#and i likely won’t make enough money to pay my bills

[harlequinlestat]

.

[taeyongdoyoung]

daddy's home

summary: boyfriendless, jobless and hopeless, you rush to take the first opportunity you find, which is a nanny position. but the kids are not the only ones you grow fond of... pairing: seungcheol x reader genre: fluff, smut, single dad x nanny AU warnings: kids (triggering, i know), age gap (unspecified), mentions of past cheating, abandonment issues, potential therapy, male masturbation, confessions, blowjob, kissing, eating out, protected sex (unbelievable), dirty talk, size kink, pet names (sweetheart, angel, darling, little girl), sir+daddy kink, unprotected sex (with baby-making goal), breeding kink, creampie, more kids (sorry im ovulating) author's note: this is loosely based on the sitcom the nanny in that there's a single dad with three kids but minus the dead wife trope cuz that's too depressing for my tastes word count: 4.3k

You are desperate. Your shitty boyfriend cheated on you, broke up with you and you also lost your job. So it’s been a couple of terrible weeks. Now, you would take pretty much any kind of job as long as it pays enough for you to afford food and the bills. ASAP.

Single dad looks for a live-in nanny for his three kids. Full-time with Sundays off. Contact this number for more details.

Okay, truth be told, you’ve never considered yourself as someone who is good with kids. But how hard can it be? Have you mentioned you’re desperate?

“Listen, Miss L/N,” Mr. Choi, your potential future employer starts. “I appreciate your enthusiasm but I’m not just going to hire you. I’m looking for someone with experience.”

“Well, I have a bunch of nephews, if they turned out alright under my care, then I guess that counts for something,” you chuckle.

“That’s very nice but I’m talking about professional experience. Have you been a nanny before?”

“Technically, no, but how can I get experience if you won’t hire me?”

“Touché,” Mr. Choi laughs.

“How about a trial period? Let me spend some time with your kids under your supervision and prove myself capable.”

Mr. Choi nods reluctantly.

“Well, you’re in luck since my little goblins have driven away five nannies in the past month.”

Oh, dear. Five nannies…And here you were thinking this could be an easy job.

“So, what’s one more?” you chuckle nervously and Mr. Choi shakes your hand, agreeing to give you a chance.

You are excited when meeting his kids. The eldest daughter - Chaerry is 15, very elegant and polite. You think that you’ll have no problems with her and you’ll have lots to talk about. The middle child and only son - Dino is 10, extremely mischievous and loud. You’ll definitely have problems. Finally, the youngest daughter, Elsie, is 5, she’s such a cutie but leaves a mess of her toys everywhere she goes. It’s easy to trip if you’re not careful, but nothing you can’t handle.

The trial period goes by in a flash. Dino attempts to get on your nerves by pulling pranks like hiding fake spiders in your bag and spraying your outfit with ketchup, but you accept all that with an easygoing laugh. Elsie constantly asks you to play with her toys and you need an unlimited source of ideas to keep up with her wild imagination, but it feels more like fun than a job. Chaerry is quiet and doesn’t share much at the beginning but eventually tells you about this boy at school she has a crush on. So, you count that as a success.

“I must admit, Miss L/N, I had some worries at first but seeing how quickly my kids accepted you is remarkable,” Mr. Choi shares his observations with you at the end of the trial period.

“So, am I hired, then?” you beam with excitement.

“Absolutely, yes. The kids have taken a liking to you and changing nannies so often is probably not great for them, either.”

“So true. Kids need stability and I would be happy to stick around for as long as you’ll have me, Mr. Choi,” you are thrilled not only because you will have a bed to sleep, food to eat and money to spend, but because you are genuinely looking forward to spending more time with these little munchkins.

And spend time with them you do. You're not sure what exactly it is that makes the kids warm up to you, but whatever the reason, it's working.

With Chaerry, you talk about boys and high school drama and make-up. On one occasion, she tells you something that sincerely touches you.

“Thank you for being my best friend, Y/N. I know I shouldn't keep stuff from my dad, but he can be so overprotective sometimes it's difficult to talk about...well, going on dates with boys, mostly.”

“Aww, Chae, you can tell me anything. It'll be our little secret,” you give her a wink, followed by a hug.

You're not exactly sure what the correct response here is. But you'll make sure to maintain some kind of balance - both look after her safety so that Mr. Choi sleeps peacefully at night and not betray Chaerry's trust in you.

With Dino, after the initial phase of silly pranks passes, you notice that he's become more honest and calm.

“You won't leave us like our mom and all the other nannies did, will you?” he asks you one afternoon as you're watching TV together.

You haven't asked Mr. Choi what exactly happened with these kids' mother because frankly, it's none of your business, but something is telling you they're a lot more hurt than they let on.

“I'm not going anywhere, Dino,” you promise, though really, it's up to Mr. Choi to decide that.

“Good. It would really suck if you left.”

That's a lot, coming from the kid who damaged like half of your wardrobe with all kinds of sauces.

With Elsie, another strange situation takes place due to the fact that the kid has no filter.

“Let's play family!”

“Um, okay,” you agree without thinking much.

“This will be daddy,” Elsie points at a stuffed lion plushie and then grabs a tiger plushie, “And this is you, mommy!”

“Oh, honey. I'm not your mommy,” you try to explain as gently as possible.

“But can you be? Daddy says our mommy left and has a new family somewhere else.”

Okay, that's a lot to unpack here. Though you don't think it is your place, you'll need to have a conversation with Mr. Choi, because the kids obviously have some kind of unresolved trauma...

One evening, after the kids have gone to sleep, instead of going to your room, you wait in the living room for your employer to come back from work, so you can approach the subject as delicately as you can.

“Good evening, Miss L/N. Kids go to bed?” he greets you as he takes off his coat.

“Evening, Mr. Choi. Yes, they did. I was wondering if we can have a chat. It can be a sensitive topic, I'm sure, but for the sake of the kids, I think it's important.”

Mr. Choi nods and takes a seat next to you on the couch.

“About their mother...”

“I was wondering how long it'd take you to bring that up,” he chuckles bitterly. “Other nannies wanted me to spill the tea on day one.”

“Wow, seriously?”

“It's not like it's this big secret, I just prefer not to talk about it unless absolutely necessary. My ex-wife...cheated on me and got pregnant by another man, so we had a divorce and I kept the kids, because she said she wants to start anew with this other guy, and...well, the kids said this is their home and that they won't move. So, I suppose the judge took that under consideration.”

“My God. I had no idea.”

“You couldn't have known, considering I just said I don't enjoy revisiting those painful memories.”

“Yes, of course, I only meant that...I guess it explains some things. Forgive me for saying this, but I think the kids have some kind of abandonment issues. Elsie and Dino, in particular, they seem to have a fear that I'll leave just like...well, their mom and the other nannies.”

“And are you? Leaving, I mean.”

“Not if I can help it. Mr. Choi, your kids are very vibrant and precious to me. I genuinely love my job. But I'm worried that what happened with your ex-wife affected them more than they show. Maybe you should look into therapy?”

“I will definitely take that into consideration. Thank you for your candour, Miss L/N.”

“You're most welcome.”

“What about Chaerry?”

“What about her?”

“You said that Elsie and Dino express these abandonment issues. Does Chaerry not have them?”

“She probably does, but at the moment she's too busy thinking about boys.”

“Boys? At her tender age? I don't think so,” Mr. Choi immediately goes into ultra alpha protective dad mode and you honestly find it kind of funny. And hot.

“Oh, relax, Mr. Choi. It's just typical high school drama. There's nothing to be worried about.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly.

“I'm counting on you. Does it ever occur to you how quickly they grow up?”

“I suppose it's more difficult for you. I've only known them for a few months but I think I get what you mean.”

“Yeah...How strange, it feels like you've been part of this family forever.”

You try not to think too deeply about it. He...considers you part of this family. Elsie called you mommy. Dino doesn't want you to leave. And Chaerry talks to you about boys. A topic, which girls usually discuss with their mothers. Oh, sweet heavens. Maybe, this nanny gig is becoming more than a job...

One Monday Mr. Choi texts you not to come to work this Saturday, as the kids will be spending some time with their grandparents (aka Mr. Choi's parents). However, the moment you receive the text, you're too busy trying to escape from Dino who is chasing you with a water gun in the garden. So, you somehow forget to put it down in your calendar.

Saturday arrives and poor Mr. Choi thinks you'd be in your own apartment. Finally, some peace and quiet. His parents picked up the kids early in the morning to go to the park with them so he's all alone and free to do as he pleases.

But alas, you go down the stairs of Mr. Choi's enormous house and make your way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast for the kids. However, it's too quiet. Hm, how strange. Maybe, they're not awake yet? You shrug as you pour some milk and cereal in a bowl.

Oh, you hear some noise from the living room. Is that the TV? Your curiosity gets the better of you and you enter it only to find Mr. Choi in a very compromising position. He is touching himself, watching very obscene things on the big screen!

You are on the verge of chastising your boss for doing something like that in the living room, where the kids could walk in any minute, when you remember. The kids...They're with their grandparents today. Which means that...Fuck, you're not supposed to be here. You should be at your own apartment instead of being witness to...your very sexy and very single employer taking care of his needs.

You are going to sneak back into the kitchen and wait for a more appropriate time to leave the house when you hear it. At first you think you're hallucinating but then you hear it twice. Your name.

“Y/N...please, let me-” Mr. Choi moans, his eyes closed, he is unaware of your presence.

However, he doesn't get to finish his sentence because you are so shocked that you drop the bowl of cereal, which shatters on the ground with a loud noise.

“Fuck, I'm so so sorry,” you murmur nervously as your boss finally notices you watching him.

His cheeks flushed, his lips pouting, he is the most adorable you've ever seen him. He hurries to tuck his cock back into his pants and turn off the TV.

“N-no, I'm sorry...Miss L/N, what are you doing here?”

Oh, so you're Miss L/N now...Very well, then.

“I apologize. It must have slipped my mind that the kids are with their grandparents today.”

“It must have,” Mr. Choi repeats coldly, obviously embarrassed by this situation.

You wonder if you should tell him what you heard. Would that be unprofessional? But then again, he is the one who said your name, so...what is professional anyway?

“Do you want me to leave?”

He sighs deeply.

“What's the point? You already saw me...fuck, I feel so humiliated.”

“Why would you feel humiliated? Am I so undesirable that my presence immediately turned you off?” you ask bluntly.

“That's not the case and you know it.”

“I'm not sure I know anything anymore,” you admit. “You...said my name. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“You were never meant to hear that,” Mr. Choi hides his face behind his hands, the redness refusing to leave his complexion.

“But I did. So, what now?”

“Please, don't quit. I realize that what I did is unforgivable but...the kids care about you so much, it would devastate them to lose you.”

“I wasn't even thinking of quitting. But...are the kids the only ones who care about me?” you need to know.

“No...As it so happens, I care about you.”

“So, stop hiding from me,” you don't know where that boldness comes from as you grab his wrists and remove his hands, so you can look at his face. Fuck, he's so pretty.

“You're not...grossed out by me?” Mr. Choi blinks at you in surprise.

“Kinda flattered, actually,” you confess. “But I'd like it much better if you let me take care of your frustrations.”

“You would?” he is unable to believe his luck when you drop on your knees in front of him and take him out of his pants again, engulfing his cock with your pretty mouth. “Y/N...”

The way he says your name is enough to make you even more enthusiastic, sucking him deeper and bobbing your head to the best of your abilities. He grips your hair tightly and you make sure not a drop is spilled as you swallow his cum down your throat. You wipe off your lips and sit down next to him, unsure of what to do next.

“Mr. Choi...”

“Call me Cheol, please.”

“Cheol...may I kiss you?”

Seungcheol doesn't respond and instead kisses you passionately, grabbing your face with his hands. His tongue is exploring your mouth in ways you'd never imagined could bring so much pleasure and you can't resist the urge to sit in his lap. Somehow, against all reason, he's hard again, as you grind against him. Fuck. He's so hot and sweet and amazing you just want to make him happy. How anyone could cheat on this fine man is beyond you.

“Um...not to assume or anything, but do you have a condom?” you ask sheepishly.

“I do, yes,” Seungcheol goes to his coat and brings a package.

“I mean, don't get me wrong, I love kids, but I think we should be responsible considering this is our first time together and you already have three of your own,” you're probably talking too much but oh well. Better safe than sorry.

“No, I understand. You're totally right.”

“Will you fuck me?” you inquire.

“Here? On the couch?” Seungcheol is in disbelief.

“Well...you were touching yourself here, but I guess it's whatever. Your home, after all.”

He chuckles, suddenly embarrassed again.

“Come on, let's go to my room.”

Seungcheol offers you his hand and you follow him upstairs excitedly. Is this really happening? Are you seriously going to do this with your boss?

He lifts your chin up because he notices you're not meeting his eyes out of nervousness.

