HELD BY YOU, FELLED BY YOU TODOROKI SHOUTO

HELD BY YOU, FELLED BY YOU ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship, physical affection, touch starved shouto, loneliness, hugs + hand holding, fluff, only a little angst, obliviousness, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 1.4K

series masterlist: 1/?

It is 4:03pm on a Thursday afternoon. The skies are grey, and the rain is so light it’s practically a wet fog. You have not touched Shouto in any meaningful way since Monday.

Before this week Shouto was certain that he must have been absorbed into a long-standing state of neutrality and apathy as a child. He didn’t long for anything, atleast, not in the way his friends claimed to. Whiny professions of loneliness, lamenting over romantic relationships and sex or lack thereof, dreamily recounting their passionate escapades. It didn’t appeal much to him.

Shouto had what he needed to survive—to live his day to day and climb the ranks without disruption, and it seemed that affection was not one of those things. The Todoroki household had never been particularly affectionate anyway. After his mother was admitted to the psychiatric hospital touch became less associated with comfort and happiness, and more of a thing to avoid altogether.

Shouto never actually voiced an aversion to touch. He held hands with crying children as he walked them back to their parents. He rubbed the backs of countless scared victims, he let them wrap around his arm and squeeze until his fingers grew numb. He offered his left side to elderly folk in the colder weather as they waited to be loaded into an ambulance.

But these small instances were always initiated by him, and his well-meaning friends decided to leave the ball in his court sometime during highschool. It never really left.

Until—

“Can I hug you?” you blurted. Your expression quickly twisted into a sheepish grimace. “You look like you could do with one, is all”.

At that moment Shouto had been sitting in the infirmary half covered in soot and picking out the bits of rubble that managed to get inside his suit’s ventilator. He stared up at you and wondered what that would even look like on himself, lifting a hand to feel his face and finding it relatively normal.

The sound of his heart flooded his ears and he frowned at the reaction. You weren’t a new friend by any means, but Shouto scarcely made new friends so you are newer than the others. You’ve never tried to be physically affectionate but he’s caught you gazing at him fondly sometimes, when you think he’s none the wiser, and he likes it.

Shouto nodded. Why, he doesn’t know. To quell your anxiety and get rid of the awkward atmosphere, he reasoned. Then your lips pulled into a soft, pleased smile, and he felt it like the sun on his face.

You stepped forward as though approaching some skittish animal. Shouto made no move to stand. He had only watched with trepidation as your hands lifted. A breath caught in his throat as they extended to rest on his sloped shoulders. “I’ll get you dirty,” he murmured dumbly in afterthought.

“That’s okay,” you replied, barely above a whisper. Your arms slipped around his back gently, and soon tightened to a secure hold when no objection came—there could be none, because the instant Shouto’s cheek pressed against your soft stomach, a rush of adrenaline speared through him and swept away all conscious thought.

To Shouto touch was like skipping a rock through the cavity in his chest; doing it only ever made its presence more obvious. But you cradled him there for what seemed like hours and he felt warm in ways he couldn’t articulate. Your fingers danced aimless patterns along the top of his spine, sometimes pausing to curl the wispy hair at his nape around them, and he sank.

True to his word, Shouto had dirtied your clothes. He apologised when you pulled away because it was all he could do not to whimper. You didn’t spare your shirt a glance—you just smiled at him again, and said you hoped it helped.

Helped? Helped?

The weight of your embrace had lingered for hours, cloven to the forefront of his mind, clinging to the memory before it became too obscure. Only now the memory hurt him to think about, and the pervasive ache for more intensified as the days passed.

Just this morning he’d wrapped his bedsheets tight and drew them around his shoulders to simulate that same feeling. Closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, picturing you there. Your sweet, purposeful touches. Your comforting scent. Your chest rising and falling. Your voice rumbling against his cheek. Heat filled his body, like you’d reached inside and turned the spigot of his heart.

It was mortifying. And exhilarating.

Shouto stuck his hand out from the shelter of the awning and let the rain lick at his fingers. Overturning his wrist, catching them on the shallow of his palm, he contemplates how he can get you to touch him again.

Last time you said he simply looked like he needed it. Too frustrating and vague, not to mention Shouto has been needing it all week. You could have meant his grimy post-battle appearance, but he didn’t really think this should warrant being thrown from another high rise building. Maybe he has to earn it this time.

You’re standing beside him, too preoccupied by the emails on your phone to notice his dilemma. Things have been fine. No awkwardness on your part, which he should probably be pleased about, but his mind keeps veering beyond rational conjecture. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. It all felt too one sided.

Shouto gives you a sidelong glance. You might be the only person he knows that can look alluring in the dreary afternoon light. With a sigh he lets his hand drop to his hip and wipes it on his dry suit.

Your thumbs move fast across the screen. “Sorry, Shouto. I promise I’m not ignoring you—just need to reply to this intern,” you tell him. “God, have I ever mentioned how much I hate the email software your agency uses? Because I do”.

He hums, “You have”.

Whatever you hear in his voice has you looking up. There’s a crease etched in your brow, expression open and apologetic. Your gaze flickers to the hand held to his front, where he’s working out the static in his knuckles.

“Are you cold?” you ask, pocketing your phone. It’s a silly question. He is a walking furnace. But Shouto is statuesque as you reach to cup his distinctly bigger hand with your own. Heat prickles under his skin. The staccato of his heart kicks up. You lean down to exhale a warm breath over his fingers, and stroke your thumb along the dips and peaks of his knuckles.

Shouto sends a mental apology to Kaminari for the halfhearted response he gave after a long, lovestruck monologue about his girlfriend’s hands. He thinks he gets it, now.

Your lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Better?” you scan his face and the smile falters. “Shit. Sorry, Shouto. I should’ve asked,” then you’re retreating again and—

He reflexively grabs your wrist. It’s a loose grip, enough for you to free yourself from. You pause. “No,” a puff of steam billows out from his mouth and he has enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it. “…It’s fine. You don’t have to stop”.

Your concern dwindles into amusement as he wafts it away. “Alright,” you say placatingly. The tension alleviates, and when your fingers slip against his you immediately twine them together, taking the ache in his chest with it. “Is this ‘fine’ too?”

Shouto nods, not yet trusting his voice or his quirk.

“I wasn’t sure if I crossed any lines on Monday,” your eyes dipped to stare at the pavement as you continued. “I know you aren’t touchy feely like the others. They were… surprised when I mentioned the hug”.

