrupting, your gaze settled on the Fort behind him, shouts from your fellow Romans growing louder, closer. If he stayed, you would have no choice but to fight him when the others appeared.

You didn't give him the chance to argue, turning from him before he could hurt you more.

It was easy enough to fake your injuries, considering you already had real ones nobody knew about.

Your battered ribs were already a mess of bruised skin and you simply exaggerated the limp you had been sporting since the giant army attacked New Rome.

But then Octavian, Dakota, and Rico joined your cluster of Romans after the trireme fled into the open water. They were soaked from no doubt an unintentional swim in the harbor, and maybe you could have have been more convincing.

You were claiming you had tried stopping Jason, Frank, and Leo, but they simply got the better of you. Some of your party believed you. Most refused to comment.

Octavian, of course, refused to shut up.

"He should not have been able to get past you, Centurion!" The augur chastised, like anyone, anywhere, would have been able to stop a determined Jason Grace.

You had said it before, and would say it a thousand times again. The world should have been grateful Jason was not as cruel as his father.

"You let Percy get past you," You countered, chin raised and glaring. "And you weren't alone."

"How did you end up alone, searching for Jason?" Octavian purposed, taking at step closer to you. Somehow, with a control of yourself you had never felt before, you didn't draw your sword from the sheath at your waist and hold it to his throat. "Perhaps looking to follow him? We all know how much of that you did back at camp."

Reyna stepped forward, but so did you, each one of your muscles clenched tight and ready to snap.

"Perhaps no one followed me. I'm our best shot at getting to Jason, aren't I?" You tilted your head to the side, two inches at most, in an act so condescending Octavian turned purple. The implication was there, that he would never be able to capture Jason, because Jason couldn't stand him.

But you?

"Do you really think that’s the same Jason Grace that was in love with you?" Octavian sneered. "The Greeks have changed him for the worse. Whatever future you had planned for yourself with him is gone."

From the time you were a small child, you had lived in a perpetual state of anger. Sometimes, it was simmering low under the surface, barely seen through your smiles and loud laughter. Sometimes it showed itself in short bursts during battles or Senate meetings when other members got too mouthy.

And sometimes, your anger burned so hot you couldn't see straight.

The last time it happened, you had found out a stupid son of Mars named Mark had been harassing little Sammy.

Another, younger, camper had told you of the bullying one evening while you readied to meet Jason for dinner. You had calmly stopped what you were doing, exited the bunk house, and trekked all the way to the Mess Hall on your own.

You didn't even say a word to Mark as you tackled him to the ground, he on his back and you straddling him to lay punch after punch to his face.

You had expected to take him to the ground, but not so soon. Mark's inability to fight was suddenly made very clear, highlighted by the fact that he had been trying to harass a nine year old kid instead of someone in his own weight bracket.

You might have sent him to the infirmary unconscious, instead of on his own two feet, if Jason hadn't arrived. Sweeping in like the hero he was, pulling you off Mark and muttering promises to fix whatever had happened.

I've already fixed it, right Mark? You had spat at the dazed son of Mars, the entire Mess Hall watching in silence as Jason struggled to lead you away, untold violence almost a promise in your eyes. No more beating on children, 'cause it sucks to be the weaker one, huh?

To someone who didn't know what had just happened, you calling Mark the weaker one looked a little ridiculous. He was twice your size.

But you were twice Sammy's size. And you threw a punch a hell of a lot better.

You spent the night in the brig, had to dig trenches for a week, but Jason had held your chin in his hands and told you that he would have done the same if it were him, so it all evened out in the end.

Whatever future you had planned for yourself with him is gone.

Octavian had pushed you past your breaking point.

You launched forward, hands gripping the edges of his armor to pull him close so you could get in his face without him being able to get away. He tried, struggling to wriggle free and pull your hands off of him, but you held fast.

"If you ever talk to me that way again, I will gut you like one of your stuffed animals." You hissed a promise, fury contorting your face into something that had sent plenty of enemies running on the battlefield. "Let's see if you can read the auguries in your own entrails."

Octavian was spluttering out half-sentences, shocked by how lethal your voice sound, when Dakota and Rico managed to haul you away from the augur. Your friends each had an arm locked around yours, and you struggled to free yourself, anger and venom still dripping from your every movement.

"Let her go," Reyna ordered. At once, Dakota and Rico dropped you, and you wasted no time in pinning them both with glares. You knew they were only trying to help you, but you had felt so far beyond help, lately. "We need everyone for our next step."

She sounded tired, weary. You wondered if you were the only one who heard her.

"Next step?" You heard someone ask, and somehow the question seemed to take several years off of Reyna's life. You remembered how haunted she had looked when she spoke to you before leaving camp, and now you wondered if she knew it would come to this all along.

Because you had studied war strategies for years. You knew what came next before Reyna had the chance to say it.

"We go North. To Camp Half-Blood."

a/n: tried to do an anger parallel with them, but idk if it worked so well bc duh jason's not there to comfort reader at the end, like she was to him. they just get each other so well! also, if you asked me to be on the taglist, and ur not, plz let me know! I could have sworn somebody else asked but I cannot for the life of me find the notif

tag, you're it! @aezuria @tayswiftlovebot @bonnie-tz @folklorefantasies14 @sunshine-of-ur-life @irwinchester @bellamysnatblida @saph-nic @auroraofthesun1 @helloimamistake @maybxlle @p-rspective @lauptimist @dontstopxx @apollosfavkiddo @ebony-reine-vibes @poppysrin

#jason grace #jason grace fanfic #jason grace x you #jason grace fanfiction #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #heroes of olympus #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #pjo

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