“Look at me,” he commands you easily and you're on the verge of falling apart and he hasn't even undressed you yet. The power this man holds over you... “We don't have to do this if you're not ready.”

“It's not that. I do want this. It's just...I don't remember if I told you but I was also cheated on. A little before I came to work here. And like, I haven't been intimate for a while, so I'm nervous. What if I mess something up?”

“Okay, first of all, give me that asshole's address, I just wanna talk. And second of all...darling, I haven't been intimate since way before my divorce took place. Trust me, I'm a lot more nervous than you right now.”

You shake your head.

“Whatever you do, I'm sure I'll find it like super hot.”

Seungcheol laughs and tilts his head, kissing you again.

“You're so cute,” he whispers against your mouth. “I can't wait to ruin you.”

And just like that, it's as if a switch is flipped. He pushes you onto the bed and leans above you menacingly, a devilish smirk painting his pretty face. Seungcheol pushes your dress up hurriedly, touching you all over.

“You really thought you could get away with it, huh? Walking around my house in those dresses of yours looking so sexy? Tempting me?”

“N-no, s-sir,” you murmur, not knowing where the title is coming from.

“God, I'm such a cliché. An old man unable to resist the gorgeous young nanny...”

“You're not old, sir,” you try to reassure him. You're not sure if he's just engaging in dirty talk or is actually having some insecurities. He's still young in your eyes. Whatever the case, you're there for him.

“Don't lie to me, sweetheart. I'm too old for ya...I have three kids. What do you have, hm?” Seungcheol speaks while caressing your pussy through your panties.

“I have you, sir,” you smile and palm his dick teasingly.

He sighs wistfully and buries his head between your folds, licking and teasing until you're a soaking mess for him.

“S-sir, p-please...C-cheol, don't stop,” you cry out helplessly.

It feels so good, too good. He holds you down, hands gripping your thighs as you cum against his tongue. He barely gives you any time to recover as he rolls up a condom on his cock. You stare at him hungrily, impatient to have him inside of you.

Seungcheol is like the drug everyone warned you about. Once you have him, you won't be able to quit.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly in sharp contrast with his previous behaviour.

“Please take me, Cheol,” you would beg if you had to.

And take you he does, entering you deeply with his big cock.

“Fuck, you're so tight, barely fitting me in,” he speaks, stroking your clit in circular motions with his thumb, while he fucks you harshly.

“It's okay, I won't break, sir,” you try to convince him.

“What if I want you to break, little girl?” Seungcheol inquires, his voice half-joking, half-serious, as he.

“Then, I'd be happy to serve you, daddy,” the word slips from your lips before you could think twice about it.

“Daddy, huh? You need daddy to make you cum?” you are grateful he plays along instead of making fun of you in this very vulnerable moment.

“Yes, daddy, please, I'll do anything for you,” you promise in a daze.

“Cum for me, sweet girl, let daddy take care of you,” his deep voice is enough to bring you to the edge.

“Fuuuck, daddy...Cheol,” you mumble repeatedly, as white appears before your eyes.

You're shaking in his arms but it feels like flying.

“I've got you, angel, daddy's right here,” Seungcheol comforts you, as he rides out his own high, spilling inside the condom. Then, taking it off and throwing it in the garbage bin, he hurries back to you.

You make grabby hands at him and he envelops you in a hug.

“I'm here, sweetheart,” he kisses your forehead gently and you melt against his chest.

“Cheol...I think you just murdered me a little,” you laugh.

“Well, then, I better make sure I revive you, because I can't imagine my life without you.”

“Good. You ain't getting rid of me.”

“That sounds perfect because me and the kids would like you to stick around.”

“Oh God, the kids! What time are they coming back?”

“We've got time, don't worry, they should-”

“Daaaad, we're home!” you hear Dino's loud voice from downstairs.

“Fuck,” Cheol curses under his breath and the two of you hurry to make yourselves look somewhat presentable.

Once dressed and back in the living room, you can only hope that you're not too obvious about what went down. However, you can't stop yourself from glancing at Seungcheol and he's just as flustered as you.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Dino greets you as if it's completely normal for you to be there. As if you belong.

“How was your time with your grandparents?” you ask, trying to act casual.

“We had so much ice cream!” Elsie squeals excitedly.

“Grandma and Grandpa took us to the park,” Chaerry starts telling you about everything they did in great detail and you are glad that the shy girl you first met is becoming a confident young woman.

Elsie is asking for more ice cream but Seungcheol is explaining that it's lunch time. Dino is painting the table with mustard and honestly, that's so on brand for him...

It is funny where desperation brought you. You realize this is the happiest you've been in a while.

Later, when Seungcheol catches you alone after spending the afternoon with the kids, he asks:

“I know we kinda messed up the proper order of things, but...would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh! I'd love that, Cheol. Is it okay to still call you that?”

“Yeah, it's alright.”

“What about in front of the kids? I'm not sure to what point you'd like to mix professional with...personal life.”

“In front of the kids is okay, too,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, do you know what Elsie keeps asking me?”

“What?”

“When will you make Y/N my new mommy?”

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like something Elsie would say.”

“So, um, no pressure. But I think you're more than the nanny to me.”

“Well, I would certainly hope so. I didn't raise you, mister!”

Seungcheol can't miss the opportunity for a joke. He takes hold of your hand and places it on top of his...very hard dick.

“You raised him, though,” he whispers.

“Mr. Choi!” you hiss, scandalized. “I mean...Cheol.”

“Did you mean daddy?” Seungcheol teases you relentlessly.

“Stop it, you deviant!” you shake your head. “Fuck, you'll never let me live this down, will ya?”

“Do you kiss your boss with that mouth?” he smirks.

“Don't mind if I do,” you reply and bring your lips to his.

A year passes by quickly. You love every day of your life. Whether it'll be spending time with the kids, or going on fun dates with your boss turned boyfriend, or having mind-blowing sex with said specimen, you are truly happy with how things turned out for the best.

With one tiny thing missing.

“Cheol, can I ask you something?” you mumble one evening, as you are playing with his soft, fluffy hair.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Seungcheol turns towards you, giving you his fullest attention.

“Have you ever thought about having more kids?”

“Hmm, it hasn't crossed my mind. I already have three kids. But it depends. Is that something you're interested in?”

“Not till now. But if it's with you, I'd love to have a kid,” you confess shyly.

“Well, then, let's make you a mommy,” Seungcheol quickly makes it his mission and for the first time, doesn't use a condom.

“Yes, please, daddy, give me your cum,” you moan wantonly, as he fucks you deep.

“Take it like the good girl you are, I'll give you all I've got, fuck a baby in ya,” he grunts in your ear, sounding even more excited than you are.

“I love it, feel so full,” you whimper and can't stop kissing him. You can't believe this beautiful man is yours and wants to give you another present.

“That's right, sweetheart, I'll stuff you full of it,” he moans and releases himself inside you. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, as you reach your high.

Seungcheol gently pushes the cum that's spilling out of your pussy back inside and lifts your legs up.

“Do you think it'll stick?” you ask doubtfully.

“Can't hurt to try again until it does,” he shrugs, determined to succeed.

Nine months later, as you welcome the twins into the family, you realize you've never expected to achieve so much happiness.

“You really had to outdo yourself and give me not one but two babies,” you playfully push Seungcheol's shoulder.

“Is it too late now to say sorry?” he grins nervously.

“Don't be. I'm more than satisfied. But you'll have to give me a raise!”

“I'll give you something better than that,” Seungcheol promises and pulls a diamond ring out of his pocket.

“Oh my God,” you are in shock.

“Y/N...you've given me more than I could ever hope to deserve. You started off as a nanny but you became my three kids' best friend and now, the mother of two more angels. You became my closest person, my source of joy, my sweetheart. Knowing that I can come home to you is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Will you do me the absolute honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, of course, yes!” you say through your tears and kiss him, as he slides the ring on your finger.

“Can I call you mommy now?” Elsie peeks her adorable head behind the door, followed by Dino and Chaerry, who are all excited by the good news.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Chaerry greets you with a hug and whispers: “Thanks for taking one for the team and making our lonely old man. happy.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Seungcheol complains loudly.

Dino jumps on the back of his dad with a loud squeal.

“You better treat her right, Dad!” the boy warns. “Or I'll ketchup your room!”

“Why do I feel like I'm the one being welcomed into the family?” Seungcheol bemoans his fate but he's never smiled wider.

“You'll get used to it,” you joke. “Come on, guys, meet your new brother and sister.”

“Hii, babies!” Elsie and Dino jump excitedly around the twins.

“Oh, they're so cute! Aren't they so cute, Dad?” Chaerry coos at the babies.

“They are, but it's too early for you to think about how cute babies are. Look at me...I already have five. Isn't it tragic?” Seungcheol keeps messing around.

“It could have been twelve or something,” you play along.

“I can't imagine,” Seungcheol cries out indignantly. But deep down, maybe he can.

The End

[antiwhores]

Your co-workers like to bully you.

Atleast thats what Bakugou suspected. He had to make an educated guess after your gloomy, closed off behavior everyday after work.

Bakugou works as a pro hero, no one gets to bully him in his work environment. But you work a humble job at a library about a mile or so away. He told you that you didn’t need to work the job since he brought more than enough money to the table to support you and him. But you insisted on working a job to “help” the both of you out. He accepted your money after a long debate with the conditions that you only pay for the phone bills.

You seemed to like your job though. In the early weeks of getting it he remembers you practically bouncing at the walls when you came home. You’d be bussing to talk about the newest work drama, the new book you read, a customer, etc.

He got into the habit of sitting down in the living room when he was home and waiting for you to come to him and sit on his lap. Then you’d tell him of your clearly exaggerated adventures of the day while he played with your hair.

But recently those nights were followed by not the usual fun answers, but dry answers to questions he asked to try to promote a stream of words from you.

He started to really get suspicious when you downright said no to him when he asked you to tell him about his day.

So he did what he did best and stuck his nose into your business.

He knew he couldn’t figure it out by himself without getting caught so he hired someone to figure it out for him.

A full on spy. A man that he met in the work field that owed him a favor after he saved his life.

“Is this really what you wanna cash out your favor on?” The man questioned.

Bakugou scoffed, “Just fuckin’ do it and stop questioning me.”

After two days the man reported back to Bakugou. Apparently, a group of coworkers had been harassing you. Talking shit, snarky comments, stealing your lunches, hiding your paperwork, etc.

Bakugou was fucking furious.

He stomped down to your work place, hero suit still on, and demanded to see the higher ups. They tried to stop him but he wouldn’t let up. No way some piece of shit workers were gonna bully his girl. He wouldn’t allow it!

To his luck, the district director was in a meeting with all the other higher ups. He busted into the meeting room, furious as ever. They were startled, dropping their pens and gasping.

After the shock went away, the noticed who this brash man was.

“Dynamight, sir, how can we help you?” The director spoke carefully. She recognized how Bakugou had a higher status than her. He could get them all fired by a phone call.

“Your shitty employees have been fucking with one of your hardest workers. I had my men come in and investigate and…”

He went into detail on what they’ve been doing to not just you, but other employees in the building. He degraded their department, saying that its a disgraceful work environment.

After he was done, his face was still red with anger. But he wasn’t the only one red. The district director was practically a tomato.

“I am so embarrassed and disappointed hearing this. They will be fired immediately. I am really sorry, Dynamight. I will make sure that they won’t be able to work at any other library in this district.”

He scoffed, turning around to head for the door. “Make it any other library in Japan.”

“Yes sir.” He said as Bakugou slammed the door behind him.

You came home happy that night and for the first time in a while, you told him about your (exaggerated) day.

[laiiaaa]

thinking about Carmen taking care of his girl sm he won’t put up with her spending any of her hard-earned money :(

After shutting your door for you, Carmen walks around the front of the car into the drivers seat, shuffling with the seatbelt as he turns the key in the ignition.

You hum to yourself in the meantime and find your lipstick in your bag—your new lipstick, a little more luxe this time, just the right shade to compliment your skin, a treat for yourself after finishing up a project at work. Just a little gift you deserved. You flip down the sun visor and open the mirror, making a pretty o with your lips to carefully apply it, stifling a smile when you feel Carmen watching.

“Where’s that from, baby?” he asks, a hand smoothing up your back.

“Hm?”

“The—the, uh—” he points to his own mouth while staring at your lips— “Lipstick, you call it?”

“Oh,” you smile. “Yeah, it’s new.” You hug his bicep, an affectionate squeeze before cradling the side of his face and toying with the tuft of hair by his ear. “You like it?”

He hums, “‘F course, ‘s pretty.”

But his smile falters, and it has you pouting.

“What?”

“Nothin’…” He shrugs. “Just don’t remember buyin’ it. You used my card, right?”

You shake your head. “No, I bought it myself. It wasn’t expensive, Carm, I promise.” Half true, at the very least.