“I didn’t think I was,” he swallows, flexing his fingers to squeeze your hand. “I liked it”.

You squeeze back, “You did?”

Shouto squeezes harder, and can’t stop the smile coming unbidden to his lips. “I did,” he says.

You meet his gaze. He’s pinned by that fond look you always try to hide from him. “Do you want another one, then?”

“But I didn’t do anything”.

A litany of emotion passes over your face at his response. There’s determination in the purse of your lips as you step into his space, entangled hands caught between your bodies. Wrapping an arm around his waist, you tuck your nose into the hollow where his jaw met his neck.

There’s a clumsiness to his movements as he follows your lead and slips his arm around your back. Head suddenly too heavy for his neck, he rests his cheek on your crown, melting into the embrace.

“You don’t need to earn my affection, Shouto. Not now and not ever”.

“Oh,” Shouto breathes. “I can just ask?”

“You can,” you laugh softly.

Why hadn’t he thought to just—ask. That is far more reasonable than being flung from another burning high rise.

“What?”

Ah. He pulls you further into his chest until you’re pressed together like the pages of a book. “Nothing”.

sick day safe distance.

summary: you caught a cold and really doesn’t want him to also get sick. it’s that simple, actually.

notes: was tempted to add more, but yeah one day, maybe. this is me trying to pump myself up and trying to grasp sae more for an upcoming fic. also warm up for a bit. still i hope it will be an enjoyable read, as simple and unserious it is haha. warning: none, just mentions of colds symptoms here and there. fluff, clingy slash affectionate bfs, reader's gender unspecified.

character: nagi, sae, isagi.

nagi seishiro

this guy somehow turns even more similar to his favorite chat sticker. just a bit more fluffy, and bigger, and with grubby hands. put simply, nagi is pretty troublesome because he insists on still being close to you. he really doesn’t see a point in keeping his distance since he still lives under the same roof as you—which doesn’t mean you could go somewhere else though. he is not above actually hanging on your hip. don’t test him.

in a way, you will be lucky if he must go out for practice. but if he is not, then good luck. if before you sleep, he was sitting a few meters away from you, the moment you took a nap nagi would be laying his head somewhere near or on you while playing his game. pray for your debate skill, because you really need to convince him that ‘getting sick is even more troublesome than not cuddling with you for a while. yes even when that’s what he really wants.’ also a little tip, be strong and don’t look at his baby face too much. that’s a losing fight with a natural puppy face. and if you want to take a bet, use his hoodie as your sick attire. it will either satiate whatever it is in him or worsen it.

he is a bit childish and adamant when he is clingy. even when he is not in the clingiest mood, that wouldn’t necessarily mean his concern for you would be gone immediately. every hour or so, you will definitely see a nagi peeking at you, asking if you want anything because ‘if you got worse it would be even more troublesome’. and honestly just let him do anything he wants to take care of you—this guy will be okay in the kitchen and in anything even if it’s his first time. that’s the resident giant sloth doing something for you out of his own willingness. plus if worst comes to worst, hey, maybe adrenaline could be an instant cure.

itoshi sae

sae makes a face that indicates he is a little upset, hums, and then actually says he will stay somewhere else for a while. he reacts so gracefully and normally it’s kind of cold. but then again, this is sae and his personality. just because he seems unaffected and puts you somewhere pretty low on his priority list, it doesn’t mean that is how it truly is. and if you are trained to translate sae-speak through experiences and are already used to him, it’s kind of obvious, from his actions especially.

it’s obvious in the way he you messages and voice notes. and in the way he insults you when you try to do something dumb or eat something that you shouldn’t. in the way he sends you food and reminds you to drink every hour he can—and if he has to practice, he will find someone to do that task through sheer deadpan alone. also in the way he keeps the call on until you sleep every night—saying that this is to make sure you won’t infect his part of bed, which is a lie. if you show him that you miss him by cuddling his side of bed this guy will short-circuit, in a very positive way.

also, since this is sae with his terrible case of ‘showing he actually cares’, most of the proof of him being genuinely upset from being away from you will come from others. in the form of complaints. all telling you to get better soon because he got extra grumpy and blunt in his wording as if he is on a vengeance quest. and even if his play got better somehow, help his teammates because they really are not here to deal with a boyfriend who has love deficiency or some bullshit. of course, you hardly believe them because in every video call, sae acts like it's nothing. still, go do loving gestures in your temporary long-distance relationship. some people will actually owe you for that. also don’t forget to at least give him an update if he somehow couldn’t contact you. just in case.

isagi yoichi

isagi takes it with a grimace and an understanding sigh that truthfully still sounds very exasperated, but accepting nonetheless. he will still whine a little though, in a very joking and light manner. this guy’s schedule is packed and he rarely has any time with you, so of course if any chance he should have gotten sabotaged by some random flu, it’s entirely within his right to get at least a little upset. so understandably, his priority as an egoist who really wants some loving would be to get you healthy again as soon as possible. also, maybe, that part of him that takes care of people so naturally kind of screeches when you cough roughly.

the sweetest part is probably how he will still find a way to take care of you no matter what his schedule is. what isagi wants, isagi will get somehow after all. it’s his break day? you are not leaving his sight and he will watch the old matches from your side—also he is wearing a face mask so don’t bother to shoo him away. if he has training? maybe you have to walk around a little bit by yourself still, but somehow everything from food to medicines is ready. his friends ask him to hang out? this one is a straight-out pass, his baby is sick.

this is the guy who will try to cook porridge for you while calling his mom in the process and sends a longing gaze when you keep a distance between the two of you. he won’t protest and will actually do his best. remember to walk around the neighborhood with him the moment you get better. also give him as many handholds, hugs, kisses, and praises as possible. actually, go do a headstart on the praise if possible. even if he scolds you to rest instead of giving him sugary words, the soft dotting look on his face can’t lie. just make sure to not suggest sleeping in the hotel or have him stay at someone’s though—trust this guy and his self-centeredness. when he really wants to stay with you and stay healthy for his career, he will. don’t doubt him or make enemies of the protagonist.

9 Days of Solomon: Day 5 - Pact

I wrote the beginning of this a long time ago and then got distracted. I kept meaning to go back to it and this prompt gave me the perfect reason to. I am obsessed with this man's pact marks and that's really all you need to know lol.

