Anything Bobby/Jacob. Please. I am so tired of paddling my rarepair pool noodle alone in the Quarry pond.
Maybe set when Bobby has to get him down from the trap? I am begging 🙏
🌦️ the monkey’s paw curls. I wrote bobbyjake :)
Jacobus seethed from inside his family’s private box at the Amphitheatrum Flavium. He wished his family never found out he was really an omega, not a beta like he had been pretending to be when he first presented. The patrician class always spoke of male omegas as a gift, as great politicians and orators who could continue the family line without doubt of relation. But male omegas were banned from the military and his best friend Nicolus Furcillus— an equestrian family, not a patrician like Jacobus— had enlisted to fulfil his proper duties as a Roman vir. Jacobus just missed his best friend. He wasn't even very good at being a politician, either— he’d do better in battle, wearing lorica segmentata alongside his comrades.
The venationes were pretty dull today, he thought. Not even the more exotic animals they kept bringing out for the fights made it exciting. He couldn't leave though, for the same reason he had to attend. He needed to keep his public image up if he wanted any chance of keeping his political career afloat now that he was moving into his twenties as an unmated omega.
Then they brought the wolves out and there was a man with rippling muscles exposed for all to see— and a hat Jacobus had never seen before. He had no weapons. Jacobus was immediately intrigued.
There was a bizarre art to the brutality of his fighting style— tearing right through wild wolves like they were nothing. He had to be an alpha. Jacob felt a pang of jealousy at the status he held, even though it was ridiculous because Jacob was in the patrician class and the man was down there. Finally, something interesting.
“Serve, quis est?” Jacobus asked his maid once he took himself out of his trance. (Slave, who is he?)
“Nomen ei est Bobbius Hackettus,” his maid responded quickly. (His name is Bobby Hackett.)
“Quid? Ignobiles— isti Hacketti?” (What? The dishonoured— those Hacketts?)
“Sic. Pugnat ut reddat debita pro familia eius.” (Yes. He fights to pay debts for his family.)
Bobbius was still fighting, still going, dripping with blood. Jacobus had to meet him. After Bobbius had finished, Jacobus decided to slip away from his box— surely no one would question a quick break. He bribed his way into the hunter’s quarters easily with his patrician status and money. They barely cared at all, but when presented with a couple sesterces that care went down to none.
“Hackette!” Jacobus called out upon seeing the familiar rippling back muscles, mid cleaning himself with olive oil. There was still a lot of blood on him. (Hackett!)
“Quis est?” the man asked, turning around. He looked a lot more… innocent up close, somehow. There was a softness in his eyes. (Who is it?)
But still… Jacobus wasn't used to being so much smaller than someone, even alphas— he had always been a tall omega. It felt a little scary, considering the man was cleaning wolf blood from his body— but something deep inside him was preening at the thought of the size difference.
“Jacobus Custo. Pugnabas bene,” he asked awkwardly. He didn't know what he was doing down here, he was running on pure adrenaline. (Jacob Custos. You were fighting well.)
“Bene facis— pugnas?” Bobbius responded, giving him a nod. Jacobus couldn't keep his eyes off the oil and blood on his chest shining in the torchlit room. (Thank you— you fight?)
Jacobus felt shame run through him, which he was sure Bobbius could smell in the pheromones he had suddenly lost control of. “Minime. Vetitus est— sum… omega.” (Nope. It is forbidden— I am… an omega.)
🌦️(if my Latin is wrong it's not my fault, I am sick xoxo)