“Yeah?” He let’s go of you only briefly to lift his hips and pull his wallet from his pocket, fishing out the wad of cash that’s accumulated there. “How much was it, baby? I’ll pay you back.”

“Carm, I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doin’ it anyway.” He counts out one, two, three twenties—

“Carmen, put that away—”

He looks up at you, raises his brows, dishes out a fourth and a fifth. “What?” He doesn’t even flinch when he folds the bills in two and leans over the console to slip them in your purse, sneaking a kiss to your cheek as he does so, just because he knows it’ll distract you. A hand on the wheel now—a veiny, tattooed hand, enough to make you drool—with the other holding your jaw, he kisses you again, the corner of your mouth to keep your lipstick in tact. “Use my card next time, you hear me? Doesn’t matter what it’s for.”

You frown. “But I feel bad . . . I make my own money, y’know.”

“You’re not supposed to spend your money, baby, you’re supposed to spend mine.” Again, he kisses you, guiding you where he wants you with his thumb and index gently holding your chin so you can’t look away. “I got you, baby. Lemme take care ‘f you.”

And, well, when he puts it like that . . . it’s not so hard to oblige.

[gorejo]

▸ BOSS'S FAVORITE - gojo satoru (forbes30!gojo au)

what can you say to the boss's favorite customer when he comes five minutes before closing? Kick him out? Not an option, especially when he tips so well and has a rather cheeky motive to stay and get your attention.

content: 1.1k words. unedited. this is before the breakup! so, college forbes30!gojo. reader is his girlfriend, she/her pronouns. fluff! got this from an anon ask!! so nonnie if you see this, I hope you enjoy! also this is the shortest fic I've made in a hot minute! so be proud of me yall )) :

"you're here again," you monotonously asked, deadpanning with a raised brow, crossing your arms while you leaned to one side.

“Yes, as you can see since I’m seated here to get my order taken.” he smiled amused by your baffled expression.

“Sato—”

"your boss likes me," Satoru smugly responded while he sat back on his chair and crossed a leg over the other, his expensive shoes reflecting the cafe's dim lighting, "i came for him, so don't get mistaken," he teased with a childish smirk.

“And you know, that’s not a way to greet a valid customer. especially with my VIP status,” he huffed with the corner of his lip threatening into a smirk.

"And you know it's courtesy to not come into a store when we're just about to close," raising your wrist to look at your watch, “I don’t know like five minutes before closing.”

"well, don't blame me," he innocently batted his soft eyelashes, steadying his cheek on the palm of his hand, "I was waiting for my girlfriend outside and he so happened to kindly invite me in."

Gojo Satoru was your boss’s favorite. Not only did he effortlessly draw in customers, people curiously entering the cafe just for a closer look at him, only to end up buying a drink and some pastries to chill in the somber ambiance, but he also tipped generously — too generous to be even called a tip.

Those that walk by would do a double take when they would see the white haired man, tall in stature, dressed in a simple white shirt, and black slacks, and would reroute their steps hoping that maybe they were lucky to see him again.

Just by the frosty white of his hair, he gained attention — who wouldn’t stare at a handsome guy, covering his beautiful cerulean eyes with his notable sunglasses chilling on a seat looking through his phone, while he sipped on the most sugary drink the cafe had to offer.

The cafe was especially the busiest whenever he tagged the store on his socials. Flocks of his followers bombarded the store just to see a glimpse of their favorite college nepotism student, who happened to also be unapologetically haughty about his good looks.

And to his mercy, today, he graciously came just when the store was about to close — at least there won’t be a murderous amount of people trying to flock over. 

Because fuck capitalism.

Working on the weekends, and sacrificing your leisure to make money wasn't out of the norm. It was something most college students would do. Make a couple of bucks to comfortably buy that extra cup of coffee with oat milk, or go out with friends for some food or the club.

But for you, you had bills to pay. And it didn't help that your boyfriend was well outside your tax bracket.

He was kind and offered to pay for almost if not all the dates. But with exams rolling around, and your monthly rent just about due, you didn't have enough time to fit him into your schedule.

He never complained, simply worried that you were pushing yourself too harshly. Placing a kiss on your forehead as he tucked you into bed, or cradled you in his arms when he found you sleeping on the couch, he hoped that you could trust him — trust him enough with your burdens but he never pushed. Because he trusted you would come to him on your own time, when you were ready to invite him more into your heart.

So, he's found a rather cheeky way to squeeze some time to let you know he cares. It's just his way is not the most conventional one you could imagine...

“He likes you because you tip well,” you laughed while rolling your eyes.

Clearing his throat, "I know you like to talk to me because I am that handsome,” he opened up the menu and placed a finger to rub his chin while he “actively” tried to decide what to get, “but like I said, I do have a girlfriend and I would like to order please." He chuckled while looking up, giving you a boyish grin — the one that made your heart flutter despite how cheesy he was. 

At this point, it was disappointing how he still affected you. Flustered at his forwardness, you turned around, muttering as you felt a sudden heat radiate to your cheek. “Okay, then call someone when you’re ready.”

“No!” Immediately grabbing hold of your hand, a sharp screech on his chair scraping against the wooden floor echoing through the quiet cafe. He gave it a tight squeeze before he sat down, his puppy eyes pleading for you to wait, “I’m sorry… just, I- I’ll choose soon,” he mumbled, silently sitting back down.

"Okay, then… what can I get for you, Mr. Gojo." you sighed, shaking your head, looking at his fingers lightly playing with yours, “And didn’t you say you have a girlfriend? Not sure if she’ll like this if she saw, ” You smirked.

“eh it’s okay, she’ll understand,” He responded with a hum, “she loves me too much.” his thumb gently rubbed against your skin, the scales of the day’s stress flaking off the more his warm hands massaged yours. “but, give me a minute, gotta read through all the options.”

“You serious?... ” It was so easy to read through his actions — it was laughable, really. 

“Yes, this requires a lot of thinking,” quickly peeping at his watch latched on his vacant hand before humming exaggeratingly, “hmm…”

Tapping your foot, “Any minute now, that’ll be great, Sat —”

"Give me a couple of seconds please,” he stopped you, reading through each item, slow as a sloth — at most twenty items were on the menu, it shouldn’t even take an elementary student this long to read at his pace.

“Sure, whatever for the boss’s favorite, right?” you pursed your lips, your eyes forming faux crescent moons.  

“Oh, I got it!” he chirped, simultaneously closing the menu when you heard your boss off in the distance, shooing your other coworkers into the kitchen, “Let’s close up! Chop! Chop! The faster we finish, the faster we go home!” 

“I need to go help —” you tried heading to the kitchen, not wanting your coworkers to bear the burden of cleaning on their own.

“I'll get —" Gojo hummed, just about to say his order before you cut him off, his firm grip on your hand keeping you from leaving.

"the mochi with zunda, with freshly whipped cream and a side of strawberries to go with it, anything else?" you quickly retorted.

"Oh yes, maybe I can top it off…” elbows leaning against the table with his arms crossed, flashing you with his cheeky smile — the one that showed his teeth and the cute dimple he had on the bottom corner of his lip. 

“with a kiss, because you’re finally off the clock now, right?”

author's note: he's so annoying but I love him to death so that's alright heh

[luveline]

Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty 

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible. 

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts. 

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential. 

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer? 

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord? 

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other. 

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world. 

“Yeah, hi. You okay?” 

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.” 

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?” 

“Do you want to get takeout?” 

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.” 

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.” 

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises. 

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight? 

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger. 

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in. 

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear. 

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.” 

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.” 

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.” 

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position. 

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.” 

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly. 

“I’m trying to.” 

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.” 

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.” 

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again. 

[crackedpumpkin]

ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴏɴᴇ ||

[ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“If there is a god out there, please make sure my order isn’t missing any pickles this time.”

“Here ya go, extra pickles on the side,” Mr. Perez, the store owner, grunts as he all but flings a wrapped sub into your hands from behind the counter. You grab it with relative ease, undeterred by how oddly soggy the parchment paper is. It’s a slow day in the sub shop, with many of its usual customers absent. 

“How much?” 

“Five bucks.”

“How’s Didi?” You ask, fishing out a crumpled five-dollar bill in your pocket and handing it to him. You drop another into the tip jar when his back is turned, humming innocently when he faces you with a bag of small cookies.

“The usual. Slightly less of the devil incarnate lately, though. I think it’s because you’re coming over to babysit more often.” You take the cookies gratefully, a small note written in the ten-year-old’s messy scrawl glued to the side. You stash it away in your backpack, ensuring it doesn’t get crushed behind your sketchbook and pencil case.

“Is that y/n?” You hear the clatter of plates being shoved aside, Didi peeking out from behind the blinds that separate the storefront from the stairs that lead upstairs to their house. You smile but realize she won’t be able to see it through your cloth mask.

“In the flesh,” You grin, scooping Didi into a tight hug. You prop her on your hip, transferring the sub to your free hand as she giggles. “Have you made any new friends in school?”

Her lips purse into a pout, fiddling with your hair with sulky eyes. “No…They’re all stinky. Except for Maribelle, because she likes pickles.”

“Does no one else like pickles, then?” You ask curiously, Didi shaking her head. 

“Tommy and Jam like them, but they’re boys,” She informs you in complete and utter seriousness. You’re so tempted to comment, but you know that if you did, she’d sulk for at least half an hour.

“Jam?”

“Yeah, Jam.”

“Are you sure that’s his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then,” You shrug, turning your head to the side so she can’t see the amused glint in your eyes. 

“Are you headed to the bank?” Mr. Perez asks offhandedly, cleaning one of his bread knives with a damp cloth.

“Gotta cash in the moolah,” You rub your fingers together in reference to the cheque that’s buried somewhere in the bottom of the heavy bag on your shoulders. You had recently finished a commission, and your client had tipped you generously, paying you an extra fifty bucks on top of the two hundred she was already paying. 

“Can I come? I wanna come. I’m going,” Didi demands as she braids a few strands of your hair. You look back at Mr. Perez for permission, the gruff man nodding in response. 

“Okay, but make sure you always stay with me, yeah?” Didi nods eagerly, kicking your side slightly as she points to the door. You leave the store with her in your arms, making your way to the bank. 

“Can we buy Legos?” You hum in thought, trying to decide how to reject Didi’s request without being too harsh. She tugs the beanie on your head, and it slides down to just above your eyes. You chuckle, using the back of your preoccupied sub-carrying hand to shift it back up slightly.

“Do you have enough money to buy some?”

“I got money!” Didi’s small hands search her pockets, patting down until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls out a ten-dollar bill with a triumphant smile, eyes shining with anticipation as she looks at you. 

“Then we’ll buy some on the way back, yeah?” You offer, already seeing the money leave your wallet when you pay for the leftover cost of the Lego set.

“Hmm…Okay!” Didi agrees after a moment of thought, clapping her hands together and urging you to walk faster. You break into a slight jog just to tease her, soon reaching the doors of the large bank. 

You push past the huge glass doors with your shoulder, the sub still in your hands. You couldn’t put it in your bag, fearing it’d ruin your cherished sketchbook and, even worse, the crumpled cheque buried somewhere near it. 

You eye the long lines for each counter, groaning at the thought of a prolonged wait. You scan the hall, trying to find the shortest queue. 

There. You quickly join the line of people waiting, breathing a sigh of relief when you see a few more people join your queue right after you do. The bank is mostly quiet; the only sounds are fingers clacking away on keyboards and hushed conversations of bank account details. 

A trio of men wearing black cloth masks stand in a corner, furtively glancing around and having a hushed conversation amongst themselves. Two large bags are on the floor next to the shortest one, all three nodding at each other before the other two pick up the bags and head towards the door while the shortest approaches the information counter with another bag slung on his hip.

Huh. Maybe they have social anxiety. 

You watch them converse with the clerk, half your attention on Didi, who’s tugging on your hair while braiding it out of boredom. You spot the clerk smiling nervously in your peripheral, brushing it off as the usual horrible customer service interaction.

You focus on Didi instead, jostling her slightly in your arms. She yelps, lips pursing into a scowl when she’s disturbed from her concentrated braiding. You giggle, entertained by her reaction. You lean in, bumping your head against hers in a gentle tease.

The doors slam shut.

You flinch at the sudden sound, turning to see the two men from earlier at the entrance. Each stands in front of the doors, arms crossed with two large rifles in their hand as they quickly adorn ski masks. The man at the information counter now has a gun in their hands, pointing it up at the ceiling and firing a single shot.

The loud bang startles Didi, who instantly covers her ears, pushing her head against your shoulder with a small squeak. You protectively hold her close to you, ready to shield her body with your own in case anything happens. 

“Everyone drop everything, get down on the ground, and lift your hands now!”

You slowly sink to the ground, eyes never leaving the guns in their hands. This situation is the opposite of ideal. Being held hostage isn’t exactly part of your five-year plan for graduation. The doors are guarded by the guards, dark silhouettes blocking the sunlight.

