#looked at those two specifically but slipped a few more into my watch later and 👀 the actual romanticism in the lyrics

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Question for u, have you listened to Malice Mizer?? Because I swear their music is so incredibly fitting for Pouf, I feel like he’d love a lot of their songs but I could see au revoir and gardenia being among his favorites :]

The "I want to sleep in your arms" line in au revoir but every time it repeats he says it just a little louder until he's screaming

Also,, the outfits in the video giving me the mental image of glam rock pouf

[kingkat12]

seven minutes in hell (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, public sex(??), voyeurism, emotional extortion (Roman is such an ass omg), groping, foul language, smoking, angst, mentions of sex

summary: after you made out with Roman during a game of seven minutes in heaven, he insists that you owe him for not telling Letha about it-- how can someone so beautiful be so evil?

word count: 8,192 (yes I know lol)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9

a/n: after having my inbox flooded w sweethearts asking for a part two, here you go!! I do advise new readers to read the first one before this, because idk how much sense this is going to make without it lol, but enjoy!!<33

Paranoia. That was the only word that could describe the week that followed the party where Roman and I had kissed.

I had spent every waking moment wondering when Roman would show up to cash in his debt or prick me with a goddamn needle. His words lingered in my mind, haunting me; "Fine, I'll be nice. But you owe me," The reminder of those words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder how I could've been so stupid as to rope myself into something like this.

Roman knew I liked him. In fact, he knew it very well. I couldn't even mask my feelings with hatred anymore, and everything about that made me want to throw myself off a cliff-- that would probably be more merciful than whatever it was that I had in store. 

After we had made out during seven minutes of heaven, I had to tell my best friend, Letha, that nothing had happened. If she found out that I had made out with her cousin, I doubt she'd want to have me hanging around any longer. And quite frankly, Letha was my favourite person in the whole world, so it was detrimental that she stayed close. She was like a ray of sunshine peeking out through heaps of stormy skies; there was no way in hell I'd lose her without a fight.

Which is why I needed to keep Roman in check, along with my body un-pierced by any incoming needles. 

The first time I saw him after the party, was a few days later in the cafeteria at school. I had stopped in my tracks, completely turning to stone as I watched him with his friends. It was almost as though I was afraid he'd see me if I moved, and to my shock, that's exactly what happened-- as I shifted my weight from one foot to another, harshly gripping my tray of food, his eyes landed on me with a quickness that immediately threw me into a state of panic. I bolted with speed I didn't know I had, not stopping until I reached the other end of the school, panting. 

The second time had been at the library. I had been looking for a specific book that was quite old, meaning I had to do a lot of searching-- the librarian had been of no help, of course. As I scoured the shelves of endless books, crouching down to get a look at the lower sections, I suddenly felt a pair of eyes on me from above.

I looked up to find Roman's green eyes staring at me from the other aisle; his height made it ridiculously easy to lean over, having no visual obstruction of my side of the shelf. Something about the smirk playing across his lips made me freeze up-- it felt like I was prey, about to be eaten whole. I let out a squeak of horror as I grabbed the first book I saw, not letting him get a word in before I dashed towards the exit without a second thought.

The third time was the absolute worst; I had been walking down the stairs with Letha, on our way to our shared history class, as we suddenly encountered Roman on his way up. I felt my heart beat against the books I now pressed tightly against my chest, holding my breath as he neared us with a conniving look on his face-- I was quite sure I had lost all the blood in mine.

As Roman and Letha had a conversation about some sort of family dinner later, I did my best to make myself as small as possible; I wondered whether I should slip away into the crowd or just throw myself down the stairs. 

I was quite sure that it was clear to Roman why I was avoiding him, and I was even more sure that it also was amusing to him. It was rather obvious, with the way he obnoxiously eyed me up with a growing grin. "You okay?" he asked, nudging me. "You look spooked."

Asshole. Just the slightest touch was enough to make me flinch, and my words came out in a breathy mumble; "I'm fine," 

Roman nodded, exchanging a look with Letha. He grew taller when he took a step up, inching closer as he leaned over to check which books I had pressed up against my chest. His long, slender fingers reached forward to tug at one of the books to get a better look, and I would've missed the note he slipped down along the front of my history book if I had blinked. As Roman pulled away, dragging his fingers through his hair as though nothing had happened, I held my books as tight to my chest as I possibly could to not let the note slide down to the floor. 

My heart was beating harder than ever as Roman made his way past me, his familiar cologne lingering in my system as Letha and I made it to class five minutes early. As she left to use the bathroom, I could finally put away my things, inhaling a shaky breath as I checked the note;

meet me behind school in an hour, or I tell Letha everything

I couldn't help the groan that escaped me, ripping the piece of paper to shreds. This was not going to end well.

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Somehow, I had managed to pry myself away from Letha for long enough to make it in time for my meeting with Roman. I was tugging at the sleeves of my jumper, anxiously ripping at the fabric. Wondering whether I should've worn protective gear to shield myself from any needle-kinks he might impose on me, I trembled with fear-- I didn't want to see him. 

Despite my wishes, Roman eventually came around the corner, a rather mischievous smirk spread across his soft, pink lips as he neared me. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the wall next to me, his green eyes etching themselves into my skull. His usual cardigan was draped around his shoulders and over his white shirt, tied in the front, as he crossed his long legs in the classic Roman Godfrey stance. "I'm glad to see you came,"

"As if I had a choice," I mumbled, glancing at our surroundings, not wanting to be caught alone with him here. I had to do everything in my power not to look at the casual swoop of his hair, not wanting to think about how handsome he looked right now. "What do you want?"

Roman blinked twice, almost as though he had expected me to say something else. "Isn't it obvious?"

I was afraid my heart was pounding audibly in my chest. "No," My gaze darted down to my shoes, kicking away a nearby rock. "Can't we just forget any of it ever happened?"

"Well, that was sort of the draft of the original plan," Roman said, shrugging. "But you've clearly not been able to forget it, with the way you've been avoiding me for a week now... So it seems we have to resolve this, somehow."

Did this mean that I had only made things worse for myself? I wanted to hit my head against the wall and bleed out-- that would probably feel better than what I was feeling on the inside right now. "The actual kiss hasn't been on my mind much... Mostly just the needles,"

Roman let out a huff-- was it a laugh? "I'm not going to fucking poke you, could you calm down about that?"

"I can't be sure when it comes to you, Roman!--"

"So you haven't thought about it?" He cut me off, eyes sparkling with the need to know. "The kiss?"

If I'd had something to throw at him, I would've done so in a heartbeat. Why was he so keen on knowing that? "Not much,"

"Only at night?"

I couldn't even hold back my grimace, listening to him snickering like a proud toddler. "Definitely not," I grumbled, now kicking at another rock. "Why does it matter to you?"

Roman shrugged; "I don't think you understand how intriguing it was to find out you've liked me all this time," He watched as I continued to tug at the sleeve of my sweater, looking like a nervous wreck. The image before him made his grin widen. "You've been the biggest bitch ever, do you know that? I was dead sure you hated my guts until you begged me to fucking kiss you!"

"I didn't beg!" I exclaimed, protesting. "In your fucking dreams, Roman!"

He rolled his eyes, taking a step towards me. Feeling his presence inching closer, I stopped kicking the scattered rocks around me, looking up to meet his gaze.

Roman leaned down, matching himself on the level of my widening eyes. He studied me as I froze to my spot like an icicle, holding my breath to not get swept up in thoughts of how good he smelled and how soft his lips looked up close. "You're still running your mouth," he mumbled,  and I felt his eyes fall on my lips as well. "I thought you might get a little nicer if I complied with your little kiss."

His way of thinking had me furrowing my brows, confused. Was that why he kissed me? A tiny piece of my heart broke, the hope I had buried deep in my gut dissolving. Why had I ever hoped that his reasons for kissing me the way he did had been different? "I'll be nice if you agree that I don't owe you anything anymore. It's been driving me nuts,"

With this, Roman broke out into a rather abrupt laugh; "Are you kidding? There's no way in hell I'd absolve you of that, anymore,"

The laugh felt so damning, I couldn't help but shudder. I was two seconds away from kicking him instead of the rocks. "What do you want, then?"

Roman straightened up, the look on his face giving away that he was debating what to choose. "It's probably not something as bad as you expected it to be," he said, nodding to himself as he no longer met my hard gaze. "I'd just like it if you told me why you like me."

What? I stared up at him in disbelief, lips parting in shock. Had I avoided him like the plague over a simple question? Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable one to answer, but my mind had already concluded that he would stick me with needles like a voodoo doll and leave me for dead on a road somewhere.  "Uh... Could I ask why?"

"Nope,"

I nodded; "Okay...?" Clearing my throat, I pondered where to start. I hadn't actually thought about this question, and I had to scour my brain for the answer. "I don't know," I eventually mumbled. "I guess I just think you're handsome." Saying it out loud physically pained me, but I knew I had to get this over with.

Roman blinked twice, meeting my gaze with a rather empty look about him. "That's it?"

"I don't know? I think so," I shrugged, searching through my mind for more. "You're my type, I suppose. Tall, brown hair, green eyes... And unattainable. I guess that a part of me likes that you'll never like me back." Saying this out loud, however, was even worse. I hadn't thought about it like that up until this moment.

Roman seemed even more confused than I did. "So it was nothing that I did?"

Something told me he was searching for something more meaningful, but I had always known that my crush was superficial. "I don't think so..."

What followed would haunt me for days on end; Roman broke out into a rather maniacal laugh, running his hands through his hair in clear denial. "So it's just the same, then," he said in between hiccups of laughter. "It's not about me at all!"

I could only watch as he went into some sort of a mental storm, biting down on his lower lip to suppress the noise. "I don't think you quite understand how it is for no one to like you for you," Roman continued, now pacing back and forth as his trail of words sped up; "You've probably never had that problem, right? Guys probably like you because you're nice to them, I've seen that multiple times. Or that one guy that just hasn't left you alone since you sat together during assembly that one time-- what the fuck was his name?"

I held my breath; what on earth was I witnessing? "Roman, I think you're spiraling, let's just breathe--"

"Daniel, wasn't it?" Roman finally looked back at me, a cramped smile on display along his lips. "He definitely likes you for you, right? Not just because you're cute? That must be fucking nice." 

I had never imagined that I would pity someone for only being liked for their looks. Somehow, I found myself wanting to comfort him, and I had to fight that instinct. "It would probably be easier for you to find something real if you weren't such a prick," I mumbled. "If you didn't tug people's hair, throw stuff at them, or stab them with needles?"

That seemed to be enough for Roman to take a step back from his weird state, his pacing coming to a halt. Something seemed to be dawning on him, a crushing realization that should've come about ten years ago, but instead of taking it like an adult, he retaliated; "Well, you're not exactly doing any better than me! You've liked me for God knows how long, and you've treated me like utter crap!"

"Because you did the same to me!" I said, feeling my voice raise with my emotions. "You've had no interest in me, along with all the bullshit you've pulled all year! Don't you think it would probably be easier for me to like you for who you are if you had been a pleasant person to be around?"

Groaning, Roman turned his back to me, ready to walk away. After taking a few steps, he turned on his heel, facing me once more. Fury was burning in his green, green eyes, fists balling up as he spoke; "This is not over. You tell anyone just a tiny fraction of this conversation, I'll tell Letha I fucked you raw," 

My jaw fell in complete and utter shock as he walked away, cursing myself to the heavens and beyond. How had I managed to make this an even bigger mess than it was before I came? As I went back to kicking rocks, trying to catch my breath, bits of the conversation suddenly came back to me; did he just say that I was cute? That he had seen me with Daniel during assembly, and that he had spotted me talking to my previous flings?

This only made everything furthermore confusing; it was obvious that he didn't like me, either. But what on earth was going on in that brain of his?

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The next time I saw Roman was a few days later in the hallway during rush hour. I had spent several nights tossing and turning, trying to decrypt the conversation that continued to haunt me. The conclusion I arrived at, was that he might be lashing out with the needles and the childish behaviour because he didn't know how else to express interest. 

But then again, that would mean that he was very interested in me. I was sure something was wrong with that conclusion, but I couldn't pinpoint any other possible theory at this moment. I also couldn't shake how upset he looked when he found out my crush was purely superficial; was his need to be seen for who he was so overpowering?

So when I finally flagged him down, Roman was in a rush, and this was rather unfortunate; my legs were much shorter than his, and I had to go into a jog to not lose sight of him. Eventually, I caught up to him, grabbing his wrist and tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

Roman seemed rather confused, glancing down at me with a wild look in his eyes which quickly died out when he saw who it was. "What are you doing?--"

"You smiled at me in class," I confessed, feeling my cheeks redden. "The sun was hitting your eyes in a way that made them extra green, and you smiled at me and handed me a pencil. That's when I knew I liked you." Slowly, I pried my fingers away from his wrist, letting out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. It felt like an enormous weight had lifted off my shoulders, like the anxiety that clung to me had been washed away in a calm stream of water in the mountains.

Why did I feel such strong a need to tell him my crush wasn't purely superficial? That it had stemmed from the simplest act of kindness? I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Did I pity him that much? 

Roman's pupils expanded, and he stood as if glued to his spot. People kept passing us by, but it was as though all the surrounding sound died out. It was clear that his mind was racing, his brows drawing together in confusion-- or was it disgust? I couldn't be sure. Either way, my heart was thumping so hard in my chest that it hurt. 

I cleared my throat; "Have... a nice day," Before he could answer or make fun of me, I turned on my heel and bolted down the hall, knowing my heart wouldn't be able to take it if he shut me down once more. 

I couldn't take any more of this. Clutching my heart as I made it to my locker, I knew I had to get ready for class and that I didn't have time for the crushing feeling taking over my chest. 

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A big part of me had hoped that our last interaction would be the end of it all. That I wouldn't have to owe Roman anything anymore, that he wouldn't be threatening to tell Letha that we kissed or fucked or whatever-- I should've known that was an unattainable reality. 

I was practically falling asleep at the end of a long day of school. Exhausted, I allowed myself to close my eyes as I leaned my head against my palm, elbow at my table, waiting for class to start. A worrying thought popped into my head as I realized that chemistry was the only class I shared with Roman, which meant that he would probably be showing any time soon. 

With a yawn, I blinked several times, hoping to wake up as I sat back in my chair. I was about to do some stretches, but as I turned to my right, I let out a yelp, nearly falling off my seat.

And I would've fallen right down to the floor if Roman hadn't grabbed the edge of my chair, holding me back with one hand as though it was nothing. "Careful, there," 

That's exactly what he had said when we were in that damn closet playing seven minutes in heaven. I shivered, getting a severe case of deja vu as I looked back at him in disbelief. "When on earth did you show up?"

"Right around the time you nodded off," Roman's books were already on the table-- had I genuinely slept for a minute or two? How could I have missed this? He let go of my seat with a snicker, shaking his head; "You're quite the case, aren't you?"

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you want? Why are you sitting here?"

"Could you relax?" Roman rolled his eyes, his mood worsening by the second. "Look around, Sherlock, there's nowhere else to sit."

It pained me to realize he was right. With a huff, I fought the urge to kick him under the table. As the teacher finally entered the classroom, excusing himself for being a few minutes late, I let out a sigh of relief; I hoped to avoid talking to Roman as much as possible from now on. After I had confessed to him and gotten nothing in return again, I was dead tired of seeing his gorgeous face-- it was physically painful, at this point.

As class started, I reached into my bag to find a pencil. A good minute passed by as I rummaged around, which eventually garnered Roman's attention; he immediately knew what I was looking for. He turned to me with a spare pencil which he had lying about on his table, holding it out in front of me.

Someone up there was definitely playing pranks on me-- I was sure of it now. With an embarrassed smile, I watched as the sun hit the green of his eyes, illuminating them further as I reached for the pencil. The tips of our fingers touched, just for a few seconds, but it felt like I had almost burned myself with how my nerves reacted to the nudge of his hand against mine. 

Roman seemed to understand the irony of the situation, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a dizzying look of kindness. 

There it was. The root of all my problems-- the simplest act of warmth along with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. The bullshit that started it all. 

I hummed to myself as I broke eye contact, crouching over my table to start taking notes, desperate to distract myself. Every fibre of my being felt like it was buzzing with electricity, unable to calm down. 

It didn't take long before Roman shoved a small note onto my part of the table. I gave him a look before I opened it, sighing.

we need to talk. meet me by my car after school

Turning to Roman, I couldn't help but glare; this again? But his smirk melted me in more ways than one, and I knew that it could have consequences if I didn't go. 

Fuck.

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I waited until there were almost no cars in the parking lot in front of the school, hiding away in the library in the meantime. I didn't exactly want to be seen talking to him. As I finally walked out past the front entrance, I held my breath as I spotted Roman leaning against his red jaguar, typing away on his phone. I wondered who he was texting-- was it Brooke from the cheerleading team? No, it couldn't be; unless she still wanted to be with him after he pricked her with the legendary needle.

It didn't take long for Roman to put away his phone, watching me as I neared him. Something about the way his hair lay in waves over his forehead made him look like even more of a heartbreaker than he already was. "Long time no see, hm?"

