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a-spes · 2 months

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| PRETTY FACES, DARK SOULS - part two (4.070 words).

| Summary - you rob the wrong person, and she makes sure that you pay your debts, willingly or not.

| Tags & warnings - Men & minors DNI, Dark CEO!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, nothing else for the moment (I think?)

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

When Natasha realised that you left nothing to her, taking even her cheque book, she had to call her sister, asking her to come and pay for her. Even if she tried to be as nice as she could in such a situation, she couldn’t keep her words from being harsh.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt so humiliated. Natasha Romanoff, known as one of the most successful entrepreneurs of her generation, having to explain to the waiter that she can’t pay, having to ask her sister for money. It is something that shouldn’t have happened, something that needed to be repaired.

If one thing was sure, it’s that Yelena has not been happy to be woken up by her sister’s bad mood, but she complied with her request without questioning it, knowing better than to argue with her eldest.

“Don’t you dare to say a word", she warned when she eventually saw the blonde approaching the table.

She had been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for her sister who decided to take her time. It was a childish way of avenging the brutal awakening she underwent, and the redhead would certainly have laughed if she wasn’t already irritated, and the youngest’s attitude only made it worse.

On the contrary, when Yelena saw her sister sitting at the table, she forgot about her bitterness, realizing how funny the situation was. She never could’ve imagined her sister calling her because she needed money. She is one of the richest people that exist on earth, and one of the most far-sighted at the same time. She always has her phone, at least two cards, her cheque book, and an absurd amount of cash, just in case.

The smile that grows on her face as she realizes how improbable the situation is earns her a slap on the back of the head, and Natasha never holds back her strength.

“Ouch!" She said, rubbing where she was hit, “it hurts!” She complained, but her sister doesn’t seem to care. In a second, the smile disappeared, giving way to a dark look.

“Shut up", the redhead said, rolling her eyes. She knows her sister as the back of her hand, and she also knows that the strength she put in that slap wasn’t enough to hurt her. She probably barely felt it, and is just too much of a cry baby sometimes. Something that’s pissing off the redhead that is in no mood for that kind of game. “Shut up, or you’ll learn what real pain is", she added, not even trying to hide the threat behind her words.

“You’ve no right to snap at me when I came all the way just to help you", she protested, and if they both knew she was right, her words were greeted by a simple sigh from the redhead who ran her hand over her face. No apologies, just silence.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she witnessed her sister in such a state of distress, but she knows that nothing good came out of it. If she enjoys it when the oldest terrifies her men, she fears the incensed decisions she will inevitably make.

She could burn the whole city if she wanted to.

And Natasha has to admit that the thought crossed her mind a few times while she was waiting for the blonde to show up. She was barely able to control her anger, and couldn’t help but bounce her right leg under the table while her fingers were tapping on the table. But none of these actions helped to calm her nerves.

“I abandoned really important things, you know”, she added, as she took her wallet out of her pocket to put it in her sister’s hand. She had outstretched it toward her, and Yelena didn’t need words to understand what the redhead wanted. “All of that because you forgot your wallet …", she mumbled under her breath, but obviously the other heard it.

“I didn’t forget my wallet, it has been stolen”, she muttered, as if it could make the situation less embarrassing, as if she hoped her sister wouldn’t hear, but none of these statements turned out to be true.

“You’re joking, right?” she asked back, not believing the oldest. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone if that’s the case”, she added, sure that her sister was lying to her in an attempt to hide what she probably considered as a weakness.

That’s what her sister always does. Most of the time, she is perfect, but when she inevitably makes mistakes, she always finds excuses. She blames her men, runs away, or pretends it has never happened, and Yelena feels like it’s exactly what’s happening right now. She is thinking that her sister has forgotten her wallet, but doesn't want to admit it.

Maybe because the idea of Natasha being robbed sounds unbelievable.

“I am not lying, someone stole me”, she said again, and her sister better not make her repeat it a third time because she will really lose her temper this time. Everytime she said it out loud, it only made it a bit more real, as if she couldn’t quite believe it before. But the realization is now sinking in, and she feels like she is becoming crazy with all the thoughts that are crossing her mind at the moment. “They took everything", she angrily added, throwing the empty wallet on the table, only for the youngest to check.

And her sister was right. They took everything, not leaving a single penny. The blonde was so shocked that she didn’t even know how to react.

“But … who’s stupid enough to steal things from The Natasha Romanoff?” She managed to ask, once the initial surprise had worn off, “and how did that even happen?” she added, looking at her sister who was now pacing up and down the terrace.

But she knew she wouldn’t get an answer, at least no today. Her sister was ignoring her voice, too busy mumbling things to herself, and she would probably be thrown over the edge if she interrupts, so she waited for them to be in the car to talk again.

She didn’t even complain when the oldest stole her keys, deciding that she will be the one to drive without even asking first. The blonde slipped in the passenger seat, muttering a few insults that Natasha pretends not to hear.

“So, what do you want us to do?” she eventually asked after they’ve been sitting in silence for a few minutes. She was looking at the redhead, the one who was staring at the road, lost in her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she replied, and brought back to reality by the question, she started the car, trying to ignore the look of surprise on her sister’s face.

“Nothing?” she repeated, “so you’re just going to let them go away when they robbed you?” she continued, and the lack of reaction from her sister made her want to shake her sister to get her thinking straight.

“Nothing yet” she corrected her, putting an end to Yelena’s protests. Despite what the other may think, she doesn’t intend to let the culprit be forgiven. It has never been her intention, and she knows exactly what to do to get every penny back.

When she notices the determination in the eyes of the oldest, she knew the next months were going to be interesting. She smirks at the thought.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

This time was the last.

That’s what you said to yourself after every theft, and it has never been true, because you never earned enough to get out of this situation. What you were stealing was usually just enough for you to survive a few weeks, and even if you kept telling that to yourself, you stopped believing that it could become a reality.

It was nothing more than a dream, you head knew it, even if your heart never stopped dreaming about a future brighter than your present. Every night, the day you would eventually be out of misery was the last thing you were thinking about, and you spent hours imagining how it would look like.

You wanted an apartment that would be big enough to welcome the friends you would have made, and a job that you appreciate, but about which you would still complain.

At first, it was only about stealing the essentials, a jumper or an apple for which you would feel guilty for days. It’s when you stopped fearing that someone would catch you that you’ve started to think bigger. The few people who witnessed your theft generally decided that they weren’t paid enough to come after you, a little girl isn't worth their energy.

The years have gone by, and if the number of your victims increased, your wealth hasn’t. That’s when you realized that stealing money from the tourists in the street was not what would give you a better life, and decided to go after the richest people on the earth, the ones that probably wouldn’t even notice if you’d taken a few hundred dollars from their wallet.

One day, you’ll be making so much money that you will be able to pay for your debts.

Slowly, this need to survive has turned into a need for a life where you would have something to call yours. You didn’t want something to eat, you wanted an apartment. You didn’t want stolen clothes, you wanted something bought with your own money. Even a cup or a pen would be enough, as long as you could claim it as yours.

One day, you’ll deserve everything you have.

You stopped stealing almost two years ago, when you eventually raised enough money to start a new life, and the dream became a reality. It took you a lot of time and effort, but you eventually got exactly where you’ve been dreaming of being since your teenage years.

It was thanks to the inattention of this woman who hadn’t blocked her card when it was stolen, neither she declared her cheque book stolen, allowing you to use it as you wished for months. Usually, your victims are quick to solve the problem, leaving you only with the few notes you stole from their wallets.

But this time, you were left with more money than you ever had, more than enough to buy a ticket to another city, and still being able to buy essential supplies after. You could leave, rent a room for a few weeks, just until you find a job and get your first pay, you could even buy some new clothes, and you would still have enough money.

At first, you thought there was a catch, but the days have gone by, they became weeks, months, then years, and if the card and the cheque book never stopped working, nothing bad happened. No one ever knocked at your door, no letter got sent, and the feeling of dread you felt every time you paid has finally disappeared.

Maybe she forgot. Maybe she didn’t even notice. Maybe there was a problem that never got fixed. Maybe it’s just taking a lot of time. You have no idea, but you can’t help but wonder why, thinking about all the reasons that must have led to that situation.

It is fate.

That’s what a part of your mind is whispering to you, and you ask nothing more than being able to believe it, the other part trying to understand the situation without being able to make sense of it. Even after two years, the question was still in the back of your mind, and you’re almost sure that you could still use the card if you wanted to.

But you don’t, because you made a promise to yourself. You swore that, the moment you would earn enough money to support yourself, you would stop using hers. It has been a bit more than a year since you found your job, and this part of your life feels so foreign now. The only reminder of your past is that box, where you’re keeping all the cards, cheque books, and wallets you once stole. The one that’s hidden in your closet, where no one could see it, not even yourself. The one that contains a past you want to forget about.

You now have a job, an apartment, and you even made some friends on the way. They’re good people, hanging out with them makes you feel like you are too. They never asked questions about where you’re coming from, because they don’t need to know, they’re just appreciating you as you are. The grown-up version of who you were once.

When late at night guilt gnaws at your mind, you’re thinking about their compliments. When the sadness at the thought of your younger self never being loved that way, your memories with them remind you that you succeed to become someone that can be loved.

Someone that deserves everything she has.

There is only one person that had glimpses of who you were, and it’s Kate Bishop. Even if you’ve tried to keep your secrets away from her, it’s hard to do so when you’re spending all your days and nights with someone so curious.

Kate is a coworker, a roommate, but mostly your closest friend. It’s not because she understands you more than anyone else. It’s because she never makes a big deal of anything, and you know nothing you could tell her about you would change the way she acts around you. This girl is everything you want to be: free and happy.

Someone that doesn’t care about social norms.

She would sneak into your room in the middle of the night just because she heard you cry. She wouldn’t even ask questions about the reasons behind the tears, only complaining about how thin the walls are, and how she can’t sleep because of that.

She would go through your belongings when she needs something but she can’t ask you because you’re not home, only telling you when she gives the objects back.

She would answer your phone when it’s ringing while you’re in another room or your hands busy, holding the conversation as if the calls were intended for her.

That’s how she discovered you were looking for a new place to stay. You’ve only been coworkers for a few months when she answered your phone. It was the social worker who called to tell you that you’ll have to move out of your flat within the next weeks because you no longer meet the criterias.

Your first reaction was to yell at Kate. It has been the first and only time you’ve done it, usually not minding when she does it.

But this time it was different: you were scared. You didn’t know her a lot at that time, and you were fearing that this call would destroy the relationship you had started to build. You put so much effort into pretending that everything was fine, and had always been that way, that you thought the truth coming out would ruin everything.

She was the first relationship that you didn’t build on lies, at least not on the big ones. She also has been the first to be able to hold a conversation with you for a while. Not Lydia, or any name you might have borrowed by the past, but just y/n.

When you’ve spent your whole life lying, it’s not easy to know who you are.

It was a bad habit that you had a hard time quitting, still having the urge to lie about some details. Maybe to appear as a more interesting person, maybe because you are afraid to disappoint them.

No, it’s because it’s comforting.

It’s what gave you a bit of hope, what gave you the impression that you had a normal life. You’ve never been interested in living the marvelous lives of your alias, you just wanted a normal one for you. Maybe if you tell these stories a lot of time, your mind will accept them as reality.

Over the years, lying became more than a habit: it was an addiction. You felt bad every time you lied to the black-haired, even if it was only about small and insignificant things, like your favourite colour, but you couldn’t just stop. It’s only that day that you realised that it might ruin everything between the two of you.

Everything has been so easy since you met Kate. You never felt like you were too much, or in the wrong place, because she always made sure to integrate you into the team, and you’re still regretting the words that fell from your lips that day.

She was the first genuine friend you’ve made, and that’s how you thanked her kindness, with snide remarks that she didn’t deserve.

For a minute, you saw yourself back there. In that lonely and miserable place.

But she didn’t get angry. Nor for the lies, nor for the horrible things you said. She didn’t look at you with pity, but with something that was closer to surprise, as if she couldn’t quite understand your reaction, but knew enough to not judge. That’s when she asked you to be her flatmate.

Kate was the first one to learn about your favourite colour, the real one, and all your daily habits. From your favourite thing to eat for breakfast to the time you get up, she knows things you never thought you would share with someone one day. Kate has been the first one to see y/n. The one that doesn’t wear any mask, the one that does not need to pretend she is someone else.

Then, it was your turn.

Tonight, when you’re looking in the mirror, the only thing you can see is your smile. A bright, and big one. Even with makeup on, you are not looking or feeling as anyone else than yourself. Every choice has been made by you to suit your taste.

“Are you done yet?” She asked, and you could hear Kate’s muffled voice through the bathroom’s door, “we’re going to be late!” She complained for what’s probably the tenth time in the last quarter, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she was stamping her foot on the other side of the door, throwing a tantrum like a child.

“Isn’t it what celebrities are supposed to do?” you replied, a smug smile on your face as you eventually opened the door after spending more than an hour in the room.

Everything needs to be perfect, and perfection demands time, something your impatient roommate doesn’t seem to agree with. The second you stepped out of the bathroom, she grabbed your arm.

“That’s not funny!” she exclaimed as she started dragging you toward the entrance. You couldn’t help, but roll your eyes at her attitude.

You know that the real reason behind her actions isn’t a concern for punctuality, Kate always being late, but just a result of her excitement for the evening that’s coming: some friends of hers are going to play music in a bar, and she doesn’t want to miss even a second of the show. A simple glance at the clock confirms what you were thinking: you’re not late.