“Hey! I said to drop everything and lift up your hands,” One of the robbers guarding the doors earlier points a gun straight at you with a glare. You look from the weapon to the sub in your hands, reluctant to let go. 

“I said, drop it!” 

You gingerly set it down with a defeated sigh. “You happy now?” You ask him with a scowl. He steps towards you, still aiming his gun at you as he picks up your sub and throws it to the side. It lands with a plop onto the dirty ground, now a ruined mess.

“Wha- My sub!” You complain with an offended gasp, now glaring at the man who just destroyed your dinner. You see the arch of his brow beneath his thin ski mask, exchanging a confused look with his accomplice.

“You do know this is loaded, right?” He questions with a wave of his gun.

“You just threw away a perfectly fine sub! It even had extra pickles!” You argue, still mourning the loss of your dinner. Setting down your sub you could deal with. But flinging it against the wall? That was absolutely uncalled for. “You’re a maniac,” You seethe, your jaw clenched as you shoot him the coldest glare you can muster.

You hear tiny sniffles and a loud hiccup from beside you, looking down to see Didi’s scrunched nose with snot dripping down it and tears streaming down her red cheeks. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but you know she’s about to start wailing.

“Hey, hey, Didi,” You call out to her gently, ignoring the robber that watches you intently. “Let’s play a game of patty cake, okay?” You offer, holding out your hands. She places her small ones in yours, and you curl your fingers to cover her own. 

“I’m scared,” She hiccups, her sniffles growing louder by the minute. You shush her with a reassuring smile, thinking of a way to soothe her. 

“Oi! You sure have a death wish, lil’ missy.” You hear the cock of a gun behind you, turning to see it being pointed straight at you. “I already said: hands up where I can see ‘em.” 

“Look, do you want to handle a wailing child that’s bound to attract attention? Or do you want me to calm her down so none of us get a headache?” 

After a moment of deliberation, he moves his gun down to his side. “I’m watching you,” He warns.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I’d forget.” You huff with a roll of your eyes, crossing your legs and sitting down with Didi in your lap. “Now, where were we?”

You continue playing patty cake with the trembling girl after coaxing her into removing her hands from her ears. The shortest robber, who seems to be the ringleader of the three, is preoccupied with getting the clerk to empty the enormous vault at the back, stuffing bundles of cash into the large duffel bags they had carried with them earlier.

It’s tense.

Everyone chooses to stay silent, their shaky hands and terrified eyes a pleasure to the thugs. You risk a quick glance around, wondering when the hell Spiderman would show up. Isn’t this in his job description? Was he even getting paid? 

Someone knocks on the door.

The two crooks guarding the doors turn instantly, pointing their guns at a familiar figure with their hands raised in surrender.

“Yo! I came here to negotiate, not to fight.”

They look to their ringleader for a response, the latter giving them a nod and gesturing to their guns warily. They nod at each other, hoisting their weapons closer to their chest and opening one of the doors. 

Before they can react, Spiderman drops to the floor, immediately kicking their guns out of their hands. They land on the floor with a clatter. “You should really think twice before opening the door for strangers,” He chides, nimbly avoiding a harsh blow from the two thugs surrounding him.

That’s a nice suit.

Your eyes automatically follow him as he swings, dodges, and takes out the robbers in mere minutes. He’s nimble, avoiding each blow and disarming the vicious crooks that threaten to fire. 

“One step closer, and she’s dead meat!” 

Didi’s body is grabbed from your arms, and you look up in horror as the robber that threatened you earlier holds his gun close to the small child. Tears are dribbling down her cheeks uncontrollably, choking on her stifled sniffles. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” The masked vigilante halts in his steps, hands raised up, “Threatening a kid? That’s not gonna look good on your record, man.”

“Then put your hands up, walk to the wall, and give up!” 

“Wait!” You scramble to your feet, freezing as soon as you do. The robber presses the gun barrel closer to Didi’s shoulder, an ice-cold grip of fear crawling down your spine at the sight. 

You can’t let her get hurt. You rack your brains, trying to figure out a good distraction for Spiderman to take action. “I-I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die, but I just have to say something.”

“Get down on the floor!” The robber shouts harshly, fed up with the kids that keep bothering his easy getaway. You slowly kneel back down, never breaking eye contact with Didi, whose cheeks turn redder by the second. You spot Spiderman’s finger slowly moving to press his web shooter, eyes darting between him and Didi. An idea takes form in your mind, but it’s risky.

You pause, swallowing nervously. “Didi… I’m the one that broke BunBun.”

She screams. 

The ear-splitting sound makes the robber wince, dropping her to cover his ears. Spiderman seizes the opportunity, using his web fluid to grab his gun and toss it away in the far corner of the bank. He immediately gets to work through Didi’s screaming, effortlessly capturing the last robber and throwing him aside in a cocoon fashioned out of his web fluid. 

You grab Didi, scuttling back into your corner of safety and trying to placate her. You gently rock her in your arms, letting her cry into your shirt. The collar is now soaked with her tears, and you’re beginning to regret confessing to the crime of having accidentally broken one of her favourite plates. You’d blamed it on the passing wind, and she bought it.

“Hey guys, y’all are safe now.” You look back up at Spiderman, who leans against the wall near you, scanning the crowd of relieved people who cheer for his bravery. He chuckles, casually shrugging as he tries to brush off the praise. He double-checks if anyone is hurt, his gaze lingering on you for a split second.

He gives you a brief nod and a friendly two-fingered salute, and you tiredly reciprocate the gesture with a still-crying Didi in your arms. His head moves back slightly in a wince (well, you’re pretty sure it’s a wince. You can’t really tell with his mask and everything.), and for a moment, you feel as though he’s sympathizing with you. 

He takes his leave through the glass doors, Spiderman-style, with his web-slinging skills and whatnot. You’re left with the aftermath of the police finally showing up, the crying child deterring them from asking you any further questions besides a short testimony.

“Didi, it’s over now. We’re safe.” You try to soothe her by gently patting her head and hugging her tightly briefly. You’re sure your shirt is soaked by now. It baffles you how a child has so much water in their system that they still sob even after half an hour.

It took an apology, three Lego sets, and a future promise for another at Christmas to get her to stop crying.

— — — — — 

The bed creaks noisily when you collapse on it with an exhausted groan, the sound a subtle sign of the old bed frame threatening to break any day now. The glow-in-the-dark stars glued onto your ceiling shines softly, the chilly breeze of Brooklyn gusting through your open window. You’d dropped off Didi on your way home, reassuring Mr. Perez that she was unharmed.

You shiver, getting up to close the window before hanging your beanie on the clothing hooks behind your door. You turn on the switch to the lamp on your desk, the warm yellow light coating your room with a cozy atmosphere.

Your stomach growls, a reminder of your delicious dinner having been a victim in the whole hostage situation from earlier. You sigh. Whatever. You’d grab a bigger breakfast tomorrow instead. For now, though, a simple protein bar from your snack drawer would have to do. 

You unwrap it and bite down, munching hungrily while grabbing your sketchbook from your bag and laying it flat on your desk. You flip the pages, eyeing the empty pages with distaste. Page after page of drawings that didn’t meet your standards make your heart sink. 

You finally land on an empty page and grab a pencil with your free hand. You tap the end onto the blank paper impatiently, trying to think of more inspiration for your next work. You’d been in a slump lately, and while commissions did give you some extra pocket money to go cafe hopping, it didn’t help much with your lack of artistic creativity.

Your hands itch to sketch out an idea. Anything would do. The only problem is that your brain can’t provide even a smidgen of inspiration. You huff, leaning back in your chair.

You sit up straight and scooch closer to the paper, hoping that maybe that’d trigger some form of idea.

Nope. Nothing. Nothing hits you. 

Maybe it’s the happenings of today as well, what with a gun being pointed at you and helping your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman take down those thugs. You grin, recalling how Didi’s scream had impacted the poor goon, lips tugging down slightly at the reminder of your now empty wallet.

You’d have to find another commission soon. 

Maybe Spiderman would want one?

You begin to doodle absentmindedly, the scratching of lead against paper a soothing sound that practically lulls you into a trance. You recall the red spray paint of a jagged spider against the black suit, the design of it so simplistic and yet representing his personality so well. 

You remember his quick nod to you and silly salute, a chuckle slipping past your lips. How did he look like again? His elbow was bent, and two fingers were placed on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. He’s relatively lean, you recall, and probably taller than you too. It’s difficult to gauge since you were in a rather sticky situation that called for hunched shoulders and hesitant movements.

Your hand moves as if it’s got a mind of its own, recalling the webbed pattern on his suit. You draw and draw, adding shading after a basic outline is done. Your mind is foggy, no other thoughts remain except to transfer your memory onto paper. 

Wow.

You stare down at what you’ve just drawn, taking in the overall sketch with a shaky exhale. It’s the best you’ve done in a long while, with all the details contributing to the final product. 

It’s exactly as you remember, having drawn Spiderman giving you that silly salute while leaning against the tiled walls. You’d even shaded his suit perfectly.

You’re breathless. Is this really your work? From your own two hands, no less? It’s probably a one-off thing, but boy, does it feel good. Maybe thinking about Spiderman is the main reason why.

You giggle at the entertaining thought, shaking your head. 

It’s probably just the adrenaline.

[flowerfreya]

Weaponized Incompetence

“Do you know how to clean”

Part 1

Pairing : John Price x Reader

John and you are going through a rough patch , one that may not be solvable

John is going to win his wife back. How? He doesn’t know but it will be done. He loves you with all his heart and he hasn’t been showing it in the best way. He put you on the back burning , a constant always in his life that he didn’t nurture or pet. Never stimulated. Didn’t think he needed too. Thinking paying the bills, having money, and not cheating was enough to be a good husband. (It wasn’t).

Price has been cleaning all day, trying to make things right. He brought flowers for the house. Vacuumed every room , mopped the kitchen and bathroom and started laundry.

He thought he had a great day, so he decided to take leave for the next three weeks. He hasn’t told you yet but he thinks that you will be excited.

That’s not the case.

When you step into the house, Price is standing at the door waiting for your reaction, if you have any at all.

Looking around and then seeing his face and looking likes he’s waiting for something, “What’s going on ?” , you say with a little chuckle.

“I cleaned up” , he says, lifting his arms up and turning his body in a look around motion.

“Oh…what did you clean up?” , you ask, starting to walk around the house.

“I vacuumed, mopped and started the laundry”.

“Did you put down carpet freshener?”

“No”

“What did you use to mop?”.

“Just water”.

“Did you separate the clothes by light and dark?”.

“No”.

John looks up and sees you just exasperated and shaking your head.

“I honestly don’t know why I’m surprised”, you walk over to the washing machine and stop it, pulling out a light pink shirt that you know is for sure supposed to be white.

“John, you basically just pushed dirt around when you mop with just soap you know that right”, you start getting the mop bucket out with soap.

He thinks that’s found a solution , “maybe if you write me a l-”, he stops talking when you whip your neck and stare at him.

“Are you a child or an adult?”, you ask.

“An adult”, he answers.

“I’m not making you a list to clean, you're in the military, you should know how to clean…do you know how to clean?”, you turn off the water and turn your whole body towards him., “are you going to answer the question?”

John clears his throat,”yes, I know how to clean”, he doesn’t understand why you are so angry. He thinks that he did a lot for you today, shit almost everyday he does a lot for you and you being angry at him and not telling him why is starting to grate his nerves.

“What did I do to you”, he snaps, “because you are angry at me and I don’t understand why”

“I guess it’s because you act like a child and I’m tired of it”, you snap back.

“I heard what you said to your friend over the phone, do you actually feel like that?”, he ask, moving closer to you. He doesn’t want to argue with you. He wants to be better for you. He wants you to want him not because of convenience , but because you love him.

“Am I tired of cleaning of your shit, shit that I have AKSED you multiple times to clean up….?”, you answer him.

You start to cry, an angry frustrated cry , “I work too you know , I’m tired all the time, and when I get home from work and see nasty dip bottles on the floor I get frustrated.” , you start to mop , like you don’t want him to see you cry.

“I remember asking you to clean up the bottle, to not leave it just laying around, you said okay, do you remember that”, you look up at him with raised eyebrows. He nods his head because he does remember that, actually he remembers all the times you’ve asked to not leave the dip bottles everywhere.

“In my head, I told myself that this would be the last time I ask you to clean up after yourself, and the next week a fucking dip bottle sitting right along side the couch”, you let a self deprecating chuckle.

“I’m done”, you say with such finality. It scares him that he won’t be able to get you back.

[after-witch]

A Morning After [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Title: A Morning After [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Synopsis: You didn't think about what you and your newly found soulmate Uvogin might do next. Follow up to Late Night Break In.

word count: 2040

notes: yandere, soul mate au

You hadn’t thought about what might come next.