I didn't even want to fake being entertained by that-- we both knew that we'd seen each other in class less than twenty minutes ago. "What do you want?"

Roman rolled his eyes; "Can't you at least act like you like me? We both know you do,"

Something about being called out like that didn't sit right with me, but I swallowed my curses. I had to be on his good side, after all, so that he wouldn't turn around and tell Letha what had happened between us. "Did you want me to come skipping down the stairs and run to you?" I asked, getting a good look at him. "Or maybe a blowjob before I bake you a pie?"

A humoured smirk spread across his lips, giving in to a chuckle. "You could at least start by standing a little closer?" Roman put his hands up in the air as though he was surrendering; "Look ma, no needles!"

I huffed, complying. I took a few steps forward, watching the last car leave in my peripheral view. It was definitely not a good idea to be alone with him like this-- I should've known better. 

This didn't seem to be enough for Roman, who proceeded to tap the spot next to him on the hood of his car. 

I groaned; "Roman, come on--"

In a swift motion, he hooked his fingers inside my front pockets, dragging me forward as I yelped. Roman grabbed my hips, forcing me down on the car with a soft thud. With wide eyes, I turned to him, watching his hands disappear back into his pockets. 

"You're infuriating," Roman mumbled under his breath, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his right pocket. He held it out in front of me; "Want one?"

Honestly, I had only smoked once. It had resulted in me coughing up what felt like half a lung. "No, thanks," 

He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette as he hummed. This little dance around why he had told me to come made me further nervous, once again reaching for the sleeve of my sweater, tugging at the seams that had come loose. The smell of nicotine infiltrated my nose, and I turned to him just in time to watch him exhale a few rings of smoke, eyes transfixed on them as they evaporated into thin air. 

Finally, Roman spoke up; "I'm calling for a truce,"

What? My eyes widened, scanning him for lies. "... What's the catch?"

Roman turned to me, a slight smile splayed across his lips. "You know me too well," he said, chuckling as a light breeze passed us. "I want us to play a game, and then all is forgotten."

"Oh no," I blurted out. "What kind of game, Roman? Can't you take pity on me just once?--"

I immediately shut up as I felt his arm wrap around me, holding out his cigarette in front of my mouth between his fingers. I wasn't about to start fighting him in an empty parking lot, so I parted my lips, accepting the cigarette despite knowing I would cough up everything I had eaten for lunch if I inhaled properly. 

Roman's face was suddenly very close to mine; "Ever heard of this game... Wait, what was it called? Seven minutes in hell?"

For fuck's sake. I watched as he laughed, amused by his joke. Still, my eyes darted down to his bouncing leg, watching as he gave away a sliver of nervousness. I reached for the cigarette, getting it out of my mouth; "Sounds about right," Balancing it between my fingers, holding it out in front of his mouth just as he had done to me, Roman hummed as he wrapped his lips around the cigarette, taking a puff.

Before Roman could take it back into his hand, I pulled the cigarette away from him, putting it back into my mouth. Something about sharing the cigarette was making a familiar ache between my legs throb, which in turn made me cross my legs. I didn't inhale the smoke into my lungs, keeping it in my mouth before breathing it out, knowing it was hard to differentiate between that and the real thing. "Where would we play?" I eventually said, glancing at him.

Now that we were sitting like this, Roman's arm around me, I realized we hadn't been this close since that party where we had kissed. Something about his embrace was comforting, despite me knowing that he was doing it to take the piss out of me. However, my steadfast belief in his reasons became shaky as I met his eyes, watching how unusually big his pupils were as he looked down at me, a certain calmness about him. "My car?"

I couldn't help but giggle as I handed him the cigarette, our fingers meeting in the exchange. "I'm not making out with you in your car,"

"Why not?"

"Every single cheerleader slut at this school has been in the back of that thing," 

Roman shrugged; "Not everyone. Eleven out of fifteen,"

"Ew, you're not making it any better!--"

"Fine!" he huffed, giving me a squeeze with the arm he had around me. Roman put out his cigarette by throwing it to the ground, giving it a proper stomp before he turned to me, a mischievous smirk on display. "No one has been in the front, though."

It was hard to say no when he looked at me like this; how was it possible for someone so conniving to be so beautiful? I had to look away from Roman-- it was getting impossible to breathe. Tugging at my sleeves once more, I realized I had ripped out a new seam. "Look, I have to say I'm a little confused... You're not even into me, so I don't get why you'd want to kiss me again," I let go of my sweater, realizing I would probably manage to rip it all apart if I didn't calm down. "It really is a power thing for you, isn't it?"

Roman hummed, rubbing my arm in a soothing manner as he stared out at the parking lot with a rather hollow look in his eyes. "Yeah... That's definitely what it is,"

I didn't have time to wonder why he didn't sound so convinced. As I dared to look at him again, I watched him lost in thought, pondering something. I took that as my cue to get out of playing his game; "Making out would probably be fun and all, but don't you think it is more beneficial for you if we maybe got to... I don't know, know each other?"

Confused, Roman's gaze darted back to me. "Why?"

"You seemed to be a little upset that I didn't like you because of you, remember?" I gave him a playful nudge, drawing forth a smile. "Instead of imposing your weird dominance kink or whatever it is on me, wouldn't you want to prove that there's more to you?"

This seemed to strike a chord with Roman, who slowly started to nod in approval. "That... doesn't sound so bad,"

I damn right hoped so-- I let out a shaky breath, relieved to not become the twelfth girl to end up in Roman's car.

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I couldn't believe that I had managed to fix myself up with a date with the Roman Godfrey. He was practically known for never going out on dates with anyone, but here I was, running around my room trying to find something nice to wear.

However, there was one tiny hoop I had to get through-- Letha was on speaker phone as I rummaged through my drawers, and my heart was racing as I tried to avoid her questions."I still don't get why you can't hang out today!" Letha whined, clearly upset with me. "I thought you were going to help me pick out some shoes down at the sale!"

I grimaced, feeling like the biggest prick on the planet. "I'm sorry, Letha, I'm just not feeling too good..." With a heavy heart, I could hear her sulk on the other end as I finally found the perfect bag. 

"I've barely seen you this week... You've been so jumpy, I just feel like you're avoiding me. Did I do something?"

No, no! I was about to protest until I heard a sound coming from my driveway; I made my way to my window, glancing down at Roman's red car, watching as he parked. Clearing my throat, I rushed to my phone; "Letha, I'm so fucking nauseous, I think I need to throw up... I'm so sorry, could I call you back later?"

I heard her sigh; "Get better soon, okay?--"

As Roman started honking outside, clearly impatient, I had to leave the call without even saying goodbye. Groaning, I gathered my stuff, making my way down the stairs and outside with hurried steps. "Stop that!" I said, trying to steady my breathing as I approached the car. "My parents are inside!"

"So what?" Roman's cocky smirk was on display as always, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Whatever dumb fuck told you I'm a patient man, is a dumb fuck." Roman got out of his car to open my door on the other side. It was nice to see that he had a gentleman bone in him-- it gave me hope that this date wouldn't crash and burn. 

And weirdly enough, it actually went quite well. I had been worried that he'd take me out shooting or whatever it was that he did in his free time, but Roman settled for something simple-- we were currently sat in my favourite café in the city, having the most normal conversation we'd ever had. 

"You're kidding me?" Roman said, putting down his coffee with a look of shock on his face. "You've never seen The Godfather?"

I couldn't help but huff-- this was a solid reminder that he still was a guy at the end of the day. "I haven't gotten to it, I guess,"

"Well, you have to!" He ran his fingers through his styled hair, shaking his head in disapproval. Roman was wearing a different shirt today that I hadn't seen before, and I was getting the feeling that he had actually dressed up a bit despite how casual this date was. "What else haven't you seen?" 

"Uh, I don't know?--"

"What else haven't you done, is probably a better question," Roman was grinning from ear to ear now, eyes sparkling in anticipation. "First kiss?"

"David Parker, eighth grade," I put down my milkshake with a smirk, happy to be sizing him up. "You?"

Roman seemed beyond amused; "Amanda Reiley, sixth," He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, intrigued that I wasn't backing down from his intrusive questions. "First time?"

I had to suppress a cough, feeling as though I was choking on air. There was no way in hell I'd tell him I hadn't had sex yet. "... Some guy I met on vacation last year in Greece, don't remember his name,"

"Really, now?" Roman hummed, leaning back against his chair. "Not buying it. You squirm like a virgin every time I look at you."

My breath caught in my throat-- "Pardon?"

It seemed that my reaction only amused him, but he still spared me by brushing over it. "My first time was with Denise Campbell, ninth grade. Was really sweet, actually,"

I tried to shake off the fact that Roman had been right in his deductions. The story of his first time was unexpected, and he had been quite young-- concerningly young. "Roman Godfrey and sweet don't usually go together, in my book. Did you light candles or something?" I took a sip of my milkshake, watching him break out into a smile. 

"Honestly? I think she lit one," he said, a soft chuckle following.

 I had forgotten how beautiful his laugh was. Flustered, I put away my milkshake, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I met his gorgeous, green eyes. There was a calmness about him now, something I had trouble getting used to. It was a big contrast to the way he had looked at me while we played seven minutes in heaven, or the way he had been looking at me the whole week I had avoided him. The usual feeling of unease that crept up my system whenever he was around was long gone-- it was almost as though we were friends. 

Nervous about my next question, I started picking at my nails; "So where did it go wrong?"

"Pardon?"

I didn't meet his gaze anymore. "When did it become casual to you?"

"Sex?"

"Sex,"

Roman hummed, taking a rather long sip of coffee. I wondered whether I had gone too far with the question, but he didn't seem fazed. "Didn't get too far with being sweet, I suppose,"

This was definitely a chapter in Roman's life that I hadn't expected to hear about-- who had broken his heart? And why was it comforting to know that he'd had that experience? Something about it made him more human. "That's sad," I mumbled, forcing myself to leave my nails alone. "Sweet usually gets you quite far."

Something about that seemed to intrigue him; he moved to the edge of his chair, closer. "Don't you girls usually like the bad guys? That seems to work well, in my experience,"

I shrugged; "It can be fun for a week or two. Any longer than that, and your heart starts to tire,"

"Ah," was all Roman said, tapping his fingers against the table in an impatient manner. "Would you want to get ice cream? It's on me."

This conversation was starting to give me whiplash. "I'm sold," I eventually answered, shooting him a smile. It was nice to know that he wanted to continue the date despite my intrusive questions-- I couldn't lie; I was rather enjoying myself. And my ego was getting the biggest inflation it'd had in a while, remembering he didn't usually go out on dates at all.

About half an hour later, we were now walking down the street with our ice cream, once again debating why I hadn't watched The Godfather-- boys really love that movie, don't they? I took the liberty of looking up at him as he explained the plot to me in excessive detail, watching his hands flail around in excitement as he spoke, eyes round and green, and the way a single strand of hair lay in front of his eyes, straying from his stylings.

The man I had hated this whole year suddenly became a person to me. A person with interests, quirks, and feelings-- weirdly enough. Roman didn't come off as a spoiled brat right now, and I could barely remember a time when I would run away from him and his needles. Like this, I could imagine sweet moments with Roman, possibly even holding his hand as we walked down this street, doing normal stuff together. 

In another lifetime, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

However, I was quickly yanked out of my daydreams when I spotted a familiar figure leaving the shoe store across the street. With a panicked yelp, I grabbed Roman, dragging him down the nearest alleyway as I felt my blood run cold. 

Roman looked beyond confused; "What are you?--"

"Letha!" 

His mouth formed an 'o', watching me press myself up against the wall. "She doesn't know?"

I shook my head, letting out a shaky breath. This was definitely not what I needed right now. If she found out I was here with Roman and that I had lied to her, I was sure she'd have my head. Why couldn't I just melt into the wall and become immaterial? 

With ease and calm, Roman grabbed my finished ice cream, putting it down on the ground along with his own before nearing me. "We'll wait it out,"

What? "Thought you were ready to rat me out?" I leaned forward, glancing past the corner of the alley, making sure Letha hadn't seen us. 

"Well..." Roman put his hand on my shoulder, guiding my back to the wall once more. "I know she'd kill you, and you can't die before watching The Godfather."

Had I not been preoccupied with being quiet, I would've groaned right in his cocky face. The hand he had on my shoulder burned against my skin, and I was getting flashbacks to our time in the closet at the party where we had kissed. "I've repaid my debt to you now, anyway," I mumbled, warily glancing past the edge of the corner where we were standing, watching Letha from afar. 

Roman's hand on my shoulder quickly made its way into my hair, fingers twisting themselves into the nape of my neck, forcing me to face him. I let my breath escape me as my lips parted, watching him with big, wide eyes; what was happening? It was at this moment that I realized how close he was standing, how he was practically pressed up against me.

There was something sinister about the look on Roman's face-- it suddenly dawned on me that he was still the same person, even though he had buried this side of him for a few hours. He would always thrive when seeing someone in an anxious state, feel joy at any visible conflict or misery, and it dawned on me how bad of a situation this was when his next words came out in a dangerous whisper; "I could just call her over here, do you know that?" Roman's grip on my hair tightened, almost enough to make me wince. "You've made quite a mess of yourself, sneaking behind her back. I could ruin you in a second."

"You won't, though," Fucker.

Intrigued, Roman's green eyes sparkled; "And why are you so sure of that?"

My chest was heaving against him, hating every second, every minute of this encounter. When had he turned into such a sadist? Was it after Denise Campbell in ninth grade? I wanted to make sure I asked him that next time. "Because this gets you high," I hissed. "This feeling that you get from watching me get scared? You're addicted. You're a fucking junkie." 

I felt Roman breathe out against my lips, leaning closer, eyes burning into mine. I could see the flickering flames in them, and I knew that I had set them alight-- I was quite literally playing with fire at this point. "Well, this is who I am," he said through gritted teeth. "Do you get it now?"

"Get what?"

"Why no one likes me," Now, the fire died out, turning into an unintelligible emotion swimming in the green of his eyes. I didn't need to be a specialist to understand that he was baring his coping mechanism for me to see. "Why no one ever will. And why you will go back to hating me once we're done here."

It felt as though I had finally finished a puzzle with five thousand pieces. This was it. Had Roman made himself so unlovable to protect his feelings? Were all his stupid quirks just means to scare away girls so that they would stop liking him? I couldn't help but pity him-- beneath his harsh exterior, I could sense who he was beneath all of it. In a flash of emotions, I reached out to touch his face with a wary, gentle touch. 

Roman's eyes widened, confused, as I moved away the strand of hair that strayed from the rest.

"I know you said this wouldn't be easy," I said, voice soft. "Whatever would ensue between us. And I spent a lot of time thinking about that, actually, and I think the answer is that you just make it hard for yourself." Sighing, I let my hands rest against his shoulders, watching his every move and reaction. It was obvious that he was caught off guard. "I pity you, Roman. But I thank you for making me realize how much guts one must have to feel... Why are you so scared?"

Roman just stared at me, his breathing coming out in shallow breaths through his nose. He stood as if frozen to his spot, and his hand left my hair, falling to his side as his eyes never left mine. "I'm not scared," he eventually said.

"You're terrified,"

"No,"

"There's no point denying, it's really fucking obvious--"

"No, it isn't!" Roman snarled, grabbing my hands, and prying them off of him. "Maybe I just don't like you in that way, have you ever considered that?"

I shrugged; "I have. But it still doesn't change the fact that I can read the fear on your face like an open fucking book,"

Groaning, Roman let out an exasperated sigh. He let go of my hands, the fury apparent in his unsteady breathing. It was obvious that he had never confronted his issues head-on, and that he didn't like the process one bit. "You need to watch your mouth,"

"Or what?" It was as though my fear had escaped me, staring him down with challenge burning its way through my veins. "You're going to tell Letha we fucked or whatever? Go ahead, see what I care! Just know that I will be telling the whole school that your dick is smaller than my pinky if you do."

Roman's eye twitched as he let out a guttural growl, body tensing up as he balled his fists, one of them returning to my hair. It was clear that I had angered him; he grabbed a fistful, yanking my head upward with a force that made me wince, pulling me flush against him. It was at this moment that I felt something press up against my stomach-- my eyes widened with the realization that he was hard. "Do you still like me?" he asked, his breath tickling the underside of my nose. 

When I refused to answer, Roman took my silence as a yes. "You're going to hurt yourself if you continue to,"

"Wasn't it you who proclaimed me a masochist?" I answered, a smirk forming on my lips. Something told me that I had him cornered. 

And I was right-- it was Roman's turn to go silent, staring into my eyes as multiple emotions flashed before him. Standing like this with him was almost comforting; I had finally deciphered him. I knew that he had practically built himself a fortress of hate and fired the canons at any signs of intrusions. He was so desperately human right now-- it was making me dizzy. Or was that just his harsh grip on my hair? 

"Roman?"

A hum.

"You can kiss me now if you want to,"

The hand in my hair loosened its grip, and I watched as Roman inhaled a long breath, no longer conflicted.