Solomon x GN!MC (this is an established relationship scenario)

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: Solomon's wrists are restrained, oral (Solomon receiving), lil bit of biting, I think that's it I dunno you could say he's a bit subby here too I think lol

You had just come home from the House of Lamentation, ready to finally relax for a bit. You looked around for Solomon, but didn't see him right away. You went to his room and found the door was slightly open. You peeked your head in, but still saw no sign of him. You opened the door wider and went inside.

And that was when Solomon came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

You gasped. You didn't mean to and your hands flew to cover your mouth immediately, but it was too late.

Solomon turned to you and all you could look at were the pact marks that covered his bare chest and arms.

You had seen them before, of course. But you didn't often see them so clearly. Solomon always wore clothes that covered almost every inch of his skin. And when you had been in moments of passion that required clothing removal, you hadn't really been paying too close attention, too busy fumbling in the dark.

Solomon watched you carefully. "Hey, MC. I didn't know you were home already."

You forced your eyes up to his face. "I… just got back," you said awkwardly.

Solomon ran a hand through his still damp hair. "If you give me a minute to get dressed, I'll make us dinner."

Several emotions ran through you at this statement, but the main sentiment was don't you dare. You didn't want him in the kitchen or making dinner, but you also didn't want him to get dressed.

At that moment, the light of his room was bright, illuminating the contrast between his black pact marks and pale skin. The way they covered him so thoroughly was something you hadn't quite realized before now. The last thing you wanted was for him to cover them up again.

"Absolutely not," you said.

Solomon looked surprised. "Oh?"

You took several steps toward him and rested your fingertips on one of the pact marks on his chest, leaning in close. "You don't even realize, do you?"

Solomon shivered beneath your touch. "MC…"

You noted the blush that had crossed his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You put your other hand on one of the marks on his arm. "You're stunning."

Solomon laughed. "Me?" He sounded incredulous.

You pressed your lips to one of the marks on his chest. You heard him suck in a breath. You pushed on him gently until he was pressed up against the wall as your lips and tongue moved to another pact mark. You nipped at this one and received another gasp from him in response.

"M-MC…" his voice was already almost a whimper.

As you kept your lips on the pact mark, you let your fingers slide down and run just beneath the edge of the towel that was still tucked around his waist.

To your annoyance, he caught the wrist of your wandering hand. "Ah, now that's not fair, is it?"

You leaned back a little to smirk at him. "Don't make me tie you up," you said jokingly.

Solomon's eyes widened and his face flushed, the heat clearly creeping down his neck. He frowned a little at his own reaction.

You laughed. "I see how it is."

You didn't give him a chance to protest, instead reciting the words to a spell you happened to have learned recently.

Solomon let go of you as his own wrists were pulled together, bound by a thread of magic. His flush deepened. "Did Asmodeus teach you this?"

Your fingers went back to the towel. A glance downward revealed how hard his cock was already. You pulled on the fabric, letting it fall to his feet.

Your fingers brushed against him, trailing along his erection, across his hips, over the pact marks there.

"I think I'd like to explore every single one of these," you said, your hand splayed across a pact mark on his stomach, just behind where his bound wrists rested.

For once, Solomon didn't protest or make any kind of sound at all. Instead he simply watched you, his eyes hooded, as though he was no longer thinking clearly. As though he was dizzy from wanting you so badly.

You pulled him over to the bed and made him kneel on it. He did as you asked obediently and you noted how he was like putty in your hands.

Slowly and carefully, you set about putting your lips (and tongue and teeth) on all seventy-two of Solomon's pact marks.

You couldn't help but chuckle when you got to Asmo's. "You were right. He did teach me that wrist binding spell," you said just before sucking on the center of it, leaving a dark red mark there.

Solomon sighed and managed to actually look concerned, even with the heat all over his face and his cock still straining. "I'll have to talk to him about teaching questionable spells to my adorable apprentice."

You moved on to the next mark, nipping at it momentarily before saying, "Talk to him about how grateful you are, right?"

You deliberately stroked his cock with your hand, making his whole body twitch.

"Ah, MC!" Solomon bit his lip.

You shook your head, but just moved on again to the next mark.

By the time you were finished, you had an overwhelmed sorcerer begging you for release.

You cupped his cheek, which was hot and slick with sweat, pressing your lips to his. "You've been so good for me."

Solomon moaned against you, squirming just a little. You kissed down his throat, his chest, his stomach, lingering on the marks as you went, maneuvering around his still bound wrists.

When you finally took his cock in your mouth, Solomon moaned out your name. You began soft and gentle, teasing the tip with your tongue. The needy sounds Solomon made were so desperate, you decided to have mercy on him. He had waited long enough. You sucked and it wasn't long until his cum was sliding down your throat.

As Solomon gasped in air from the long awaited orgasm, you stood up, wiping your mouth a little, and snapping your fingers to remove the magical thread around his wrists.

You started to move away, but as soon as his hands were free, Solomon was pulling you toward where he still knelt on the bed.

"Oh no," he said, already tugging off your shirt. "It's your turn, MC."

"What?" you demanded.

"You have pact marks, too," he said.

"Only seven!" you protested.

Solomon's arms were around you, keeping you against the bed. He rested his chin on your now bare stomach and looked up into your eyes. "Then I'll just have to add the other sixty-five marks myself, won't I?"

You were amazed at how quickly the tables had turned. Now you were the one blushing deeply. You could tell it was going to be a long night and yet you found you didn't mind at all.

day 1: stars | day 2: nostalgia | day 3: knife | day 4: ocean

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

obey me x pokemon au: the great mammon wants to fight!

summary: when you decide to become a pokemon trainer, a familiar face from your childhood decides he's going to help you by not helping you. or that's what he tells himself, anyway.

featuring: mammon x gn!reader

content: sfw (suggestive towards the end). follows the vibes of generation one except they're adults and, y'know, not children. "rivals" to lovers trope and so many clichés. tbh this is mostly mammon challenging reader to pokemon battles instead of talking about his feelings. wc: 1.6k+

Mammon is there when you choose your first Pokemon and he boldly declares that he's going to be your rival. Apparently, it's going to toughen you up and you should be grateful. When you admit you've never battled before, he embellishes his own track record hoping to impress you. (It doesn't.)