But here you are, sitting in your bedroom while your tall, unusual soulmate rests his chin on his hand, seeming to ponder the events more quietly than you might expect from someone with his appearance.

“So uh,” you interrupt, and he turns to look at you. “What do we… do now?”

Your question seems to surprise him.

“Do?” You can make how his features twisting a little in the night-time light through your window. “Huh, I didn’t really think about that.” The words come sighing out. He’s just as lost as you, which is both a comfort and a worry.

Your fingers grip at your comforter--there’s a brief, stupid flash of a thought about the fact that it was brand name, purchased without a payment plan, and you’d even saved up enough to have it dry-cleaned--and twist at the fabric. 

“Well,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “Are you staying the night? Or um, staying here?” The questions come tumbling out, now that your mind has shaken off the shock of his meeting. “Am I staying here? Are we staying here?” You blink rapidly. “Am I still going into work? Are you going to pay my bills? Do you have bills, wherever you live? Do you have enough room for my things, if I’m not staying? Is there a way I could stay?” You think about what that might mean, living here while your soul mate pops in secretly. But you had a gut feeling that your soul mate was not some ordinary person, and another thought crept in, slower and more serious. “I mean… could I even stay here? Is someone going to come after me or something like that?”

Uvogin regards your incessant barrage of questions with a simple quirk of his eyebrow, and then a quirk of his head, and then a quirk of his mouth. Finally, he simply chuckles and shakes his head.

“You’re something, all right.”

Your lips curl up a little.

“Excuse me?”

He hums and splays his hands out. 

“I just said--you’re something.”

You pull the comforter up higher and wrinkle your nose at him. 

“Well, don’t make that sound like a bad thing.”

He grins again--you get the feeling, innate, that he can’t quite help it--and puts his hands up in surrender.

“Didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just haven’t met someone like you before.” He looks up at the ceiling, his hair shifting with the movement. “But I guess most people who meet me aren’t talking about bills and houses.”

You should ask something like: What does that mean? Why don’t people talk about casual things to you? Who are you, anyway? 

But in your chest you feel something… warm and bitter. Like a twinge of sympathy, maybe. Is that your soul mate bond reacting or something else? 

You sigh. Your world suddenly seems both very small and big at the same time, alternating on some wild axis and you don’t know where it will stop.

“Look,” you say, gathering your thoughts. “I… I won’t fight you, if you don’t want me to stay here. I get the impression that you’re not a settling-down-in-one-place type of person.” He snorts, and you continue. “But I really mean it when I say I want my things.” 

You feel that pinching in your chest again, and wonder if he feels it, too. “You don’t know how much it took me to get all this. Not just money-wise, but taking the time to research things.” You gesture around your bedroom. “How to tell quality over quantity. How to take care of nice things.” 

Your fingers tighten and loose on the comforter again and again.

I”m not rich and I don’t have a lot but… it feels nice to pretend sometimes. You know?”

There are a few moments where he simply looks at you

“Yeah,” he tells you, a little softly. “I get it.” 

He sighs, this time a long, stretched out thing. And when he speaks next, he seems to have made some sort of decision.

“Well. For now, I’ll stay the night. It’s late. We can figure out the rest in the morning, can’t we?”

You nod. It really would be more sensible to think on things and approach this with a clear head, although you wonder just how much your opinion mattered in the end here. 

But then Uvogin starts to shift as if he’s going to lay down and the noise you make is something in between a squawk and a shout.

“Wait! Wait!”

He freezes.

“There--there isn’t room on the bed for both of us. The weight limit is probably already being stretched, I--”

He shrugs, a big, casual gesture. You think for a moment that he’ll insist, which is something you aren’t comfortable with for more ways than one, but he merely stands up. “No problem. I can sleep on the floor.”

Pinch, pinch, twist goes your chest. What is this feeling, anyway? 

“I’ll get some blankets,” you offer, the words coming out slow. You feel both like a terrible host and a victim tonight in the same measure, and you’re not sure which wins out.

You slowly peel your comforter aside and scurry off, feeling his eyes following you all the while. But it doesn’t feel entirely creepy. There’s an intimacy to it--and is this how it feels, to be wanted by your soul mate? Is this how your coworkers feel? Your friends, your family? Those people on TV who gush about finally finding “the one”? 

As you return with a pile of carefully folded blankets in your arms, you suddenly can’t blame them, for worrying about you missing out. It feels… nice. Worrisome, sure, considering the circumstances. But you can’t deny that nice warm pull in your chest, even as your logical mind worries about other things. 

He watches quietly while you unfold and unfurl the blankets, creating a makeshift bed on the floor. You grab a few extra pillows from your closet and toss them down, cringing a little--they were really nice cases, too, a good thread count. But there was nothing to be done about that. When you’re finished making the floor bed as comfortable as it can possibly be, you glance at him, and he stares down at the creation you’ve made which is… clearly far too small for his frame.

You cough and scurry back to the linen closet and return with more blankets. How big must his bed be, wherever he slept normally? Did he have somewhere to sleep normally? Too many questions, and you wonder if you’ll ever get an answer. 

When you’re truly finished making the bed, you glance up at your soulmate, who is sporting a smile on his lips. You wait for him to make some kind of snarky remark, but he says nothing. And… you, you like that. He knows how to tease you, sure, but he apparently knows when to keep it back as well. 

Somehow this nice little thought carries you through the process of crawling back into bed, and waiting for him to get settled into the makeshift blanket-bed on the floor. 

In the morning, you two will have to talk things through. Maybe in the morning, he’ll be more forthcoming with answers to your questions. Or maybe you will have a clearer head and put your foot down on leaving… or a clearer head and realize that doing such a thing would be truly pointless.

Maybe you can ask him more about how he found you, or ask him if he ever felt lonely or if his friends--did he have friends?--wanted him to find a soulmate like yours so readily did. 

Maybe in the morning you’ll ask him how much money he makes, because you’ll have to come up with a budget. He’s so much taller than you, more muscular, he probably eats a ton. Where will the money for that come from? Will you even be able to store that much food in your apartment? Maybe you’ll have to get a new one, if he doesn’t take you somewhere. Maybe he makes enough for an upgrade. Or maybe not. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe it will all make sense in the morning.

That is… if you can fall asleep.

You’re tossing and turning, and it’s not surprising, but it definitely doesn’t help matters. You land somewhere in between on the next toss, staying flat on your back and staring up at your bare white ceiling.

“Uvogin?” You ask, voice soft in the darkness. 

There’s no answer at first. He might be asleep. You should just go back to bed.

But then there’s a noise, low but unmistakable, from the floor. 

“Hmm?” 

You choose your words as carefully as you can.

“I don’t mean to be negative, really, but um. I don’t have the money to buy groceries for 2 people and toiletries for 2 people and a bed for another person--where would it even go?--and I don’t know if I can afford to move--”

You hear the blankets on the floor rustling, and see his figure moving in the dark. He doesn’t stand up, but merely gets up on his knees and looms over the bed. There’s a moment where your heart thuds hard (he’s so close to you) but all he does is put a finger to your lips. 

Then he shows a cocky grin, white teeth in the dark. 

“Listen. You think too much. Don’t worry your pretty head about stupid things like money. Who cares about that?” 

You bristle, and you’re ready to argue but he taps his finger on your lips again.

“It’s not the type of thing you gotta worry about when you’re my soulmate.” You see him rub his nose, considering. “

“Got it?”

He’s waiting for an answer.

“Got it,” you murmur.

He nods and gets back down, taking his position back on the makeshift floor bed.

And you? You stare back up at the ceiling, which until perhaps an hour ago had been nothing more than the white space you were vaguely considering jazzing up with some fake crown molding, like the kind you saw in magazines. 

You wonder if Uvogin was the type of person who liked fake crown molding. Or hated it. Or did he care at all? Maybe he had no opinion on home decor, which in your estimation, was practically offensive. Did soulmates like all the same things you did? Or did they--

“Don’t think so much,” his voice interrupts. “It’s like I can hear you thinking in the dark.”

Your lips twist together, frowning.

“I--”

“Go to sleep” he says, a little softer. “We want to go at this with a clear head tomorrow, right?”

It’s your turn to lean up in bed, though you don’t go as far as getting off it. Instead you look down at him, and it’s no surprise to see him staring at you.

“That’s just what I was thinking earlier-- a clear head.”

He nods.

“Yeah, I know.” 

You swallow hard, and your fingers go back to twisting the comforter. 

“Can you… read my mind?”

He snorts and lets out a chuckle. 

“Don’t be stupid.” For some reason, you don’t take offense. It’s the way he says it, maybe. He taps his chest.

The twinge, the pinch, the pull. 

“Ah,” you say, and rest your head back down on the pillow. This time, you turn so that you’re on your side, facing the interior of your bedroom and the spot where Uvogin was set up to sleep. Although he wasn’t doing it anymore than you were at the moment, obviously.

He looks at you for a few more moments, then closes his eyes.

“Go to bed.”

“Okay,” you murmur, closing your eyes. This time, you begin to feel the tug and pull of sleep, shutting down your conscious thought and leaving you drifting with threads that went nowhere. 

Maybe things would truly be clearer for the both of you in the morning. 

[ariseur]

hi, can i request how dante and vergil would act after having an argument with reader? thanks!

sparda twins after an argument 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

dante x reader, vergil x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

i hope you guys remember that i’m a ffvii AND a devil may cry acc, don’t be afraid to request for dmc 😭😭

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

intended lowercase, one spoiler for vergils lore (?), arguments ofc, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓓ANTE — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ i can’t see you and dante getting into arguments often. the only things that would lead to a fight is dante being concerned about getting you involved in his work (if you’re a devil hunter), or you worrying about how he’s too nonchalant when he eventually does get injured.

❥ even then though, he makes sure to not say things he doesn’t mean. but even after an argument, it’s like he replays it back in his head when he’s alone, thinking of every word and if it actually did offend you or not.

❥ in the case that it’s a lower to moderate argument— dante’s so fuckin goofy, he’s the type to still kiss your cheek to wake you up and make you terribly cooked breakfast to see if you’ll forgive him. up to you whether or not you do but he’d try to spoil you with whatever money he has. i’d suggest coaxing him to use that money to pay the bills instead 😭

❥ but if it was a big argument, i think it’d be pretty silent for a while. i can see dante apologizing first depending on how old he is (what game it’s set in). the younger he is, the more emotionally inept he’ll be.

❥ in the case that it’s older dante, he’ll give you an apology although he doesn’t expect you to forgive him, he just wants you to know he’s sorry.

❥ regardless of his age though, dante will leave you be until you come to him saying that you feel better. there’s no point in chasing after someone who needs space. if you cup a wild bird in your hands, the only thing it wants to do is escape.

❥ i see dante as pretty decent when talking it out though, he just wants nothing more than for the silent treatment to just simmer down so that when you’re both feeling calm and okay, you can talk it out reasonably. and the make-up sex is even more awesome.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓥ERGIL — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ as stated before in my previous hcs for vergil, he is a silent lover!! no difference whether he’s calm or angry, he silently brews. i cant see vergil getting into arguments much either, but the only difference between him and dante is that vergil brushes the topics off unless it comes to you.

❥ for instance, you get hurt? he doesn’t play lmao

❥ he might be a little harsh but considering he spent a lot of his time in hell, his social cues are kinda off. he never yells at you, but it lowkey hurts when he’s like a mom who can’t show she’s mad in public as he’s whisper yelling about how you’re not supposed to be so careless.

❥ vergil never yells, always talking lowly in that precise tone of his. however, he’s just so calculated with his words, making it more difficult when you try your attempts at a rebuttal. his sharp tongue would probably get him into trouble if you piss him off enough / if he super worried, though. might say something he’ll regret later.

❥ if it’s a small argument, he either acts like nothing happened or he overanalyzes it and overcompensates with his ‘apology’— which is sitting you down on the couch as he makes you feel like you’re in an intervention while you guys talk it out 😭

❥ if it’s a bigger argument, he’ll probably give you the silent treatment. he won’t talk about it and he won’t talk to you for a while, preferring his space over anything while he calms down.

❥ his pride stands in the way of him actually apologizing to you, especially if he recognizes the argument was his fault after a while. so you might have to be the one to confront him first.

[lovezbrownies]

I wanna make a request for Yandere Bully, Lauren if that's alright?

Scenario: every single day, since the reader transferred to her school, they always have very visible injuries on their face and body. (ex: a broken arm in a cast, a leg brace, bruises and swollen eye sockets, broken nose etc.) Reader comes to school with these injuries nearly every day.

Then, it turns out that the reader is part of an underground fight club where the reader fights and gets beaten up every single night because they're poor and need to earn money for their sick mother's treatment.

I am so sorry for the delay! Very very long one ! :3

Lauren's Masterlist + General Masterlist

Synopsis: How would Lauren react to seeing you hurt all the time?