And so our lips came together in the alley, a rather hungry kiss ensuing. My hands went up into Roman's hair, letting out soft gasps against him as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him with a burning need. I could taste the remnants of the chocolate flavoured ice-cream on his tongue, the sweetness mixing in with the roughness of our kiss. I wondered whether he could taste the vanilla on mine-- chocolate and vanilla were my favourite mix, anyway.

I knew there was a possibility of Letha spotting us if she walked our way, but it only made me more desperate for Roman. I had missed him dearly, the memories of our last kiss having haunted me through every hour of every day. There was no doubt in it now-- he wanted me too. It gave me such an immense rush, along with the satisfaction of feeling how hard he was against me, the throbbing of his cock continuing against my stomach as he pressed me further into the wall behind me. Something felt wrong about him being aroused after our fight, especially now that we were practically in public, but I knew I didn't want to push him away just yet. 

I was completely breathless by the time Roman shifted, his thigh now pressing up against the apex of my own. Caught off guard, I whimpered as he grabbed my hips, moving my hips against him as the kiss deepened, growing further needy. I could feel it in my bones; not only did he want me, he needed me. This was just about the biggest high I had ever had. Roman Godfrey-- all mine in this moment.

The friction between my legs, feeling his cock continuously brush up against my stomach through our clothes, had me gripping his shoulder, disconnecting our kiss to catch my breath. My head rolled back against the wall behind me as I pondered how I had allowed this to happen, not used to pleasure caused by others. 

Roman's fingers wrapped around my throat, holding me in place as we rocked against each other, lips hovering above one another before they came crashing together once more, unable to keep away. I let out a broken whimper, my hands flying back up into his hair, pulling him closer as pleasure coursed through my veins in a way I hadn't ever felt before. I couldn't quite put my finger on what this was, but I had never been this certain that I liked it.

I let out a broken moan as my head rolled back once more, which in turn had Roman connecting our lips, muffling any sounds. This was where I was reminded that we were in public, wondering if I had gone absolutely mad-- I blamed it all on him. His beautiful eyes, his strong arms, and his addicting, soft lips. As Roman continued to grind me up against his thigh, pulling away to watch my lips part and my body squirm in pleasure, I gazed up at the way the corners of his mouth turned up into his signature smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing-- messing with me like this, practically in public. 

It took a lot of willpower for me to push him away, whimpering slightly at the loss of contact. "We-- We can't," I said, catching my breath. 

Like this, I could see how disheveled Roman's hair was, how his lips looked swollen with kisses, and it made my stomach flip-- how was it possible for someone to be so beautiful, even when completely unraveled? 

Roman shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. It was clear that he was scanning my look of arousal; "My car is right around the corner,"

"Okay...?"

Leaning forward, Roman captured my lips in a short kiss. "I can park it somewhere desolate," he said, nipping at my lower lip. 

I couldn't help but shiver-- that sounded really fucking nice at the moment, but I knew I had to control myself. And I wasn't about to lose my virginity in a car? "Another time," I mumbled, struggling to catch my breath. Who would've known that arousal could cloud the mind like this? 

Roman nodded, accepting my words as a promise. "I'll hold you to that,"

Oh no-- This again? Great.

Just great.

(a/n: here are the links to PART 1, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9!<33 thank you for reading!!)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: I am queuing this so who knows if Im still suffering.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The morning is going splendid. You spilled your coffee and the tea you packed in a thermos, you left on your counter. The realisation doesn’t hit you until you pull up to the site. You huff and hang your head, gripping the steering wheel as you brace yourself for your caffeine withdrawal. 

At least it’s dry. Mostly. As Thor forecast, the rain didn’t come until the night. The steady patter kept you awake, along with that lingering displacement that never quite leaves you. Fatigue is another constant. Your new normal; sleepless nights and sleepy days. 

You get out and set to work. It’s all you can do. It’s all you’ve been doing. Just keep going. It doesn’t matter how, just get it done, get through the day. 

You yawn at your task, brushing digging, oh so gently wiggling the little form. It’s almost out. Almost free. In your eagerness for some progress, you get careless. Your hand slips and the spearhead grazes our palm. Is isn’t until the stinging splits your skin that you realise it’s a slash. 

Damn it, you didn’t put your damned gloves on. 

Great, with the luck you’re having, you’ve just contracted some ancient virus. You hiss and grip your wrist. Your adrenaline triggers your heart. You take a few breaths to stay calm as you watch the blood bead to the surface. 

You curse and stagger to your feet. You grab the rag from your back pocket and clutch it in your injured hand. You grip it tight as you cross the site, careful not to tread to heavily, and you angle the fencing to sidle between two panels.  

You clumsily pull open the car door and reach under the seat. You always keep an emergency with you. It’s a rule of thumb for your sort of work. You never know what might happen. Bug spray, sunscreen, bandages, swabs, a hole trove of supplies. 

You shake as the pain intensifies, thrumming through your palm. You come out and rest the plastic tote on the hood and sift through with your single hand. This is going to be awkward as hell. While you enjoy your solitary, it can sometimes be unsettling. What if something worse happened? 

“Ruff, ruff, rrrrruffffff,” the growlish yet high-pitched barking comes from up the mountain road. 

You pause as he peek under the rag and peer up as gravel mulches. Another visit? Your work is so boring, you wouldn’t expect him again. Thor appears as Thunder hops before him, spastic as she sniffs the ground in circles. He smiles and waves but you can only manage a grimace before you look back to your wound. 

“Morning,” he booms as he scoops up the small dog and nears the other side of the car, “it’ll be a sunny one.” 

“You sure?” You look up at the greyish blue skies, than at him. Hm, the hue of above is rather similar to his eyes.  

“I know so,” he assures you and tilts his head curiously, “why are you so grim?” 

You show him your hand as you lift the cloth from it. He lets out a sympathetic hum and sets Thunder on the ground. She runs over to inspect the fence as he rounds the hood towards you. As he gets closer, his size is even more obvious. He’s well-built, you can see it even at a distance, but up close and personal, he’s almost inhuman in stature. 

“Yikes,” he offers his hand, “may I?” 

“Really, it’s not—I can handle it.” 

“I’m certain you can. Only the bravest woman would come to these grey lands and sit alone in the dirt,” he jokes. “Please, it’ll be easier with two hands.” 

You relent, a tinge of embarrassment hot in your cheeks, and peel the rag away. You hold your hand out to him and he brings one of his large ones to cradle it. Wow. He’s massive. The difference in your hands is startling. 

“Nasty cut,” he muses as he reaches over for the swabs you’ve piled out on the metal, “but it shouldn’t need more than a snug wrap.” 

“Thanks,” you look away, eyeing the dirt as his proximity makes you squirm.  

You can’t remember the last time a man touched you, especially a handsome one. Well, aside from Sam and Bucky but those were just hugs and usually ended in them arguing anyway. You’ve never been the most popular girl in the world and those men you managed to reel in didn’t stay on the hook very long. You never really tried to keep them. You were always too distracted. 

You wince as he wipes the cut with the alcoholic cloth. He softens his touch but holds your hand firm from beneath. He offers a rumbling apology as he focuses on tending to you. His intent is new to you. The way he looks at your palm holds more than any look you’ve ever gotten from a man. Or anyone. 

He crumples up the used wipe and takes another. He’s thorough. You feel a shiver roll through you despite the warmth in the air. He trades the wipe for the roll of gauze and wraps the strip around your hand, hooking over your thumb and looping your wrist. He uses the little metal clip to pin it then turns your hand over, brushing his own over it as he grins. 

“Good as new,” he announces, “though I recommend you not use it too much. And perhaps a pair of gloves.” 

“Yeah, I forgot. Long day.” 

“It’s nine in the morning?” He chuckles. 

“Yep,” you agree dryly. 

“Hopefully it gets better,” he says. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you agree dully and toss the things back in the tote.  

He picks it up before you can and keeps it from your reach, “like I said, you should take it easy.” 

“Well, there’s work to be done,” you say as he moves to the open door and slides the tote inside. “What are you doing back here?” 

“Ah, I let the queen lead the way,” he stands straight and closes the car door. He looks past you and your head perks up. Thunder is very quiet. “As ever, she does not tread with caution.” 

You turn to find the chihuahua inside the fence. You jump in place and sprint over, clattering between the panels as you call after her. “No, no, sweetie, be careful!” 

You chase her around where you were digging as you sense Thor watching from without. Great! You hope she didn’t pee anywhere. 

A sharp whistle pierces the air and Thunder stops. She sits in place, still wiggling, but doesn’t move. You peek back at Thor and he nods. You near her and pick her up. 

“Sorry about her, she is a free spirit,” he tuts as you cross back to him. “I will be certain she does not stray again. My apologies.” 

You’re taken aback by his sincerity. You try to remember the last time someone apologised to you and sounded like they meant it. Hell, when’s the last time you even got an apology. You dip out between the grating and hold out the dog. 

“I would hate to get in your way any more than we already have,” he hugs her with one arm and spreads his other hand over his chest, “we will be on our way. I do hope the sunshine brings some brightness to your day.” 

“Um, thanks,” you shift on your feet and hide your twiddling fingers. “You too.” 

“I’ve already found my sunlight,” he grins even wider and blinks, “now, Thunder, let’s go make a storm somewhere else.” He twists on his heel and lumbers off, “perhaps mother might put up with you for a time.” 

You stand just outside the fence and watch him go. A lock of his golden hair hangs loosely form his bun, dangling down his back, wagging almost like the dog’s little tail. He bounds over the lumpy ground and disappears behind the rock face. You look down and smile. 

Not everything is so bad and you can see the amber ribbon limning the clouds. The sun will be there soon. Just like he promised. 

💟

Thor comes back again. 

It’s a week since you cut your hand. Like before, you can’t predict him. You don’t hear him approach as he’s alone. You only notice him as he clangs something on the fence and lets out an ‘oops’. You pop your head up and look over at him through squinting eyes. Your forehead hurts from the expression. 

You smooth out your face and stand, facing him. He wiggles a metal canister in his hand. The wind sweeps the strands around his square jaw as the sky pulses in shades of gray behind him. 

“Thought you might like some hot tea,” he holds up the thermos. 

“Oh, uh... you didn’t have to...” you look at the sky and its quivering blanket. You’ve been pondering packing up for the last hour. “Thanks.” 

“Not to worry, I was restless.” 

“And you always go walking through the mountains when you’re bored?” You wonder as you step around the markers in the dirt. 

“I live here, there isn’t very much else to do and it isn’t a good day for swimming.” 

“Swimming?” You nod and click your tongue. “Sounds like the life to me.” 

“Mm, it can be rather languid when there isn’t work to do,” he turns the thermos in his hands as he talks, “Have you tried cloudberry?” 

“Cloudberry? Never heard of it.” 

He pokes the thermos between the panels and you take it. He pushes the barrier back into place between you, hooking his fingers into the links. You feel the warmth through the copper-coloured metal. 

“You didn’t have to come all this way for tea,” you laugh. 

“I wanted to ask after your hand. See how it’s healing,” he says. 

“Oh, uh,” you open and close your gloved hand, “just a scab now. I’m all good.” 

He smiles and keeps himself from leaning to heavily as the fence dips towards you. He coughs and realigns his feet, brushing back the looses strands around his face with a flick. He pushes his shoulders back and drops his hand. 

“So uh, you should try the tea. I put together the herbs myself, steeped it...” he bounces on his heels, “I suppose it’s not that impressive but it is good. Antioxidants, anti-inflammatory.” 

“Wow, sounds like one of those superfoods,” you scoffs as you pull of your glove and tuck it into your work belt. You untwist the cap and steam wisps out. You smell the tea and blow over it. You look up and find him watching you. “You’re starting to make me nervous, what’s in it?” 

“Just tea,” he assures. “I can’t lie to you, though. It wasn’t my idea. My mother suggested it. She’s very interested to see what you’re digging up but I’m afraid she can’t do much at the moment.” 

“Oh, your mother? Is she sick?” 

“She is in perfect health aside from her dislocated knee. She went rock climbing and well, accidents happen, eh?” 

“Yeah, sure do,” you show him your cut. “But they get better.” 

A lull rises as you take a dainty sip. The tartness tweaks your cheeks and you scrunch up your nose. 

“You don’t like it?” 

“It’s... different but not bad,” you say. “So, your parents live up here too?” 

“Mm, yes. I’m afraid I’m occupying their attic at the moment. I sold my home in Oslo, it was much too... cold.” 

You can’t help but snort, “it’s Norway.” 

“Ah, so it is. I should be used to it,” he agrees. “And how are you faring here? Have you adjusted to these dour lands?” 

“Eh, I’m trying,” you put the lid back on and turn it until tight. “Thanks for the tea.” 

“My pleasure,” he assures you. “Seems lonely work.” 

“I don’t mind it,” you shrug and cross your arms, tucking the thermos beneath one arm. 

“Interesting though. Have you found very much?” 

“Ugh, a spearhead and some pieces of the shaft. A vase, cracked though. Some beads.” 

“Beads,” he echoes thoughtfully, “is this all confidential?” 

“Not really, you wanna see?” 

“Very much so,” he says. 

“Right, uh, let me just...” 

You go back to where you were sat and plant the thermos in the dirt. You scurry around, overly aware of his observation, and go to the pin of your catalogued items. You find the bone beads and brings the little dish of them over to the fence. You hold them up as he peers between the links. 

“They have runes,” he intones. 

“Yeah, I’ve got the meaning of all of them except, er...” you pull out the single bead made of jade, “this one.” 

He hums and considers it closely, leaning in. 

“Not a rune. That’s a family symbol.” 

“Oh?” 

“My family’s.” 

“Wow, uh,” you lower your chin, “that’s... I... kinda feel like a thief.” 

“Can’t have cared very much about it if it’s down there,” he remarks, “you know, my father has mapped out much of our genealogy. As much as he can. He might be able to assist with your research, if he can find the time. Bit of a hermit these days.” 

“Oh, uh maybe, I’d hate to bother,” you smile sheepishly, “erm...” you look around, “where’s Thunder? Awful quiet without her.” 

“She’s keeping mother company. I’ve told her not to be too much of an imp, can’t have her making it worse,” he shakes his head. “The two of them are both stubborn as the other.” 

You can’t help the twitch in your eye. All this talk of your family has you suddenly homesick. You fight not to crack and swallow tightly. 

“Anyway, thanks again for the tea.” 

“Your parents must miss you,” he says abruptly. 

“Erm, yeah, my mom calls now and then but she’s better as an empty nester. Dad’s got his head under a hood most days so...” 

“Friends? Boyfriend?” He wonders. 

You arch a brow. He’s not very subtle and yet his inquiry can’t be anything but innocent, right? You’re still strangers. He can’t be into you. Not someone who looks like him. How long did you pray for Steve to even see you like that? This man is definitely not going to. 

“Friends. Sam likes to pester me when I should be sleeping and Bucky... they’re funny.” You sniff and gaze past him. You won’t mention that giant elephant in your head. The one you think about at night. 

“Lots to miss back home, it sounds like,” he breaks the silence before it can settle. 

“Yeah, but not every day you get to travel.” 

“And to a beautiful land,” Thor declares, “I hope one day you’ll come out of the dirt and see more of it. You’ll be surprised what lays further up the mountain.” 

You smile and look down, “yeah, maybe one day.” 

“Until then,” he backs up on his heel, “I won’t distract you any further. Enjoy your tea.” He turns and strides away, pausing halfway as you linger by the fence, “the rain will be here around five so I would leave early, otherwise you’ll be driving through it.” 

“Right,” your chest deflates just a little. You don’t know what you wanted him to say but you’re disappointed, “thanks.” 

[callme-holly]

hey! i love your johnny cade fics <3 if you’re still taking requests and you like the idea could you write one where reader is part of the group but is sneaking around with johnny, keeping their new relationship from the gang, but there’s really cute secret smiles/touches/hand holding 🥹 and then maybe one of them is just like, you two really are not subtle, we know about it (i feel like this would be dally😅) thank you 🫶🏼 ps sorry if too specific

𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐍𝐨 ���𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 [𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - I'm so sorry for how long this took me to write I had a huge drama exam and things were crazy but I'm back now!! This was super fun to write so I hope ya'll enjoy this and, as always, my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 2.5k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing !!

0.1 - ‘hey, was that Johnny?’

It’s early evening by the time the gang reach The Nightly Double, with the sun sinking low over the horizon and casting long shadows onto the sidewalk. It’s the first time in a while they've all been able to do something together, something outside of work, or school, or fighting, and most are glad for it. So glad in fact that they hardly noticed they’re two members short.

—

“You want me to get you somethin’?” Johnny mumbles, squeezing your hand gently as you both wander past the concession stand, searching for some seats tucked a little further back and away from prying eyes. 

You hum and glance over to the stand. The line for snacks and drinks isn’t too long; there are only a few people waiting ahead, but you have no doubt that it will be much longer a little later on when the cars of socs start to roll in. 

“Sure, if you don’t mind…” You murmur, turning your attention back to Johnny as he leads you  through the small crowd of people, pausing once you both reach the end of the queue. He shoots you a soft, crooked grin before dropping his head a little to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

“What’d you want?” He asks after he pulls back, and you can’t help but smile warmly, leaning a little into his side as you get closer to the counter. 