"Your first challenger is the Great Mammon! You better be ready to cough up that prize money!" He summons a low-level Pokemon similar to yours, but your Pokemon has a type advantage over his and it's almost a landslide victory in your favour.

He scoffs when you seem surprised by how easy that was. "You’re lucky I wasn't trying that hard. The next time we meet, I won't hold back!"

He just happens to set out for his own adventure the same time you do. At one of the junctions just outside of town, there's a very clear fork in the road: left or right. You think he's going to follow you, but when you turn right, he pointedly goes left. You wish him luck but he doesn't look back, and your mood deflates a little. It would've been nice to have company for a journey like this, but you carry on and accept it might be a long time before you see him again.

As it turns out, you cross paths with Mammon much sooner than you think.

For someone who claims to be your rival, it's weird how often you run into him. It's too convenient that Mammon shows up exactly when you need help the most. He teams up with you whenever a pair of trainers tries to gang up on you, or when you wander into an area with Pokemon far stronger than your own. Your Pokemon learn to fight in sync with his because they spend so much time together.

No matter how many times you ask, Mammon refuses your offers to officially join you. Sometimes he shows up out of the blue to challenge you to a battle. Other times he shoves a bag of supplies - usually spare Pokeballs and potions - into your arms and takes off again.

For most of your journey, Mammon's not far behind you. There are a few times he beats you to your destination. It’s a rare treat when you arrive at the next gym in time to watch him battle against its leader. He gets flustered when he realizes you're watching from the sidelines, but his Pokemon preen under your rapt attention. His team's gotten a lot stronger too.

If you're last to challenge the town's gym leader, Mammon waits for you outside and drags you into another battle. You're not sure what he's trying to prove, but you reluctantly accept his challenge and defeat him once again.

He doesn't usually have much prize money to give you when he loses. You refuse to take the small amount of gold he has in his pockets. He's your friend and you don't even want his money, but that just seems to irritate him even more. He denies loudly and vehemently that you're nothing more than his rival.

You think losing would hurt less than the sting of his rejection.

Contrary to what he says, your not-a-friend keeps traveling the same path you do. It would be cute if he wasn't being so stubborn.

Your dream of becoming a Pokemon Champion draws closer with each gym leader you defeat. You fasten the shiny new badge from the eighth and final gym leader to your jacket, but your excitement is short-lived. There's a familiar figure waiting for you on the outskirts of town, and he's wearing all eight badges too.

"Mammon, do we have to keep doing this? We've come so far. I really don't want to fight you anymore."

But he just smirks and plucks a Pokeball off his belt. "How are you gonna beat the Elite Four if you can't beat me?"

It's a close battle - the closest one yet - but you add another victory to your winning streak against him.

After the dust settles (literally), Mammon storms away. You heal your Pokemon with some potions first and you heal his too. None of the Pokemon pick up on the tension between you and Mammon. In fact, they all play together like they weren't just locked in a feverish duel a few minutes before.

You look over your shoulder and spot Mammon under the shade of a nearby tree. The scowl on his face is unwelcoming and you decide to give him his space. You assume he's stewing in the disappointment of another defeat. You could say "I told you so," but that would probably make things worse. (And you don't want to make things worse.)

Besides, even if you asked him, Mammon wouldn't be able to tell you what's wrong. He watches his Pokemon flock to you for attention and you feed them berries from your satchel. Was it the fact that you beat him every time he challenged you to a battle? He's always been a sore loser. Or was it the realization that he wasted so much time being your rival when he could've just been your friend instead?

"I wonder if you ever needed me at all," Mammon mutters to himself. His voice is too quiet for you to hear.

Eventually he returns but his mood is indiscernible and you don't know what to say. By the time you're both packed and ready to leave, the bitter expression on Mammon's face is gone. He runs his hand through his hair, glancing at you from the corner of his eye while his cheeks darken slightly.

When he's not too busy being your rival, you think that he can be very charming.

"How do ya feel about goin' up Victory Road together?" He holds his hand out to you stiffly. "Y'know, safety in numbers and all." His expression softens when you immediately place your hand in his. He laces his fingers with yours and you both pretend neither of you are smiling.

You make it through Victory Road, but the playful banter between you fades into grim anticipation when you finally reach the steps of Indigo Plateau. You both sign up to challenge the Elite Four at the reception desk before you lose your nerve and run back out the door.

There must not be any other challengers because Mammon's name is called almost immediately. He looks as panicked as you feel; there's so much left unsaid but not enough time to say anything at all. When he passes through the door without a word and it slams shut behind him, you feel like you're going to cry. Regret sits heavy in the pit of your stomach but all you can do is wait.

It feels like an eternity before they finally call your name, and Mammon still hasn’t returned.

You try to push thoughts of him away so you can concentrate on battling your opponents and their formidable Pokemon. Adrenaline surges through you and your hands tremble each time you summon a new Pokemon to your side. One by one, you come out of each battle victorious. It feels like luck rather than strength or skill that's gotten you this far because your potion supply is dwindling. Doubt clouds your mind each time one of your Pokemon is knocked out but the third member of the Elite Four finally bows to you.

The battle with Lance, the final member of the Elite Four, is absolute chaos. Your Pokemon suffer the merciless onslaught of his powerful dragon-types, the likes of which you've never seen before. Somehow your team barely manages to secure your victory, but it's still too early to celebrate.

There's one more challenger waiting for you.

When Lance accepts his defeat and moves aside, you step into the next arena to face off with the region's newest Champion.

“Yo! I was wondering how long you were gonna keep me waitin’!”

You gape at Mammon who waves to you from the Champion's podium. He looks so happy to see you that you break the stunned silence with a sigh of relief that bubbles into giddy laughter.

He tosses his first Pokeball into the air and catches it again, over and over, while his confident smirk warms into something more teasing. "C'mon babe, it's just you 'n me at the top of the world. Show the Great Mammon what you've really got!"

Both your teams fight like they've never fought before. It's a knock-down-drag-out battle that shifts back and forth between your favour and his.

When your last Pokemon is the only one remaining and the battle is won, Mammon jogs across the arena to you. He hands you a bag filled with more prize money than you know what to do with. "I owe ya from all those times before, don't I? You deserve it. Besides, I got most of it from those losers back there."

He nearly loses his balance when you throw your arms around him and give him a hug. It only takes a moment for him to wrap his arms around your waist and melt against you.