Lauren McCanister x GN!Reader

Warnings: Physical assault, fighting, bullying, isolation, crossing boundaries, stalking, made up illness, usual Lauren activities!, slightly edited!

“Mom, how can I tell the difference between injuries made on purpose and injuries made by accident?”

“Why do you ask, Laurie?”

“Something suspicious has been happening with my darling as of late, constantly comes to school in pain. Various bruises, broken limbs, and random swelling.”

“Hm… Let’s go to the big whiteboard in the lab, the living room whiteboard won’t be enough. Bring your notebook.”

You hiss in pain, trying to sit on your desk as gently as possible to not anger the arm whose bones you’ve broken two days ago at the last fight you attended. Thankfully it was only your arm, had it been your leg you wouldn’t have been able to participate in tomorrow’s fight. The underground society’s rules are twisted, any broken limbs are okay to fight with, even if both your arms are shattered, but if it were your leg? Not a chance would they let you register another fight. You couldn’t care less if you were battered and beaten almost to death, as long as you had enough to pay for your mom’s medical bills for the month. 

Your mother’s been sick for a while, and you’re her only hope to get her better. And even if she was terminally ill with little to no chance that she’d make it into the next year you will make sure that year would be the most fulfilling, joyful, healthy year for her. Your mother’s done so much for you as you’ve grown, sure maybe there’s been a few bumps along the way but there always will be when you have a parent. Either way, you will make sure she’s treated, you will make sure she gets better, and you are sure she will heal and become healthy once more.

Since you’ve changed schools you haven’t exactly been a very social butterfly. Not making any new friends in the new one and neglecting your friends from the old one, far too busy to partake in any friendships. One individual, in particular, hadn’t stopped bothering you, however, harassing and bullying you since you joined the school. Lauren McCanister, the most popular girl in school, a jock, gorgeous, and incredibly smart. She’d chase after you and obsessively harass you until either school was over or when you finally reached your home. Lauren for some unknown reason loved to follow you home, of course, while verbally abusing you along the way.

One very strange thing about your bully is she’s far too worried about your health for her to count as a bully anymore. An everyday occurrence it is, with your broken arm and bruises scattered around your body, she’d cornered you like a Lion, “Fuck’s this? Again? What, you broke your arm when you were cooking and juggling the ingredients but fell down the oil you spilled before that? Fucking likely with how ridiculous your damn stories are, I know these aren’t self-inflicted dickhead, who did this? What’s their name? Do you know them personally? I hope you know you’re m-min- Ugh, you’re my-my um… Whatever! You’re not supposed to be hurt! Get hurt one more time I will find who did it and kill them! Good lord…” 

Excited shouts sound out, and you breathe in and out, today is another fight, and another fight tomorrow, and as many as you can until your mom’s happy and healthy again. It was almost instinct at this point, go on the offensive immediately, get a few strong punches in, go on the defensive then trap your opponent in a death grip before throwing them down to the floor where you then proceed to beat them up until the ref says signals the winner, that is you, that they’ve won. After that is all the stupid celebrations and drinks and whatnot, you prefer to leave before anyone pulls you into a celebratory party. You’d rather take the money you owe tonight and get the hell out of there.

“Hey! Rel, wait!!!” Just as you are about to go to your manager for the cash someone calls out for you. Calling out a nickname only your fellow fighters use, it stood for Relentless Pain which is the name your manager gave you after a few fights. Looking back it was two other fighters who were also under your manager. “Oh sorry, what’s up?” Dick (Dick Crusher) smirked as he and Skull (Super Skull)  neared you.

Leaning into you Dick spoke into your ear, he needed to get close so you can hear him through the crowd, “I didn’t know you had such a hottie for a girlfriend!” Confused, you gave Dick a perplexed look, Skull leaned in to speak in your other ear, “Yeah! Like super super hot! She’s blonde, green eyes, really fucking tall, but in a dominatrix hot way, ya know?” Blonde, green eyes, and tall… Only one person you know of matches that description, and no way in god’s name will you let that evil bitch know you work here, else she’d use this shit against you.

This can’t be real, first, she torments you in your personal life, and now she wants to do the same in your work life? Lauren can eat shit you won’t let her take this away from you, you needed this job, and knowing Lauren she’d do anything to ruin your reputation. You panic, grabbing Dick and Skull’s respective shoulders, “What?! No way! Give someone my spare costume and have them pretend to be me, man! She’s insane! A-A stalker or something!” Panic settles into the duo’s faces as they realize the weight of what you’ve said.

Dick grabbed your hand, rubbing it softly, “We got you man don’t worry, we’ll make sure she never knows you’re here!” Skull follows up while taking off their jacket, “Here, take my jacket, you don’t gotta worry about a thing!” You muttered a soft thanks as you put on the jacket Dick offered, immediately running out of the nightclub the underground fight club is hosted in. You didn’t want to risk a thing, so you ran home, as fast as you could.

“Hey, lady! Here they are! The Relentless Painnn!!” Moron One called out to her, extending the word ‘pain’ as Lauren turns around, finally, you’re here! Finally, she can get an explain to her what you’re doing here, why you’re getting yourself hurt over an- “Who the fuck is this?!” Lauren exclaimed as she took a good look at the wimp claiming to be her darling. They were scrawny, hunched over, and had so little muscle it almost made her laugh.

Moron Two stepped forward, hands raised in the air, “Listen, man, you told me to get my best buddy, the Relentless Pain, and I did! Now, we will-” 

“Shut the fuck up, you absolute buffoon, if you value your life and family I’d suggest you get me MY Relentless Pain, or else I will make sure you will regret the very day you were born you absolutely pathetic piece of TRASH!” Lauren cut Moron Two off as she yells at the two ridiculously dressed nincompoops, the other nincompoop cowering in fear behind them both. Her darling wouldn’t fucking cower in fear! Her darling eats fear for breakfast!

Lauren growled, rolling her sleeves up due to frustration, “I fucking saw them! I saw them on the stage and this wasn’t them! My [Name] isn’t some fucking wimp! My [Name] has a fucking broken arm and this moron doesn-” It then hit her, this wasn’t some stupid mistake, this was all on purpose, to give you the time to run away from her before she can find you. Now she is confused and furious, why would you run away from your girlfriend? And why the hell would you run away from your girlfriend.

Lauren ran out of the dressing room, the two morons calling out to her but she had better priorities than those idiots! She continued to run, bumping into several people until she finally made it out of the nightclub, there wasn’t a single soul out there, except for some person wearing a hoodie, and walking away from the club, but Lauren was sure it couldn’t be you. You were wearing your fighting clothes, not a hoodie and shorts, but then again… Moron One had a jacket on when she first met them, but when they came back they didn’t have it on…

Was that damn bastard trying to hide you away from her? Fucking idiot won’t know what’s coming, but now she has to deal with you. Lauren calls out to you, she needs you. “Hey! You! Come back here!” She yells out at you, as you look back at her slightly, you face still hidden, and suddenly… The figure books it, running faster than she’s ever seen you run! 

You couldn’t be stupid enough to run away from her right? You know how fast she can run, don’t you? Cause this little act is going to give you more trouble later on, that’s for damn sure. Lauren scoffs and starts running after you, this chase reminds her of the predator and prey dynamic, especially with how much you’ve been looking back as she nears you. It… It turned her on… Sure, she felt a little shameful, but she’s a sadistic bastard, Predator-Prey dynamics are her bread and butter!

With lust on her side, she caught up to you pretty easily, grabbing your arm and stopping fully, pulling you back into her, laying your head on her chest… Except it wasn’t you, it was some… weirdo! ”Ew!!!” Lauren exclaimed, sick to her stomach over the fact she let some rando touch her. The weirdo stuttered out a few words, “I-I-I’m s-so sorry!! I’ll p-pay the-the bill I swear!” They shuffled around their jacket pockets, quickly taking out their wallet and handing it to Lauren. Which the lady then proceeded to push him to the ground and stomp back to her car, beyond furious over tonight’s events.

Maybe she was wrong, maybe you didn’t work at the club… No, hell no. McCanisters are never fucking wrong, and she will get it out of you one way or another.

Another day, another fight. It’s been two days since the Lauren incident, and surprisingly she hasn’t brought it up at all, maybe she wasn’t there, maybe it was some other hot tall blond! But you couldn’t think of any other person who’d claim they’re your girlfriend that looks like her, whatever, as long as she doesn’t ruin your career you couldn’t give more of a shit anymore. You spent the rest of the day as you usually do, hoping to god that this time she won’t try and catch you in the fighting club.

And of course, god doesn’t listen, as one could see the predatory Lauren had pushed you into an empty classroom, she straddled you and pinned both hands to the floor, careful not to put too much pressure on your broken arm, and before you could try and recover she had used her head to point to the sole desk in the room, where a camera was recording you both. She looked so damn smug you almost wanted to beat the hell out of her for humiliating you like this, for always taking advantage of you, for making you feel miserable any time of day.

“Be careful with what you do to me, darling, there’s a camera recording every single thing, and many more that I hid-” Lauren threatened but you couldn’t sit still and let her do whatever sick thing she wanted to do! You wiggled as hard as you could, managing to get a hand out of her grasp. The moment of hope quickly is stolen away from you as Lauren captures your wrist once again, “God damn it stay fucking still!” She screamed, accidentally spitting on your face, making you wince in disgust you were temporarily distracted and the spit aided in stopping your resistance.

The woman above you panted heavily, the smug smirk that was previously on her face has been replaced by a strong grimace, her hands tight around your own, and her legs tightly pressed against yours. This was bad, horrible. You were at a disadvantage, fight back and you have no life. Lauren’s the town’s princess, and if you dare hit her you will become ruined, fired from both jobs, no money to pay for your mother’s medicine, and no way out of the town with no money and no car.

Then, a strange sound suddenly cuts through the tension. She… Lauren was laughing, wildly even, as if she was reading your very thoughts, as her laughs slowly tuned out she shifted her face closer and closer to yours, noses now touching, her hair covering your peripherals, “Tell me. Why are you always hurt? And don’t lie to me or I swear to god you’ll have more than a broken arm after this.” Why is she so obsessed with what you do in your free time? Why does she want to know why you’re always in pain? Lauren hates you for all you know, always berating you day in and day out, so why so… needy?

You sighed, trying to look the other way, yet you couldn't see anything other than blond hair flowing all around you, to tell her or not to tell her… That is the question… Then you felt Lauren dig her nails deep into your wrist, she smirked as you yelped in surprise, looking back up at her, “Answer me.” Lord, she’s nosy… Either you answer and she tells everyone, which can lead to your arrest due to how illegal underground fighting is, leaving your poor mother all alone, or you don’t answer and she does some other fucking thing to ruin your life. One can never escape a McCanister with their sane intact still.

“You want to know? Soo badly? Fine, I fight in an underground fighting club, there. You can let me fucking go now, right? Since you’re going to ruin my life one way or another anyway right? Just let me have a lick of freedom before you sick the police on-”

“God, shut up. I’m not going to do anything, jeez why the hell do you see me that way?” She literally threatened your life two seconds ago, “Why are you fighting? You don’t need the money, aren’t you on financial aid?” Lauren asks question after question and it’s getting on your last damn nerve. Is any of this necessary? Should you genuinely be putting up with this? And all for what? To not make Princess mad? Who the fuck cares you have less than a year to get out of this hell hole and you couldn’t care less if she ruins your reputation, as long as you can still make enough money for your mom.

You rolled your eyes, sighing. It was fairly easy to overtake her strength, she may be a jock but you’re an athlete. You quickly turned the table on her, her now on the floor while you stood high above her, brushing yourself off. “You found out what you wanted, why I fight is none of your business, Lauren.” And you attempted to storm off, yet the classroom door was locked shut. Looking back at the blushing Lauren on the floor, you ask, “Why did you close the door, Lauren…?” Chuckling softly the woman on the floor slowly gets up, dusting off her skirt. She walked up to you, head held high.

A smirk was plastered on, her face full of mischief. “I had a feeling you’d do something like that, so I had someone lock it after I got you in here! And they won’t open the door until I send them a voice note specifically telling them to, so you have no way out until you tell me the whole truth, silly!” Her smirk only extended to a full-blown Cheshire smile, tilting her head to the side Lauren looked deeply into your eyes, expecting her demands to be met. 

This was a bad position, cameras watching your every move, a witness outside who is also the only way out. You couldn’t attack her and get away with it, breaking open any windows would take too long, and she probably already has that solved as well. Looking off to the side you let out a scoff, “Why’re you so obsessed with me? Don’t you hate me or something? You know with all the harassment, I thought you’d enjoy me being beaten up.” You honestly expressed to Lauren, though her only response was a big scoff, mocking you for your own thoughts.