“Just a pepsi will do me.” You reply lightly, and he gives a short nod, reaching into his pocket to scrape together enough cash for the drink. 

Noticing this, you frown just a bit, and grab at his forearm to try and stop him. 

“Johnny, I didn't think you meant you'd pay–”

He turns those beautiful, dark eyes back to yours and shakes his head, giving a small shrug. “It's no big deal.” 

“But–” 

“No, really,” He insists quietly as you both reach the counter. “I’ve got it.” 

There’s really no arguing with him, and so, with one last lingering look, you release his arm and watch with a sigh as he orders your drinks and slides the change across the counter. You purse your lips for a moment, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder.

“You didn’t have to do that. I’ve got the money, you know.” 

Johnny only hums in response, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. “It’s fine. I wanted to.” 

He hands you your pepsi, taking your hand in his as you both turn, about to return to your hunt for seats once more, when you notice an all-too-familiar group of greasers standing in line. 

You frown briefly before glancing up at Johnny, who follows your gaze, his eyes widening. 

“Shit…” He’s quick to drop your hand, turning so that his back is to the gang. You follow suit, tucking yourself into Johnny’s side as you both try to blend in with the passing wave of teens around you.

The two of you keep your heads down, keeping your pace as even as possible as you move past the group of boys, their laughter ringing out as they make small jabs at each other. They seem so caught up in whatever is going on around them that you and Johnny manage to slip away without being noticed. Or, at least, you think you do.

—

“Hey, Ponyboy, what the hell are you lookin’ at?” 

Two-bit slams a hand down on the boy’s shoulder, effectively drawing his attention away from the passing crowd and back to the rowdiness of the gang. By now, they have all stopped with their teasing, their eyes not-so-subtly scanning the swarms of people around them.  

Pony shakes his head, scuffing the toe of his shoe into the ground and shrugging. “Ain’t nothin’... Just thought I saw Johnny.” 

Dallas snorts. “Johnny?” He laughs a little incredulously. “The kid swore he ain't comin' out tonight. Said he was busy, man.”

“Well, maybe he lied.” 

Steve raises a brow. “Why would he lie? If he wanted to catch a movie, he would've tagged along with us.” 

Pony’s face twists, and he glances back once more before shaking his head. “Nah, you're right. Guess I'm just seeing stuff, huh?”

Darry places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “It’s all that smoke gettin' to your head.” He teases, and the boy rolls his eyes, shrugging off his brother. 

“Whatever.”

0.2 - ‘you guys are here alone?’  

The diner is packed full; groups of teens are huddled around tables and scattered throughout various booths, most either talking amongst themselves or causing nothing but trouble. 

You and Johnny are tucked away in a booth you had claimed at the very back, the two of you hunched over the tabletop, a plate of fries and two milkshakes sitting between you. Your hands are entwined, and Johnny’s thumb is stroking absently over your knuckles as he watches you talk. His dark eyes shine with nothing but affection, and he can't help but lean in to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

You pause, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you meet his eyes again. 

“What was that for?” 

Johnny shrugs, growing sheepish, as he takes a sip of his milkshake. 

“Just because.” He mumbles softly, looking away again; however, as he does so, he catches sight of something, or rather someone, out the window. “Uh oh…” 

You turn to follow his gaze and sigh inwardly as you see Soda and Steve coming through the doors to the diner, both boys sporting their DX uniforms as they scan the crowds for an empty table. You and Johnny sink low in your seats, doing your best to hide behind your discarded menus, but it's too late. 

“Johnnycake! Y/n!” Soda calls out with a grin and a wave, sauntering up to you and Johnny’s booth, Steve hot on his heels. They both sit themselves down, Steve stealing a couple of fries and shovelling them into his mouth as he does so, before shooting you a bright grin.

“Fancy seeing ya’ll here, huh?” He comments, reaching out to take a sip from your milkshake too, scowling as you slap his hand away. 

“Get your own shake.” You snap irritably, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Don’t you like the company we bring?” Soda grins good-naturedly, and Johnny meets your gaze across the table, offering a small apologetic smile. 

You let out a long breath, feeling annoyance and a little exasperation course through your veins, but you knew better than to send the two greasers on their way. It will only raise suspicion, and that’s the last thing you need right now. You and Johnny are keeping your relationship a secret for a reason, and knowing Steve and his big mouth, you can bet half the town would know by morning. 

You’re broken from your thoughts when Soda leans forward, resting one elbow atop the table, propping up his chin with his free hand.

“Say, where's Dallas? Ain't he with you?”

Johnny shakes his head. “Nah, he’s still sleepin’ off a hangover.”

Soda blinks and then frowns. He tilts his head. “Two-bit?” 

“He ain’t here either.” Johnny replies simply, glancing at you again just as Steve pipes up.

“So, what, you’re both here alone?” 

The question catches you off guard, and you find yourself flushing a little beneath their scrutiny. 

What are they getting at? 

“Well, yeah.” 

Soda and Steve stare at you for a moment, their gazes moving towards Johnny before returning to you once more. They share a knowing glance, and for one fleeting moment, you're afraid they've caught on—that they've finally put two and two together and realised exactly what has been going on between you and Johnny. But then, after another brief moment passes, both boys just shrug, and Steve goes to take another handful of fries, the conversation seemingly forgotten.

You meet Johnny's gaze from across the table once more, offering him a small smile as you both reach for your milkshakes, your fingers brushing lightly. 

Looks like you'll have to wait a little longer for some time alone. 

0.3 -  unwanted company… again

You and Johnny wander aimlessly, your arms linked loosely together as you both pass slowly through the streets. 

It’s quiet out and relatively deserted, only the occasional car trundling past in the opposite direction, headlights flickering against the pair of you as it goes. You cast a sidelong glance at Johnny as he continues to lead the way, his steps leisurely and relaxed. 

There's a light flush to his cheeks from the excessive summer air, his dark bangs falling in front of his eyes and sticking to his forehead. You want nothing more than to stop, to push back the strands, and you just can’t help yourself as you pause and tug him back, your lips brushing softly against his cheek. 

His eyes widen at your action, shooting you a shy smile as your fingers card through his hair, tucking it behind his ears as best you can.

“That's better,” you concede after a moment, pulling back to admire your handy work and smiling fondly when one stray strand falls back into his eyes.  

“Much better,” Johnny nods, linking your fingers together and leading you on once more. “C’mon, we got places to be.” 

That, of course, is a lie. You two aren't doing anything except wasting time, trying to make up for all the moments lost since the incident at the diner. The two of you have managed to avoid any questions from the gang, keeping your interactions limited to quick kisses when nobody is looking and soft smiles from across the room. That is, until today, of course.

Your fingers lace in a loose hold with Johnny’s, your hand fitting neatly into his, as the two of you walk along in silence. It had been tough getting away from the others, even if it was only for a few minutes, and it seemed that, no matter where you went, someone was always there to interrupt the two of you. You'd tried to sneak away to get some privacy, but each time you did, at least one of the guys seemed determined to tag along.

But this time you were lucky. It seemed as though you had managed to get away without anyone finding out and, for once, it was just you and Johnny. 

Or so you thought… 

“Hey!”  Someone shouts from behind you and, almost instinctively, you and Johnny jump apart, trying not to let your panic show as you turn around to see not only Two-bit, but Ponyboy too, running across the street to meet you guys. Johnny’s face drops and you let out a huff as Two slings an arm over your shoulders, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Say, Y/N, whatcha doing hanging out with someone like Johnnycake, huh?” He teases, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush  red.

“Shut up…” He mutters softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets as Pony comes to stand beside him. “What do ya’ll want?” 

Two-bit cocks his brow, a devious smirk spreading across his lips. “Aw, c'mon, is our presence really that unappealing to you?”

Johnny narrows his eyes at his friend, glancing back at you to gauge your reaction. You shrug helplessly, unable to hide your slightly annoyed expression, as the two greasers begin to walk alongside you. 

Another date crashed spectacularly before it had even started… again… and another close call. 

0.4 - a ‘not-so-secret’ secret 

The gang is all gathered in the living room of the Curtis House, scattered about in various states of entertainment, talking amongst one another or watching whatever is playing on the TV. You're perched on the arm of the couch, trying your best to listen to whatever it is the pony is telling you; however, your gaze keeps occasionally drifting to the front door as you wait anxiously for Johnny to show up. 

It's almost seven thirty now, and already a million different thoughts are racing through your mind, ranging from ‘what if’s’ to 'maybe...', but eventually, your curiosity wins out and you can't help but ask.

“Where’s Johnny?” 

Pony pauses mid-story, turning slightly to look at you before casting you a confused glance.

“Huh?”

“I mean…” You wrack your brain for something else to say, a faint blush dusted across your cheeks and making your skin feel clammy. “He hasn't shown up yet, and normally he's one of the first to arrive. I just wondered where he was.” 

There's a small silence, and Ponyboy shrugs, glancing at the door himself, and then back at you. “Dunno. Maybe he couldn't make it. You know how tough things are for him.” 

You sigh softly, biting your bottom lip. A sudden fear grows within you as your mind fills with images of Johnny in various states of hurt or distress. You know, if he wasn't going to come tonight, he would have called at least to let you know. His absence doesn’t bode well. 

“Yeah,” You say quietly, shaking your head as you try to dispel the unpleasant thoughts, glancing around briefly as you realise that everyone has gone quiet at your mention of Johnny. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Pony nods, giving you a reassuring smile, and slowly everyone goes back to their previous tasks, but, despite yourself, the anxiety remains in the pit of your stomach. You keep glancing towards the hallway every few seconds, your heart beating rapidly in your chest and your palms beginning to sweat slightly. 

Your breath hitches at the sound of the screen door opening, your attention snapping to the doorway to find Johnny, his hair dishevelled and clothes rumpled, but otherwise appearing fine. He meets your gaze, and, in a flash, you are up, rushing to greet him. 

The gang all share knowing looks, exchanging amused glances between one another.

Things are really starting to add up… 

“Say, how come I didn’t get no greetin’ like that?” Two-bit feigns offence, placing his hand over his heart as you and Johnny part awkwardly. 

“Well,” You start, clearing your throat, before glancing at Johnny once more. “Um…” You trail off, realising that there's only one way to go with this.

So, taking a deep, steady breath, you step forward and grasp Johnny's hand in your own, squeezing tightly. He returns the gesture with equal intensity, his thumb caressing your knuckles gently.

“We're dating…”  You mumble, barely loud enough for anybody else to hear, although you could swear that the entire group freezes for a beat.

A beat that seems to last forever.

And then:

“We know.”

You turn to look at Dallas, who is lounging across the couch, his legs stretched out before him, a cigarette held loosely between his lips as he regards you calmly and nonchalantly.

“What do you mean you knew?” Johnny asks incredulously. The greaser waves his hand dismissively. 

“Ya’ll aren’t as subtle as you think.” He grins lazily, “Besides, I figured it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

You roll your eyes at Dallas, and instead of voicing a reply, you pull Johnny closer by the hand and lean up for a kiss, ignoring the cheers and shouts that erupt from around you.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[birinboom]

One Moment of Forever

Todoroki Shouto x ReaderWord count: 1,786 Summary: When Shouto is forced to take a break from work due to a quirk injury, the two of you decide to go on a camping trip to your favorite lakeside spot.

Genre: Fluff, established relationships, camping, nature therapy, pet names (love) Note: My entry for andypantsx3’s pretty boy summer collab. This fic is also a part of the @ficsforgaza initiative - thank you so much to those who sponsored it!! 💖💖💖 Check out my list of WIP's here! This is my first time writing Shouto, not sure I got him exactly right…

Your oar slips through the water, near-silent. The air is full of the song of birds. A couple take off from a tree, weaving between each other in a dance, their wings skirting the water of the river before they land in a tree on the opposite bank. You can’t help but smile at the scene.

Water laps at the bow of the canoe. Behind you, Shouto is quiet. Content with just sitting in silence, enjoying the early morning. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s just as happy in a comfortable silence as he is listening to you talk. He doesn’t mind either way.

Leaves rustle on the riverbank and a doe steps out from the undergrowth, moving towards the river to drink. You suck in a quiet breath as first one fawn, then a second, follow the doe. They’re small, their legs still unmanageable, white spots bright against tawny fur. You can’t imagine them being more than a few days old. 

Shouto shifts behind you, steering the canoe further towards the opposite bank in an attempt to keep the doe from bolting. Your head swivels as you slowly drift by, watching the fawns nurse, their little tails wiggling happily. When you deem them at a safe distance, you turn fully, beaming at Shouto.

“So cute!” you whisper.

He responds with a soft smile. “Very.”

You look at him for a moment. It’s early enough that the sky is still a gorgeous display of orange and pink, rising sun hidden behind the trees. The light limns him with gold. Despite having lived together for years, you are still occasionally struck by just how beautiful he is. Especially at moments like this, outlined in soft morning gold, a gentle breeze playing with his hair. He looks ethereal, like some immortal being from a fairytale.

Shouto tilts his head, puzzled.

“Is everything alright, love?”

You smile at him. 

“Yeah. Just admiring the view.”

You have Bakugou to thank for this experience, you reflect as you pull the canoe onto the narrow strip of sand surrounding the lake. He was the one who introduced Shouto to camping long before the two of you met; and he was the one who introduced both of you to this campsite. It’s one of your favorite places to spend a few days off with Shouto. It’s small, but very well kept. Top tier amenities. And being a campsite specifically for pro heroes and their families, it requires reservations, meaning it’s never crowded. Any heroes you’ve run into on your previous stays would do a brief smile and nod -at most a moment of small talk- before they move on. They want to relax and unwind just as much as the two of you do. No one wants to talk about work.

This time, though, the campsite is empty except for you and Shouto. You were lucky -so to speak- that Shouto’s quirk-strain happened during the off season or the place would’ve been fully booked. He’s on strict orders to only use his quirk for emergencies and to spend his time off in rest and relaxation. And this campsite is the most relaxing vacation spot you’ve come across so far.

Clouds blow in later in the morning, the gentle pitter-patter of rain steady against your tent. Shouto has dozed off while you read, his breathing soft and even. Every breath weaves together with the sound of the rain, with the smell of petrichor. You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Then Shouto rolls onto his side, one arm draping around your middle. He pulls you closer, face pressing into your neck. His body is sleep-warm, his arm laying heavily over you. 

You can’t resist anymore. “Fine!” you mumble, putting your book away and settling in for a nap.

Shouto mumbles something in reply, pressing a gentle kiss against your throat.

The rain has stopped by the time you wake. Shouto is still asleep, molded against your back, clinging to you as he usually does. He once confessed while only half awake that he worried you would leave. That someone would steal you away. The confession happened years ago; you’ve shown him time and again that you’re not going anywhere, that this unknown someone would have to drag you away kicking and screaming. And still he clings to you like a burr while asleep. You don’t really mind, though. If that is what he needs to sleep peacefully, then you’re more than happy to relax into his warm embrace. It makes you feel treasured and safe. And you’ve grown so accustomed to Shouto’s arms around you that you find it difficult to sleep when he isn’t next to you.

Shouto stirs. You more feel than hear the soft groan he lets out as he wakes. Almost as if his body is fighting to stay asleep. He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“What time is it?” he mumbles, voice rough from sleep.

“About 2,” you reply, rolling over to press your face into Shouto’s neck. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“No,” he replies, sounding more awake. “If I do, I will be unable to sleep tonight. I would rather spend my time with you.” 

You spend a while cuddling, talking, basking in each others’ company. Something you both feel doesn’t happen nearly often enough in your daily lives. Then you carry on with your day.

The ground is slick under your feet. Each step you take is carefully measured. You’d forgotten just how steep part of the trail looping around the lake is. A hike right after a rainfall wasn’t your brightest idea. Still, the view is amazing.

You pause at the top of the last hill, wiping your brow. The lake spreads out in front of you, waters reflecting the gray skies. You can see your tent by the beach, a splash of red amongst green. It reminds you of the first ripe berry on a bush.

The thought of berries makes your stomach growl. It’s almost time for dinner.

You turn to Shouto. He looks completely unbothered by the ascent, not a hint of a flush on his face, his breathing calm and even. It’s unfair sometimes, how effortless physical exertion can be for him. At the same time you’re quite satisfied not having to fight villains on a regular basis.

“Ready for the last stretch?” you ask.

Shouto just nods.

You start down the hill, every step careful. Turning your head, to take one last peek at the view. 

And then you slip.

Your back instantly collides with Shouto’s chest, his arms coming up to steady you. He seems as solid as a boulder, waiting patiently as you get your feet back under you. You have half a mind to just sag in his arms and demand he carry you back down the trail. You know he would do it in a heartbeat. But he’s meant to rest.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks when you don’t move.

You sigh in defeat, finally standing up straight. “I’m fine,” you say, looking back at him. “Just surprised.”

Shouto returns your gaze, lips pressed tight with silent concern. You look at him for a moment, before your eyes flick to the sky behind him. The clouds are the same steely-gray hue as his right eye. You can almost see them roll as they’re blown away. The sky should be clear soon.

The sun breaks out almost as if on cue, slanted early-evening rays highlighting the soft waves on the lake, the water sparkling. You point it out to Shouto.

“A quick dip before dinner?” you ask.

Shouto just looks at you for a moment. “It will not be too cold for you?”

You scoff. “Only one way to find out!”

You stare into the glowing embers of the campfire, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. 

The dip in the lake was a less-than-great idea. Despite being heated from the hike, and despite making sure your hair stayed dry, you can still feel the chill of the water. It wasn’t too bad as long as you kept moving. Still, you’re happy that the two of you decided on spicy curry for dinner tonight.

Shouto shifts next to you.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks. 

“Better,” you reply. “Still a bit cold, but the hot food is helping.”

“Would you like to come on a brief walk with me?” he asks.

You look at him for a moment. “To where? It’s almost dark.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Shouto’s lips. “To the store by the office. I thought an after dinner treat might be in order.”

You stand, beginning to put out the fire. “Better hurry then, they close soon.”

The little store run by the office is stocked with a few necessities and of course snacks. But you notice something you haven’t seen before on your way to the till. Fireworks.

You stop, tugging on Shouto’s sleeve. Pointing at the small display, you ask, “Wanna get some sparklers?”

The two of you take the sparklers down to the beach, and -much to your protest- Shouto lights them with his quirk, claiming that such a small effort it would be no hindrance in his recovery.

You both crouch on the sand, watching the sparklers burn. Peeking at Shouto for a moment, you find his focus trained on the sparkler in his hand, the sparks reflecting in his eyes. You look away again, trying your best to curb your laughter. He is like a little kid sometimes, behaving like he is experiencing something for the very first time. It’s one of the many things you love about him.

You sit still long after the last sparkler has died out, pressed against Shouto’s warmer side, his arm looped around your back. The lake is quiet, the reflections of stars bobbing on its soft waves. You turn your face skyward, a silent breath escaping you at the beauty above. Turning to Shouto, you see the stars reflected in his eyes, much like the sparklers did earlier.

Burrowing closer against him, you press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m happy we came here,” you say, laying your head on his shoulder, “even if it was because of your injury.”

Shouto hum in agreement, then you feel his lips brush against the top of your head. 

The two of you sit for a while longer, watching the stars, enjoying the quiet night. 

We should make sure to spend more time like this, you think. The two of you enjoying each other’s company. Watching the world go by. 

One moment of forever with him.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks (on and off anon) are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Em 💖

[olive-fics]

A day out with Abby (Fem reader)

You and Abby are finally out together, Abby had been busy with work all week and decided to treat you as an apology..♡

Not NSFW but not fully SFW..? Wtv..Mature readers please. MEN DNI! (pls!)

NOT PROOF READ—CORRECT ME🤍🦢

Abby Anderson had always been the kind of person who valued simple moments of happiness. Today was one of those days, a day spent leisurely strolling through the aisles of a bustling mall with you, her girlfriend.

You two had held hands as you made your way through the crowded shopping center. Your fingers intertwined with Abby's strong, calloused ones. Abby's tall, muscular frame contrasted with your smaller, more delicate one, but together you fit perfectly. Abby didn't mind the strange looks, she only cared about pleasing you and making sure you had a cute outfit...it didn't truly matter to Abby though... she was just going to take it off of you later anyways.

"Anything specific you're looking for, babe?" Abby asked, her green eyes peering into yours as she rubbed your hand with her thumb.

There were a few things you spotted while walking through the mall with Abby but you didn't want to overwhelm Abby with your shopping spree needs. Instead, you admired the charming storefronts adorned with colorful displays of clothes, accessories, and all things cute. You couldn't resist peeking into a few windows, ogling at the adorable dresses, quirky trinkets, and fluffy stuffed animals that seemed to beckon with the pearls and light colors..

"Not reall- Oh my god." That's when the most beautiful, white, lacy babydoll dress you have ever seen caught your eyes..You had to have it.

"Look at that dress, Abby!" You claimed, tugging Abby toward the shop. "It's absolutely gorgeous! Can we please go look at it?"

Abby chuckled, her heart fluttering at the sight of your excitement. "Alright, let's check it out."

You ran into the shop and giggled immediately checking out the dress in the display window.

$60.

Abby reached for the dress, gently lifting it off the hanger as she hid the price tag from you. The soft fabric cascaded through her fingers, revealing intricate patterns and delicate lace that made your heart skip a beat. "Let me help you into it princess." You couldn't help but laugh and kiss Abby's cheek, Shuffling as you both make it to the tiny dressing rooms with those shitty curtains.

Abby helped you take off your little Kami and jeans making sure to treat you gently, you were so fragile and perfect.. Abby honestly got nervous around you..

Abby's cheeks turned a soft shade of baby pink as she slipped the dress over your shoulders, her fingers brushing gently against your skin as she adjusted the straps with a delicate touch.

The dress, with its elegant design, hugged your form in all the right places, Abby couldn't help but stare.

"Fuck.. babe- you're so pretty.." Abby mumbled and became a flustered mess..

"Isn't it beautiful?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a gentle touch, she began to pepper your exposed neck and shoulders with soft pecks and kisses. Her lips were warm and tender against your skin. You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation and giggling softly..

"Abby.." You mumbled just watching Abby sprinkle the kisses all over you in the mirror..

“Buying this for you… now,” Abby murmured into your neck, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Her fingers traced tender circles along your waist..

“Love you..”

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 4

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous part

Part 4: new things

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"We have several trackers on some of the trucks," Vox explained, gesturing to the wall of televisions. Some were stand stills of city road entrances, others seemed to be on someone, and others were obviously underneath a car.

"You couldn't have told me this over the phone?" I questioned. I was adorned in my dark maroon outfit again. My Dragon Demon persona was shining through like gold.

"You're a distrustful person. Figured I'd have to show you in person," he answered, glancing over at me, "besides, it's not like you visit very often."

"I have no reason to," I shrugged.

"What exactly is your plan?"

"Follow them to their factory. Then destroy it."

"Why don't you just interrogate one of them?" he questioned. I had been texting him specific instructions to not intervene with any of the drivers. "The workers keep mentioning two specific names: Azrael and Esdras. Maybe they're at the head of this operation now."

"Are you tracking their route or just their location?" I inquired, ignoring his suggestion.

"Both."

"I want all the trucks to go back to the factory to get new shipments. Then let them send out again."

"Why?" He sounded disgusted at the idea.

"Anyone can carry on Blackwater's legacy if they slip through the cracks. You don't have the location of all the trucks. Destroy the factory and not the workers and they start up again a decade later."

"So just let them get their re-supply and give more of those devices out?" He crossed his arms and faced me. The workers in the room had their headsets on and were listening to possible conversations through the cameras.

"No. That's where you'll come into play." I slid my hands in my pockets and leaned my weight on one leg. "When the trucks get to the factory, make sure each and every one of them has a tracker. Follow each truck well away from the factory before taking it. Then wait a few days in case there's another wave of trucks and do the same. Kill the workers as they come out of the hive."

Vox hummed and glanced up at his screens. "Once we have taken all the trucks, then what?"

"I sink the factory."

"What about all the machines still out there?"

"You get them as you find them. Shouldn't be a problem in your territory with all the cameras."

"I've got a lot of land now," he said smugly.

"Not my problem." I shrugged.

"Oof, cold hearted per usual." He made a fake pained gesture over his chest. I made no comment. "You ought to get out of that haven more. Relax a little."

"With you?" I questioned with a sideways glance.

"That's certainly an option." He took a step closer.

"You forget I'm soul bonded." This wasn't the first time Vox had tried to poorly flirt with me or encourage me to leave my haven for anything other than business. I could feel Alastor's hot eyes watching through mine.

"To a soul who abandoned you."

I rolled my eyes, head turned away. "He'll return."

"Maybe not for another fifty, sixty, or a hundred years. You should get out and explore. Experience more of the world."

"I don't think Alastor would be too happy if I were to go out drinking with an enemy in his absence."

"We've already got a deal together. What's wrong with a little drink?"

I turned and lowered my head so my eyes casted up in a glare.

"You."

The pained look was exactly what I was hoping to see. His recover was quick, though, as were his movements as he stepped into my personal space.

"If you can manage to be with Alastor of all Demons, you'll find me more susceptible." The static of his screen was making the hair on my neck and arms stand up.

I brought my tail up to push him away by his chest. "Like Alastor, I'm afraid I don't reciprocate the feelings."

"You're unlike Alastor in a lot of ways," he pressed.

"Good thing he and I compliment each other then."

"You seem awfully defensive about a killer Demon who abandoned you without a word for eight years. And so suddenly too."

I didn't comment. My smile was a half smile and my hands were still in my pockets. Vox had terrible timing for himself. I could feel Alastor melting with my own shadow, ready to pounce.

"Has he returned?" Vox asked. My expression must've given it away because his smile came back full force. "Finally returning after all the hard work is done?" He sounded excited.

He stepped in my personal space again but when I put my tail up, a thick wire snaked out of the wall and wrenched it to the floor. My eyes darkened as I bared my teeth in a snarl, claws ready to cut wires and scratch screens.

"Tell me, dear, how's it feel to know that all your hard work will be for nothing?" He went on, "No one will challenge your haven now that he's back and defending it. You won't need our deal anymore but you're still bound to it. You might even be forgotten as news picks up on his return," he reached a blue claw towards my face, "after all, who can trump the Radio Demon?"

"Not you." Alastor's contrasting red claws gripped his blue wrist before he could touch me. Vox's eyes widened as did his smile.

"Good to see you back Alastor," Vox greeted him as Alastor roughly shoved his hand away. I yanked my tail out of the cord's hold.

"I'm disappointed in you, old friend." He placed his cane on the floor and examined his other claw. The workers had noticed his arrival and turned in their chairs. "Attempting to attract my soulmate in my absence? How ill will of you."

"Says the one who left them without a word."

"My reasoning is none of your concern and all of ours."

Ours. It sounded strange coming from him.

"If you came here to nix our deal, I'm afraid that's out of the question."

"I'm not." He stepped directly in between us, back to me. "I'm here to remind you she may be bound by your deal, but I am not."

Vox scoffed. "If you attack me then she'll have to fight you."

"There's always a backdoor to every deal." He took a step closer. "And I'm great at exploiting them." He backed away and placed a claw on my shoulder. "Do enjoy the deal while it lasts. It won't be for long."

His magic and shadows surrounded me as he teleported us out of the station.

****

I started cooking dinner early while Alastor made his first broadcast in eight years. I had texted Vivian to keep Nym and Thatcher a little bit longer after school and to keep the radio off. Nearly every building had a radio.

Only a select few in the haven were given phones as a means of fast communication. Access to the internet was granted via our library or Internet rooms -- secluded rooms in a single building with several computers and phones.

My deal with Vox was to keep his stations safe from attacks so long as he promoted us in a positive way and never came into, listened in on, or observed the haven through his technology. This allowed anyone to access the internet safely from home.

Putting the wooden spoon down, I looked out the kitchen window at the empty ocean. I moved from the stove to lean on the rim of the sink. My claws tapped the metal carefully.

"So much is going to happen again," I whispered.

The first day of Alastor's return hadn't even finished yet. We 'made up', he met the children, Charlie showed him the town, he and Vox antagonized each other, and he was making his first broadcast in years.

I was truly starting to believe he wasn't a hallucination as I heard the muffle of his voice through the floorboards. He felt like a missing puzzle piece fitting back into my life but not so smoothly, almost as if I was second guessing if that piece actually fit in there or was just the right size and shape.

I wanted to cry.

I let out a loud grunt and went back to the stove. I had been wanting to cry since Alastor and I made up. Things weren't back to normal and probably won't be for a long time. I was still so angry, so hurt, and still confused. Just because he didn't leave on purpose didn't negate the fact that he still left me alone. I was someone different, someone new. Would he still care about me once he actually got to know the new me? He was clearly already upset with me about the children.

You're soulmates, I reminded myself.

Dinner was a simple mixed gumbo recipe I often used when I didn't have anything planned or when I needed to feed a lot of mouths. I wanted to have everyone sit down and have dinner together, hopefully to clear up confusion and negative feelings, but Reagan and Lucas already had plans and I wasn't going to attempt to encourage Alastor to talk with the two younger ones yet.

Speaking of which, the two of them came bolting in the front door. Thatcher ran right for my legs to avoid his sister who was carrying something cupped in her hands. Her love for nature wasn't shared with her younger brother who hid at the first sign of something with more than four legs.

I wrapped my tail around Nym's front to keep her away from him. She didn't fight me hard but was laughing and taunting Thatcher from the safe distance. I bore with it for only a minute or two before instructing her to let the poor creature loose and wash her hands.

Alastor remained in his office for a long time. I ate dinner with the two kids, listening to their chatter about school and the drama that came with it. It didn't get interesting until they mentioned one of the male teachers spending the after school hours in Ms. Vivian's room chatting with her. I would poke my friend for more information the next time we saw each other.

I procrastinated seeing Alastor. I hadn't changed his room much, really at all, since he disappeared, but I had gone through his office a few times and accidentally rearranged his bookshelves. So I washed the bowls, pot, and utensils as slow as I could.

Maybe a peace offering.

I went into the freezer and pulled out a tightly wrapped package. I unwrapped the meat and broke small pieces off, stirring them in a single bowl of the gumbo and using magic to make it hot again. Since Alastor disappeared, I had to hunt and harvest my own meat. It kept the strain and pain at bay but every now and then I would experience horrible withdrawal symptoms from a lack of his blood. It wasn't until three years later that I was able to go months without the horrible withdrawal, so long as I consistently had some other kind of blood, typically of a Demon.

Was Alastor's body the same as when he left or did it also suffer the wraths of time? Would he crave blood of some kind soon? Regardless of the answer, I needed to do something nice for him.

So, with unsteady feet, I climbed the creaky staircase to his--our--bedroom. I heard shuffling from his office and stopped early, gently knocking on the wood door. I waited only a moment before he opened it, red eyes glowing in the dark ambiance of the upstairs hallway. I needed to put more lights up here.

"I brought you some dinner," I offered the bowl. His toothy smile didn't change as he stepped aside to let me in. He closed the door behind me, my ears picking up on the click of the lock, and took the warm bowl from my hands. His claws brushed against mine as he did and I clasped them behind my back.

The smell of smoke and cedar wood was finally returning to the room. It had lost his scent after the first few months. 

"Something wrong, my dear?" He placed the bowl on his desk and motioned for the single chair by the fireplace. He sat in his desk chair as I took the empty one and wrapped my tail around my ankles.

"No. Should there be?"

"You seem anxious." He sounded so nonchalant as he crossed his legs, elegant as ever, and examined the contents of the dish.

"Perhaps awkward is a better term."

"How so?" His expression gave away nothing as he began eating the meal.

"Are you upset with me?" I asked instead.

His pause was short. "There's a lot I'm currently managing."

"Such as?"

His eyes flicked up to mine. "Am I being interrogated?"

"What? No--I'm just...I'm curious."

"About?"

Why is this so difficult? I inwardly groaned.

"I'm worried about your thoughts on the house and on the children."

"I am not a fan of children. That you are aware of."

"I know that and..." I glanced down at my claws. His intense stare was difficult to meet. "I won't leave them or kick them out of the house."

"That was expected."

I fell silent. What was the point of me coming up here? I was getting nowhere with him.

"I will not do anything to them, if that is your concern," he added.

"I didn't think you would," I said quickly, "but...I don't know. I'm sorry."

"You have done nothing wrong."

Why was he being so nonchalant with me? Usually there was some kindof emotion poking through when we interacted. It felt like his eyes never left me. I never once saw him looking elsewhere.

"I didn't change much with the house," I tried next.

"I noticed. Though you seem to have spent a lot of time in my office."

"I'm sorry."

"I was not looking for an apology."

His contrasting personalities were confusing me. I noticed dials moving on his motherboard. Maybe he operated much like me in having different personalities for different aspects of his life. Maybe he was still in Alastor the Radio Demon persona.

"I read a lot of your books," I said.

"And made your own abstracts."

"I was supposed to remove them from the books before you came back."

"What for?"

"I know you said that's something you enjoy doing. So I didn't want to take that away from you."

"I enjoy reading your handwriting. Though I must admit," he licked his yellow teeth from the meal, "it looks like chicken scratch."

I crossed my arms and leaned back in the seat. "I never wrote anything until you disappeared. We didn't exactly need to write in the fighting rings." My face was hot with embarrassment. I shouldn't have come up here.

"Indeed. Maybe cursive would do you better."

"I struggle to understand your handwriting."

"Practice makes perfect." He placed the empty bowl on his desk.

"I guess." I crossed my legs and picked at the tips of my claws.

Silence hung over our heads for awhile. To my surprise, I felt myself actually relaxing in it rather than feeling more awkward.

Master of silence, I thought to myself.

I heard the patter of footsteps as Nym and Thatcher came looking for me. On weekend nights they often went to play with friends or spend the night in their homes.

"Well, I should go see what they need." I stood and took the bowl from his desk, his eyes following my every move. "They probably want to go see—" he caught my wrist "—their...friends..."

His grip was firm but kind. I could faintly smell his sweet, cedar wood scent. His back had come off the back of his chair and lips covered his sharp teeth.

My face was warm.

A single claw rubbed along my wrist.

My chest felt tight.

And my lips were dry. Too dry.

My tongue darted out to wet them, daring a fleeting glance at his lips.

He noticed.

I hadn't even realized his other arm had moved until his claw found the back of the my head. He pressed and pulled, bringing me closer and causing me to bump knees as I shifted my weight.

His scent was so overwhelming it made my nose pinch. He gently pressed his warm lips against mine in a soft kiss. My eyes closed as I leaned my weight forward a little more. I loved the feeling of his claws threading through my hair.

It had been so long since I last felt someone touch my hair like that.

I hadn't realized until now just how touch starved I had been, how much I craved his gentle touch. There was danger in those claws but they were kind and careful on me, never daring to do me harm again.

Maybe things would be okay. I thought to myself as I leaned my weight on the armrest of his chair and pressed harder into the kiss.

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Author's Note:

I'm so excited for this act! It's time for all the sweet (and smutty) things to happen. I promise the goods are coming ;)

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Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

[ramblingoak]

Hey friendo 💜 drunk (mutually / accidental) kisses with Papa II if you feel like it???

Indeed my friend, I do feel like it 💙

A Single Kiss

Secondo x GN Reader (gender neutral reader, fluff, nsfw but there's just some tipsy kissing, 1k words)

~ You need a very specific type of kiss from your Papa ~

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

“Your eyes are meaty.”

The look on Secondo’s face was priceless, just pure bewilderment at what had come out of your mouth.  He grunted when you nearly toppled over again, letting out a string of Italian that you had no hope of understanding while sober let alone in your current state.  You did recognize the word for shoe and you obediently held each foot up so he could remove the tall heels you had chosen for the night.  When he chucked them down the hall you pouted, turning to go back and get them, but a quick tug on your hand had you spinning back towards him and pressed against his chest.

“We’ll get them later.”  You poked your bottom lip out more and plucked at one of the buttons on his waistcoat.  “You’ll break an ankle teetering around in those in your current state.”

“Someone will take them.”

Secondo snorted and shook his head.  He had forgone the facepaint tonight, opting for just a black upper lip like in his cardinal days.  Without the full paint it was easier to see his expressions, easier to see how he felt about you.  Things were a little fuzzy around the edges of your vision, but you were pretty sure he was wearing that fond look he got whenever you two were alone together.    

“Piccolina, who would take your shoes?”

“Terzo.”

Lucifer, you loved seeing him laugh.  He turned and wandered back down the hall to grab your shoes.  You let out a little sigh of appreciation watching him bend over to pick them up.  His perfectly tailored pants stretching across his ass and thighs.  

You loved seeing that too.

With your shoes in hand he returned to your side, slipping an arm back around your waist to keep you steady.  The walk back to his room went quietly.  He only had to rearrange your wandering hands a few times, quietly tutting at you when you whined.  How could he expect you to keep your hands to yourself when he looked like he did?  When he smelled like he did?  The urge to kiss him was always there, but right now it felt like if you didn’t you’d die.

“I think Terzo is too busy at his party to care about your shoes.”

“Secondo, come here.”

“I already am here, piccolina.”

You huffed and planted your feet as hard as you could trying to stop him, turning around to place your hands on his chest.  A single eyebrow rose up as he tried to figure out what you were doing.  Well, it should be obvious.  

“Silly Papa, I want to kiss you.”

“Oh really?  What’s the occasion?”

Ugh, why was his face so far away?  You gripped the lapels of his jacket in your hands and pulled yourself up on your tiptoes.  

“Your handsome face is the oc-occas…um,”  You squinted at his face, trying to remember the damn word when a wave of dizziness hit you.  Groaning, you leaned harder against him, your forehead falling to rest on his tie.  His chest vibrated as he chuckled and you hummed when he rubbed his free hand up and down your back.  The dizziness passed quickly so you leaned your head back to look at him again.  “I like your eyes.”

“Because they’re meaty?”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”  When he tried to gently nudge you forward you growled, planting your feet again.  “Papa no, we can’t move until you kiss me.”

“Ah, is that the price?  A single kiss?”

“Yup.”  Your lips popped on the ‘p’ and you grinned smugly at him.  “A good one, too.”

He moved the hand on your back to your cheek, lightly brushing his thumb across your cheek bone.  

“Aren’t all my kisses good, piccolina?”

“Yes, but I want a really good one.  Like…firm.  A firm kiss, Papa.”  

Secondo nodded solemnly, the look on his face making your heart do funny things in your chest.    

“A really good, firm kiss.  I think I can do this.”

“Sloppy, too.” 

“So demanding tonight.  Is there anything else?”

You scrunched your nose up as you thought about what else the kiss should have.  Your thoughts were so fuzzy it was hard to think about all the things that went into a kiss from your Papa.  

“Oh!  Tongue too.  Please.”

“Alright, I think I can manage that.  But after you’re going straight to bed, ok?”

“Yes, Papa.”

The sound of your shoes dropping back onto the floor echoed down the hall, but before you could protest their treatment Secondo was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.  You had to cling to his jacket harder to stay upright, the force and passion behind his kiss tough to handle after all the colorful drinks you had at his brother’s party.  Secondo’s lips tasted like the bright pink concoction you’d foisted on him before he’d insisted you both leave.

You opened your mouth under his when his now free hand moved to your ass and his fingers dug into your flesh.  Secondo began to nip and suck at your lips before slipping his tongue inside your mouth.  Both of you groaned as the kiss deepened, your tongues flicking and rubbing against each other’s.  Secondo’s mouth dominated yours, his movements practiced but still full of passion.  When the kiss finally slowed and he began to pull away you whined, trying and failing to follow his mouth as he leaned back.  He shushed you, making you pout up at him.  

“Now, now.  I think I did everything you asked, si?”  You reluctantly nodded, but continued to pout.  He rubbed a thumb along your swollen bottom lip and clicked his tongue.  “It’s time for bed now, that was the deal.”

“Can there be more kisses?”

Secondo smiled gently and nodded, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.  

“I will always have kisses for you, piccolina.”

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

my masterlist

my ao3

[lovewash3d-doll]

•.*🩰*.•.Tips on How to Write Consistently .*•🩰*•.

………………………………………………….………………………

I am a person that especially struggles to write consistently: I’ll have a month-long writing phase where I write every day and then months without scribbling a single word. Over the years, I’ve developed some tips and techniques to initiate my writing phases even when I’m in the pirouettes and twirls of stress or a lack of creativity. They may be helpful to you or anyone attempting to write a little more!

1) Mentally Schedule Writing Time 🩰

Scheduling writing time is beyond adding it to your to-do list or planner as it is often left unchecked and forgotten—I’ve very guilty. Instead, you have mentally schedule it and put it in your mentality that you will write today! Tightly affirm that you will write and put it high on your priorities for the day! If writing is an afterthought, it will also be an afterthought before bed and the following day. Determination is really key and so is sticking to your word!

It’s also important to plan writing at reasonable times and for reasonable durations. I tend to plan to write after I finish my schoolwork but, I always end up too worn out and tired and simply slip into to bed. Instead, plan to write at a time where you know you won’t have any distractions or other tasking taking priority. If you’re seeing a friend later, grab your laptop or pen in the two hour period before. If you’re busy for the day, wake up an hour early or sacrifice some of your phone scrolling time for a quick few paragraphs.

Additionally, don’t expect yourself to immediately write for long periods of time or write very much. Unrealistic, unattainable goals can very easily kill your spirits so it’s important to be realistic. Start with 30 minutes and with the goal of writing one scene and naturally, as you get more in the mood, those 30 minutes will expand to an hour or even longer and your story or piece will have a fresh page written soon enough.

2) Books, Movies, & Music🩰

Before attempting to write, I always try to create the perfect atmosphere even if I may not particularly be in the mood! If I want to get in a creative mindset overall, I love reading a book in my genre or watching a tv show or movie that relates to the topic or plot line of my story. I mainly recommend reading a book since absorbing writing is a great way reinforce oneself to write. I also create music playlists for every story and listen to a couple songs before my writing session! It definitely sets the tone and puts me in the mindset of my story!

3) Do a Writing Challenge 🩰

One of my grandest periods of consistant writing was thanks to a writing challenge I did! For a Creative Writing Class project, I decided to follow the writing routines of several authors and blog about my experience. I dedicated at least half an hour every day and my results were fruitful. Not only was it a fun experience but, it also reinforced me to write and I got a lot of insight into different approaches! Any writing challenge is a very good motivator and I highly recommend it! For my challenge, I specifically pulled writing routines from this book (linked).

4) Journal Sessions 🩰

If you especially struggle to carve out large portions of time for your writing on a daily basis, a great tip is using a journal! Whenever you have 10-15 minutes of down time, let your stream of consciousness flow and write any scene or stanza or any part of your larger piece. Don’t worry about its quality: it’s simply important that you scribble something down. Once you have a considerable amount of time to focus on your writing, transfer your notebook writings to your laptop and edit away! After a few quick journal sessions, you’ll have a decent amount of material that you can mold into draft. It’s a lot easier to edit than to stare at a blank page!

5) Trip to Barnes & Nobles 🩰

This is a very niche tip that only applies if you are planning on writing a novel and looking to publish! I love Barnes & Nobles and sometimes, when I’m in a large writing slump, I love visiting a store and taking in the smell of fresh books and tracing book spines on the shelves. Looking at new releases and imagining my own book on those shelves really motivates me to go home and pick up my pen! It reminds me of my goals and sends me into a larger writing phase!

I hope this helps! Reblogs are appreciated! 🩷

XOXO,

lovewashed doll🩰

[storm-angel989]

Heyyaa dear💌

I love all your Vees fics 😘. If I may request, can we have another Valentino x female SO?

Just anything you want, I am just craving it.

Hi friend, 

How about a pregnant reader x Val?!

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

I laid on the examination table, my hand wrapped in Valentino’s. Unlike me, whose anxious heartbeat was displayed on the monitor for the entire room to see, Valentino looked calm. Relaxed, even. Usually, it was the opposite. He was the overly dramatic husband, and me? I was the cool and steady wife. 

“Settle, mi amore,” he said gently as he laid a hand on my slightly swollen belly. “Stress isn’t good for you or the baby.” 

“I can’t settle,” I replied anxiously. “What if she’s hurt, what if I ate something or did something that…”

“Bebita. Morning sickness is all part of it, we knew that going in, right?” He replied calmly. “Let’s let the doctor do her thing and see what she has to say.” 

As if on cue, the curtin pulled back and the nurse stepped in. I leaned back and closed my eyes as I took a deep breath. One of the many benefits of being Valentino’s wife. Private, in home healthcare just two floors down. 

“Hello Reader, how are you feeling?” The doctor greeted me as she washed her hands. 

“Nauseous, puffy, worried, need I say more?” I answered as I gripped Valentino’s hand a little tighter. 

“Nauseous and puffy are normal. We can give you something for that. Anything specific you’re worried about?” She asked as she sat down and wheeled herself closer. 

I didn’t answer. How could I explain the gnawing feeling in my stomach that something would go wrong? I had overcome my fathers death, Adam’s attempt at extermination, negotiated a deal between heaven and my Uncle Lucifer and now, here I was, five months pregnant, unable to put my feelings into words. Slowly, I shook my head no.

The doctor shrugged. “That’s normal too. Sometimes expectant mothers feel nervous. It's important to practice grounding yourself and talking about those feelings when they strike. You’re keeping up with your routine, yes?”

I nodded. How could I not? I just started to take over running Hell. It wouldn’t do to step off or to the side just as I started to slip into my Uncle Lucifer’s shoes. 

“I’m going a little easier at the gym. Not for as long, or as hard. Lighter yoga practices. A little less running,” I added.

“That’s good. Exercise is important, and you may find that as time goes on you’ll need to lighten the load even more,” she said. “But for now, it sounds like you’re doing everything right. Let’s see how baby is doing, shall we?”

I nodded and Valentino squeezed my hand reassuringly. The lights dimmed and I watched as she rubbed the cold gel on my stomach. The rhythmic line on the heart monitor jumped and a frown crossed Valentino’s face. Typically, heart monitors were not part of this entire process, but with my blood being angelic- albeit fallen, and Valentino’s being demonic, Valentino insisted on extra monitors and extra precautions taken at each and every doctor's appointment. 

I suspected he simply liked watching my heart rate. 

The wand moved over my belly, and after a few seconds, the doctor pointed at the screen. 

“Right there, that’s your baby,” she said. “Look, she’s doing backflips.” 

That lined right up with the fluttering I felt in my stomach. I turned my head to look at Valentino and to my surprise, he was watching the screen with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. 

“Look at that mi amore,” he said softly. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Our bebita princessa.”

“Is she okay?” I asked anxiously. 

“She’s doing just fine,” the doctor reassured me. 

Several clicks of her machine later, she handed a towel to Valentino and instructed him to wipe the gel from my belly. He did so gently, pausing for a moment to kiss my forehead. 

“You did so good,” he praised softly. “So, so good.”

“I didn’t do anything but lay here,” I mumbled. “I laid here, and got scanned.”

“You’re growing our baby, that isn’t anything,” he admonished gently. “Now give me your arm. Little poke.”

I grumbled but lifted up my left arm. There was one thing in the world I hated more than medical exams, and that would be blood draws. At the start of all this, I made Valentino promise to be the only one to draw blood, and within reason, be the one to put in any IV lines. Even though he only employed the best medical staff, Valentino had a talent that went beyond years of medical practice. One quick pinch and a purple bandaid later, we headed back upstairs. The unease hadn’t settled much and as soon as we got to the flat, I pulled out my laptop in an attempt to distract myself and settled on the couch.

“Bebita, you need a snack or something after the amount of blood I took,” Valentino’s voice came softly. 

“I’m not hungry,” I muttered as I pulled up my program.

“Juicebox and a cookie, that’s all I’m asking,” he prodded. “For the baby?”

I sighed in annoyance and snapped my laptop shut. I heaved myself to my feet and made my way to the kitchen. 

“I want coffee,” I grumbled as I opened the fridge. “I want a caramel pumpkin spice iced latte with extra cream and extra sugar. Oh! And a pumpkin cream cheese muffin. That would do the trick, right?”

The look on my husbands face almost made me laugh. Valentino didn’t get nervous, but watching him fidget as he tried to figure out the right words to respond left me biting back giggles. 

“Bebita, pumpkin spice coffee…I mean…it’s August,” he began slowly. 

I closed the fridge and slowly turned around as I put my hands on my hips. “So? The doctor said I can have one cup a day. It’s pumpkin spice season. And I want pumpkin spice.” I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice to a whine. “Are you really going to deny me what sounds good?”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said,” he muttered as he pulled out his phone. “Regardless, if that’s really what you want…”

“It is.” 

Exactly sixteen minutes later, I was curled up with Valentino on the couch, sipping on my favorite autumn treat and nibbling on a warm pumpkin muffin.

“I got you your snack, now can you do something for me?” He asked as I ate. 

I raised an eyebrow. “Depends. What is it?” 

He laid a hand on my belly and rubbed gently. “I want to listen to the baby's heartbeat. Will you let me?” 

I looked at him in confusion. “How exactly do you plan on doing that? Will it hurt? Also, why?”

“With a stethoscope, it won’t hurt- I’ll even warm the disc in my hands, and because I want to,” he replied. 

I shrugged as I took another sip. “As long as it doesn’t hurt, fine with me.”

To say his eyes lit up was an understatement. He gently sat me up and hurried off in the direction of the bedroom. I took the final bite of my muffin and settled against the pile of pillows. He returned seconds later, stethoscope wrapped around his hand. 

“Just relax, I promise it won’t hurt,” he said as he knelt next to me.

“Valentino, you are weirdly excited about this,” I said as I laid back. 

“You’re not the only one who worries,” he replied as he pressed his fingers against my neck. “Even with the Voxtech watch monitoring your vitals I just…I worry.”

I frowned. “You didn’t tell me that, Val.”

He shrugged. “One of us has to relax. And it doesn’t always need to be you, especially since you’re growing our baby.”

I swallowed, guilt washing over me. For the first time, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the tiredness that washed over his face.

 “Val, I…I wish you had told me. We could have handled this together instead of worrying separately. We’re in this together, after all.” I hesitated. “What is your plan here anyway?” 

He studied me. “I was going to listen to your stomach. The doctor said today I could probably hear the babies heartbeat if I put the stethoscope in the right place.”

As much as I hated being poked and prodded, the concern for the tiredness he wore outweighed the disdain. I stretched my arms back. “Val, if it makes you feel better, listen all over.”

He squeezed my hand and leaned over and kissed my forehead. I felt the coolness of the disk against my chest. 

“Val, that’s probably my heart,” I said patiently as I put my hand on top of his. “Baby is down here, in my tummy.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know where the baby is. I’m listening to your heart, mi amore. Making sure it sounds okay. Lucifer said…”

“He said that us having a baby will put a lot of strain on my body, I know,” I filled in. “Fine, listen to whatever you want. But I promise you I’m fine.” 

Under his touch, I took a deep breath and tried to relax as best I could. Eventually, he lifted the disc up and settled it just below the left side of my ribcage. 

“Valentino, that’s probably my stomach,” I began. “You’re not going to hear much except my snack.”

He shushed me and after a few moments, slowly moved the stethoscope down, finally settling on a spot on my swollen tummy. 

“Here,” he said after a few seconds. “Right here. Want to listen?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he settled the stethoscope in my ears. The sound of a heartbeat filled my ears and I quickly removed the device. 

“Nope, Val, that’s weird. I can already feel the baby moving inside me, listening to her too? It’s weird,” I told him. “But if it makes you feel better. Listen all you want.” 

“Invitation accepted,” he said, draping the stethoscope over his neck. 

In a sweeping motion, he lifted me up. I squealed and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Valentino! I am too heavy for this, you put me down right now!” I scolded as I leaned into him. 

He ignored me and carried me down the hallway to our bedroom. He settled me down on the bed and handed me the remote. 

“Watch what you want, I’m going to settle myself right here and try to get some sleep,” he told me. “Get comfortable first.” 

I settled myself against the pillows and turned the television on with the volume on low. He snuggled next to me and I felt the pressure of his head snuggle against my chest. 

“I’ll be okay Val,” I said softly. 

“I know,” he replied as he closed his eyes. “I know you will be. But…” he paused as he adjusted himself. “There is something about reassuring myself by listening to your heart that…I don’t know, makes me feel a little more secure.” 

I snuggled into my husband and kissed the top of his head. He closed his eyes and in minutes, his breathing slowed. I smiled and settled down. Who would have ever guessed the overlord of lust would be so damn soft? I laid my hand on my stomach and a thought flittered through my mind.

Valentino would make a great girl dad.

[rallentando1011]

Hello !（｡>‿‿<｡ ）

Can you do a one-shot for rise Leo x a crush reader were the reader is in a band as a vocalist and drummer but the thing is *drum roll* the band members wear masks to hide their identity :D but Leo discovers readers identify? (Reader can be fem or gn if you like) :)

It’s You

Rise Leo and Vocalist, Drummer Reader

Word Count: 1718

(I think this concept is really fun and had a good time with it! Thanks for the request! I’ve specified here in my guidelines that I’ll only take expressly romantic requests for Donnie. However, stuff where I can write it through a platonic lens and leave the rest up to the reader’s interpretation (like in this case) absolutely works for me :)) Hope you enjoy!)

A certain form of anticipation is synonymous with a public performance, both for those supplying and those indulging in the entertainment.

Leo definitely feels that anticipation building as he stands in a crowd of rowdy concert-goers, himself included, and waits for the show to begin.

In the meantime, he busies himself with checking his messages, specifically the ones he sent to you.

You told him earlier that you had work and couldn’t accompany him to the concert, which was a bummer, but he sent you a message asking if you wanted to hang out some other time afterwards. Checking his phone only reveals that you still haven’t gotten back to him about it.

Leo pouts and looks up, asking his brothers beside him if they’ve heard from you. It’s sort of odd for you to not see or respond to his messages.

“Maybe they’ve finally come to their senses about you,” Donnie thinks aloud, scrolling on his own phone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leo quirks his brow bone.

Mikey interjects before hostilities can be exchanged. “What Donnie meant to say is that they said they’re at work and probably not on their phone right now.”

“No, that’s not remotely what I meant. I was implying that- ow, Raph, what was that for?”

Raph crosses his arms, definitely not having just kicked his purple clad brother. “Instigating. Raph doesn’t need any of this younger sibling bickering-”

“Respectfully, everyone shut up!” Leo gasps, staring at the now occupied stage with starstruck eyes as his worries leave his mind. “The show’s starting!”

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

Everything today has been going terribly awry.

First, you woke up way later than you intended, like, the brink of being late to your band’s gig, barely ate save for a snack or two out the door, and then, the pièce de résistance, you had to turn down Leo’s offer to join him and his brothers watch a band because you are a part of that band.

You saw the text while on the subway to the venue, offering to portal you from your place to grab a slice and watch your band.

With a heavy heart, you messaged him back with a vague excuse about having to work tonight and being busy tomorrow and unable to have a late night. He could probably see right through you and your flimsy reasoning, but you didn’t have time to think about that. You had a job to do, and you’d be darned if you didn’t do it right.

You shut your phone off and all distractions down as you made it out of the subway station, down a few streets, to the back entrance of the locale. Swiftly, you slipped your way in.

You shrugged off the teasing jabs you received from your bandmates about your unpunctuality, opting to just slip into a dressing room.

You pulled on the outfit that you’d packed in your bookbag, slightly more perfunctory than the clothing you wore on the way over, before staring down your mask.

Sure, the days leading up to performances could be rough, but once you put on that mask, it feels like you’re a complete other person, like your day hasn’t been so cruddy. That’s the main reason you had suggested that the band wear their favorite colored masks, the other being that you may have been inspired by certain reptilian friends of yours.

So, you pulled on your mask, concealed your dourness, sleepiness, doubt, everything weighing you down, exited the dressing room, immersed yourself in the fog of the stage with your fellow members.

Now you find yourself seated before your drum set, your microphone, your audience. With your drumsticks in hand and blinding stage lights flooding your vision, you steady yourself with a deep breath and get down to business.

Your foot hits the bass drum pedal on beat, sends a pulse through you, allows you to internalize it like a metronome. The sound waves ring out from the bass in an almost synaesthetic display, bright colors proliferating throughout the room.

Just like that, you are off.

The crash of the cymbals, patter of the tom-toms, diddles on the snare merely feel like extensions of yourself. Any and all performance jitters you felt fade away as you allow yourself to get into the music and have fun.

You can discern the sounds of the bass, guitar, synth layering over the beat you lay down.

Your voice’s timbre cuts through the accompaniment, sounding out over it yet blending seamlessly. The first song rushes by as quickly as the adrenaline rushes through your veins, and when it ceases and you hear the roar of applause from the audience, you know that tonight’s going to be much better than the first half of your day.

As you bask in the positive feedback between songs, a few people in the audience draw your attention. Raph, Mikey, Donnie, and Leo, all seeming to be enjoying themselves and the music. In particular, Leo looks ecstatic, his gaze fixated on you.

You smirk. You have the audience, you have the attention, why not have a little fun with the next few songs?

You kick everything up a notch, improvising paradiddles and harmonies, giving the performance absolutely everything you have left in the tank.

Seeing the wide grin on the turtle’s face and receiving uproarious praise, though, makes it all worth it.

The concert ends far sooner than you would have preferred. Guess it was true that time flies when you’re having fun.

With one final crash of the cymbals and a bow, you make your way off the stage, behind the curtains, on top of some miscellaneous crates as you throw down your sweat soaked mask and guzzle down as much cool water as you can.

Out in the audience, a flow of outgoing people trudges their way out, save for the four turtle brothers.

“Did you see that guitar? The design was so cool, and blue! I wonder how much they’d want for it. And the drummer! They were wicked!” Leo gushes.

His brothers just nod along with a few ‘yeah’s, having heard Leo pour over the same things for multiple minutes now.

The red-eared slider ceases his yapping as he looks at the stage, eyes going wide as he gets an idea.

“I’m sure they won’t mind if I just pop on back to say hi real quick and maybe get an autograph, okayseeyouatthelairlaterbyeee-!”

Before his brothers can get a word in, Leo uses his ninpō to form a portal and hop into the dim backstage area.

He looks around for a moment, only able to see the outline of the curtain and a few boxes while his eyes are adjusting to the low light.

Then, he sees one of the performers from the stage a few feet away from him, laying on some crates. The drummer, based on their height. He can’t base it off of their mask or their looks since they were facing the other direction.

“I can feel you staring at me.”

He freezes. He’s supposed to be a ninja; were his stealth skills so bad that someone could sense him that easily?

“Come on. You know how it worked out last time you tried to scare me after a gig. Spare yourself the bruised nose; you know I’m not good with scares,” you call behind you to whom you assume to be the band’s bassist, who has a habit of trying to spook everyone else.

He stays frozen.

You huff, push yourself off of your seat of crates, turn around. “Look, cut the sh- oh.”

It isn’t your bandmate behind you. It’s Leo, slack jawed and flabbergasted and completely still.

“Oh my- you are not supposed to be here- why are you here?” you ask, incredulous, as you slap your hands over your face.

Leo takes another silent moment before a high pitched squeal emits from his throat.

“Whaaaaat?! ¡No manches! This has been your ‘job’ the whole time?!” Leo laughs and puts a hand on his forehead.

“Yep, it’s me,” you grumble, pinch the bridge of your nose. There’s no way this is really happening.

“That’s- You’re so cool!” He clicks his tongue as if contemplating something. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You blink at him. That’s a question you’ve asked yourself many a time, though you’ve never settled on a definitive answer.

“I think it’s something about it being a mystery, a little piece of myself that no one else gets to know about outside of my bandmates. Not exactly escapism, but close.”

“So that’s the reason for the mask?” He taps his own.

“Sort of.” You hum in thought, think about if you should tell him where you got the idea from.

Does he need the ego boost? Definitely not.

Will you still give him it? Sure, why not?

“You know, the design was inspired by you,” you admit, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Really?!”

“Well, you and your brothers, to be more specific.”

“Nope, no need to be specific. You can just continue on with how big of an inspiration I am.”

You snicker at his display of cockiness before sobering up.

“Just- please don’t tell anyone else that I’m in this band, that this is me.”

“Indubitably, my accomplice.” Indubitably. He always says that word when he lies, and you always call his bluff.

“No, no, I’m serious about this…” You pause, glance to the side for a moment. “I’ll give you VIP passes to all of our shows if you promise not to blab about this.”

“Deal!” He immediately puts out his hand for a shake. “Wait! VIP passes, and you let me take you for pizza tonight if you’re free, then we have a deal.”

“Did you and the guys not go for pizza earlier?” you pressed.

“We did, but we both know that I’m not above having pizza multiple times in the same day,” he winks.

“Fine. Deal.” You place your hand in his tridactyl one, give it a firm shake, then get ready to grab a slice.

It’s safe to say that you have pizza after quite a few gigs after that. It’s duly safe to say that you have one consistent, quite possibly your biggest fan at every single performance from then on.

[gtraccoon]

part three to this

How am I supposed to even do anything? How am I supposed to function normally? I don’t want to have to depend on Kyle, he’ll get annoyed—I know how he is. Stan’s mind was moving quickly, it almost hurt his head to think about, but he couldn’t wait until later, because he could die later.

Kyle lay on the couch, his head resting in his hands as he watched the tiny boy pace on the edge of the couch.

“Dude, what are you doing?” He asked, sitting up slightly to use his hand as a barrier between Stan and the edge of the armrest so that he wouldn’t fall.

“I’m worrying. Because it’s Sunday! I have until tomorrow to get back to normal, and so far I don’t feel any different.” Stan exclaimed, sitting down and covering his face with his hands. Kyle frowned, lowering his head and examining him.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! Do you know how horrible it feels to be this… weak? To be this vulnerable? God!” Stan felt like he was about to break down, his head getting hot—but cold at the same time—and his hands feeling shaky.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Kyle sat up slightly, resting his hands on either side of Stan. He lightly pressed up against his back with his thumb. His only strategy at this point was to think of what he did when Stan was his size to comfort him, and obviously most of those wouldn’t work now, so he had to accommodate. After a few seconds, Stan looked up.

“Are you gonna leave?” He asked, his voice wavering.

“I feel like a dick for this but I have to get home or else my parents are gonna get pissed.” Kyle replied, tilting his hand back so he wasn’t pushing against Stan so hard.

“It’s okay. Can I come with you? I really don’t wanna be alone.” He rocked back and forth a bit, tapping his fingers. Kyle tilted his head, furrowing his brows.

“If you can stay quiet. If my mom hears a voice from my shirt pocket she’s gonna be confused.” He explained, tilting his hand back more until his palm was facing up. Stan glanced sideways at him, and then at his hand, tentatively climbing on. The feeling of his tiny hands grabbing onto Kyle’s felt weird. Really weird.

And Kyle never really imagined Stan being 2 inches tall and in his hands, so that was weird too.

Once he situated himself, he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t drop me. Please.” He said, his voice so soft Kyle almost couldn’t hear it.

“Of course not, I’m not that stupid.” He lifted his hand to his chest, trying his best to keep it steady as he opened his pocket. He didn’t really know why those were there, they were too small to hold pencils and he could hold coins in his pants pockets. But I guess it was helpful for this very specific situation. Stan backed himself off of his hand, slipping into the pocket and shivering.

“Ok, keep quiet, and I’ll let you know when we’re there. Ok?” After a few moments, a muffled ‘ok’ replied. He smiled softly, cupping his hand over his pocket as he grabbed his bag and left.

He felt like he had tunnel vision. He was so worried about Stan, and someone potentially finding him out, that he wasn’t paying attention to the place infront of him. Something slammed into his left side full force, and he almost screamed, but relaxed only slightly when he remembered Stan was on his right side. He exhaled, staring at the thing that hit him.

“Dude. You’re walking like drunk person.” Cartman said, raising his eyebrows. Kenny was standing next to him, seeming a lot like he didn’t wanna be there. His blue eyes were wide like they usually were, except they were worried.

“You okay?” He asked, almost unintelligible from the hood pressed tightly against his mouth. Kyle looked between the two, and then forced a slight smile.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He said, glancing past them. “I have to go, though, so..” He swerved past them, and just as he was about to start moving again, someone grabbed his arm.

“What’re you in such a rush for? We were gonna go make snowmen.” Kenny said.

“With dicks.” Cartman added.

“You’re not funny. And haven’t we done that like a million times before? It’s nothing new.”

“Oh, but Kyle, you’re the best at making them!” Cartman whined, he seemed so needy that for a second Kyle thought he was going to get on his knees. Kenny peeked around Cartman.

“Where’s Stan? I thought you were hanging out with him.” He asked, glancing down the road at Stan’s house. Kyle felt his breath hitch, having to think of an excuse quickly.

“Uh. He’s sick.” He muttered. Oh, now that’s original.

“Why’re you being so weird?” Cartman asked, pointing straight at Kyle’s face, so close he was almost poking him. Kyle grabbed his arm and pushed it down.

“I’m not being weird.”

“Yea you are. You’re all nervous.” Kenny said, narrowing his eyes. Suddenly, and unfortunately in a moment of silence, Stan sneezed. Everyone stopped, looked down at Kyle’s shirt.

“Dude, what the hell was that?” Cartman glared up at Kyle.

“Uh. I don’t know. Ok, I really gotta go now. Don’t come over. Bye.” He said, turning on his heels and speedwalking away. Even though he wasn’t looking at them he could feel their eyes burning into the back of his head. As soon as he was alone he turned a corner into an alley and grabbed Stan out of his pocket, holding him infront of his face.

“You couldn’t have picked a worse time to do that!” He whisper yelled. Stan threw his hands up in the air, coughing.

“There’s so much dust in there!”

“Yea, well I never use those, so.” He said. “But Cartman and Kenny are definitely catching on. We’re mega fucked if I don’t have an excuse as to why that happened.” He muttered, lowering his voice when he heard footsteps.

“I don’t know.” Stan’s eyes were wide with clear worry, and Kyle frowned, opening his mouth to say something. But then the footsteps stopped, and so did the world.

“Kyle, what the hell are you doing?”

lmk if u want part 4. also leaving u on a cliffhanger because yes

[make-me-your-animal]

Chapter 7: lovebites

Authors note: Sorry, my loves.

Harper left her hotel room, patting her pocket to ensure her room key was still there before pulling the door shut. Across the hall, Joe opened his own room, giving her a grin as he slipped into the hallway with her. "How is California treating ya?" He asked. He was wearing a pair of sweat pants and a white tank top. His hair was up in a low ponytail to keep it out of his face. He yawned and stretched.

Harper had to install a lot of willpower not to stare at where his shirt rode up when he lifted his arms over his head. She couldn't help herself not to peak, though. "I slept to long on the plane so I slept like shit," she coughed awkwardly, "But other then that I've had a great experience so far the food last night was good people have been really nice."

"I must be a comfortable pillow. You slept over half the flight on my shoulder, " Joe teased, watching the gingers face redden.

"Better you then phil, I guess," Harper whispered, looking down. "Gemma would have killed me"

"Aye. She'd be so pissed if you drooled all over him. it won't be long, and those two will be engaged they are hanging on each other consistently."

"Wait, did I drool on you?" Harper pushed her hair in front of her face to hide behind it.

"Just a little bit," Joe chuckled.

Harper was mortified, but before she could say anything back, a door flew open down the hall, and shouting filled the space.

"Get out of my fucking room!" Gemmas voice rang out as phil came stumbling out of the room. He was shirtless but thankfully he had a pair of pants on.

"Gem, wait -" He tried to move forward towards the obviously pissed off women.

"Get out of my fucking face" she snarled.

"Please let me explain"

"What's there to fucking explain? I'm a good fuck and that all you want"

"That's not what I meant." phil tried to reason, but it was too late. The door had slammed in his face.

"What just happened?" Joe asked, watching his bandmate disappear into his own room. A handful of seconds later, Gemma stormed out of her room and headed a few doors down to Bex's room.

"I'm gonna," Harper trailed off, pointing towards the girl who was pounding on Bex's door.

Joe just nodded, watching the ginger jog down the hall towards her bandmate. Joe decided to check on his own bandmate and see if he could tell him what the fuck was going on.

"He's an asshole. If he graces your door with his stupid pointed face tell him to fuck off" Gemma hissed barging into bexs room with Harper on her tail.

"What's going on?" Bexs brow furrowed in confusion as she tied the belt of her dressing gown. When they got off the plane last night, they were joined at the hip, and Gemma was looking at him like he hung the stars and the moon. What could have phil done that destroyed that?

"Phil!" Gemma shouted, flopping on the bed and burring her face in the pillows. She noted that they smelt like Colonge but that wasn't real surprising Bex always had male company and she was to caught up in her own problems to worry about who Bex was shagging.

"I assumed that part. Would you like to get a little more specific or?"

"I was going to ask him to be my fucking boyfreind but the motherfucking bastard just wants sex."

"I thought he asked you out on a double date with Steve and amaya?" Harper asked, approaching the bed but staying well out of arm range. Gemma was known for violent tendencies when pissed. Not that Harper thought the girl would hit her, but throwing shit was definitely possible.

"He did,"so Steve wouldn't feel so much pressure." " she mocked his London accent. "He doesn't give a fuck if I'm there or not he just doesn't want to be a third wheel."

Nobody heard the shower turn off or realized it was even on until Rick stepped out toweling off his curls. He had nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. A few deep purple marks littered his collarbone and chest.

In any other situation, Gemma would have found it hilarious, but she was too wound up for that. She was off the bed in a matter of seconds and in bexs face. "You fucking hypocrite how long have you two been shagging hm? You know what I don't give a fuck. You fucking hypocritical bitch" she stormed out leaving the three of them confused in her wake.

The second she left the room, tears started to fall. She was too lost in her own head that she ran right into one of the last people she wanted to see.

"Gemma, are you alright?" Amaya asked as steve tried to stabilize them both. The last thing that she needed was Steve trying to defend his Co- lead.

"Fuck off" she spat.

"No way, mate. What's going on?" Amaya stated, resting her hand on her shoulder.

The blonde just shrugged her off and headed towards her room. Amaya followed her, and steve followed Amaya. "Did something happen with phil?" Amaya questioned, sliding into the room before she could slam the door. Gemma curled into a ball on the bed, and Amaya sat next to her. Steve stood awkwardly by the door.

Gemma only sniffled helplessly.

"What the hell happened out there?" Joe asked after phil let him into the room.

"I pissed her off," He shrugged, leaning against the wall. He looked like a kicked puppy. Joe thought about getting sav or Steve. Either of them were better equipped to deal with the heartbroken. But Steve was with Amaya, and if Amaya found out phil hurt Gemma, she would kill the man. Steve couldn't even stop that. Sav was God knows where Definantly not in the room they were supposed to be sharing. He should really look into putting the man on a leash. Maybe he should put his whole band on a leash. Then shit like this wouldn't happen. Either way, phil was stuck with him.

"No shit Sherlock what did you do to piss her off?"

"Told her she was just a peice of arse and we shouldn't be anything more the fuck buddies."

Joe was shocked. Phil may be a bit of a womanizer, but he was usually sweet to them. Never once has he heard the man call a woman just a piece of arse.' Plus, phil seemed to really like the women in question. "Why the fuck would you tell her that. Have you gone mad?"

"I don't know. Maybe. She was talking about making things more serious. You know actually dating. I kinda panicked. I really like her, and if we dated, I'd want it to continue after the tours over." Tears were welling in phils eyes, and Joe prayed silently that he didn't start to cry. " Whats the chances of that happening she's trying to get her band out there. I'm sure we'll be thinking about the next album. I don't want to hurt her or me in the end. Freinds with benefits would be safer for us both. Dating just seems like... alot. I didn't mean for it to sound that I'm only hanging around her for sex"

"Your a fucking idiot" Joe sighed. "Do you hear what you just said to me? Your lucky she didn't kill you on the spot. Your lucky Bex hasn't killed you yet. Your lucky I haven't killed you yet. Let me fucking guess you didn't even voice the reason for your stupidity? So now she thinks that one, you don't care about her. Two, your using her for sex. 3, you've been leading her on this whole time."

"I-"

"Shut the fuck up I'm not done. did you think for one second that maybe she had thought about the what ifs and how's of after the tour ended. I was talking to rebel while on the plane. They plan on recording their album after tour. In Dublin. If we are going to start the next album we will probably do it at my place in you guessed it fucking Dublin. They haven't even started writing the next album so guess what you could probably whisk her off to what ever corner of the world you wanted for awhile but no you bollocked it up"

"Oh," was all phil could think to say before a very aggressive knock sounded out from behind Joe.

"Ahh, I bet that's Bex here to take your balls," He stated before opening the door. Sure, he probably wouldn't let Bex kill him, but phil was an idiot and in joes opinion, he deserved to at least be scared a bit. Instead of the short tempered front-woman, Steve stormed in.

"Are you fucking mad mate!" The guitarist shouted. Phils head snapped up, Joe was just as shocked as phil. Hell must have frozen over if Steve was yelling at phil.

"Gemma is in her room sobbin' away in amayas arms because you," Steve stabbed his finger in phils direction. "Have lost your fucking mind. I thought you really liked her"

"I love her mate," phil said solemly, not meeting either of the men's gazes.

"You sure have a funny way to show it," Steve stated. The tears falling from his eyes were enough to melt Steve's short-lived temper. " You best fix this," he muttered before pulling his best mate into a hug.

[kieran-the-writer]

Statement of Salome Lukas

VIII. False Pretenses

2nd June 2007

The weather was beginning to heat up when Peter brought Salome with him to meet with a big Samoan artefact dealer that Salome had met once named Mikaele Salesa. Salome wasn’t sure she liked Salesa much. He was cheerful enough, but he always seemed to… loom. Salome didn’t like loomers.

     She was a few steps ahead of her uncle, who had a habit of meandering, when his large hand came down on her shoulder. “Salome,” Peter said, “what are these?”

     Salome froze when she realized her light jacket had slipped off her shoulder, revealing the scars along her back. “I-I, ah…” She tugged her jacket back into place. “Nothing, Uncle. It’s nothing. They’re nothing.”

     Peter turned Salome to face him and frowned down at her. She shrank into herself as Peter’s gray eyes peered into hers. “Salome, who did this?”

     “I d— N-no one.” She didn’t know why she was lying; Peter had only begun showing concern for her following her first true feeding late last year. She knew, deep down, that his care was surface level and conditional. But still, she lied. “No one. I lost my balance when Gerard and I were out last night.

     She knew it was a weak lie; some of those scars were years old. But Peter just shrugged. “Right. Be more careful. And don’t let Elias see them. The last thing that man needs is…”

     Salome recognized her uncle’s tone he used when he was complaining about Elias Bouchard, so she tuned him out. She tuned him out during his meeting with Salesa, too, though she wasn’t sure why he was meeting the man at all. Salome had grown up on Peter’s cargo ship, and she knew that the Tundra rarely, if ever, delivered cargo to port.

     Peter harrumphed when Salesa said something about waiting for one more person. Salome wasn’t particularly interested when she heard the man “the Magnus Institute,” but when a somewhat familiar stuttering voice met her ear some minutes later, she looked around.

     The blonde-haired young man from the Institute gave Salome a friendly wave. “Oh,” Salome said. “Ah, your name was…”

     “Uh, Michael,” he offered. “A-Are you feeling better? I, I mean, you must do; it’s been a couple of months, hah.”

     Salome felt Peter’s chilly gaze on her back at Michael’s question. Salome herself felt a little surprised that Michael had remembered her. She wasn’t sure why she remembered him. “Yes,” she said, unconsciously moving her hand to hide the scars that also littered her tattoo-free arm. “Yes, I am. Thank you. Why are you here?”

     Salesa answered that question. “The archivist sends her assistants to do her business sometimes, little Miss Lukas.”

     Little Miss Lukas. Salome had almost forgotten about that stupid nickname given to her by Salesa. Almost.

     Still, whatever the specifics of this business were, Salome wasn’t sure, as Michael made no offers or purchases. He just took notes in a little notebook with a green open eye design. Salome avoided being in the eye’s direct line of sight when she could. But she did watch Michael out of the corner of her eye. He seemed so unlike anyone else in her life. While Peter was cold and distant, Michael was friendly and warm. Where Gerard was sardonic, Michael’s smiles always seemed genuine.

     All in all, Michael Shelley confused Salome. And so, when she offered him her phone number under the pretense of business purposes, she wouldn’t have been able to say what the reason really was. Michael accepted her number, though, with a smile so wide she noticed a slight gap between his two front teeth. She offered a little smile of her own, just to be polite. It was an awkward smile, one that showed off her braces, but Michael’s eyes lit up at the sight.

     Finally, Peter and Salesa’s business concluded, and Peter called for Salome to follow. She did, giving Michael one final glance. She offered a small wave, which he returned with a kind, real smile.

--

Masterlist

[cryptids-lobelia-garden]

OKAY here we are, all caught up! For now. I don’t have any buffer or anything really specific planned for the next few days. Wish me luck. So! This one is set probably like.. three-ish months? Into Volo getting pulled into the agency/under Eclipse’s wing? So yeah, Eclipse hasn’t done anything super serious yet, just messed with his head.

Warnings: ngl I have No Idea what to tag this one.

Whumpee having Issues, that are only being exacerbated by whumper, who isn’t hurting him physically quite yet but he sure isn’t good for Whumpee’s mental or emotional state. Emotional hurt no comfort I guess is what this is. You know when you look back at something really shitty you did and go “…oooohh no.” Yeah it’s that, that’s what this is

Anyway uh. I’m not super happy with how it turned out, this scene is supposed to come in between some other stuff whenever I actually pull everything together, BUT!!!! At least the first draft is written! So I can edit it and string it together with other stuff later!

But yeah, the context this needs is by this point, he’s aware that what he was trying (subjugate Arceus and rewrite history) was never going to work out, and he’s been a little aimless since then, not sure he has a purpose. And this is him kinda finding one!

(Poor guy has a traumatization arc at the same time as his redemption arc 😔 wish him luck he’s gonna need it)

Day 3: Shame

“GIRATINA!! STRIKE THEM DOWN!!!”

Volo sighs as he watches it play out. Again, again.

Four teenagers, twenty four Pokémon, and two gods; one present, one absent.

One teenager blinded by a dream of a world without suffering, the other three fighting for the right to exist.

Six Pokémon against eighteen, and then the playing field is leveled by the help of a god, but still the three teenagers won.

Three siblings, one angry, one upset, one cynical, watching as their flute changes into one that can summon Arceus, and one teenager, alone in the world, angry at the god he’d worshipped for abandoning him in every single time of need. Angry at the god who had helped him for failing.

He had lashed out, and now he was completely and utterly alone.

Three siblings finding their way back to the home they had protected while one teenager grieves the life he never got to live. Three siblings chasing their dreams and meeting their goals while one teenager is lost, stuck with nowhere else to go but away. But he can’t go away, because Hisui is his home. His broken, pain-filled home, full of the memories of his people.

They have everything, and he is left alone.

Three siblings growing up and becoming champions of their region, one teenager finding a strange device and traveling to another time.

To another dimension.

Would things have been different, had I not done all this? Would I have more than just myself, my Pokémon, and Eclipse to rely on?

He scrolls back in time.

Three siblings and one teenager meeting for the first time. A Pokémon battle, and two of the siblings became fast friends with the teenager.

And a few months later, he betrays them for nothing but a chance at a plan that never would have worked in the first place.

“GIRATINA!! STRIKE THEM DOWN!!!”

..He turns his holocomputer off and lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

..maybe Eclipse is right. I deserve to hurt for what I put those three through.

We were all teenagers, but I was older. They were 15. I was an adult. I should’ve known better- I tried to KILL them.

And my actions indirectly killed so many more..

He lets his eyes slip closed.

..I’m lucky I have Eclipse. At least he won’t hurt me, despite the fact that I deserve it. Not like so many of the others in this place would.

..I wonder if things would be different, had I called it all off.

I wish I could go back and stop it. But that would only create a paradox involving the Agency itself. It would only make everything worse, might actually break reality as a whole..

He rolls over, curling up on his side and hiding in the plush blankets.

..Maybe, if I hadn’t been born, the world would be better off.

Thousands dead, tens of thousands hurt, and SO MANY displaced throughout time and space.. All because of a dream that could never have worked.

I need to help them. It’s my fault they’re lost, after all.

I can’t bring back the dead.

But I can at least help the living.

[luftgames]

Sure, I got swag from GenCon. Even bought a few things at exclusive con-sale prices. But the most important thing I got out of GenCon was twenty review slips and four pages of notes.

Few notes: one, absolutly give a review sheet. It's not replacement for actually talking to people in person, but it's also not replaced by talking in person. Some times you don't have time to get to everyone, and some people just don't speak up up as much, so having a planned set of prompts for people to work through is still valuable.

Make sure that review sheet is big, as well. My review sheet was only a half page, as I thought it would be less imposing, and therefore more likely to be filled out. Turns out, getting them filled out is not a problem. Paper is cheap, use it all. And I had knock-on consequences from this small format as well. Question two is "What was the best part of the game? The worst?" This, in case you hadn't noticed, is actually two questions. And they certainly could have used seperate lines. Having plenty of space for different types of handwriting is important as well.

Also, while I did get 80% of testers leaving an email for future contact, handwriting is not 100% guaranteed to be clear - I should have confirmed those before everyone left.

On the notes - be specific. Going in to a test environment with questions for yourself is helpful - i.e. "How do people feel about X? How often is Y mechanic used? Where is progress slow?" If there's some mechanic you know you want to test, record how often it's interacted with, and how people react to it. Record time logs, and what needs explaination, final scores and playstyles.

...Unfortunately, you can't get it all. Interacting with players is also important. Not to mention actually teaching the game - a con situation like this does have a time limit, and you can't afford to sit and watch from a corner like blind playtesting. Perhaps with a bigger team, there can be a dedicated scribe, a teacher, and so on. (But that depends on the resources available to you.)

One thing I want to stess to no end when it comes to interacting with players: Don't disagree with player feedback. You don't have to agree with it, you don't have to incorporate it, you may even be able to explain why you did something else, or if you tried that already, but don't say they're wrong.

I tested a game at GenCon several years ago, and made a comment on the game's balance. The response was: "No. You should have played better." That boardgame equivalent of "Git Good" rankles my spiteful memories to the point that I carry a grudge against it to this day. (Obviously, I won't actually name names... I'm not that spiteful.)

I may well have been a bad player due to a poor understanding of the rules, but the response should have been: "okay, we'll think abou it," and then go back to the other players who were gushing over the design. Acknowledge, and move on.

When taking feedback, you don't actually have to incorporate all of it, or even any of it. It's okay to ignore one opinion in the end. But look for trends. If one element get a single comment, you may want to look at it later. But if something consistently comes up as confusion or problematic, that should be your focus.

Oh, and while on the subject of interacting with players, ask if you can record and share the playtest. It's polite, and the least you can do. And you get good stock to remember interactions, and share on socials! (Oh, yeah, and have your socials set up beforehand, of course.)

As for other things to consider when in a testing environment: handouts. It doesn't have to be a lot, but handing players something on the way out the door is key to making it memorable in a week's time, after the con is over.

As for what goes on this: Socials. Contacts are a must. Places to follow the game's progress, so that it can be looked up after the con. A description of the game as well - specifically the gameplay. It contextualizes the info, and can be a secondary hook for looking into those socials.

Also: Leave it around the venue. In the First Exposure Playtest Hall at GenCon there are several tables where you can leave literature - make use of that. Having the literature available, and not limited to handing out at-table, allows it to be a point of interest for people to look at pre-test, as well as something for people who didn't get an opportunity to test your game. Also, it's not exactly rare for publishers and other people to hoover these up at the end of a con - so having a stack left over is a way to passively get in contact with people and companies after the fact.

Cazadores' business card next to Fury of the Elements and Space-Off. The business card is easy to transport, and cheap to get in bulk. However, while having contact info and the game name, it does not have any form of game description. I would suggest a minimum of a post-card sized piece to get all the relevant info on it - a full-sheet is good for a complete breakdown, but also less convenient to pocket. One can also compromise by having multiple formats - that way all bases are covered. Also, say it with me: paper is cheap.

So yeah, that's what I took note of at my first convention appearance with Cazadores. ...GenCon, huh? Really chose to dive in on the deep end, eh? I do wish I'd taken more time slots - there's only so many people you can reach doing it like this. Other conventions have other rules for how testing works, and requirements for drawing a crowd, but I'd still say the same rules for taking notes and handouts apply.

Know what you want to find out going in.

Take everything - no suggestion is bad, and no notes are useless.

Look for trends.

Handouts are important.

Passive advertisement is not useless.

I think that's the key takeaways I want to leave you with. Anyways, I want to actually get into some of the history and mechanics of Cazadores (and other designs) at some point, when I have the time. Until then!