"So, Champion," he murmurs, brushing his lips against your cheek with a smile, "how about we find somewhere to grab dinner and celebrate?" 

The next morning, Mammon looks far too devilish with his messy white bedhead hair and starchy hotel sheets draped loosely across his hips. You're not sure you'll ever want to get out of bed when he looks like that, but when your tummy rumbles with hunger, you bashfully suggest getting up.

Mammon waggles his eyebrows and slides an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. His very thoughtful suggestion is staying put and eating a breakfast of champions instead.

(He holds up his hands in mock surrender after you hit him in the face with a pillow, and he agrees to go out after all - once you give him one last kiss, of course.)

read more: obey me x pokemon au masterlist | obey me masterlist

KNEW BETTER — e42!miles x fem!reader

SUMMARY. the alluring pull of a stranger entices you to make a risky decision all too familiar to your last WORD COUNT. 3,754 CONTENTS. miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes, language, brief mention of a kiss, my attempt at an adequate plot and characterizations that actually have substance SONG INSPO. “knew better/forever boy” by ariana grande AUTHOR’S NOTE. i currently have no plans to take this further but inspiration struck and i had to write it lolll

How did you end up here?

Sticking out like a sore thumb on the roof top of a family party that definitely wasn’t yours, though they’d started to feel like it in the last few months. It’s not like your family would be mature enough to come together, put their pride aside for five minutes, and get along the way these people were. And after your parents’ separation became official earlier this year, negotiation was way out of the question. This distraction from the chaos you left back home was more than welcomed.

Your friend’s hand was starting to pale from how hard you were clutching onto it, yet you didn’t notice. The music was loud and a little upbeat for your taste, but you slightly bobbed your head to it anyway, a mindless thing you found yourself doing regardless of whether you could understand the lyrics to the song or not. There's no way you’d be caught dead at a party looking as if you didn’t have at least an ounce of rhythm.

Noticing your nerves, as well as the growing ache of her fingers, your friend Camila turned her head to the side, her silky, chestnut brown tresses flowing over her shoulder when she shouted over the bass of the speakers.

“Don’t be nervous! They’re all real nice, I promise!”

"Camila—" barely hearing what she said, you stopped for a second to give a sweet smile to an older lady who passed you, then softly tugged her arm to get her attention. “Can’t we just, stay in that cute little corner over there with the—“ you paused. “What are those— enchiladas?”

“Empanadas.” She corrected with a lighthearted eyeroll, her Queen’s accent heavy on her tongue. “And no way! I want you to meet everyone.”

"Everyone—wait what?” Your eyes bulged. You probably resembled a looney-tunes character at the moment. “I thought I’d officially met everyone last month at the uhh— the fuckin—“ You made a wafting motion with your hands, as if it’d prompt your brain to get your thoughts out as quickly as the two of you were walking. “The Heritage Month BBQ, thingy?”

This was the first time the doe-eyed girl had stopped to look at you throughout your walk through the venue—like, actually look at you—and of course it was only to laugh at your ridiculous observation. She nearly doubled over.

“Ha!- Yeah, nah. That was a funny joke though.” she giggled. “That was family family. This is family and family friends. So basically, more family. You know that!”

Oh yeah. Makes complete sense. Family didn’t even sound like a word anymore at this point, you thought to yourself as she pulled the both of you to a stop at the drink table.

You and Camila had been friends ever since the second grade. The girl had the prettiest hazel eyes and the longest, shiniest hair you'd ever seen. Since time she’s liked to refer to herself as the “Puerto Rican-Filipina Rapunzel", and though the term she’d come up with was a bit of a mouthful, you’d be lying if you tried to disagree.

She’d waltzed up to your secluded spot at indoor recess in Mrs. Walter’s class, demanded the two of you be friends, and even gave you a pink Hello Kitty sticker to accompany her proposition.

And seeing as you couldn’t remember much before that, you really couldn’t remember a time when Camila wasn’t in your life, either. Protecting you from anyone who might have anything to say about her bestfriend, and always quick to step in front of you and get in someone’s face about it, even if the someone in question was a burly 6’3 football player who had to crane his neck to look down at who was cursing him out a mile a minute.

If people saw Camila, they saw you, too. That’s just how the two of you rolled. And yeah, you’d been to more than a few family parties, slapped on some low-waisted, bejeweled miss-me jeans and boots to fit in with the dress code, and attended a few bailes even though you couldn’t dance for shit. But you’d never been to a gathering of theirs that was this large. What was the occasion?

As you watched her scoop a ladle of some sort of homemade drink mix into a red solo cup, you realized you’d unintentionally asked the question in your head.

“So, what’s the big occasion?” You took in your surroundings, noting how happy everyone looked.

“Ah, my aunt finished her M.D program, or somethin’ like that. Basically, she’s gonna be a real big doctor soon, so you know we had to party. My cousin invited me."

“Mm,” you nodded stalely, accepting the cup she quickly pushed into your hand before she went to pour another for herself.

“Speaking of my cousin…”

There was a mischievous glint in Camila’s eyes. Was mischevious the right word? Maybe excited, but either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

Mid sip, you slowly lowered your drink from your lips, eyes narrowing at her in suspicion.

“Camila Janaé Reyes. What are you plotting?”

“Nothingggg!”

Judging by that tone, it was definitely not nothing.

“I just want you to meet him, that’s all.” Her words drawled as she gave you one of her sickeningly sweet smiles, and you whined like a child who’d just been asked to put a coat on before leaving the house.

“Seriously, ‘Mila? That’s why you invited me?”

“No! Well… Kinda?” she grimaced.

Your bestfriend could be quite persistent, especially with specific things others didn’t want her to be persistent with. Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and of course, that trait is almost impossible to recognize in yourself.

This—the overbearing persistence, the thinking that she knew better for everyone than they did themselves—was Camila’s, and it irked you to your core like no other.

“Camila, I told you, no boys. I don’t even think I have it in me after..." The rest of the sentence died on your tongue as your hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose, prompting Camila to give you a knowing head nod. With her, you didn’t even have to finish the thought.

“I know, I know,” she said. “But his mom’s been a little worried about how quiet he’s gotten and asked if I could bring someone for him to talk to. So, I thought maybe you guys could be friends or something. That’s it! He don’t got many, and you—well…”

You almost cracked a smile at that, even though you were still annoyed with her. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You somehow found it in you to let your guard down a bit, which, in theory, would probably come back to bite you in the ass later. You just didn’t know how soon that would be the case.

Your shoulders slumped, a telltale sign of you ready to throw in the towel, just this once like you always did. Camila was already getting excited.

“Alright, alright. Who’s your cousin?”

The petite girl rolled her lips inward to bite back a wide grin, and instead of answering you, she slid beside you and slunk her arm around your shoulders. Her neck stretched for a second as she scanned the lively gathering, her eyes widening once she found who she was scouting for.

She gestured with her chin, not wanting to make it obvious.

“See that guy by himself over there? Like, six foot two, wide shoulders, lowkey thinks he’s Batman, kinda gotta mug on him? He’s nice though, swear. When he wants to be.”

You squinted into the distance. “Uhh… I think that’s a woman, ‘Mila.”

She gasped at that, shoving your shoulder hard enough to almost make you stumble. “No not my Tia Beatriz, you bitch!”

“Oh shit—“

A laugh tore through your apology before you could stop it, and the girl next to you made a sound with her throat that was clearly her trying to hold back her own laughter.

"Idiota," she mumbled.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders before you felt your body shift to the side a bit, someone else coming into view once your perspective changed.

“I’m talkin’bout him.”

The last time you could recall your heart dropping into your ass at this same rate was when your mom caught you trying to stuff your bra in the sixth grade before the bus arrived. And somehow, that feeling still wasn’t comparable to this.

This—this was much different.

“Y’see him?”

How could you not?

A little ways down, casually leaned back on an elbow at the tall edge of the roof, stood a lanky-looking, brownskinned boy who was far too handsome for his own good. Clad in a fitted black shirt and a cropped leather jacket, you could tell that piece of clothing alone cost more than your entire outfit. He was rocking some straight-legged, black cargo pants and a pair of Air Jordan 1’s you’d never seen before. There was a jaded look plastered on his face, and something about his body language led you to believe that he was forcing himself to be here.

You swallowed,

“That’s your cousin?”

Camila’s insanely, good looking, cousin, if you hadn’t mentioned that already. Not even her older brother was this fine. This boy put the childish crush you had on Luis to absolute shame.

“Mm-hm.”

Your gaze alternated back and forth between her and the boy in the distance. "But, you guys don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We get that a lot, big family.” She waved you off, probably having heard this a million times.

Her posture suddenly straightened with newfound determination, and it made your heart jump.

“Well, what are we just standin’ here for? Let’s go-“

“Nope. Nuh uh.”

Camila’s head recoiled when she raised a questioning brow at you. “Fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’?”

You balked at her as if the answer were obvious.

“I am not talking to that man!”

“Well why not?” she asked incredulously.

“Because he is fine as hell, are you crazy? I ain’t got no business goin’ over there.” You don’t know why you were lowering your voice; it’s not like he’d be able to hear you over the music anyway.

But, just by a stroke of luck, he suddenly looked up, probably due to the sweltering heat of your eyes dissecting his entire persona.

“Anddd now he’s looking at me. Oh my god,” you whisked around as casually as you could play off, fingers pressed to your hot forehead as you cursed beneath your breath.

His line of sight was cast in your direction, and though he could’ve been looking right past you, which was simply wishful thinking on your end, that was a chance you absolutely weren’t going to take.

“Yeah, he’s always able to catch people staring. I don't know how he does it… And s’kinda weird now that I think about it…” Camila mumbled distractedly to herself, her pondering eyes drifting skywards. A sharp elbow to her side, yours to be exact, was enough to pull her out of her observation and earn you a pained whine.

“Focus! What do I do now? He probably thinks I’m a creep.” you groaned.

A puff of amused air blew from her nose. “Yeah, I doubt that. He’s a bit of an odd ball himself.”

That definitely did nothing to make you feel better.

“Besides, he don’t bite,"

Your feet weren’t moving on your own accord as you began walking; it was Camila tugging you out of your in-plain sight hiding spot and towards the very boy you were just marveling at.

“I think.” she added.

“Camila, I really don’t think this is a good idea—“

Through the rush of the brief murmur-screamed argument you had with her, the walk over to him was surprisingly much shorter than your brain had estimated it to be. And of course, ever the gentleman with perfect manners, the boy in question clicked his phone off and tucked it away in his front pocket once he saw the both of you approaching him.

Camila put on her sweetest voice, and albeit a bit annoying, her intentions were pure.

“Heyyy, Miles! How are you?”

Miles. That’s a cute name. Or is it only cute because I think he’s cute? Fuck, I’m spacing out, aren’t I?

The light baritone in his voice edged you to believe that it was the latter.

“Hey cous’, I’m straight.”

Miles was talking to Camila, but he was staring dead at you while he did, as if he was purposely trying to send you into a terribly premature fit of cardiac arrest.

He had a solemn look to him; face hardened with faint frown lines that seemed a bit unfitting for his age. The only resemblance these two shared was the striking allure of hazeled eyes and how they were both able to have people lost in them without even trying. There was an energy that radiated from him—something about his presence that you felt a pull towards. It wasn’t intimidating, or brooding, no. It was more on the lines of intoxicating. And it didn’t necessarily make you uncomfortable, per se, but the fact that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling his stare was giving you most definitely did.

It was a known fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact for shit, and an observing Miles easily picked up on that after the third time your eyes had darted back and forth between his own and any random object you could keep your attention on. So, when he finally decided to spare you and directed them towards his chirpy cousin instead, you felt like you could finally breathe again and stole an embarrassingly deep inhale that nearly made you lightheaded.

“So wassup, who’s this?” Miles motioned towards you with a slight tilt of his head, hands nonchalantly planted in the pockets of his jacket.

Now that the focus was off you for a second, you used this to your advantage and took a moment to get a good, close look at him.

Everything about him was clean cut and neat—strategic. From his sharp, tapered hairline that was so precise that not a single strand of hair was out of place, to the tidy twin braids that kissed his shoulders, and even down to his shoes. They were crisp, and looked like he’d taken them right out the box before he came here, but you could tell that wasn’t the case. It was clear from the way he carried himself and the fresh ass silver cuban link hanging round his neck that he simply cared about his appearance enough to keep them that way.

“This,” A subtle, yet intentional squeeze to your right arm brought you back to the conversation. “is Y/n, my bestfriend. I don’t think she’s met you yet, so I just thought I’d introduce the two of you.”

He didn’t even nod. You weren’t even sure if he blinked. All he gave was a vague,

“Mm.”

What the fuck did that mean? Was that a good mm, or a bad mm?

Your ruminating was interrupted when Camila quietly murmured something to Miles that you couldn’t quite make out, her eyes hard in warning.

“Sé amable y no hagas nada estúpido. De verdad.” (Be nice and don’t do anything stupid. For real.)

He kissed his teeth at that, an indistinct irritation lingering in his tone at the latent reprimanding. “Nunca hago nada estúpido.” (I never do anything stupid.)

Brows bunched in confusion, your lashes fluttered in annoyance upon realizing it was their intent to keep you out of the brief exchange.

“Well,” Camila clapped her hands. “I’ll leave y’all kids to it! I need to go grab some of those pinchos before they’re all gone.” Both you and Miles sent an irked look her way when she gave a cheesy thumbs up and dipped.

It was just the two of you now, and since names were already out of the way, you hadn’t the slightest idea of where to start. But the worry didn’t last long; Miles was the first to speak up, which you were more than grateful for.

“So, how you know my cousin again?” His brow peaked. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Miles was good with faces—excellent, actually. He spent a lot of time people watching; knew most of Brooklyn by now, and he definitely wouldn’t have forgotten a face like yours. So he let his eyes drink you in from head to toe, committing you to memory. And damn, he sure picked a good day to be social.

You tried to focus on your answer instead of the glint of his earrings or the sharp of his jaw when his head turned to the side, so you settled on studying the buildings that lined the magenta-stained skyline in the distance.

“Well, there’s not much to it, really. I met her in the second grade, and she said we were bestfriends now, no questions asked. Guess it’s been that way ever since.” you shrugged.

“Yeah, sounds like her," he chuckled, shifting to rest both his elbows on the ledge as his back leaned against it. “She can be a little—“

“Persistent?” you interjected knowingly, a small smile painting your features.

“Shit, you tellin’ me," he snorted. “I guess that’s a nicer way to put it.”

Miles picked his cup up from where he’d previously set it down and took a swig. So far, this conversation wasn’t nearly as grueling as he’d expected it to be, and shockingly enough, he might’ve even been enjoying your company.

But unknown to you, this wasn’t the first time Miles had been introduced to one of Camila’s friends. He’d met probably three of them at this point, and honestly, he was a little over his cousin trying to throw him a bone he didn’t ask for. Did he entertain them? Possibly, for fun. Though it’s not like he actually enjoyed their presence. But there was something intriguing about you that he didn’t pick up on with the others, and he was starting to wonder what was in this punch.

“Hol’ on,” a curious look crossed his face. “You from Queens, right?”

“Mhm, grew up in the same building as Camila and everything. Why?”

“You’on really sound like it, that’s all.” he noted. Poking at the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you battled with an answer.

“Yeah, I… go back and forth, a lot.” You gave a half-hearted smile, in which he responded to with a simple nod.

Your brows furrowed as a sudden realization dawned on you.

“Y’know, now that I think about it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, either. You don’t come around often, do you?”

“Mm,” His lips pushed into an upturned frown—that thing people usually did when someone wasn’t far from being correct. He gave a shadowy answer and changed the subject.

“You could say that. Camila’s brought you to one of these before, I’m guessing?”

“Mm-hm, all the time.” You nodded, swirling around the fizzy liquid in your cup. “I usually chill with the elders, though.”

“Heard that.” Miles understood you completely, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile.

Now that you’d had the chance to actually speak with him, he wasn’t nearly as aloof as you’d presumed him to be.

“This your mom’s party?”

“Yes ma'am." he hummed.

You took a quick breath in through your nostrils, and Miles almost laughed at how much one word affected you.

"So..." Your eyes cautiously dragged their way over to him. “Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else?”

Your tone was careful. Like you already knew your question was personal.

His jaw tensed for a beat and his smile dimmed a little, but he was shrugging and back to his coolheaded mien before you could make any inferences on how your question might’ve made him feel.

“Just like bein’ by my lonely, I guess. Better this way.”

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made themselves slightly less favorable, and this was yours. Asking intimate questions too soon, unintentionally trying to uproot information about someone’s life through the innocent curiosity that usually got you into trouble.

“S’ain’t really my kind of vibe anyway." he admitted with a flippant gesture toward the party.

You mindlessly fiddled with the charm bracelet dangling from your wrist.

“And what’s your ‘kind of vibe?’”

It was a genuine question. Honest. You knew his confession came in passing, yet that didn’t deter you from wondering what he was thinking when he said it.

Miles’ aureate gaze floated to your person, and you watched as he studied your features. Eyes flitting between the both of yours, as if he were trying to get a read on you without having to ask.

You relaxed a little when he finally cracked a mirth-kissed grin.

“You just full of questions, huh?” he teased, a glint in his eye.

Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, his body had turned towards yours, and you hadn’t noticed until now that he was facing you completely. You looked to him with the same intensity he gave you and played right back.

“You could say that.”

There were a few seconds of internal struggle, seen in the way he fought to pull his gaze away. Teeth biting at the inside of his cheek like he needed a taste of pain to remind him to behave. But, when he caught sight of the way you were looking at him, that little voice in the deep of his mind wasn’t nearly loud enough for him to listen to it.

Licking at his dry lips, he knew better, but he asked anyway with an appetent tilt of his head.

“You wanna get outta here?”

—

Now how did you end up here?

Party forgotten like an old toy on Christmas morning. A newfound agenda on your mind and a new pair of lips on yours to match.

You knew good and well that the question he asked didn’t entail stepping away from the party to get a breath of clean air; in fact, you were finding it quite difficult to breathe right about now.

Huh, and here you thought he was a gentleman.

And Miles was fully aware that this was probably a bad idea, but when he wanted something, it was as if tunnel vision clouded any chance of better judgement.

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and Miles was not excluded from this verity.

Starting things he knew he wouldn’t finish, was his.

Yandere Jock x Reader

You did not want to be here.

The seats were cold. Your butt hurt. It was loud. And the smell of sweaty feet and gym shorts was nothing short of a headache this early in the morning.

You knew you were being dramatic. Nobody liked gym class. Well. Nobody except maybe Loren. The campus “wonder boy”.

You guess you understood the hype. I mean the guy was a star player for your colleges team. Not to mention, insanely athletic, and good at about, well, just about anything. Except for y’know. His studies.

Which y’know gotta have that little cliche in their right? Who doesn’t love a big dumb jock huh?

And of course he was otherworldly pretty. Because obviously.

Okay maybe you were being a little hard on the guy. You didn’t hate him. Hell you hadn’t even talked to him!

A small part of you was willing to admit it might’ve been a slight case of jealousy

But only slight! The guy had everything practically handed to him and here you were busting your ass!

It sucked yknow? I mean what’s someone gotta do around here to get a helping hand-

“Hey! Watch out!-“

Suddenly the sound of rubber against skin boomed in your ears. A sudden shadow blocked your sight, and it took a moment for the sound of your own heart beat to settle, for you to realize what had just happened.

“Hey, you okay?”

The shadow moved, revealing a large hand, firmly grasping a stray volleyball. A volleyball that would’ve smacked you straight in the face because you were too busy monologuing to-

“Hello?”

Oh right

You hesitantly moved your eyes upwards, and nearly groaned out loud.

Wonder boy. Of course.

Time to embarrass yourself with your poor social skills!

“Oh shoot, hey, sorry-uhm..thanks for totally saving me back there! I mean, saving might be a stretch cuz the worse that could’ve happened might’ve been a bruise or on the very slim chance a concussion- but still I appreciate-“

“Pfft..”

Mother fucker did not just

Loren must’ve noticed your sudden change in mood, because he quickly coughed into his empty fist with a shy smile. His brown eyes were twinkling obnoxiously in your opinion, from the reflection of the faux lights.

“Sorry- sorry…I just uh…you’re kinda dorky”

This bitch.

A scowl quickly took residence on your face, a snarl being on the verge of pouring out.

“Right. Well I said thanks so, I think I’ll be on my way now. Thank you, again for the save. Or whatever.” The last part came out as more of a grumble than anything, and yeah you might’ve been a little petty for it, but come on who says that to someone you just met??

As if realizing his mistake, Loren’s grin fell agape, and with slow reaction time, unusual for someone like him, he moved to follow after you towards the door way.

“Hey wait no! I meant it in-“

The door closed with a thunderous slam.

“-a cute..way.”

“……”

A hand perched itself on Lorens broad shoulder.

“Hey man! Who you talkin to?”

A fellow player chirped at the brunette, who’s lips had settled into a troubled frown before he snapped his eyes towards the other player.

He didn’t know his name.

There was a brief moment where the player swore he was being glared at by the Star member, but it was gone so fast he figured it to be a trick of the artificial light.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get back to the group yeah?”

—————————————-

God what a long day

Loren sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that hour, sweat pouring from his brow as he roamed the mostly barren halls.

It was fairly late in the evening.

There was the occasional straggler, most of who greeted him enthusiastically.

“Hey Loren! Can’t wait for the game this week!”

“Loren! You goin to the BMZ’s party tomorrow?”

He responded the way he normally would. Smiles, “hell yeahs”, and high fives. Though at this point he was just going through the motion. He didn’t really feel the need to show up to the parties. But he decided he’d wait to see how he felt by tomorrow.

Right now, he just wanted to get home and relax.

“Stupid- fucking professor! Couldnt wait till I- goddammit!”

Maybe home could wait a while longer

Loren peeked around the corner, and swore he almost did a backflip at the sight of you slouched against an empty classroom door.

Perfect.

“Hey!”

The moment your eyes drifted to his he swore he almost forgot how to breathe. You were way too cute.

But the frown on your kissable lips was disheartening to say the least.

“What do you want?”

Okay that hurt a little, but he kept his easy going grin as he strode to stand above you,

a visual he found…almost unnatural really.

It felt weird. Wrong, to be standing above you like that. But he disregarded the feeling for now. No matter how strong the desire to drop to his knees was.

“Need a hand?”

He heard you scoff

“Right..the professors gone so unless you have a key to the city than-“

Click!

He wanted to laugh at the stunned look on your pretty face. But that didn’t go well last time so he settled for a smile.

“…Ta-da!”

You looked less amused than he had hoped, with the way your head whipped back and forth before you carefully stepped in.

“Why the hell do you have a key that opens this classroom?”

“When you’re the “School Pride” you get a few extra privileges sometimes.”

You mumbled something at that, but he was unfortunately stood too far away to hear what you said clearly. He figured it was a jab at him. Not that he minded.

With quick, but still obviously cautious steps, you peddled on over to one of the front desks, where a lonely bag sat.

Quickly and nimbly you scooped it over your shoulder and made your way back to the brunette, who stood guard at the doors entrance. Almost dutifully.

Loren had to beg the universe that you didn’t hear his thundering heart and stuttering breath when you stopped directly infront of him.

Fuck you were so fucken cute up close what the fuck

“Thanks.”

“Huh?- Oh! Yeah of course anythingforyou”

.

.

.

.

“What?”

“What?”

“……”

You eyed him suspiciously for a moment, before seeming to sigh in resignation.

Moving out from the doorway, and away from him, you paused outside where you had previously had your little breakdown.

“Anyway. Thanks again. For the double save and stuff.” You almost looked pained saying that if he was being honest. But he’s take what he could get for now. “See you around. Or something.”

Wait what?

You were leaving again? Already? He barely even had time to stare at you!

I mean. Talk to you. And make up for embarrassing you earlier!

“Wait!”

You paused, almost irritatedly but seemed to ultimately decide to be civil and hear him out. Probably because you liked him now.

(No you were just tired.)

“How about you come to my game this week yeah? It’s on Thursday.”

.

.

“Why?”

“Because i want you to. And I wanna make up for this morning.”

Loren watched anxiously as you seemed to weigh your options.

“Please?”

Again, you sighed, before turning around and beginning to stalk off down the hall.

“I’ll think about it. I guess I owe you anyway.”

Nowaynowaynoway

Loren waited for you to turn the corner

“YES!”

He jumped up excitedly, “yes yes yes! Hell yeah!” clenching his fist with a enthusiastic grin, eyes practically shooting beams of excitement with how bright they were.

This was it. This was the beginning.

Fuck yeah! He was so pumped now!

You could consider this Thursday’s win dedicated to you.

———————-///—————

A/N: this ask/story was so fun to read and write about! I love getting asks so don’t worry about sending too many btw <3 thank you so much! Perhaps we’ll see more of Loren in the future? Hope you like my take <3