Lauren leans towards you, leaning her hand against the wall next to you she has you in her grasp. “Shut up, who cares about why I’m doing this, just tell me why you’re looking for the money.” Lauren shamelessly brushes off your concerns, a need for knowledge overwhelming her. God, I’m just like Mom Lauren thinks, “Heavens, fine, if I tell you, you’ll let me go got it?” Lauren nods frantically, ready for whatever your reasoning might be, “I- My mom’s sick, it’s terminal and I needed the money for her medicine. That’s it. Is that what you wanted, you sick freak? To know my mother is ill and dying and I’ve risked my life for her? Are you satisfied-”

Lauren immediately cuts you off, “Which illness?” Her rude interruption stunned you, with no worry or guilt she asked something so incredibly intrusive… Fine, whatever it takes to get the hell out of this room, it’s getting hotter and hotter. “Willheim’s.” Silence overtook the room, you nor Lauren uttered a single word, up until Lauren’s twisted laughter began echoing throughout the room, you looked at her, rage overcoming you.

“Aha! HA! I-I’m so- ehe- sorry! It’s just so ironic!” Your hands are clenched, knuckles white with pressure. You wish you could blow her head out, “I’m so sorry, I laughed because my mother just discovered the very cure for Willheim’s. I can have my mother administer it to your mother for free, just come over whenever you want! I’d do a-anything for y-y- Erm, my mom made it a while ago actually! Just has been arguing with Big Pharma over the price which is w-why she’s taking so long to publish i-it!” Lauren stammered out, so nervous, so needy for your approval.

It felt like a complete smack to the face, all that work and pain, only to find out your bully’s mother had the cure this entire fucking time? It was hard to even comprehend the words Lauren just spat out, with just one visit to her home your mother would be safe and healthy again. It was both a dream and a nightmare, having your mother be healthy again is the only thing you’ve dreamt of for months now, but to know it’s Lauren McCanister that’s helping her? What a nightmare.

A stinging pain came from your palms, a wet feeling covering your fingers. You’ve been clenching your hands so hard your fingernails began penetrating your skin, what a lovely day. Your face filled with disgust, you continued to stare into her eyes, hatred swirling within your own. Lauren stayed quiet, that stupid smile of hers still going strong, “...Fine.” You mustered out, shame overcoming you, pride no longer intact. 

Somehow, Lauren’s face glows even brighter, and finally, finally, she backs off. Lauren gestures for you to follow her as she walks off the the back of the room, where a bunch of pillows and blankets and various foods and drinks lie. Strange how you hadn’t noticed that before. As Lauren sat down in the middle of all that comfort she extended her arms outwards, beckoning you into her arms.

“Come here. You have to tell me where all those bruises came from and who they come from… I’ll take care of you from now on!”

[jd07201990]

“Oh, come on Chuck! This’ll be my second time! You can’t keep forcing me to work another 40 years, just to make it to retirement and do it all again! It’s not yours or my fault that there aren’t enough young folk to take over our jobs! Hell, maybe if we paid a bit more, the few of them out there would apply!”

“It’s Lieutenant Roth, Billy. Now go change out of that equipment and take a shower. Whatever this remote does to strip away all those years, it sure does leave a young man ripe!”

“Don’t call me Billy! I haven’t been Billy in 30 years! Its Bill Damn it! And how am I supposed to explain this, again! to David?! You know he’s not into, well… this!”

“Put your shirt down Billy and quit your complaining. We’re doing something different this time, changing things up, trying something new. See, we couldn’t afford to pay higher wages all these years, because we’ve been stashing extra money away, for a new program. This remote can do a lot more than just wipe away years, Billy. The company has a whole app-store full of features, but they cost a hell of a lot. We only had enough for 2 new features, and we think it’ll really help solve this town’s aging population issue.”

“Wha… what the hell are you saying? What do you mean, something new?! Chuck, dude… you’re seriously starting to crack! What the fuck does any of this have to do with David?! And who is, “We”?!”

“I’m only going to tell you this once, son. It’s Lieutenant Roth. Now, I guess there’s no beating around the bush with you young-bloods. So I’ll get right to it. “We” is me, the Governor, and the Town Board. We investigated every possible fix, and it comes down to this. All the youth are moving out in droves, going to college, or fleeing to the city for excitement, leaving us aging folk to do the hard work around town. With the remote able to take years off a person, we’ve decided that all our current retirees, in every department, will be regressed, and the new feature we purchased will ensure you all follow your new, youthful instincts, providing us with a full generational bump in population.

You will be the hot-blooded virile stud you were way back in the day; you remember? Except this time, just as David isn’t attracted to this prime of your life look, YOU won’t be attracted to David, or any man for that matter. You see, we need all the help we can get, so with this little app, you’ll be chasing pretty women, and will certainly end up settling down, once one of them catches. Ah, by the look on your face, you know exactly what I mean.

Good, because you and the rest of the retirees are going to have your hands full, working these jobs getting paid just enough for a double-wide and a truck, leaving a trail of gals before you settle in with one, and have a whole mess of kids. "

“Ch… Lieutenant, sir… Wha… you’re insane dude! Fuckin’ totally cracked! You hear yourself! You can’t do this! I can’t be… I can’t chase… I don’t… don’t like…. Fuck… fuck dude… what the fuck are you doing?! Quit pointin’ that shit at me bro! My.. my head!”

“Don’t worry son, I’ll let you off the hook for all that mouthing off. It’s got to be rough having your brain completely flipped inside out, dumped out and filled with everything you need to be a, productive, member of society. Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Wha.. Oh, hey Lieutenant! So uh, is it ok if I head off to the showers and hit the road? Kind of a slow night huh sir? If it’d be alright, I want to go down to the Strip and hit the bar. The dudes and I figured we’d start the weekend early, ya know? Gotta get get some tail on lock before the storms hit. Thinkin’ I might run into Becka too, you know, from Thornton Stables? God she’d look real pretty, all knocked up good n’ proper!”

“Oh alright son. Go ahead, take the night off. But you’re on call. Got it! One or two beers, maybe a shot, take some cash and buy the lass one of those fruity drinks, and you treat her like a lady, young man. Got it?”

“Got it Dude! I mean Lieutenant! I’ll make a lady outa her yet! Thanks for the money too! Ya know how rough it is on the town’s wages! Although you and the Board seem to be doin’ alright. I hope I can get to where you are, Sir!”

“Don’t worry Billy, you’ve got a good 40 years or so to work your way up! Go have fun tonight!”

[badasmuse]

“Slow Motion”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: not technically 18+ but it should be, language, bada slander, stripper!bada, rich!reader

Summary: you come every week to support your favorite stripper.

Based off Slow Motion by Trey Songz

“back again?” the bouncer says to you as you cut to the front of the line.

“of course. my favorite dancer is here. i don’t make this money for nothing.” you say winking and walking in when he opens the rope.

“enjoy.” he shakes his head.

you’ve been coming to club bebe for three weeks now. you went with your friend for his birthday a month ago and that girl… man that girl was so fine. her long legs and pretty skin. the way she wrapped herself around the pole. you won’t say you’re in love but man.

since then you’d show up every monday and thursday (the owner told you her scheduled days) ready to throw money at her. or slip it in her bra or thong whenever she was close enough. you walked in just in time cause she was making her way to the stage. you pushed through to the front, pulling money from your purse.

“oh great. i hate when she comes out.” some guy says, leaning back in his seat.

“yeah me too,” his friend replies, “like why would she even become a stripper. she’s too tall. i’m surprised she hasn’t tripped over her own legs yet.”

you ignore them, focusing on the way she dances in front of you. you’re shocked at the outfit she’s wearing, it’s see through, she’s never shown this much skin.

you didn’t care, you enjoyed it really.

you watched the sad look on her face as she danced around the pole. it’s like she knew she wasn’t anyone’s favorite. no one likes her. except you of course.

hearing the comments about her made your blood boil cause you knew she could hear them too. so you did what you do best, grabbed more money from your bag and continue to throw it at her.

“you like this garbage show?” a man next to you says. “i wouldn’t waste a penny on her.”

“me and you are not the same.” you reply, grabbing another stack from your purse. you ran out of ones but twenties will do.

she got close and kneeled down next to you and you stuck twenties in the side of her one piece.

she let out a gasp and stood up blushing. quickly finishing her act, she picks up all the money and runs towards the back.

you sigh and go to find the nearest security guard, “i want a private dance with her. i’ll pay whatever she wants just get me one.”

“one moment.” he says walking towards the back.

minutes later the guy comes back ushering you towards a room. “she said give her five minutes. it’s gonna be a thousand.”

you hand him the money and he takes it and puts it in her little mailbox in the back as you walk into the room.

moments later, she shyly enters the room. “um… hi.” she whispers. “sorry i don’t know how this works you’re my first private dance.” she mumbles.

“i’m not too sure how it works either. i’m not a fan of strip clubs but you? i’m a fan of you.” you say as she walks towards you.

she blushes and looks down, “um… is there a specific song you’d like me to dance to?”

“slow motion by trey songz.” you respond so fast she barely finishes speaking.

“oh.. i know that one.” she says giggling. she hooks her phone up playing the song before strutting over to the pole in the center of the room. you sat back watching her dance around the pole. wrapping her legs around it doing stunts. you look in your bag for more money to give her. you wanted to empty your bank account for her.

at the end of the song she blushed at all the money you threw at her. “i hope that was good for my first time.”

“baby it was perfect. and just know.. you’re worth more than a thousand dollars. i’d pay fifty thousand to have a private show from you.” you whisper.

“i’ll be back on monday. save me a dance pretty girl.” you say before walking out, leaving her stunned and alone to pick up her money.

“this woman is gonna pay my bills for months.” she mumbles happily.

Taglist (open! comment to be added!): @waveartistry @sun-nyy @yngtort @jennamc75 @m0r0s1111 @seungxstar @badasbebe @lil-elliesgf @currentfications

a/n: this was for darling waveartistry but they deactivated? :( i wish i got it out before they did but hopefully they come back i’m not too sure why they deactivated i haven’t been here in so long, super sad rn :(((( also there’s gonna be a part 2 to this which will be 18+

[stizzysupremacy]

ahhh I have such a good idea for a secret reverse sugar baby modern AU. it's sprizzy in my head but I think you could substitute other Izzy ships with only minor changes to details.

So basically the premise is that Ed left and took with him half the income that was propping up Izzy's tight budget. now that Izzy has to cover rent and bills in full instead of just half, he is struggling financially. He really can’t afford to live, honestly. But he's a proud man so he tries to hide it. Tries to tough it out and make it work.

But Lucius (or whoever you fancy) notices and tries to help without making it obvious he is helping because Izzy probably won’t accept help, especially from Lucius, off all people.

Lucius, trying to be subtle, starts:

-timing his smoke breaks so he can run into Izzy and annoy Izzy into ‘stealing’ the cigarette right out of Lucius’s mouth. because Izzy won’t ask to bum one, and helping izzy hands avoid nicotine withdrawal is basically a public service. Lucius is a hero for that.

-“ugh, I told them no pickles! Here, eat this stupid sandwich, I don’t want it anymore, I loathe pickles!” (Lucius likes pickles just fine) or getting ‘just sooooo full’ from drinking elaborate iced coffees that he can’t possibly finish more than half of his lunch and he doesn’t want to waste food but he’s going out straight after work and won’t be able to bring it home to put in the fridge for tomorrow and really you may as well eat it, Izzy, or it’s just going to sit in the trash bin stinking up the whole place.

-asking Izzy to walk him to the tube station after work ‘for safety’ but it’s really so Lucius can swipe an extra ride for Izzy on his transit card. sometimes when it’s cold and miserable enough to make Izzy ache Lucius will opt for cab or rideshare instead as soon as they hit the street, insisting it will be cheaper to split the ride. always drops Izzy off first, conveniently forgetting to split the fare

-buying izzy a cozy cashmere scarf and claiming that it was Buy One Get One Free when Lucius was scarf shopping for himself, but he didn’t see any other colors/patterns he liked and this one just screamed Izzy Hands. (And maybe a knit cap that Lucius claims he stole from the lost and found because it coordinates with the scarf so well)

-begging Izzy to come over and ‘fix’ something ‘broken’ at his place, conveniently near dinner time, just so Izzy can spend a few hours somewhere where the heat and lights aren’t turned way down low to save on utilities. Somewhere warm and bright, where the WiFi service hasn’t been turned off because of all the past due bills.

-constantly starting bets that Izzy can win. This backfires when Izzy starts to feel bad about taking Lucius’ money because he thinks Lucius is a typical starving artist type. Not knowing that Lucius makes $$$$ on furry art commissions and just doesn’t tell anyone about it because his friends, much as he loves them, have zero moderation and would cajole Lucius into partying all his savings away.

And all the while he is being sneakily generous, Lucius is trying to figure out how to trick Izzy into letting Lucius buy him a new winter wardrobe, treat him to lunch every day, and buy back the motorcycle Izzy had to pawn to pay off some debts Ed left when he blew town.