But you also know it’s useless to argue with the black haired woman when she is in that state of mind, so you just go along with it, letting your friend drag you toward the entrance. You have just enough time to grab your bag before you leave the apartment.

You are too focused on your footsteps to be listening to her rambling about the coming party, trying to not trip on your own feet. But she isn’t listening to you either, deaf to your pleas for her to slow down, or to let go of your arm, and it’s only when you arrive at the said bar that you get your freedom back.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

She never forgot.

She has been thinking about what happened that night every day since. The years have gone by, but it never left her mind, and picturing all the ways in which she could get back what you owe her was soothing her to sleep every night.

Despite her impatience, she took her time, waiting for the moment you would’ve forgotten about her, when you would let your guard down, thinking that your past mistakes had been forgotten, and forgiven. Maybe your previous victims did, but she has nothing in common with these guys, and chasing you wasn’t about the money. It was about dignity.

She needed to make you feel the same shame that she had that morning.

Some of her associates don’t understand her obsession, even her sister sometimes suggested that she let it go, fearing that it would jeopardize the company. But she stayed firm; you started a game that night, and she is not the kind that appreciates losing.

She is determined to show you that two can play that game.

It wasn’t difficult to track you down. The only obstacle had been the false identity you built for yourself, but it had only been a matter of months before she found you, there was no way she couldn’t recognize your face on the security tape. It was in the middle of the night, one of those where she couldn’t sleep, and eventually decided that she would rather look for you instead of tossing and turning in her bed, consumed by her thoughts.

That’s when she found it, a footage from a shop’s security camera where your face appeared. You were nothing like the woman she met at the party, from your hair to the way you were moving, you definitely had none of Lydia’s elegance, and she couldn’t even understand how you’ve been able to pretend to be her, and how you’ve possibly been good enough to fool her, The Natasha Romanoff.

But despite the numerous differences, she was sure it was you on that video. There were details you couldn’t change, and the shape of your jaw was one of them. She could still see your face as she had you pinned beneath her that night, her fingers running along your cheeks, wishing that moment would last forever.

Since then, she kept collecting these videos as a kid would collect cards, watching them regularly. The footage made everything make sense, and you seemed closer than ever as she kept hitting the replay button.

She had to admit that you are smart, but not smart enough, and everytime you used the card was one more clue guiding her in the right direction. At first, she was able to track your movements, it only took her a few more weeks before she discovered your identity, and more importantly, learned about your past.

A few weeks, that’s all it took, yet she had waited several years before going after you, deciding it was the right time only when you started building a new life for yourself. You moved to a city where no one knew your name, you got a normal job, and haven’t stolen since. You even made some friends. You got the life you have probably dreamed about since your teenage years, and she knew that perfectly.

She also knew that the moment she would break your illusion of peace, and steal your hope of a better life, you’ll be heartbroken. Hopeless.

She saw how, as the years went by, you started to be less cautious, thinking that your past mistakes were nothing more than faded memories in your mind. She saw how you eventually stopped looking around every time you were going out, how you started opening up to your friends, seeming to forget about what you have done.

But she didn’t forget, and she promised herself that you wouldn’t either. It’s only fair that you pay for your mistakes, isn’t it?

She started the car when she saw you, and Kate, disappear round the corner. You were obviously out for the night, and it was the perfect opportunity. No one would pay attention to the disappearance of a girl, not in a crowded, dark place that reeked of alcohol and illegal substances.

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

| tag list - @thalia-is-not-ok / @tobiaslut

#a spes writing #pretty faces dark souls #marvel fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow fanfiction #dark natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #reader insert #female reader

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thesuperiorrobin · 7 months

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𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Florists!Fem!Reader

Word count: 570

Warning: Damian and reader are in their twenties, mentions of flowers and their opposite meanings(hatred,Stupidly, etc) this post was on Pinterest that was taken from tumblr but lost it and now I can’t find OG creator. If you know the OG creator of if this looks familiar please let me know so I can tag them. Mentions of the word skank.

A/n: i never realize how horrible 2000s magazines were until I read some my mom kept😭 Also this is all Bs. I’m sure all of these are not right bc I looked them up.

the flower shop was quiet today, it was nice but boring. When the shop was running slow time I’m the place slows down too. And you hated it. You were stuck making sure the flowers were perfect even if they were and you were just trying to make your shift go faster. But none of that seemed to work.

You somehow find yourself reading old magazines from the two-thousands you found in the back of the shop. Your elbows are rested up against the top of the displaced case, flipping through the reach page as you read every box and bubble carefully.

“What makes a girl a skank? Huh?” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you flip the page “Two thousands magazines are something else”

(and trust me they are).

The sound of the bell ringing makes you perk up, indicating someone entered the store. You close the magazine before you walk around the display case to face the customer who entered. You stand there surprised, eyes coming in context with green ones that you recognize from pictures and the news—also ones you see everyday when you go to sleep and when you wake up in the morning.

Damian Wayne stands in front of you and he doesn’t look happy. You smiled at him, welcoming him in. You bring him in a small short hug before pulling apart. Your lips lock for a short second before pulling away again.

“Hey. It’s a surprise seeing you here today. Do you need something?”

He gives you a nod “Do you have anything—flowers, that are symbolic of hatred? Maybe stupidity?” You were taken aback by the question.

Not that many people come in asking for flowers with bad meaning towards them—normally they come in asking for flowers that mean love.

You cleared your throat. “I believe I do, follow me”

You take him further down the shop. In the back laid different kinds of flowers, separated by name and by color.

“There’s a couple I know by heart that have both good and bad meanings to them” You start off eyeing every flower carefully as you try and remember the bad. You point up at the orange butterfly weeds, and Damian follows your finger “Those are very beautiful ones but no one gets them because they literally mean ‘be warned’. Which is shameful because they always die out here”

“Is that why you have so many back at home?” Damian asked softly, placing a firm hand behind your back.

You hum “or orange lilies maybe? They mean hatred and other rough emotions. There are also carnations, which mean disappointment. You can also get black roses. Those work too. What do you think?” You look up at your lover waiting for a response as he looks over the flowers.

He pulls out his wallet “How about all that you just named?” You give him a grin. Collecting the flowers and putting them together to make a beautiful bouquet.

You ring him up. “Are these for your wife Mr.Wayne?” You tease playfully.

“Nonsense, my wife deserves better flowers that do not mean hatred” he scuffs as he plays along.

“She’s a lucky girl”

“Yes, she is” he smiles down at you lovingly. He hands you a fifty dollar bill for a bouquet that cost thirty-five and seventeen in change. He refuses the extra amount left over.

“Keep it. Use it to bye more butterfly weeds” you sigh.

When Damian made up his mind he’s too stubborn to change it.

“Who are they for anyway?” You asked. Tilting you head as you put the rest of the money away.

“Tim was being idiotic during patrol and landed himself in the hospital”

“Oh”

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne one shot #damian wayne fanfiction

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briefalpacashark · 11 months

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MILES 42 Spoils you

Warnings: None.

(Dont know who the artist it but props to them. Amazing stuff)

Miles loves to spoil me. He's got plenty of money, thanks to the buyer's market for fancy gadgets and Miles' insanely smart brain, and a few choice investments. Money was no longer a problem for him. He had paid off his mothers mortgage and the only reason why Rio still worked was because she respected her own independence.

The gift giving started off slow. The appreciation I showed fuelled his desire to gift me anything and everything.

I started catching onto his antics and shut it down.

“You like that one Mami?” I felt Mies place his hands on my hips from behind as he peeked over my head at the small stuffed animal on display in a window.

“No,” I flatly refused, going to step away only for him to hold on tighter pulling me back. Miles was stronger than me by a long shot. So my attempt to escape was easily foiled. I could see his smirk in the reflection as he moved to encase my body in his arms resting his chin on the top of my head.

“The green or the blue?” he asked.

“Neither,” I muttered.

“Come on Mami, Which one?” he asked, dropping his head to my shoulder.

“I was just looking at the cute cashier,” I stated without thinking.

“Who the old lady?” he asked with a smirk. Looking at the cashier, I grimace slightly.

“Come on Mi Amor,” he coaxed his lips, finding himself a sweet little spot on my neck.

“Nope,” I popped the p.

“Mi vida, Hermosa, Mi Alma, Mi Amada, Cariño, Mi Reina, Bebe,” with each pet name his gentle pecks got more intimate. Trailing down my neck and sending my cheeks a flame. Finding my sweet spot rather easily my eyes widened as he started to suck on it, fully intent on forming a hickey. Pushing the pleasant shiver it sent though my body I cleared my throat.

“Fine!” I suddenly declared. He smirked giving the spot one last peck before straightening up.

“The blue,” I muttered trying to fix my hair pretending that the kisses had not affected me in the slightest.

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Staring at the blue teddy on our bed I huffed in defeat.

Yet as I started to shut down his habit he found ways of literally forcing me to accept it. Whether it be teasing me to the point of acceptance or just flat out ignoring me as he bought the item. The honeymoon period of him actually listening to me diminished in less than a month. Hell I had even tried returning items, Miles caught on and started refusing the receipts when he purchased stuff.

So I made it my mission to not go shopping with him anymore. I succeeded mostly yet sometimes he would still pop up.

It was working to an extent.

Until one day when we went to watch a live performance in the park with Jessica, my best friend and Shiro. I guess you could call him Miles' best friend. The performance was canceled last minute so Jessica decided that we should go shopping. I tried to refuse but Jessica was like Miles in a way. Wouldn't take no for an answer. So there we were walking through a clothing shop. Miles hung closer to me watching and waiting for any reaction I would have. Any slight hint that I liked something and his card was out. Luckily for me I had been practicing the art of deception. The whole time I kept a millstone smile on my face. Miles hated it.

“You're not fooling me with that smile,” he whispered into my ear.

“Oh really? Well I wonder why your cards are nice and snug in that wallet that hasn't left your pocket,” I stated smugly, giving him a wink before turning back to Jessica that held a shirt to her chest asking for my opinion.

“What's up with him?” Jessica asked, nodding to Miles who now wore a slight frown, more than usual.

“I won't let him buy me anything,” I muttered.

“I'm sorry. You're not letting him buy you stuff? Are you sick?” she asked, reaching for my forehead pretending to check my temperature.

“He gets me too much stuff,” I muttered with a small smile pushing her hand away as we walked to the other rack leaving a moody Miles behind.

“And that's a problem, how?” she asked. “You have a sugar daddy and you're not using him,” she tisked going back to looking at things. I hated the feeling that settled in my gut at her words. I know she was just joking but it still hit me deep.

“Hey Mami, we're gonna go check out some things I'll be back,” Miles muttered, gently tapping the side of my hip as he stepped up behind me.

“Ok, meet you at the food court?” I suggested.

“In an hour?” he asked. I nodded and waved him off.

“Now that they're gone we can actually do some shopping,” Jessica said wagging her eyebrows. She dragged me straight towards Victoria's secret. I wasn't gonna lie, I had a good time. Trying things on. Looked at everything that caught my eye without the worry that Miles was gonna buy it. I even bought a nice jacket for Miles. Seeing him sitting down I walked up behind him reaching around to cover his eyes with one hand.

“Hands out,” I demanded with a smile. Miles put his phone down holding his hand out. Placing the bag in his hand I pulled my hand back wrapping my arms around his neck as he opened it.

“What's this for?” he asked holding the jacket up.

“What can't I spoil my man?” I asked, giving his cheek a quick peck before sitting down next to him. He chuckled lowly at my words absolutely loving how I called him ‘my man’

The next day I got back from work walking into our apartment.

“Miles, I’m home,” I called out rounding the kitchen and stopping upon seeing a pile of bags on the dinner table.

“Hey mami,” he called from the couch, keeping his eyes on the television.

“Miles,” I sighed, already knowing what was in those bags.

“I really don't see what the big deal is,” he shrugged, already knowing what my sigh was for.

“Miles,” my tone was more serious now, it snapped slightly and my anger appeared. Miles' head tilted to the side slightly at it. I rarely held this tone. But I had had enough. It was getting out of hand. Miles and I rearly fought. And our fights were mostly me ranting and Miles using a calm tone as he listened.

“What's that tone for?” he asked.

“You know what it's for,” I snapped, chucking my bag on the table looking over it all. Hearing the TV shut off I refused to turn around as he approached me.

“Mami,” he whispered.

“Don't Miles, I'm mad at you right now,” I shook my head walking away from him.

“Babe, come on,” he sighed.

“No Miles, you just don't listen, do you know how frustrating that is?” I ranted ripping my scarf off.

“It's not like you listen to me all the time,” he shrugged, leaning against the door frame of our room. My head snapped to him in a glare that had him sighing again.

“What's got you so wound up. Huh?” he asked softly. That stupid soft understanding tone. That one that held no anger. That's why I hated arguing with him. He never got angry. Never. Frustrated maybe.

“Jessica called you my sugar daddy,” I whispered under my breath, kicking off my shoes.

“Sugar Daddy. Well I like the sound of that,” he mused with a small smirk.

“Miles,” I huffed.

“Aight aight. Lo siento,” he held his hands up in defense.

“So am I gonna have to pry what's bothering you out of ya or?” he trailed off.

“I don't want you to think I'm with you just because of your money. I don't like it, it's so fucken stupid and it makes me feel sick,” I continued to rant moving about the room.

“Mami, hey hey, come er,” he walked forward gently grabbing me, pulling me out of my pacing. His hands rubbed up and down my upper arms as he whispered to me in spanish trying to calm me down.

“Why would you ever think that?” he asked with a frown.

“It's not just me. Other people say it,” I muttered.

“Did those other people know that you were with me when I had a whole total of two dollars to my name. Where my idea of an expensive date was a trip down to the seven eleven and a push bike ride to the lookout?” he asked reminiscing on when we had first gotten together.

“Well no,” I muttered.

“And do they know that you work an honest job and against my wishes pay for your own things. That you pay for what you think is half the rent when really I already bought the apartment and put that money into a savings account that I would have told you about when we had our first kid so you wouldn't stress about buying stuff for em?” my eyes widened slightly at Miles casually mention of not only lying to me about the rent but the talk of a kid. I should be really angry at him for lying to me. But all that was running through my head was a kid.

“You want kids?” I asked softly. We had never talked about kids before.

“Who wouldn't want a little you runnin round?” he asked with a small smirk. My chest flushed with warmth at the sincerity in his eyes.

“Why don't you?” he asked.

“Of course I wan- No wait. I'm getting distracted. You've been lying to me! MIlES!” I snapped.

“Mi amor you're angry, How about we calm down,” He suggested his arms moving to encompass me.

“No, I will not calm down,” I huffed trying to get out of his hold.

“Ok,” he shrugged before tipping us back, myself hitting the bed and him flopping down atop me.

“Miles!” I yelled trying to wiggled out from under him.

“Hum?” he hummed, not moving an inch.

“God you can be so frustrating,” I huffed, giving up on my struggle.

“I'll get up when you calm down,” he muttered simply. I gave one last shake before huffing again.

“You know I read somewhere that adults who can't accept people buying nice stuff for them is because when they were a kid their parents would say stuff was too expensive. Messed with the kids mind and made them think they aren't worthy of being gifted stuff,” Miles mumbled. Hearing that my mind instantly snapped back to when I was young. Money was tight growing up. My parents tried their best to shield it from me but I was smart enough. Seeing my parents so worried about paying rent, I guess it could have left a mark.

“Stop trying to be smart,” I huffed. Miles was smart. Crazy smart. As in genius einstein smart.

“You deserve the world Mami. And I'm the one that's gonna give it to ya,” he whispered softly.

“I don't need the word Miles. I only need you,” I whispered my arms moving around to hug him, my hand gripping the back of his shirt. Rolling us onto our sides he shifted me up so we were looking at each other.

“Who else am I gonna spend my money on huh? I send a bunch to charities. I look after my mum as much as she will let me. At least you let me buy you stuff,” he muttered.

“Let you?” I propped an eyebrow.

“Yes Mi Vida. You let me, even though you try not to,” he grinned. I sighed, shaking my head reaching up to grab his face.

“I love you Miles. I love YOU, Not your money. Not this apartment. I would love you if you had not one penny to your name. You know that right?” I asked. I wanted him to know it. I needed him to know. For a long time he simply stared at me. In his mind he wondered what he had done to deserve the love of such an amazing woman. He knew I didn't care whether or not he had money. But the main reason why he did what he did, why he sold his tech was to make a life free of such worries.

“I know,” he whispered, his own hand reaching up to cup my face. “ So let me spoil you. The whole reason I did it all was to make a life free of the worry of money. To make a good life for us,” he whispered honestly. I pressed my lips together. He had a point.

“Fine. but only once a month,” I huffed.

“Once a month?” he asked, pretending to be appalled.

“Fine once a week,” I muttered. He grinned, pulling me into a sweet kiss. I smiled, trailing my finger down his chin as he pulled back.

“Say, you busy this evening?” he asked.

“Why?” I asked.

So there I sat. On the handlebars of Miles' old push bike. In one hand I held a slushy. I wore the biggest smile on my face as we rode through the town, my hair gently billowing in the wind. Looking back I caught a glimpse of one of Miles' genius true smiles. A smile so wide and toothy that it showed his dimples.

“You wanna know something?” I asked, turning back to the front. He hummed, signaling for me to continue.

“This has got to be the best date yet,” I said.

“I guess it's alright,” he mused.

#miles molares #miles g morales #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #earth 42 #miles prowler #miles 42 #across the spiderverse #miles morales #into the spider verse #miles 42 x reader #earth 42 miles #milesxreader #miles42

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cb97percent · 6 months

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⚝ Versace On The Floor

⚝ Hyunjin x (afab) Reader ⚝ Commissioned work: 6.6k ⚝ Stories published on this blog are not exhaustively tagged for their entire content to prevent spoilers. See here and proceed at your own risk. — Heavy infatuation, invasion of privacy, allusions to breeding kink.

❥ For any other person, it's a simple encounter at a park, but for Hyunjin, it's so much more than that.

The general public is familiar with the name Sam N. Galeruth as a tech giant, but they don’t know what he looks like, nor the fact that this is not his real name.

And they never will.

I cherish my privacy way too much. It’s been troublesome to keep my name detached from my face, but if there is a will, then there is indeed a way. Business basically runs itself—everything is delegated appropriately, so I don’t even have to show up in person. At this point in my life, I’m used to living as a recluse, and I don’t plan on changing that any time soon.

It’s true that money doesn’t buy happiness, but you know what it does buy? Cheap thrills.

And what I want, I get.

When you have enough money to commit a medium-scale arson, your packaging becomes this diamond-plated shiny thing that attracts parasitic moths, and you get treated a certain way. It smells like respect but tastes like ass-kissing, to be honest with you. I am yet to encounter someone who possesses a genuine flavor rather than some artificial saccharine aroma. When this is the case, you don’t really feel like making an effort to get to know your disposable playmates. Why would I? None of them are interested in me personally. I know they are after the crisp bills in my wallet and the shape of my body, so we pretend standing next to a prince makes them a princess for one night. Strictly on foreign ground. No one is to cross the threshold of my front door. No one is allowed to defile the sanctity of my bedroom. The left side of my bed is forever reserved for someone I haven’t met yet. What we’re doing is nothing more than a simple exchange of friction. I fail to see how this is any different than me fucking a fleshlight.

You wouldn’t ask your dildo its favorite color now, would you?

It’s an annoyingly bleak fall day. Everything is dying. The sun is not even trying to wake up, all bundled up in that fleece blanket of clouds. Can’t really blame her; I have trouble getting up in the mornings during this season, too. It’s always around this time of the year I wish I had somebody to sleep in with. Someone to give my everything to. A muse to breathe for. I’d love to watch her dream, then disturb her sleep with kisses. I’d love to make love to her back to consciousness, then out of it again.

Some might call me an impulsive man, but wouldn’t you say the correct term is sentimental? Yes, I let my emotions dictate my behavior. Yes, I make life decisions based on how I feel, and I don’t have a problem admitting that. Logic only gets you so far. For instance, my mind told me to stay at home today, but my heart nudged me to get my fingers numb outside instead.

Fall makes me sad. I can’t be home when I’m sad.

I don’t understand why fallen leaves are considered romantic, by the way. Every time I walk through this hilltop park, the crunching sounds remind me of bones on the brink of turning to dust. It feels like I’m walking through a graveyard.

The chilly wind is piercing my lungs, but here I am at the park again. I like this place. There is barely anybody around. I have a magnificent panorama of the city under my feet. The iodine scent reaches all the way here and barges into the coffee cup in my hand, but still somewhat respectfully. The smell is very pleasant. Very savory. Like salted caramel. Being here helps me think clearly. It helps me see things that I otherwise cannot see. It doesn’t necessarily make me happy, but the wind at least blows the gloom away.

Then the sudden shutter sound to my left pulls me back from six feet under my thoughts. It startles me like a gun’s just gone off in the distance.

“Did I scare you?”

I turn to the source of the voice, currently holding a camera with a telescopic lens. Jeans. Leather jacket. Black nail polish. Silver rings. A pseudo-apologetic smile.

You.

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em1e · 1 year

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⠀ ⠀わかさ // BABY SITTER'S CLUB ⠀ ༝ ༝ wakasa imaushi [ft. cousin!sano's/black dragons] ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.2k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ some drinking ! ⠀ — shinichiro asks if you can babysit your younger cousin's for the night, and you get to have a late night convo with his pretty friend after.

you think you might’ve been doomed from the start.

shinichiro didn’t specify what you’d need to babysit your younger cousins for, just that he was desperate because his grandpa was out of town and none of his friends could be trusted to actually watch them. you could almost hear him falling to his knees to beg over the phone.

you like to think you’re a nice person. generous and caring, and you haven’t seen mikey or emma in a while anyways, so there was no real harm in saying yes. taking every penny from his wallet was a plus, too.

you get to their house right when he tells you, almost tackled by emma who is saying something about having a sleepover in the living room with a pillowfort in the mix the second you’ve finished slipping off your shoes, and you catch a glance of mikey pouting to his older brother while emma drags you further into the house.

“(y/n)’s gonna take good care of you guys, don’t sweat it.” shinichiro pats mikey’s head with a hum, then turns to you, “left some money on the counter for pizza or something if you want, but there’s food in the fridge too if you wanna cook. ‘m gonna be in my room for a bit before i have to leave, but i’ll prob’ly be home way after you guys are asleep.”

you offer a nod, setting your overnight bag in a corner of the living room, “s’okay, i’ll probably need a ride home tomorrow though, if that’s alright.”

“not a problem - thanks for coming, i really appreciate it-”

he’s interrupted by the front door swinging open, a man with a long scar going over one of his eyes coming in like he owns the place, with two kids running past his legs to greet your younger cousins. he drops their bags by yours, stretching and popping his back as if carrying them was the worst thing in the world before his eyes find your own wide ones, unlit cigarette between his teeth while he takes you in.

“you’re the babysitter, right? sanzu, senju, come introduce yourselves. ‘m takeomi.” he offers his hand, and he must be confused by your bewildered stare, because he takes his hand back and looks to your older cousin, “they okay shin?”

you whirl around to glare at him, completely appalled by his apologetic stare. “surprise?”

“you did not tell me i’d be watching four kids!”

shinichiro is quick for damage control, gesturing towards takeomi, “he’s gonna pay what i am, promise!”

takeomi looks surprised at this news, opening his mouth to argue, but deciding against it from the look shinichiro gives. he fishes out his wallet, counting out some money and offering it to you. you eye it, then him, then shinichiro. your cousin clears his throat, jutting his thumbs upwards as a sign for more. takeomi sputters, pulling out all the cash he has and placing it in your open hand.

“i am not a daycare.” your eyes narrow between them, pointed look enough to have shinichiro humming nervously. you shove the cash in your wallet, finally acknowledging the two new additions to your entourage.

“i’m senju! this is my brother sanzu.” the girl says, hands on her brother's shoulders as she pushes him forward.

“i’m (y/n).” you smile, and sanzu looks away from you before escaping his sister’s hold and scurrying back to mikey.

shinichiro and takeomi whisper between themselves while you and emma start gathering blankets from around the house, before shinichiro calls out, “okay, we’ll be out here for a bit! you’ll probably hear us leaving soon!”

“see ya.” you call back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you help senju put blankets on to chairs and set pillows over them to keep them in place. the door shuts, and you’re left alone with no one over the age of 10.

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

shinichiro honestly expected you to come barrelling into his room far sooner than you did.

takeomi sat to his right on the couch, benkei to his left, and wakasa sat on the table in front of them. your soft knock was barely audible, but it made shinichiro pause in his talk about black dragon, turning to face it when you open it slowly and peek into the room.

“what’s up?” he asks, standing when you make your way further in.

“i just wanted to make sure sanzu and senju weren’t allergic to anything.” you look past him, to takeomi, who takes a long drag of his cigarette before shaking his head.

“not that i know of.”

“emma and mikey?” you’re looking at him now, head tilted slightly.

“nothin’.” he confirms, “you gonna make somethin’?”

“mhm.” you scan the room, eyes glossing over each of his friends, before they settle on one person for a second, then you’re turning on your heel to go back to the kids, “i’ll put some leftovers in the fridge if you want.”

he snickers, despite having no idea what could’ve had you leaving so quickly, “sounds good, thank you!”

the click of the door fills the air as you leave, and silence washes over the group before wakasa sighs.

“okay, i’ll bite. who was that.”

shinichiro turns slowly, acknowledging his friend for a second, and takeomi answers before he has a chance to open his mouth, “(y/n). babysitter of the night and thief of all the cash in my wallet.”

“they stole from you?” benkei laughs, the idea almost comedic.

“not directly,” takeomi’s eyes narrow to shinichiro, “but they are definitely making a pretty penny tonight.”

“and dealing with your monsters of siblings,” wakasa sighs out a puff of smoke, “it’s easy money well-earned.”

“think i could pay enough for ‘em to babysit me-”

takeomi gets hit in the back of the head by a shoe, jolting forward while shinichiro gathers the matching pair to slide onto his foot. “that’s enough of that, you guys ready to go or you wanna fantasize ‘bout my cousin all night?”

“cousin?” takeomi scoffs, throwing the shoe back to him. he slides it on then goes for his bike keys, “thought the attractive gene skipped over your generation.”

“more like skipped over you. we leavin’ or what?”

⠀ ⠀ ༝⠀ ⠀ ༝

you heard their bikes take off about two hours ago, finished feeding the kids right after that, and got everyone changed into their pjs in record time. babysitters around the world wish they had your skillset. it takes a bit to get them to quiet down into the fort you’ve created, but with the promise of tv and a snack before bed, they’re hooked.

it’s a surprise when the guys stumble in through the front door with the smell of alcohol following them, benkei supporting most of shinichiro’s weight with a nasty bruise on his cheek. wakasa follows behind the two of them, remnants of a bloody nose still flaked lightly under his nostril, and . . . you look between the three, making sure your headcount is accurate.

“aren’t you guys missing one?”

the men look between each other, then out the door as if he was waiting outside, then back to each other.

“oh.”

“oh?” you parrot, “the hell happened to you guys?”

“oniichan’s face is messed up.” one by one, the kids pop out from the blankets to see their siblings and friends alike. emma pouts, tugging on your arm, “he promised no more fighting (y/n), can you believe it.”

mikey almost laughs at his brother, “like he ever could, you know how he likes to pick fights.”

“where’s ‘omi?” senju rubs her eyes as a yawn slips past her lips, and sanzu nudges her shoulder.

“maybe he got arrested.”

she stiffens at the thought, suddenly very awake and pulling on your other arm, “he isn’t really is he? he’s just sayin’ that?”

your eyes narrow at the three men for riling up the kids right when you were getting them ready to sleep.

“out.” you point towards the garage door, gently pulling your arms from emma and senju and shoving wakasa by the shoulders when no one moves.

“what’d i do?” he whines out, eyes not leaving you as you grab benkei by the wrist and drag him in the same direction.

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles, being pulled along by his friend.

you open the door for them and push them one by one into shinichiro’s room, ignoring the complaints from each of them while benkei gives an apologetic smile. he closes the door for you, and you’re left consoling senju while trying to get everyone back into the fort as if it will help get them to sleep faster.

and it almost works, shrek playing on the tv with sanzu’s head resting on your shoulder.

the door swings open, and each of you startle at the sudden sound, takeomi’s voice loud while he complains about being left by his dearest friends. you climb out of the fort to glare at him, and senju lets out a small omi! before you’re grabbing him by the ear and dragging him to the garage door. you push it open and all but shove him into the room, completely ignoring the whines he gives about his poor tortured ear.

“stay.” you threaten, glaring at each of them like they’re dogs who just won’t listen, and not one of them can find it in themselves to argue from the way you’re looking at them.

“‘s my house.” shinichiro grumbles again, once the door is shut and his safety is secured as you retreat.

an hour passes and takeomi sips idly on a lukewarm beer shinichiro keeps in his room, pout still very evident, while wakasa lights a cigarette. benkei breaks any leftover silence with a grumbling stomach.

“‘m kinda hungry. we never stopped at the store like we said we would.” he scratches his cheek, looking to his friends in hopes of a solution.

“(y/n) did say they made somethin’ for dinner, didn’t they?” takeomi sits up slightly from his slouched position, thinking dreamily about what you could’ve made.

“you wanna risk goin’ into the house?” wakasa takes a drag from his cigarette.

“it’s my house.” shinichiro stands, repeating that phrase for the third time in one hour. it’s almost like he’s trying to convince himself it’s okay.

it’s decided then shinichiro would go in, grab something quick, and be back in his room before you notice he’s even there. hoping time would be on his side, since it is very late, maybe you’ll be sound asleep and he won’t really need to be as sneaky as he’s planning. the plan falls apart very quickly at the seams, realizing the door that connects his room inside the house is locked from the otherside. he silently curses you, trying to turn the lock one more time in case his first attempt just wasn’t right, then sighs.

“gotta go through the front door.”

his friends watch with amused grins, wondering if maybe you’ve completely cut all contact with them until the morning, as shinichiro goes out the side door that leads to the front porch. he thanks whatever god is out there that the door is unlocked, opening so, so slowly to ensure it doesn’t make a creak, and slides into the room as quietly as possible.

quiet, until he knocks into the umbrella holder right beside the door. it falls with a clatter, and he can see you sit up slightly from your spot on the couch, hissing out a ‘shh’ while sanzu in your lap makes a noise of complaint in his sleep. he places it back as it was with a wince.

“the hell are you doin’?” you whisper scream, barely able to turn your body in fear of waking up the boy you’ve had to constantly pat to keep asleep.

“we just-”

“no. no ‘we’. if you wake up these kids, i swear-”

“okay! okay, okay, okay, you win.” he grumbles something under his breath that has your eyes narrowing at him in the dark, and he inhales sharply before going back to his friends.

attempt one : failed.

shinichiro arrives back to the gang empty handed and dejected at losing so easily.

and his friends have the audacity to laugh at him.

“an umbrella holder? shouldn’t you know that house like the back of your hand?” wakasa almost snorts, holding his stomach at the fact that something so small did him in.

“i do!” he assures, “one of the kids must’ve moved it closer to the door or something.” he explains in vain, “and i don’t see any of you guys stepping up to try.”

takeomi claps a hand on benkei’s shoulder, shaking him slightly after, “benkei’s my vote, he’s the one that brought up food in the first place.”

“i didn’t know we’d have to become ninjas to eat.” he argues, “besides, i’m the biggest here, what makes you think i’ll do any better?”

he makes a good case, but the idea of you whisper-yelling at someone twice your size almost makes shinichiro laugh. “i agree with takeomi, i think you should try.”

“i can’t believe you guys are plotting against me.” he looks to wakasa, who just shrugs and offers no help. so, with a sigh, he stands, taking the beer takeomi had been nursing, and chugs what’s left while ignoring the complaints that follow.

he goes out the same way shinichiro did, opens the door as quietly as he can, and . . . bumps into the same. fucking. umbrella holder. with the warning in mind. you whip around to glare, curses on your tongue as you take in benkei, who looks so sorry, it has the words dying on your lips. the two of you stare at each other for all of five seconds, before he’s wordlessly picking the holder back up, placing it where it was, and closing the door behind him.

attempt two : failed.

benkei returns to the group just as empty handed as his captain, just as dejected.

“couldn’t even get through the door.” he sighs, waving off the laughter that follows.

“they say anything to you?” wakasa snickers, offering benkei another beer. he takes it gratefully, chugging it easily and shaking his head.

“i kicked the umbrella holder,” louder laughter surrounds him, “didn’t even say anything. we just stared at each other and i left.”

“we’re never gonna eat at this rate.” shinichiro groans, “why is this so hard?”

“they aren’t even that scary,” takeomi hums, ear incident long forgotten, while putting out the remainder of his cigarette before standing, “i’ll show you guys how it’s done.”

takeomi is so self-assured, so confident that it doesn’t matter if he fucks up. he’s a smooth-talker, through and through. surely, if you get upset, he can just talk it out. that’s what these idiots don’t understand.

with that in mind, he takes the same route as the others. he decides, maybe their flaw is in opening the door so slowly. that must be why they keep kicking the umbrella holder. they let it sneak up on them, too worried about the wrong thing to even notice it. he pushes the door open with no regard to how loud he is, taking a step past the frame and cursing when he kicks the one thing he was meant to avoid.

it clatters across the floor, and he hears a groan from sanzu, both from the sound and from you shifting to face him.

“d-didn’t mean to-” he stutters out, and your glare hardens when he makes no attempt to keep his voice down.

“so help me god, if you do not go back to the garage right now you are going to wish you never met me.”

he audibly gulps, bowing his head while apologies fall off his lips. you throw a pillow in his direction, and he takes that as a sign to bounce, not bothering to pick up the umbrella holder like the past two attemptees.

attempt three : failed.

takeomi comes back, head still high with nothing in his hands, and the laughter that erupts is infectious.

“they threatened me! me!!” he explains desperately, “and it worked!”

shinichiro really thinks they should’ve just gone to a twenty-four hour store at this point, but each attempt seems to be funnier than the last. he turns to wakasa, who sips on a beer from the couch. he catches his eye, and shakes his head.

“nuh uh, no way am i going in there after all of that.”

“you’re the only one that hasn’t!” shinichiro argues, “and technically, you’re the one least likely to get caught! being the smallest and all . . . “ his voice trails off, and the comment has wakasa’s eyes narrowing to slits.

“i’m not even that hungry, it’s you guys who are so desperate.”

“it’s only fair you try, too.” benkei grumbles, still not over the look you gave him when he first walked in.

four of the toughest delinquents in tokyo, arguing about fairness. out of fear for their leader's younger cousin, no less. it’s laughable. wakasa grumbles profanities under his breath, almost certain this will end with you leaving shinichiro’s house with an attempted murder charge.

“fine, but if i come outta there alive, you guys owe me.”

“not if you come back empty handed.” takeomi opens another beer, plopping his ass back down on the couch, “careful, they have sanzu in their lap. that kid’ll be the reason they snap.”

wakasa takes the warning with a grain of salt, sure that the four of them bothering you is the real reason for your aggravation. with a sigh, he’s left walking to the front door and opening it quietly. you’re already glaring holes where he stands and he hasn’t even had a chance to do anything wrong.

“what could you guys possibly want so badly?” you ask through clenched teeth, and wakasa’s hands come up defensively, closing the door behind him and very aware of the umbrella holder takeomi left in the middle of the floor.

“we’re just hungry.” he assures, stepping past the couch towards the kitchen, “be in and out before you can notice.”

he stumbles slightly in his drunken state, and it has you heaving a sigh and slowly peeling yourself from under sanzu. you carefully place a blanket over him, and follow wakasa to the kitchen, finger pressed to your lips to make sure he knows to keep quiet.

wakasa is already shuffling through the fridge, hoping to find something quick and easy so he isn’t in your hair for any longer than he needs to be, but you’re pulling him back gently by his upper arm and grabbing something in a tupperware container.

“i made rice with some vegetables and beef i found in the freezer,” you say softly, and wakasa wonders for a second if you’re always soft spoken or if it’s because you’re trying your best to be quiet.

you pop the lid off and move to reheat what you made, leaning against the counter as the microwave counts down.

“what’d you guys do for you to earn that?” you nod towards him, and despite not directly saying what, wakasa knows you’re talking about his previously bloodied nose.

absentmindedly, he taps at his nostril, honestly having forgotten to even clean what blood was there. “fight.” he says dumbly, and the simplicity of it has you giggling. he thinks he really likes that sound.

he watches intently when you grab a paper towel, dampening it with the sink water, then so very gently cup his cheek to tap at the blood to clean it. if he had any shame, he knows his face would be flushed right now. instead, he grins, eyes half-lidded while he absorbs your focused expression.

“you’re awfully sweet on me, huh?” the comment has your own cheeks dusting pink, but your reply comes by you squeezing his cheek tighter.

“quit movin’, makin’ this harder than it needs to be.”

by the time you’re finished, the microwave is seconds away from going off, and you drop both the paper towel and his face in favor of making sure the timer doesn’t have a chance to sound, stopping it right at :01. wakasa finds himself missing your touch, but the thought is lost when the smell of food hits. maybe he was hungrier than he thought.

he grabs a plate for himself, piling a portion onto it and groaning when it hits his tongue.

“you made this?” he finds himself asking, despite you literally explaining the fact that you did not even five minutes ago. you hum out a reply, already in the process of getting other plates and utensils for his friends.

“‘s very good.” he grins when he’s finished, “thanks for takin’ care of me.” he eyes you lazily, grin growing bigger when he sees that the pink dusting your cheeks spreads.

“don’t mention it,” you mumble, pushing the plates and now warm food to him, “should probably take these to them before they starve.”

“let ‘em.” he says with such confidence, it has a giggle passing your lips. he wants to hear that more. he pulls himself onto the counter with such ease, it makes you wonder how drunk he really is.

“so who’d you guys fight?” you lean against the counter beside him, tapping at his knee as if his undivided attention wasn’t already fully on you.

“some idiots,” he waves dismissively, “heard from people at the bar we're inna gang and started shit talking shinichiro.”

you grin, “he take the first swing?”

he mirrors your smile, and fuck does he look pretty when he does, “damn right. got socked right after,” he taps his cheek, “everyone was fightin’ after that. benkei had to drag us out ‘fore the cops came.”

“who hit you?” you muse, head tilting slightly.

“some random that followed us outta the bar.” his grin only widens at the memory, “shoulda seen the other guy.”

“i can only imagine.” you push yourself from the counter when a head of pink hair peeks around the corner, eyes widening slightly when they meet yours before he scurries back to the living room.

wakasa’s eyes follow your movements when you leave him alone in the kitchen, in favor of going back to sanzu who can’t seem to stay asleep without your comforting touch. in his inebriated state, he finds himself following behind you. in the time it took him to make that decision, you’ve already gotten comfortable on the couch with sanzu’s head in your lap. you rub his back idly, and he catches the faintest whisper of you asking if he had another bad dream, sees the way sanzu’s head barely moves with a nod.

it’s really domestic, seeing how well you’re taking care of a kid you didn’t even know about hours before, and wakasa finds himself almost jealous of the 9 year old. what a cockblock, coming in when he was reeling you into the conversation.

instead of voicing these concerns, he finds himself clambering on the other end of the couch, feet tucked neatly under him and looking at you.

“hi,” you whisper with a small laugh, “don’t you have a delivery to make?”

he waves off the suggestion with a hum, “they shoulda came on their own - kept tellin’ horror stories ‘bout you being mean, but i think they’re just scaredy cats.”

“that so?” you muse, and sanzu shifts closer to you when wakasa leans over him to get a better look at your smile.

“mhm,” half-lidded eyes scan over you, and he can honestly forget about the boy between the two of you easily with the way you’re looking back at him, “think maybe they can’t handle you like i can.”

you offer another giggle, putting a finger against his forehead when he invades too much of sanzu’s space, “i think you should tell me this sober.”

“i’d tell you it everyday if i could.” he whispers so seriously, it has your face flushing.

“try again tomorrow.” you tap his forehead twice for emphasis, then pass a blanket his way since it’s very apparent he won’t be going back to his friends.

his friends, who are mourning the loss of him the longer he takes to come back.

shinichiro, after his dear friend wakasa hadn’t shown up in the five minutes they’d timed him for, delved into horror stories from when you were younger. how you’d been suspended from school due to your temper, picking more fights than him when someone said the wrong thing. how he’d spend some weekend nights helping you tend to bruised knuckles after you’d defended him.

and it ends with each man giving a soft prayer for their friend, who, after an hour, still hadn’t come back yet.

unbeknownst to them, wakasa had fallen asleep listening to you tell stories about your cousin. how you’d protected him in grade school because kids were assholes, but you were a bigger asshole who didn’t take that shit. and on the couch, the three of you fell asleep peacefully, while the men in garage hoped you gave wakasa a quick and painless death.

#salmon rowe #wakasa imaushi x reader #imaushi wakasa x reader #imaushi x reader #wakasa x reader #wakasa imaushi #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #x reader

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xfgpng · 1 year

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 —

— : [ nsfw ] fwb, mutual pining, pet names, unprotected sex, implied infidelity, eren is whipped, fingering

— wc : 1.6k

a/n : none of my mutuals will believe me now if i say i still don’t like eren 🧍🏻‍♀️

your friends frown anytime they see his black srt parked outside your house. he has tinted windows but they don’t need to see inside to know who he is. that car has been parking outside your house for at least 2 weeks now and judging from the way your neighbours stare over the fence, they know exactly who or what he is.

while you both came from good homes, eren had a lot of issues with his parents and he found himself moving out at 18 with no actual plans for his future. he had wanted to attend college like this older brother did but when the older of the yeager siblings moved out, eren was left alone and he was over his parents, specifically his father, trying to run his life.

they threatened to cut him off but he had enough money saved up and eventually, got into business with his best friend, jean, from high school. you and jean were in the same major and that’s how you met eren at one of their house parties.

you were his type. the shy and reserved kind, or at least that’s what he thought until he had you bouncing on his cock that same night, long acrylic nails digging into his shoulders so hard it left indents for a few days that stung whenever he showered. he still shivered thinking about how you often liked to scratch him up.

he was a bit of a pervert but he kept the ring and middle finger nails that had snapped off in his wallet. the baby blue nails made him think of you more than he’d like to admit.

you weren’t like the other rich kids he’d fuck around with. you didn’t care what he did or the way he dressed. you loved his long hair, it was nice to grip and pull whenever he was eating you out and the whole “i’m too cool for you” vibe he had going was a turn on.

“your parents aren’t home again?” he asks, watching you move around the house with ease. you’re wearing nothing but a loose sweater and panties, the same panties eren had bought for you when he ripped your pair the night you met.

“hm” you hum, getting a can of beer for him and a glass of wine for yourself. he was so carefree around you and he hated to admit that he was falling for you fast.

“i saw your old man the other day” he grins, “you know he buys weed from jean?”

that causes you to laugh. you loved your parents but your mom could be a pain in the ass sometimes so it was no surprise that your dad needed some form of a stress reliever. you were glad he wasn’t chelating.

“you break up with your boyfriend yet?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen counter as he looks down at your bare legs. he enjoyed having them wrapped around his waist but he could admire you from afar too. he couldn’t get enough of you even if the man tried.

“why, you want me to be all yours?” you tease, half expecting him to laugh it off or roll his eyes like he does whenever you two get a little too serious. you liked him enough that you could settle for whatever this was.

the bonus was free weed so you weren’t necessarily one to complain. at least he made you laugh.

“maybe” he grins, raising a brow at your shocked face. you weren’t the only one who could tease.

“we broke up last week” you shrug, “i couldn’t cum without faking it”

“what, can’t cum unless i’m the one fucking you?” eren chuckles. he wasn’t about to admit that he could only get off if he was thinking about you and if he happened to be fucking another girl, he’d have her on all fours so he wouldn’t have to look at her face. pussy these days seemed mediocre when he thought about it. he was content with whatever you had going on, even if he denied it whenever jean asked.

“you like when i stroke your ego” you scoff, taking a sip of your wine. you didn’t need him to know the effects he had on you or your body.

“i like when you’re stroking something else” he smirks, moving around the kitchen island to stand right behind you. you press your ass into his crotch and shake your hips teasingly.

“i especially like when you let me fuck you raw and cum inside you” he adds, trailing his fingers up your bare thigh. he kisses the side of your neck and inhales a little. you always smelled so fucking good that he thought about buying your perfume and keeping it stashed in his bedroom. “you ever let him finish inside you ma?”

“no” you gasp, biting your lip as his fingers dance across the hem of your sweater, “he’s never even fucked me raw”

“wow” he grins, “so you really let me hit it without a condom on the first night too?”

“yeah” you moan for him as he slips his middle finger into your pussy. you’re already wet and he’s only teasing you. it was obvious he had an effect on you and by the bulge in his grey sweatpants, you definitely had the same effect on him.

“want me to fuck you now hm?” eren whispers, right into your ear which causes goosebumps to rise all over your body, “want my cum spilling out and making a mess all over your kitchen floor?”

you can’t even think straight when he adds his index finger beside the other. he’s so skilled with his fingers and usually you’d enjoy some four play, you enjoyed sucking his cock as you played with his balls but you had all night.

maybe forever if he kept things up like this. you don’t think you could ever be with anyone else ever again and he knew that too.

“dirty little girl” he grins, biting your earlobe as his free hand pulls his leaking cock out. he strokes himself once, twice before he can’t wait anymore. he doesn’t bother pulling your panties down, choosing to rip it off you, the poor flimsy material tearing easily.

“eren” you pout, “i liked those” they were from him after all but you wouldn’t say that.

“i know baby, ‘m sorry” he groans as he slips inside you, not sorry at all. “i’ll get you new ones okay?”

you nod, gripping the counter as he sets a brutal pace immediately. you didn’t even care that your windows were wide open or the fact that your curtains weren’t closed and your nosy neighbours would definitely see if they looked which they always did whenever he came over.

“fuck baby, you’re always so wet for me” he moans, whimpers a little and that’s enough to have you clenching around his fat cock. you loved that he was so vocal, not shy to let you know just how good you made him feel. he really was the best at fucking you.

the best you’ve ever had.

he lifts your leg up, pushing you forward so your chest is squished against the counter and fucks into you harder and faster. your moans echo throughout the kitchen and your eyes cross. he fucks you like it’s been years when it’s been 2 days.

2 long days. it took everything in him not to show up and fuck you in his car. he hated when he got busy, it was less time between your thighs and he would rather spend his free time with you.

he moans at that, startling the both of you. he hasn’t realised just how much he was starting to like you. he wanted to be around you even without the intense fucking.

he liked you. a lot

“do you remember that pretty dress you wore that night?” he asks, slowing down as he gripped your waist.

“huh?” your frown, brows furrowing as you try to catch your breath. you were so close to reaching your high, your body was buzzing with the need to release but he was always persistent. “‘ren” you whine. you can’t even think properly, why was he asking that right now?

“come on ma, i’ll give you what you need in a moment, answer me” he chuckles, rubbing soft circles into your waist to help you calm down.

“i do” you say after a moment, “the green one”

how could you forget it? jean had joked about how it matched eren’s eyes perfectly and later that night, eren had you biting the hem of the dress as he bounced you on his dick, eyes trained on where his cock was disappearing in and out of you.

“what about it?” you turn to look over your shoulder at him. it still surprised you just how good looking he was. it should be a crime to be that hot.

“can you put it on for me again?” he smirks

“right now?” you pout

“no baby, later” he smiles, “i want to take you out”

you can’t help the smile so you turn away from him, hiding your face in your arm that’s perched on the counter.

“is that a yes?” he teases, touching the place where you’re stretched out on his cock. you moan as your legs shake, trying to fuck yourself. he licks his lips and you moan for him, nodding your head.

“good girl” he slaps your ass hard and then grips it tightly, holding onto your waist as he fucks you harder. he won’t stop until you’re creaming his cock and begging him to let you take a break.

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spiritcc · 9 months

Text

EXAMINING EVERY ACE ATTORNEY CASE ON THE LIKENESS OF US BEING PAID

The topic that must be finally put to rest considering how every AA protag and money issues go hand in hand, how many cases did we actually get paid for?

PHOENIX WRIGHT: BROKE ATTORNEY

1 - literally spelled out by the game that larry left us with fuckall, a bad omen of the life to come.

2 - nothing could scare the law offices' balance sheet more than the entrance of maya, but in the frenzy of fighting for the life of our workspace we didnt even notice the whiff of the long-lasting implications.

3 - okay this is the first $u$pect that can pay our bills, no way will powers left us without a relatively phat check so GIRL WE MAKING MONEY!

4 - genuinely if edgelord somehow figured that money dont matter in a friendship, either it was my wallet that bullied him into killing himself between these games or he at least had the decency to utilise von karma's leaked pin code situation and allowed us to drain his bank account posthumously. either way my belief that edgeworth got the bill paid here is naively high.

5 - i dont care if lana was going to pay or not bc i billed her for every fucking turn she did at the detention center. either way whether her estate got arrested in the investigation or not it seems like she'd be forced to pay so im staying positive.

ACE ATTORNEY: RAMEN FOR ALL

1 - maggie. what exactly can maggie even pay me. i feel like the case was more of a friend request anyway so we're eating roaches for dinner again, but i also feel that maggie would be inclined to offer at least something. im not sure if putting down a "presumable twenty" counts as success. i'm going to go with no.

2 - maya is starting to get slightly comfortable being a liability to my expenses, this is my first warning girl.

3 - MAXIMUM GALACTIC PROFIT??? OH HE PAYIN. OH HE PAYIN EVERYTHING OUT OF HIS CLOWN ASS. CONFIRMED. FORCED.

4 - this HAS to be a case of the arrested estate being distributed towards paying the fee because i absolutely refuse to live in a world where maya's existence just keeps costing me money. engarde better have paid for it all. the gallows dont drop until he signs my check.

ACE ATTORNEY: TROUBLES AND REMUNERATION

1 - a very big question mark about what can peenie the fail art student pay and whether grossberg is someone who entertains himself a free case. the existence of case 4 may actually suggest something interesting so let's come back to this one later.

2 - i dont care what kind of crippling debt ma$k has because if his wife can allow a bike she CAN, and WILL, pay my fucking fee i dont care. she looks like the type to pay anyway.

3 - maggie. maggie, maggie, maggie. what does it matter musing on how things would've turned out differently if they had actually remembered my face in time. in either universe, this is another expense, in a crisis where my laundry bill is financially ruining me as coffee cups keep flying in my face.

4 - this is a convict already. what can a convict pay to grossberg law offices? suddenly it looks like his gig takes up on free cases bc usually this dude would get a state attorney, right? is grossberg providing such services? if we are getting paid here, it is only the bare minimum it seems, so in retrospect it IS possible for case 1 to have been completely unpaid. as for this one, marking it as unpaid bc Doubt what we'd get could even pay for a single-ply toilet paper + they'd find a way to pay out even less considering the trial technically didn't go through smh.

5 - bitchass fucking fey family, call it THE FEE FAMILY for the way NONE OF THEM ARE PAYING IT!!!! THEY PUT ME IN THE HOSPITAL!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK FRIENDSHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chronologically we have edgelord's two investigation games next so:

THESE TWO GAMES FOLLOW SEVERAL CASES CONDUCTED FOR A MILLIONAIRE'S OWN ENTERTAINMENT. WE DO NOT CONDONE MONEY PRIVILEDGE BEHAVIOUR AND WE BOYCOTT THE ANALYSIS OF THESE GAMES.

MONETARY JUSTICE: ACE ATTORNEY

1 - well money was probably one thing in the whole mess there, sure. Dick Wright jailed this barbie girl motherfucker just so he wouldn't pay the bill. girl we making no money era is back.

2 - weirdly enough but god might exist after all because no way the kitakis are not paying me. we are saved!!!!!

3 - in a grand twist, there is also no way that these moneyfucks are not signing me a phat one so big bet a hot meal was had that day! i think after lamiroir regained her memories she just decided that this fee was her paying off child support for both kids and fucked off forever.

4 - boy I lost my god damn job.

5 - an interesting situation here because this case was most likely sponsored by the state since it's testing out the jury system and all so. we got paid? almost three cases in a row? WOE MAMA!

ACE ATTORNEY: DOUGH'S DESTINY

1 - not this shit again. another freeloader caught up in the scheme of my monetary ruin. at the time when a teenager is feeding a company of four. peenie's new drip alone cost us six months worth of rent. girl we eating discarded prison gruel at the dumpster in this dark age of the law.

2 - oh a wrestler AND a mayor? oho. ohohohoho. ohohohohohoho.

3 - the humble beginnings of my empty wallet, innit. sure, let her get away this time. not my first rodeo.

4 - starbuck for the love of god i know they said their budget went down but he is PAYING that bill or im cutting wires on his rocket and doing phantom a favor here. he can afford to pay me.

5 - maya sure evaded leaving her footprint on my taxes but there's such a sweet difference between an employee and an independent contractor and athena saw why. sure, free case! its cost is taken out of your salary, baby. you're not eating for four months. at least.

6 - hey the aquarium folks Surely have the dough, right? they found us themselves too so that's a definite bill here.

BROKE ATTORNEY: NO SPIRIT OF JUSTICE

every case in the russian republic of village kurainovo was free which is a devastating stain on my financial report this year, remember how durke said we probably cant afford three meals per day? hello????

1 - motherfucker. this case actually cost us about 20 brazilian roubles because albi charged us for the magatama edible. the first case that lands us in the negative twenty. incredible.

2 - i fucking. if trucy thinks her main breadwinner status excuses her from freeloading a case that almost landed us in 3m debt then im selling rights to the gramarye IP to bozo the clown. family is Nothing to me. i havent eaten properly since 2016.

3 - stop fucking reminding me. not only that but fucking MAYA. THE BIGGEST EXPENSE IN MY LIFE IS BACK WITH NO JUSTICE DONE TO MY FINANCIAL WELLBEING. i havent showered in months. remember how nick told edgeworth that he "heard" that washing in the sink is good enough in the temple? so he didnt even do that himself. the lowest point of my life.

4 - with the urgency of it all and everything i have a strong suspicion the payment of this case was soba. max of what we're getting is food from that place. im shaking does this count as fair barter economy in their eyes? we're not in ancient fucking egypt.

5 - penniless, fatherless, across two countries too. whats not to like in this world. we havent seen a cent in this entire game.

6 - THE $PROKET$???? HELL YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Let's count the results:

31 cases across 6 games

13/31 cases most likely than not were paid for in acceptable capacity, which is less than a half. if we exclude cases where the situation isn't entirely clear (eg. engarde, lana), that is even less and we are looking at a third of all cases being remunerated for.

despite quite a few of the presumably paid cases involving rich clients, our gig most likely charges standardised fees, which makes the wealth of our clients irrelevant and simply further questions how much we actually made at the end of the day.

they are not lying, we really are making no money. this is concerning. ga'ran was right, fuck the attorneys just go and pick a state-backed position with the forces.

#ace attorney #finally something to get out of my system

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theemporium · 8 months

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ESP bc he seems so peaceful that you’d never expect him to fight🤭🤭🤭🤭 kinda like lando

also can we talk ab him getting into a bar fight for you🤭🤭🤭🤭

no because you put this in my head and i just had to write a wee blurb because i couldn't stop thinking about it🫠

“Pay up, Moosey.”

“This is exploitation.”

“It’s called a bet and you lost,” you corrected before flashing him an innocent grin. “I won fair and square, don’t be a sore loser.”

Luke rolled his eyes, grumbling something under his breath as he reached for his wallet in his back pocket. He made a point of exaggerating the sigh that left his lips as he slapped the twenty dollars in your palm.

Jack watched the interaction with interest. “What bet? Why was I not involved?”

“Luke and I made a bet before the game,” you said with a casual shrug as you leaned back into Jack’s embrace, his arm thrown over your shoulder. “Twenty bucks that you’d score the majority of the goals tonight.”

“And she was right,” Luke muttered.

“I have faith in my man,” you stated simply, turning to see Jack grinning wildly.

“My favourite fan,” he murmured before he tilted your chin back so he could lean down to kiss you, his lips breaking out into a smile against yours.

“Oh gross!”

After a string of difficult games and long roadies, the Devils were back in Jersey and had managed to win their first home game in a while. The boys were on a high, your boyfriend especially after scoring two of the three goals tonight, and you had all but been dragged out with the rest of the team to a nearby bar to celebrate.

Not that you minded. You were on that high as well, seeing your boyfriend smile widely and easily for the first time in a long time after a game made you eager to celebrate as well. And the bar was local, only about a ten minute walk from Jack and Luke’s apartment which meant none of you had to worry about playing the designated driver.

You could just curl up beside your boyfriend, have a few drinks and celebrate what would hopefully be the start of a string of wins.

“Let me out,” you murmured against your boyfriend’s lips. “I wanna go buy some outrageously fancy cocktail with Luke’s money to piss him off.”

Jack snorted as he slid out the booth, holding your hand to help you out. “You want me to come with?”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him before you pushed your way through the crowd, making your way towards the bar at the other end of the establishment.

And it should have been fine. You managed to find a free spot at the bar to lean against the counter, your fingers aimlessly tapping the wood as you placed your order and patiently waited for your drink to be made. But it was busy and the place was a little crowded, and you found yourself being pushed by a few other patrons who were just walking past, and bumping into a man standing beside you.

“Sorry,” you said with a sheepish smile as you tried to move away, back into the spot you were standing in moments ago.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” the man smiled back. He was older than you, maybe by a decade or so. And he looked friendly until his arm wound itself around your waist. “You don’t have to move away soon.”

“Uh,” you let out a nervous laugh as you tried to wiggle yourself out of his grasp. “No, I’m fine over here. Please move your arm.”

“Don’t be like that,” the man laughed as his arm tightened around you, and a wave of panic hit you.

“I-I have a boyfriend,” you told him firmly, still trying to push his hand off you.

“Yeah, a sweet thing like you oughta be locked up,” he said like he didn’t really believe you, like he was playing along with some joke you didn’t get.

Your chest tightened in panic, a cold shiver running down your spine when you realised this man wasn’t just going to let you go. Your eyes darted around for a bartender but they were all busy before you glanced over to the booth the team were sitting at, hoping to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend.

But he was no longer sat at the booth, because not even a few seconds later he was pushing through the crowd and making a beeline towards where you stood with the man.

“Let go of her,” Jack said, his voice oddly calm as he approached.

“She’s fine where she is, kid,” the older man laughed, almost mockingly.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance,” Jack stated simply. “Let her go.”

The man scoffed, lifting his chin. “Or what? What’s a pretty boy like you gonna do?”

You barely had a chance to catch yourself when Jack ripped the man’s arm off you, causing you to stumble a few steps towards the bar. By the time you caught your footing and turned around, Jack had already punched the man until he was hunched over, clutching his bloody nose.

He shoved the man until he lifted his head before he swung again, and you swore you could hear a crack despite the music and chatter sounding through the bar.

Your lips parted in shock as Jack swung the third and final punch and knocked the guy out before he could even think about swinging back. You looked at your boyfriend—your sweet boyfriend who didn’t even fight on the ice when he was egged on and chirped at by other players—who was now looking at the man like he was almost disappointed that he went down without much of a fight. Bartenders and security were flocking around the scene, words muttered about first aid kits and ambulances and all sorts, but Jack didn’t even say a word as he turned to look for you.

His face instantly softened the second he saw you and he was rushing over before security could even try to stop him. His hands softly cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over the apple of your cheeks as he gave you a once over.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a gentle voice, a crease forming between his brows. “Did he hurt you at all? Do you need—”

“I’m fine, Jack,” you murmured as you wound your arms around his waist, nuzzling yourself against his chest. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Jack whispered as his arms tightened around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Do you wanna go or stay?”

“You guys won,” you mumbled into his chest. “You should celebrate with the boys.”

“The boys aren’t my priority right now. You are.” Jack said as he pulled back enough to look down at you. “Say the word and we can head back to the flat and just chill for the rest of the night.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “It’s fine, Jack.”

“Nope, you’ve used my actual name twice in the last three minutes which means you’re upset,” Jack concluded before leaning down to press a peck to your forehead. “Let’s say bye to the boys and head out.”

“Jack—”

“I don’t wanna stay anyways,” he said with a shrug. “I’d rather spend a night in with you anyways.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’re not just saying that?”

“I promise, baby,” he murmured softly. “As much as I love fighting for your honour, I’d rather go home and watch Cars.”

You laughed softly. “Cars marathon?”

“You read my mind,” Jack grinned. “Plus, I think I need ice for my knuckles. That dude had a hard face.”

This time you snorted, and the sound made his grin widen. You gently lifted his hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles before you looked up at him with a smile.

“Thank you for being my knight in shining armour,” you mused with a teasing grin.

“Anytime, princess,” he retorted with a matching smile.

#jack hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes fic #jack hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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matchadobo · 2 months

Text

KIDD; hockey player kidd x figure skater reader

summary: title says it all

warning/s: none, very fluff, gn reader

* thinking about hockey player kidd who's been exceling since high school as that athlete kid and figure skater name that was also unstoppable in ice.

* kidd is an absolute monster at the rink, as aggressive as hockey players are; kidd was perfectly suited to this. the team's ace and is totally the most jackass member; nobody can say shit about it because he carries the team. he's a good team captain but not a good senpai, he'd enjoy making the rookies suffer and would entirely destroy them at initiation, he says it'll only make them stronger

* just imagine kidd in a jersey 😩 that big angry man who's as pale as snow with his fiery red hair standing out in the rink. would probably have 1 as the jersey no. cuz he boastful like that. and oooooh when he raises his jersey to wipe off cold sweat during practice and that sculpted fucking body just oooooh

* you know i fight fire with fire so figure skater name who has the same amount of feist, skill, and stature in the field minus the arrogance

* so when you and him met, imagine the absolute pandemonium. it'll happen on one winter olympics where the only thing you two agree about is how each other ticks you off. you two'll meet at the bleachers by the rink because you both plan on using it at that time

* "got here first." he'll say, tone assertive as he fixes up his shoes. "and?" you'd reply walking closer to him with both hands on your jacket pockets. "i, will be using the rink. and you, should go." he wouldn't budge, would instead stand up and try intimidate you. "nah," you'd clicked your tongue, taking off your jacket. "don't wanna. you don't even own the place." you left your stuff by the bleachers to enter the rink and left him fuming

* he'd then watch you on your competitions to get to know the jackass who messed with him.

* "since when were you interested in figure skating?" killer would ask and he'd receive a glare from the other. "was just checkin' if the rink is big enough." then he'd leave 🤣 killer will look at the screen and immediately knew why kidd was acting like that

* since then, you two will somehow bump into each other a whole lot. and each time you two see each other, kidd would either avoid you or scowl at you. that's why your impression of him was really, really bad. you thought of him as a local athlete asshole.

* so when his match finally came and you were there to watch him, you saw how much of a different person he was. he was his team's ace and captain. how he carries himself in the ice was reason enough why he was the captain. you studied him thoroughly: no matter the vulgar shit that comes out of his mouth with all the curses and insults, he radiated an attractive kind of leadership. his kouhais and mates listened to him and once the game plays out, next thing you know they're winning. his kouhais looked at him with much admiration, and it looks like you are too.

* when the game finished and you went outside to get some food and to your surprise, he was buying the same burgers you were eyeing.

* "i swear, you're following me aren't you?" kidd barked, clicking his tongue. "i'll have you know that i'm a regular here. if anything, you're the one following me." you rolled your eyes, fishing out money from your wallet. "tch, i better fuckin' leave then." he started walking away as you waited for your food. "h-hey wait," you called out, contemplating if you should continue. "congrats on winning, you were pretty cool back there."

* he'd scowl again, start to blush profusely as red as his hair, and leave 😭 you'd be kinda hurt but what else can you do about it? he started avoiding you since then

* little did you know he'd be watching you at your next match at the farthest top of the bleachers just so no one would know. kil would 🤪

* kidd would be so in love with how you move, would go crazy about the fact that you two shared a rink to victory. he never appreciated artsy and dramatic shit and that's exactly what youwere doing, but you might've just change that. as someone who would only be interested in aggressive cool shit, this was a first for him. he'd watch you earnestly: how your expressions change, the shape of you, or how your body twists and dances gracefully on ice. he wouldn't be able to sleep that night especially on what you told him after his match.

* so he visited the rink once more to clear his head and figured he might see you there again, in a very unlikely chance he did see you. he figured you seem to be practicing for finals. "it's midnight." he'd greet you, his deep voice echoing in the hall. "yeah. and you're here." you stopped, skating towards the bleachers. "gotta practice for finals too?" you added. "nope, don't need to." arrogance once more, it pissed you off but now you're amused. "of course you don't," you smiled. "then what're you doing here? you must be tired from today, right?"

* he'd take a while to answer, as if thinking if he should honestly answer. kidd would always speak his mind, he was blunt and that's what he was known for. so right now, as the glass of the rink was separating the both of you in the cold ambience of midnight, he was too lost in you to think properly. he'd just brush you off and say, "'s none of your damn business. i can't sleep, maybe the ice'd fuckin' help." he dismissed, crossing his arms and looking the other way.

* so an idea popped in your head, "if you wanna take your mind off of something, maybe skating would help. go put on some skates." you skated away, continuing on your practice. not thinking about if he'd ignore you or agree. he gave no response but left, it saddened you a little

* only that he returned and is now skating with you with a mild blush on his cheeks, he said it's due to the cold and a pale ass like him becomes red as hell in those times 🥺😞. playful insults turn into snippets of your backstories then into little things about each other as you both glide across the ice. he can speak normally without insults after all.

* you two didn't mind the time at all, nor the press camping out the venue catching some pictures of your little adventures with the scotland's hockey team captain as you two snag foods from 24hour food places within the vicinity. nor does kidd give a fuck about the articles that resurfaced the next day about the rumored relationship with you

* "so you two hit it off, huh?" your coach asked you and his teammates interrogated him. you two just dismissed them with flushed red cheeks.

* after the olympics, you two didn't even try to hide the fact that you are going on dates.

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ultimate-chickennougat · 2 months

Text

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 5)

Vol 1 Vol 2 Vol 3 Vol 4 (Not Required) Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader

Visiting Nanami at work...

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, slightly slightly suggestive, office things

A/n: The pacing is a bit off in this, I'll do Gojo in the next volume (which will hopefully be better).

Within your last three months of marriage, it had become even more clear to you just how organized your husband Nanami was.

The talented Jujutsu Sorcerer, and current salaryman, was always on time to wake up, go to work, and come home, never varying more than a couple of minutes. It was easy to plan things that way, knowing exactly when to greet him and have dinner ready.

He kept to the usual schedule, drinking his morning coffee on the living room table while looking over some documents on his computer. It was a simple part of his routine, and while rather mundane, it somehow produced some much needed peace before heading to work.

He had gotten used to the banging of pots and pans, and the subtle hums that came out of your mouth as you cooked, having finished making breakfast and packing his lunch box for the day. You carefully balanced his plate and the basket of bread in your arms, safely setting them on the table next to his coffee cup, and made the second trip to grab your own, while he packed up his things.

Sitting down, you couldn’t help but smile watching Nanami eat the food you made. He had a long day of work to go, various meetings to attend and many papers to read. To give him the gift of a good breakfast every morning was one of the greatest joys you had, knowing that he would need it in the hours to come, along with his lunch of course.

There wasn’t much left for Nanami to do that morning. His clothes had been picked out by you and placed neatly in a pile, his breakfast was made, also by you, and his briefcase and shoes were set by the door for when he left. Despite your husband’s usual organized manner, he seemed to have forgotten one important thing as he stepped out the door, another boring work day ahead of him.

You had already moved on to get the morning chores done, scrubbing down the bathroom tiles and sink, and throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry. You watched out the window while wiping the dishes with soapy water, taking a deep sigh of relief knowing you were almost done. The sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly throughout the house, and while the weather was lovely, rain hadn’t fallen on your plants in quite a while. So you took a watering can and went outside, tending to the fruits and vegetables and harvesting the ripe ones.

Time really does fly when you’re having fun, which you were, seeing the variety of colors fill the basket, a testament of your hard work and care. When you got back into the house, fully prepared to relax on the couch and read, you noticed something peculiar on the kitchen counter.

A lunch box. It was none other than your husband, Kento Nanami’s, lunch box.

The clock read 11:12, meaning less than an hour until his lunch break. Of course this was not a regular occurrence, so the thoughts that went through your head were a bit past rational. “What if he doesn’t have money with him… or doesn’t have time to go to a store?” you mumbled to yourself, pacing around the kitchen.

There was only one thing to do, in your mind. You could just bring the lunchbox to Nanami, right? So you quickly grabbed a bag and placed the box into it, as well as your wallet, and got out the door. It was about a 20 minute walk to the station at your speed, and a 15 minute ride to get to his building.

Stepping out of the station, you gazed widely at the imposing building that Nanami worked in. Though you had seen it before, then it wasn’t surrounded by large crowds of people walking around the city.

You dashed inside the building, the lobby filled with salarymen grabbing coffee from the shop on the first floor. To that you had to facepalm, seeing the menu had sandwiches and other savory items. Of course he would have the opportunity to get lunch, all the other workers did it.

Turning back was an option, in your dress and flats you looked quite out of place, but it was 11:55, and Nanami would be on break in 5 minutes. It would be a waste of money to buy a sandwich, when you had an even better lunchbox waiting for him.

When the clock struck 12:00, you started to find your way throughout the massive building, to the secretary’s desk. Nanami and the rest of his department would be on break, so you could visit him in his office.

The secretary buzzed you up to his floor, and you wandered around past the mass of people heading to the elevator. Peaking around each doorway you looked for Nanami’s blonde hair and dark gray suit, having not seem him leave. The striking figure of your husband was hard to miss.

Nanami sat hunched over in his chair, rummaging through his things in search of something. He was the only one who hadn’t left the room yet, letting out a grunt when his hands came up empty. You silently walked over to him, happy that you were able to find him so quickly.

“Kento, darling,” you stated meekly, smiling to greet Nanami. He looked over his shoulder in surprise, you had never been to his office before. “Y/n, what are you doing here?” He inquired, eyeing you. It couldn’t have been easy, figuring out where everything was and making the journey here.

He smoothed his hand over his neck, leaning to the side. “I appear to have forgotten my lunch, could that be it?” he asked, not waiting for your response. You nodded, reaching into your bag to hand him the box. “Right on time, thank you, my love,” he reciprocated your smile, the shyness knocked off your face. “While you’re always welcome to come visit me, you really don’t have to come all this way for something like this…” he started clearing the papers off his desk. “I didn’t realize you had a cafe downstairs,” you laughed, “and that the streets here are so busy during the day.”

“Their sandwiches are fine, but I’d still rather have this - it certainly has more nutritional value,” Nanami relaxed, setting his lunchbox on the desk. “I don’t know what slipped my mind, I’m sorry you had to come deliver this, Y/n,” he stood up, adjusting his tie with his hand.

“I should probably be getting back now, Kento,” you frowned, not having much of any reason to stay. Your own lunch was at home, and the train would only get busier. Nanami gently gripped your shoulder, leading you to sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

“It tends to settle down a little while people are eating, why don’t you stay a bit longer? Only a few minutes - I enjoy your company, afterall,” he smirked as you took in the office around you. “The view is beautiful,” you looked out the window, your hand mindlessly fiddling with your other one as you avoided his gaze, towering over you until he sat down. It was the same sky and weather that was at home, but you were with him, and that made it so much better.

“Though it makes getting around a bit longer, this office has the best view, and is quite secluded,” he picked up his fork and took a bite of food. “For the many meetings with clients I have, it works out well as a background, and for soundproofing,” you nodded, listening intently. “My other coworkers are on this floor, and the one below it,” he mentioned, eating more. You continued your conversation a short while longer.

“It’s already 12:20, I’ll let you leave now,” he stared at his watch, slightly annoyed that the second hand kept ticking. You stood up, feeling the lack of weight on your shoulder as your bag was nearly empty. A reminder of your purpose for being in the office in the first place.

“Do other wives visit often?” you asked, curious, as Nanami joined you. “A few, but mostly at the end of the day,” he took your hand, as the two of you walked out into the rest of the floor. “Most of my coworkers are single,” he sighed, as you looked a bit surprised.

“Maybe I should start forgetting my lunch more often,” Nanami met your flustered gaze, you didn’t want to say goodbye and wait for hours for him to come home. “You could see more of the work we do here,” he smiled, pulling you into a hug, “and all those dull trainees could see what a beautiful wife I have,” you blushed red.

“Goodbye, Kento, I love you,” you started walking out the building, cheeks flushed and a smile not leaving your face. “Stay safe, Y/n, I love you too,” he replied, watching you leave. “Only a few more hours…” he mumbled in his head, “a few more hours…”

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami #jjk x reader

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syoddeye · 3 months

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the warren

price x reader | 895 words

had the overwhelming urge to write creepy!price. this is the result. not closely edited, apologies.

CW: blood (mentioned), hunting (mentioned/implied), theft, stalking

Bare footprints, neat impressions set into the loam ringing the lake. They veered left to the woods, to the direction of the climb leading to meadows.

Where'd you run now?

The signs of her trail are near invisible in the night - disturbed foliage and snapped twigs - but not to him. Crouching at the edge where the prints disappear into the underbrush, he sees dark droplets of blood, wet, painting leaf and root. He wipes one off of a stone, brings it to his mouth, and runs the pad of his finger over his gums and tongue. Salt and metal, the very things she tried to use to keep him out, keep him away.

The very things he had developed a taste for.

John admires her spirit, even with his plan to snuff out that independence. Her frenzied escape only heightened his anticipation for when he'd catch her.

Run, rabbit, run.

~~ Three months earlier ~~

John knew the day he spied her trespassing at the hutch that her hands were clean. Soft and unsullied. Not a speck of dirt under her fingernails. Polite and easy with her apologies, lips parting to show a pink tongue and good teeth.

She saw the cat, followed it over the unmarked property line, and then spotted the colony in its enclosure.

"You like animals?"

"Yes, who doesn't?"

"Come see the kittens, then."

She trailed after him, around the side of the shophouse and back to the business side. He held his tongue when she observed none of the lots on the road bracketing the bay were fenced.

Fences were unnecessary this far out. Everything, everyone, knew their place. Knew where they were not allowed to tread without invitation. Everyone except her, apparently.

A newcomer to this neck of the woods.

She crouched, peered into the plastic, straw-filled tub on the porch, and watched the week-old creatures half-blindly search for their mother. The heat lamp was a functional substitute while the queen was out filling her belly.

"So, this is your shop?" She brushed herself off when she stood, eyeing the store's interior through the front windows.

"Mhm."

"Are you closed?"

"For lunch, as of five minutes ago."

"Oh."

He sighed. "But I can delay my meal. C'mon."

"Thank you, I promise I won't take long."

She takes ten minutes. John leans against the back counter, steel thermos down to the dregs of the morning's coffee. The basket in the crook of her arm carries a week's worth of canned and dry goods. She presents it with a small smile and digs into a pocket for her cardholder.

He rings her up, poking through the haul. In addition to the sundry of foodstuff, there are basic toiletries, insect repellent, a lighter, and a pack of twelve-hour candles. She adds a pair of cheap red sunglasses from the revolving display. They do not make it into the final total.

"Can I ask what brings an Englishman here?" She asks after handing over a wad of cash, setting her wallet down to take the tag off of the sunglasses.

Like clockwork. Always the same question with every new face.

"Retirement," He cards through the bills and makes change. "And you? Visiting?"

"I'm renting for the summer."

He smirks and closes the cash drawer. Holding out what she's owed over a manicured hand, he tilts his head slightly. "Would that be the old Warren place? Or the Lakeshore Arms?" He drops the money.

A few coins slip through the cracks of her fingers, clattering sharply against the formica, some ricocheting to the floor at her sandaled feet.

"Limited housing supply here, least longer term," John explains, making no move to assist other than lazily pushing a quarter back across the counter.

She scrambles to collect the scattered tender, resurfacing from the other side of the counter with a sheepish look beneath her brow, clearly flustered. "The Warren place."

"Hm. Need a bag?"

"No, thanks," She says, smiling tight when she pulls two canvas bags from the sling over her chest. She drops the items into each bag inelegantly. Cans settle atop the loaf of white bread, and the bug spray slots snugly next to the toothpaste.

Never bagged her own groceries before, I'll bet.

She grabs her wallet. "Are there…any other stores nearby?"

"Next place is two towns over. About an hour and a ten-minute drive, forty-five minutes if you speed," John leans back, arms crossing. I assure you, though, the store's got everything you need right here. And if it doesn't…All you need to do is ask."

It's heavy-handed. He knows. But it's better to plant the seed now and let it take root.

"I'll keep that in mind," She sets the sunglasses atop her head and turns to leave, only to spot the short stack of bagged deer corn near the door. One hand on the door, she takes a closer look. "Aw, I didn't know you could feed the deer like this."

His mouth slowly curls. "It's bait, sweetheart."

The instant drop in her expression sends a wicked thrill down his spine.

When she leaves, he watches her hurry down the road through the glass. He flips the sign on the door again: Out to lunch.

John fishes her ID card out of his pocket, murmurs her name, and looks back at her retreating form.

You're a long way from home, rabbit.

#john price #captain john price #captain price #price x you #price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price x female reader #captain john price x you #price x female reader #cod fanfic #cod fic

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lovemyself97 · 3 months

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✦𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓮 ✦ JJK

Summary: You forgot your wallet and that was a good thing. Saved by a small kind gesture from a stranger, but perhaps not so strange. Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x foreign! female reader. Genre: Fluff Warnings: none (Thoughts are in italics) Author: You can read part 2 here , I hope you like it; There's a short playlist for a better reading experience :) Words: 643

Argh, why Lily?

It was 11 p.m. when I looked at the clock on the gray wall, my dear friend, Lily, a Korean woman I've known since I moved to Seoul, convinced me that she deserved a pot of very spicy ramen for her well-deserved promotion at work... the question is:

1-I forgot my wallet,

2-I was threatened with not being able to enter the apartment without the noodles

3-And now a lady was looking at me visibly annoyed.

'Look, I've always paid you on time and...'

'I don't do cash on delivery,' she muttered to end the conversation. Before I could reply again, a packet of snacks and two cartons of banana milk and the money were placed on the counter and only now I realized that we weren't the only ones there.

A young man was wearing a black mask, dressed head to toe in black, holding a helmet in one hand and looking impatient.

'Pass this and the lady's ramen, please,' he said, incredibly politely, making me let out the breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. The lady looked speechless for a moment but just nodded and quickly packed up the items.

Before I could thank him, he quickly left, leaving me alone with that lady, 'I'm never coming back here again' I thought as I tried to catch up with the boy.

'Wait.'

The young man, who was already leaving when I reached him, frowned when he looked at me and something glinted in the reflection of the light. I noticed that he had an eyebrow piercing, but something else caught my eye and left me breathless. He had tattoos on one of his hands, which were very familiar to me… As soon as I looked up, he realized that I recognized him, Jeon Jungkook…

I had always been a fan of Jungkook, admiring his powerful voice and his talent on stage. I never imagined I'd have the chance to meet him like this, so casually, and he probably didn't want to deal with a hysterical fan right now, so I took a deep breath and spoke calmly:

'I wanted to say thank you, thank you so much for helping me and if you could just wait a little while until I pick up-'

'No need to thank me,' he said, his expression softening a little. 'I was just in a hurry and thought I could help.' His voice came out low and muffled because of his helmet, he rummaged through the grocery bag he had just made and handed me one of the cartons of banana milk. 'Just be careful on your way home, it's late.'

I couldn't even open the carton of banana milk he gave me. Instead, I kept it carefully, as a special souvenir of that unexpected encounter.

'Do you always come here?' I asked a little awkwardly, but I couldn't help but be curious and wanted the moment to last a little longer, to which he just winked at me before speeding off on his motorcycle and driving away through the empty streets of Seoul.

I looked around as soon as he was out of sight, feeling a silly grin form on my face, did that really happen?, followed by several shrieks but I soon felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, I'm not even dressed up!, I quickly looked at the nearest reflection, a puddle of water, but something else caught my eye, it looked like a wallet, I wonder whose it was?, and my eyes widened as I realized whose it could be.

It seems that he had forgotten his wallet... I went home thinking about how I would return it to its owner and thinking that maybe I would go to that convenience store more often.

I had no idea I'd run into him again sooner than I thought.

[Don't be a silent reader, let me know what you think 💗]

Do not copy. Original work of @lovemyself97 , 2/10/2024 (reblogging always helps! )

#jjk x reader #bts x you #bts scenarios #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #army #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #idol au #bts imagines #imagine #jungkook fluff #bangtanwriters #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts au

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devildomditzy · 1 year

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Pacts - Mammon x MC

Part one of ? Read Part two here

No tw so far! I’ll update if this changes

This also contains my personal headcannons of where MC’s pact mark locations are, none of it is cannon <3

————————————��—————————————

Mammon absolutely hated your pact mark location at first.

Standing with you in the kitchen, absolutely humiliated, forced to his knees just to get his precious goldie back from the hands of Diavolo’s new pet- the one he had to unfortunate luck of having to look after. The confusion he felt once he looked up, wiping the frustrated tears beginning to form in his eyes, when he couldn’t see the pact on you; but he can feel it clear as day. There was no mistaking it, he was now bound to you, whether he liked it or not. “Whatever”, he thought to himself, “s’probably somewhere under their sleeve, or their arm or somethin’ stupid”. It didn’t matter to him, all that mattered to him was the piece of plastic in your grip that was now being passed over to him.

Yes!

“Now, I command you to pay Levi back what you owe him.”

Fuck!

A few days and a few draining shifts at Hell’s Kitchen later to save up enough to pay back his younger brother at the command of the new pain in his ass, it finally occurs to Mammon that he could now feel new sensations, specifically feelings that weren’t his own, and he comes to the conclusion that he has you to thank for this unwanted connection. His heart pulls at your loneliness when you lock yourself away in the guest room, scared of your new home and dejected by those around you. He feels himself become homesick for the human realm, a place he’d never regard as ‘home’ considering the amount of money grubbing witches after his wallet residing there. He feels his heartbeat speed up in tandem with yours every time you’re together. He’s not sure what to make of that one.

It doesn’t take long- a week at most, until he’s knocking on your door with enough force you’d think he’d bowl it down. You open the door with wild eyes, not sure who’d be bothering to visit you at this hour. The familiar race in your chest begins when you lock eyes with him. He can’t keep his own on you for long, finding the silence and the tension unbearable.

“Yo!”

“H-hey Mammon.”

“…”

“I think I left my charger in here earlier, better check for it.”

“Oh. I can grab it for yo-”

“NO! N-nah, I mean I can come in n get it myself, ‘m not stupid.”

“I..never said you were?”

“J-just lemme in!”

Mammon pushes past you and walks into your room, trying to seem nonchalant as he pick up blankets and shoves them aside, kicking up clothes in pursuit of his charger. He’s not surprised to find it where he strategically left it after your TSL marathon last night. He grabs it with the fingers of one hand, looping his thumbs into his pockets before turning back around to face you.

“Listen…if ya scared of Levi-”

“I’m not..”

“Or any of my brother for that matter…I could…ya know, look out for ya…”

“Aren’t you already supposed to be doing that?”

You cock your eyebrow at him, whether in suspicion or bemusement he’s not too sure. Why was this so hard to get out?

“Very funny. What I’m tryin’ to say is I could stay with ya! To.. ya know… make you less…scared…”

“You want to stay in my room? Like, a sleepover?”

Okay. Now it’s definitely bemusement. He can feel the heat rising up to his cheeks, his shoulders tensing up and back as he prepares for dejection, to be laughed at. What was he doing in the first place? He was just trying to find a way to get these feelings to stop, to stop feeling this weird psychic like connection he now had to your human mood swings. And he figured the best way to do that was to ask to stay with you? Overnight? IN YOUR ROOM? ALONE?!?

With the implications now hitting the second born straight in the face, a flurry of words begin to fly out of his mouth at a rapid pace. He’s clamoring to bring the conversation back to normalcy, throwing in a few insults just to be sure, and doing what he does best: backpedaling! But that stupid face on your face makes it hard to form a coherent reasoning as to why he wouldn’t want to be caught dead hanging out with the human, and that rapid thump, thump, thumping in his chest that he’s sure is somehow your fault is too distraction to overlook, and oh fuck you’re opening your mouth to speak-

“Sure.”

“I mean it’s not like I’d WANT to stay in here with ya! In fact, think of it like a favor- or better yet, a service! I don’t work for fr- wait. Did you say sure?”

“Sure. I could use some company. Honestly I’ve been pretty lonely since I got here.”

The demon finds himself too stunned to speak. It takes a giggle from you to break him out of his trance.

“Yeah. Yeah! I mean, I’m The Great Mammon, who wouldn’t wanna chill with me! Just don’t tell my brothers I was hangin’ around ya!”

“Yeah, I got it. The whole never wanna be caught with the weak, “fragile human” thing.”

You pause and he notices how your face briefly falls before you catch yourself. He not sure what to make of that one. But he knows you feel a little hurt. Because he can feel it too.

“So.. wanna watch a movie?”

One and a half stale comedy movies later and the second born is finding it increasingly hard to keep his eyes open. He knows you feel it too as he glances over at your slumped form. Your eyes may be staring dead ahead at the tv set, but he knows you aren’t absorbing a single word being said. It takes him a few tries to grab your attention.

“Oi…Oi!”

You jump, startled at the voice coming next to you. You slowly rotate towards them, blinking a few times and stifling a yawn.

“You oughta lay down. Ya look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m going to change into pajamas. Did you bring any?”

Mammon shakes his head, “Nah, I gotta run back to my room ‘n change. I’ll be right back.”

You give a nod before disappearing into the bathroom. Mammon stretches before standing and making his way out the door. He figures his usual bedtime attire would get him a swift slap to the face, so he opts to go to sleep clothed tonight, it being your room and all.

His usual swagger has become lose and hazy as he walks back into your room, adorned in sweatpants and a hoodie he’d managed to swipe off his floor. He doesn’t bother knocking as he grips the handle, throwing your door open and shutting it behind him and while staring down at his D.D.D.

“So, ya want me to take the couch or w-WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”

His phone clatters to the ground as his eyes grow in shock.

“What! What do you mean?!”, you ask, glancing down at yourself to frantically locate what could possibly pull that kind of reaction out of the second born. The straps of your tank top allowed for much more skin to show than what Mammon was used to seeing from you, but surely that couldn’t be the cause of his concern.

“T-That! Ya didn’t tell me you had a huge tattoo on yer chest!”

Your eyes travel down to the scooped neck line and thin strap that adorned your body. That’s when it dawns on you - he’s never actually seen this before. The mark that you’ve seen everyday since that day in the kitchen. Since you traded Mammon his credit line for his free will.

“Oh that. I..I think that’s yours?”

“MINE!? WHADDYA MEAN MINE?!”

“It kinda showed up after that day in the kitchen. Where we did the kneeling thing in the circle?”

“My pact mark?! O-over top your heart!? Nuh-uh, no way. This can’t be happening.”

It was clear to see Mammon was in full blown panic mode, but as to why would be anyone’s guess.

“Well uh, I don’t remember sitting down to get a big ass tattoo of some kind of…crest? I don’t know, look at it, see for yourself.”

“Q-QUIT PULLIN’ YA SHIRT DOWN!”

Mammon practically runs across the room, shielding his eyes with one hand while grappling with you to leave your shirt alone with the other.

“Hey! I didn’t choose to put it there! Did you?”

“OI! OF COURSE NOT!”

“Stop screaming and tell me if it’s yours!”

Though his mind doesn’t want to, his eyes automatically look downwards towards the exposed area of your chest. There’s no mistaking it. He’d know his mark anywhere, he knows it like the back of his hand. The mark of his greed. The same mark that lay right over your heart. His mark. He takes a sharp breath in. It glows a bright, blinding golden shine. He feels his heart beginning to speed up once more.

Shit.

Mammon bolts out of your room.

——————————————————————————

Ever since that occurrence, the second born has made himself as scarce as he possibly could be from your life. It’s not like Mammon could just neglect his duties as your watch dog, Lucifer would have his head if he did, and he fails to see how there’s any coming back from a punishment fit for “failing Lord Diavolo”. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought.

It was simple really, if he didn’t overthink it. Walk the human to and from R.A.D, make sure they’re not gettin’ picked on, NEVER talk about what happened last week and ALWAYS deflect if they brought it up. And Of COURSE you’d bring it up. Stupid humans and their inability to know when to just leave it alone.

It happens the first time he walks you to class after the fact. You didn’t run after him when he ran. Not surprising, he thought. “Musta thought they did somethin’ wrong”, he reflected alone, but then again, you did, didn’t you? You must have done something to make his mark, his crest, his claim fall perfectly atop the left side of your chest.

“Sooooo… are you gonna tell me why you ran away off the other night? If my shoulders were that spooky, I could have put on a t-shirt, you know.”

“I dunno what yer talkin’ about.”

The second born’s steely concentration remains aimed down at his D.D.D, where he currently typed furiously arguing with his brothers in the house’s group chat.

“Okay, so it’s not my shoulders. Was it these bad boys? You know, us humans can be pretty scary”, you grunt, drawing out the last words while flexing what little muscle you had in a teasing manner in an attempt to lighten the mood. Unfortunately for your dignity, Mammon doesn’t even throw a glance your way. “Uh huh, yea”, he mumbles, fingers continuing to fly across his keyboard.

Wanting to know what conversation he found so enthralling, you decide to slip your own D.D.D out of your pocket, clicking on the group chat notifications you’ve been receiving.

Leviathan: Ugh, I can’t believe I have to attend class today in person. I feel like such a normie.

Satan: Good. Maybe you’ll start to leave your room more often and stop being such a shut in.

Leviathan: Hey! If anyones a shut in lately, it’s Mammon! I’ve barely seen him at all this week! Every time I try to talk to him he says “he’s busy” and to “leave him alone”.

Lucifer: Interesting. Mammon, care to explain why you’re so busy?

Mammon: I’m not up to nothin’, I swear! I’m just studyin’ is all.

Asmodeus: Aww, are you too busy playing with your new human that you don’t have time for your own brothers?

Mammon: Shuddup! I’m watchin’ over them and that’s that.

Asmodeus: Don’t play dumb with us, Mammon <3 Levi told us all about what went down in the kitchen.

Mammon: LEVI! I SWEAR TA FATH- I DONT KNOW WHAT I SWEAR TO BUT IM GONNA KILL YA’

Beelzebub: Kitchen….

Mammon: BEEL YER NOT HELPING!

Satan: Did you really expect you could hide a newly form pact from us? The exchange student is absolutely radiating with your power now.

Asmodeus: Aw, I wanna make the human radiate too!

Mammon: I had no choice okay! They practically blackmailed me into it!

Leviathan: You could have said no, if you weren’t such a money grubbing scumbag.

Mammon: Hey! Goldie belongs to ME! I had to get her back no matter the cost.

Lucifer: That also sounds rather interesting. Mammon, care to explain?

Mammon: EEP!

Asmodeus: What I find rather interesting is that pact! I want all the details! Like, what did their face look like when you formed it? Was their mouth open? What sounds did they make? Did they sound like moans? Were they more beautiful than mine?

Mammon: Like I’m tellin’ ya any of that!

Asmodeus: Ooo I know! Where did the pact sigil form? <3

Finding the conversation now centering all around you, you decide to speak for yourself.

MC: On my chest. It sits a bit over my heart.

Mammon’s head shoots up to look at you, expression a mix of terror and shock. It was almost as if he forgot you were also apart of this conversation.

“Wha-WHY’D YA GO AND TELL EM’ THAT!”

“C-cause it’s the truth? Is it supposed to be a secret? They said they already knew?”

“Not about the pact! About the chest thing! About the h-heart thing!”

Suddenly your D.D.Ds notifications both start blaring at the same time, notifications buzzing much faster than they had before.

Asmodeus: Ooo Mammon ~ very bold of you <3

Leviathan: Eww gross… Are you kidding me? You guys met like what, not even three weeks ago?

Satan: I do have to say given the implications, that does seem very sudden.

You decide being the center talk of the HOL’s tabloid was not for you. If Mammon wasn’t going to give you answers, you were going to get them one way or another out of one of these boys.

MC: What ‘implications’?

“That’s it!”

You jump as you hear Mammon speak up next to you, reaching over to yank your D.D.D put of your hands and holding it over your head. You jump up and try to grab it from his grasp, but it’s not use.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Nun-uh. Ya too distracted and at this rate we’re gonna be late.”

“Since when have you ever cared about being late?”

“Since Lucifer threatened to skin me alive if I don’t deliver ya to school on time. Now c’mon, let’s get goin’.”

Mammon slips his arm out of one strap of his bag and maneuvers it around to his front, unzipping a pocket and dropping your D.D.D inside.

“But, what if I need it for something? Like, an emergency!”

“Ya don’t need it. Ya got me remember. Don’t know how ya could forget with that big ass blemish on yer chest.” Though he mumbles the last part under his breath, it was just enough for you to hear.

“You…you think it’s a blemish?”, you ask, not feigning to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Oh no. Oh fuck. He can feel it again. That rapid beat beat beating of your heart, and the rising sadness beginning to bubble in your stomach.

“That’s not what I meant,” Mammon starts, but before he can finish the words are already leaving your mouth.

“You know, thanks for walking me, but I think I forgot something at HOL. I can find my own way back.”

“MC, wait!”

Now it was your turn to bolt away from him.

——————————————————————————

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