[hannahssimblr]

Mom clears her throat. “We’ve been discussing what’s next for you regarding your college expenses.”

And slowly, my blood drains. “Yeah?”

“And we think it’s best that we not contribute to your lifestyle any longer.”

“Um?”

“You’ve shown a total lack of responsibility.” Dad declares. “Not just this summer, but overall. You’re spoiled, ungrateful, and completely unable to manage yourself. We’ve decided that it’s best that you learn how to be an adult the hard way.”

“The hard way?” What does that include? Single parenthood?

“You’ll pay your own fees, your own rent, bills and all other expenses.”

“The idea,” Mom says, “Is that you’ll learn to budget, save and manage your own money, without relying on us to cover your costs all the time. It’s clear we’ve been enabling you for too long.”

“Enabling me?”

“Yes. You’ve become spoiled and ungrateful.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m more than grateful.”

She rolls her eyes. 

I scoff, “I’m grateful! Jesus! I’m grateful for the iPhone! Thank you, okay? I’ve always wanted one. I’m so happy. Now, do you want me to pay you back for that, too?”

“It’s a gift.”

“Ill advised,” Dad adds. “If we had received the gas bill earlier, we wouldn’t have bought it. You can be sure of that.”

“Well, nice. Wonderful. Thank you.”

Mom shakes her head. “Don’t be like that.”

“I said thank you.”

“Don’t take us for fools. You don’t mean it. That’s the thing, and after everything we’ve done for you. We’ve fed you, given you a bed, bought your clothes and your school books-”

“Do you want to be paid back for those, too? Am I in debt for being born? That was your choice, not mine!”

Her face goes dark red. “You think this was a choice for me?” 

“No! But it was your choice to have another, wasn’t it? And it was your choice to move me out of the home where I was happy.”

“You were happy because you were a child! Children don’t know any better.”

“No, I was happy because Maureen cared for me, and would never ask me to pay her back for the… the baby formula, and the diapers and the yarn she used to knit my little tiny fucking sweaters, would she?”

“That woman is not your mother!” She shrieks. “I am your mother.”

“Then act like it!” I scream back, and my voice tears at my throat. “For once in your life, please! Instead of throwing your money at me and buying these expensive gifts, as though the car or the phone is going to parent me instead, and then you get angry with me for being spoiled. Who spoiled me? Huh? Who? I don’t want any of this stuff. I never did.”

The piano lid slams shut, and I hear Ivy’s feet scurry up the stairs. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mom hisses. “There’s not a teenager in the country who wouldn’t want what you have.”

“You’re delusional if you think that.”

“I’m delusional?”

“Did you not hear me? Yeah, you are. And also-”

“Enough!” Dad bellows. “Aside from having no respect for your parents-”

“Respect?” I scoff. “Respect is earned, not-”

“I said aside from that-”

“You can’t just shout me down! You have to let me speak!”

“This is my house!” he roars with a ferocity that could make the windows shake in their frames. “I won’t be spoken to like this under my own roof. Neither I nor your mother, do you hear me?”

I shut my mouth. 

“You will go to Berlin, as you insisted, and you will earn your own money and pay your own bills, like everybody else has to do. This is nonnegotiable. Do you understand me?”

I swallow hard. “But how am I supposed to do that?”

“We’ve done you enough favours until now. You’ll get by on the earnings from the Volkswagen for a while, and after that, well, you can just figure it out.”

“You expect me to get a job in a country where they don’t speak my first language, with no history of work?”

Mom purses her lips. “It’s your fault you don’t have experience, not ours,” which is such an egregiously untrue statement to make that I would laugh if I didn’t know better. I don’t push the subject, or dare mention Ivy while she’s in the same house. Perhaps, if I was feeling braver, or stupider, I don’t know, I would mention that my only work experience is that of an au pair, a nanny, a childminder, but seeing as my father is still bursting with rage as steam rises rather theatrically from the integrated dishwasher next to him, it seems best to keep my mouth buttoned. 

“You know, this is what estranges people from their parents.” I say. Their expressions do not change.

“You’ll get over it.” Mom says simply, and after fixing her hair, she checks her little gold watch. “I have to get back to work, so I’m going to go.”

There’s more I could say. I could sneer as I asked her if Fergal was going to be there, if it’s really me that’s the problem in this household, or something else, something weird and rotten at the core of it, but I don’t. From a dining chair, she snatches her handbag, and marches into the hall, the click clack of her heeled shoes echoing all the way to the door. 

“Enjoy your phone,” she says before slamming it shut behind her.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[thezombieprostitute]

Bittersweet

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar:

🍧Cookie Dough: bakery au – cookie dough proves that a bit of baking can make anything better. Your characters now live in a bakery au, whether they work there, or come as customers, they can’t resist the sweet aura.

🍧Birthday Cake: secret admirer – it doesn’t have to be your birthday to have this flavour. And your secret admirer leaves you gifts every day, but just won’t give you the one thing you desperately want: their identity.

🥄Graham Crackers: flashback – a brief trip into the past reveals something important.

Warnings: Coercion, Stalking. Please let me know if I missed any!

There was a time when you really enjoyed going to work. Your bakery wasn't massively successful but it did well enough. The regulars kept you in business and you were able to attract the occasional crowd with seasonal recipes. You loved baking and you loved that you could try new things along with the tried and true. Even with the protection money you had to pay out, you were still able to turn a small profit.

As much as you hated it, you had to admit they did keep things relatively safe. The grocer across the street had gotten robbed and not only had the person been caught, the store owner received all of their money back with a bonus for the employee who'd been working the register. Store owners who get the runaround from their insurance companies just have to tell the right people to get the fixes and payouts they need. So while you hated having additional expenses, at least you knew it wasn't going to waste.

But then you started getting gifts delivered to you at the bakery. Practically every day, for the past few months, you've been getting gifts of all sorts. It was cute and fun at first. A charm bracelet with a bunch of baking based charms, a small bouquet of flowers. But the,n the gifts started getting more and more personal. A book that had been on your wishlist forever but you never told anyone about, a dress in your favorite colors that fit you perfectly. You started dreading stepping into the bakery.

The small box is on your desk and you take a breath to steady your nerves before opening it. Given the packaging it could be a book. Given the way the gifts have been going, it's likely a book of photos of you. You slowly unwrap the gift and you're proven partially correct. It's a framed drawing of you, asleep in your room. It's definitely your room. All the details are painfully correct. Someone was in your home watching you sleep.

As much as you want to drop everything and cry, there is work to be done. You've got bills and employees to pay. On top of that, it's time for the quarterly protection payment. Maybe you can ask the “agent” you regularly meet up with to keep an eye out for the secret admirer. You fill up the manila envelope with the payments and head to the kitchen to get things started.

The routine is comforting. Cookies, small cakes, pastries, you could probably make these in your sleep. It does help when your employees start trickling in and taking over some of the tasks. The shop is running like a well-oiled machine and you're able to forget about the unsettling drawing in your office.

A little before time to open, there's a knock at the front. You recognize the woman, Nat, as the one who collects the payments. You quickly run up and let her in. She seems especially chatty this morning.

“Hey, did you stop wearing that charm bracelet?”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply sadly. “It's actually something I was hoping to talk to you about.” As you step into the office you hand her the envelope with the payment before pointing to the picture. “My secret admirer has gotten more and more creepy, like a stalker. It's really scaring me.”

She looks at the drawing, “they're certainly talented.”

“Oh yes,” you agree quickly, “but that's not the point. That's my room. No one has been in my room for...long enough. There've been other gifts that feel way too personal for a stranger to know. Hell, even friends of mine wouldn't know!”

Tears start forming in your eyes and Nat quickly starts trying to soothe you. “We'll look into this,” she promises. “I'll have answers for you by the end of the week.”

You nod and thank her before she leaves and you get back to work, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of the day.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You pause on your way to your car and turn towards the source of the voice. You recognize the man, Sam, as another “agent” like Nat. “Can I help you?”

“I've been asked to bring you to The Shield for dinner. We have some answers about your secret admirer.”

“Oh, what, um, what time?”

“Now,” he replies as he motions to his car.

“But I'm not dressed for The Shield. I'm covered in flour from work. I smell--”

“Now,” Sam repeats. His tone leaves no room for argument. Your hands shake as you put your keys in your purse and sit in the passenger seat of Sam's vehicle.

The Shield is a very high-end restaurant that's known to be a favorite of Barnes, the man in charge of the Protection for your neighborhood. You're not sure why he would need to see you in person. Did you overstep when you asked Nat for help? Do they need to start charging you more because of it? Can you afford the increase?

“You'll be okay,” Sam assures. “He just wants to talk to you over dinner.”

“I don't think I can afford the meal.”

He chuckles, “it's on us. He's making you come to dinner with him, the least he can do is pay for your meal.”

You nod your understanding. At least that's something you don't have to worry about.

At the restaurant, Sam leads you past the hostess and straight to, what you can only assume to be, a VIP area. Tables are set inside of nooks, some cordoned off by curtains to promote privacy.

One of the tables is occupied by two very different looking men. One of them is big and tall with long, brown hair and stubble. The other is smaller, with blond hair and looks...familiar. He looks up and smiles as he sees you and you're hit with a memory from over a decade ago.

You were working late shift at Waffle House. Not great, but it paid the bills your scholarship didn't cover. Culinary School was your ticket out of this town and you were going to give it everything you had. And, because of class schedules, the late night shift was your only real option.

On a slow night it was just you and another server managing the floor. Curtis, the cook, was out back for his smoke break. Your one patron came up to pay his bill. He was scrawny, blonde haired, blue eyed, and very polite. Unlike other late night patrons, he wasn't drunk and didn't try flirting with you. He spent most of his meal drawing in his notebook and you noted he was very skilled. He smiled shyly and thanked you.

He went to the till to pay but went pale when his card was declined. “I...I knew I was cutting it close but...I'm so sorry! Let me try to find some cash or something!” He starts frantically pulling out his pockets.

“It's okay, I've got you,” you assure him. “It was just eggs and toast.”

“I don't want your pity,” he mumbles. “I swear I can pay.”

“It's not pity, it's kindness,” you retort. “You were a very nice customer, very respectful. Not used to that this time of night. You even let me look at your artwork. So let me thank you for being nice by being nice in return.”

His cheeks are pink with embarrassment but he steadies himself, “I...I promise I'll pay you back.”

“I'm not worried about it.”

And now that same scrawny, blonde haired, blue eyed man was gesturing for you to sit next to him at the most high-priced restaurant in the city.

“I know it's been a while,” he states calmly. “So I'll understand if you don't recognize me.”

“Eggs and toast,” you whisper, making him smile.

“I still owe you for that meal. And with interest and economic inflation, I think you could order whatever you want from this place and I'll still owe you.” His companion, the big, brown haired man chuckles. “Please, have a seat. We've got some catching up to do.”

You sit down, still feeling in a bit of shock. “What...what are you doing here?”

“Me and Bucky,” he gestures to the brunette, “run this town. We're the ones you've been paying the protection money to.”

“You're Mr. Barnes?”

“That would be me, Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I have the more intimidating presence people expect, complete with the skills to back that up. Steve here is the brains. The devious bastard figured out how to completely run out the other rackets, making us the only game in town.”

A sudden thought hits you. You look at Steve, “those gifts I've been receiving?”

“Those were me, Angel,” he smiles. “I figured you'd appreciate a glimpse at the nice things I can give you.”

“You...you broke into my apartment...”

“I own the building so it wasn't a break in,” he calmly tells you. “I have my own key.”

You freeze up. How many times has this stranger been in your apartment? How many times did he watch you sleep? And how much power does he have that he can openly admit these things to you without fear of repercussion?

“I warned him that the drawing was a step too far,” Bucky interrupted your thoughts. “But he insisted you'd be flattered.”

“Then we got Nat's report from you,” Steve frowned. “I really didn't think it would scare you.”

“You didn't think it would scare me to have someone draw me in my sleep? Without my knowing?!” You get out of your chair and try to back away. “You've been stalking me. Invading my privacy! I never consented to any of this!”

You try to turn and walk away but you're stopped by Sam. “I promise you,” he warns, “if you leave you will regret it.”

Confused you turn back to Steve and Bucky who are out of their own seats and stalking towards you, looking angry.

“I want to be nice,” Steve tells you. “But I'm sure you can guess, I don't have to be. Neither do my friends. Now please,” he holds out a hand to you. “Please come sit, and have dinner with me.”

You want to run. You want to scream. But this man owns your business. He owns your home. If you try to get away, where could you go? You've invested everything into your bakery and have no savings. You have nowhere else you can live. He owns everything you hold dear.

You take his hand, “I'm...I'm sorry, Steve. It's a lot to take in.”

He smiles while Bucky and Sam relax. “It's okay, Angel,” he covers your hand with his. “We've got all the time to figure this out.”

Partially inspired by @theinheriteddutchess; Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @fluxxdog; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly