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call-me-eds · 2 years

Text

New Dress

Masterlist

Eddie Munson X Reader

fluff! fluff! more fluff!!!!!

Eddie hears through the grapevine that you want to go on more dates, and he goes into quick action.

“I can’t believe you’re going on a date with Steve.”

“It is not a date!”

“Of course it is. It’s a fancy dinner and we are at the mall buying you a new dress. Here, try this one on,” you handed Robin the floral patterned dress and she rolled her eyes.

“That is so not me. We got a gift card for being employees of the month. And, in case you forgot,” she leaned in close to you. “I’m a lesbian.”

“I still think it’s cute,” you smiled.

“Here, I think I found one!” You and Robin walked over to where Nancy was elbow deep in a sale rack. Robin let you both know that she refused to spend more than two hours’ worth of work on a dress she would wear once.

Nancy handed her the mid-calf length, taupe, wrap dress and sent her off to the dressing room.

“You’ll have to wear it out of the store, we’re running late,” you said, looking at your watch.

“Hey, this is cute, right?” Nancy held up a dress to her body and you gasped. It looked like it was made for her.

“Okay, you have to get that,” you grinned.

“And you try on this,” she pushed a flowy dress into your arms. You held it out and raised your eyebrows at her.

“What do I need a dress for?” you asked. The last time you and Eddie had gone on a date, he wasn’t even officially your boyfriend yet. Since you had put labels on your relationship, you mostly hung out in your house or his car or in the dingy basement at school.

“Because it’s cute and perfect for you and half off,” she said, pulling you to the dressing rooms beside Robin. After some convincing from each other, the three of you left the store with your original clothes in shopping bags, having to rush Robin over to Steve’s house so they could make their reservation on time.

“Johnathon is going to love that,” Robin smiled, pulling at the hem of Nancy’s new threads.

“He probably won’t even notice. Now Eddie, he’s going to lose his mind,” she said, teasing you as you pulled into Steve’s driveway.

“He won’t ever see it,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bags and going to the front door, not bothering to knock before going in. “I am not going to wear this to get high in his room or grab a burger at the diner.”

“Oh come on, what about a picnic in the park or even a movie?” Robin asked. You scoffed and starting rifling through your bag to find the lipstick she had asked to borrow.

“We don’t go out like that. He’s more than happy to stay in our pajamas and rot on the couch all day,” you sighed. “Where’s Steve?”

Steve had come down the stairs when he heard you girls come in, but stayed hidden when he heard you talking about Eddie. While they were new friends, he felt a sense of loyalty to let him know what you were saying, and the disappointment in your voice.

“Ready to go? Woah, is this suddenly a dinner for four?” Steve asked, joining you all in the kitchen.

“I have to take a picture,” you gasped, looking around for the Polaroid camera you knew the Harrington’s had. Steve in a pair of his father’s dress pants and a button up shirt next to Robin in her new dress was too adorable not to immortalize. They looked like little kids dressing up for Halloween.

“No, come on, Y/N,” Steve groaned. Nancy found it and you two forced them together. “Okay, you got your picture. I just have to go to the bathroom and then we can go,” he said, sneaking off to make a quick phone call to Eddie.

“Dude, you’re in such deep shit,” he whispered when Eddie answered, knowing that the three of you had superhuman hearing when it came to matters of the heart.

“What are you talking about, Harrington?” he asked, setting down his guitar. Eddie had no clue if Steve was talking about with the law, with the kids, or with you. As far as he knew, he hadn’t messed anything up in the last couple of days.

“I have three girls in my house, all in new dresses and talking crap about you,” he said.

“Again, what the hell are you talking about?” Eddie repeated.

“When is the last time you took your girlfriend out?” Now that was a hard one. You two had gone to the pharmacy the other day to pick up some magazines, but he had a feeling that is not what Steve meant.

“If I were you I would plan something quick.”

“Shit. You have the keys to Family Video, right?” he asked, looking around his room for anything comfortable and cozy you liked to snuggle with.

“Yeah, but I doubt a movie night is what she’s looking for,” he said, not knowing what Eddie was thinking.

“Just meet me there, okay?”

After a quick, suspicious conversation with Nancy, Steve and Robin left for their company-sponsored dinner. Nancy implored you stay in your new dress with her, saying that it gave the evening a little more excitement. You expected Robin and Steve to meet you back at his house, but you received a phone call from them when you thought they’d be ordering their entrée’s.

“Car trouble,” Nancy reported. “They asked if we could go give them a jump at the store. Apparently they had to stop there before going to the restaurant.”

“I thought we were going to be middle aged before we became married to our work,” you said, grabbing your purse and following her out to the car. You didn’t see them by Steve’s car, but a couple of lights were on in the store.

“I am taking a box of candy, and if Steve expects me to pay for it he’s out of his mind,” you huffed.

When you walked in, you were shocked to see takeout containers on the counter.

“What happened? They didn’t let you in without a tie?” you asked Steve. He, Robin, and Nancy stayed silent, the same knowing smile on each of their faces. “Did you bring me here to kill me?”

“Always the cynic.” You turned around and saw Eddie leaning against the frame of the Employees Only door. He was wearing jeans without rips, and a sweater that you bought him for Christmas last year.

“What’s happening?” you asked.

“I know it’s last minute, but I was hoping you’d want to go out on a date with me. And you’re already here, so any excuse you have better be good,” he grinned, only half-joking.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the elusive back room, which was much bigger than you thought it would be. On the floor there were piles of blankets and a projector was set up illuminating Dirty Dancing on the wall. There were a few takeout boxes similar to the ones outside.

You were speechless, and still confused despite the several clues laid out in front of you.

You turned around to look at your friends, who were not so subtly watching you from the doorway. Steve lifted up the camera you forced him to pose for earlier and snapped a picture of your dumbstruck face.

“Are you joking?” Your question made Eddie’s heart ache a little, feeling terrible for the lack of effort he had been putting in. He shook his head and you threw your arms around his neck, knocking him off balance a bit. “I would love to go on a date with you,” you grinned.

“Thank god,” he sighed. “I know it might not be new dress worthy, but I thought it would be nice.”

“It’s perfect,” you assured him, your heart swelling. A moment later, you suddenly snapped back. “Wait a minute. How did you know about my new dress?”

“Uh,” he stuttered, looking up as if the ceiling had the answer. “Lucky guess?”

“Steve!” you yelled, whipping around. You knew Robin or Nancy wouldn't have said a word of what you told them in confidence. Steve had way too little self-control. “Why did you tell him what I said? I didn’t even say that to you! It was just girl talk,” you frowned.

“He would have figured it out sooner or later, I just set it in motion,” he shrugged. You weren’t upset at Eddie needing to be encouraged to plan a date, even though you wished he would have thought of it himself.

“If you eavesdrop on me again-”

“You were in my house,” he reminded you.

“Alright, get out, you’re crashing our date,” Eddie said. “Any chance you’ll leave us the keys to lock up?”

“In your dreams. Keep your clothes on.” Nancy pushed them all out, shutting the door and leaving you and Eddie alone.

“Are you really upset Steve said something to me?” Eddie asked, taking your hand. He kissed your knuckles and gave you his puppy dog eyes.

“Not really,” you sighed. “I feel a little silly that I made such a big deal of it that you felt like you had to pull this together.”

“Hey, no,” he said. “I’m sorry we’ve been a bit static lately. You deserve this all of the time.” You shook your head and felt him about to launch into a speech about how he would give you the world, so you held up a hand to stop him.

“I love hanging out with you in sweatpants or reading while you plan your campaigns. But this stuff is nice every once in a while. Plus, I could have asked you out on a date, too,” you admitted. He ran his hands up and down your sides, squeezing you when he agreed with your words.

“Okay, you ask me out on the next one,” he compromised. You kissed him again and he moved his hand to your face, stroking your cheek. The emotion came pouring through his lips, pushing you into the metal desk you were leaning up against. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you said. His lips moved down your neck and tickled you, making you giggle.

“This new dress is pretty,” he hummed, fiddling with the straps.

A crash from outside popped the love bubble you were in, and reminded you that you weren’t alone in the store. When Eddie looked at you, it felt like you were the only ones on the planet.

“Okay, sit here,” Eddie said, helping lower you to the ground. He fiddled with the projector and started the movie before joining you on the floor. “Do you want some food? I had Robin and Steve go to that restaurant and get your favorites and they tried to use the gift card but I told them they should still have their nice meal the next time they have a night off-“

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. “This is perfect,” you assured him, grabbing his arm and putting it around your shoulders so you could snuggle into him.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I want this to be the best date we’ve gone on.” You grabbed one of the blankets he set out and pulled it over your laps, getting even more comfortable.

“I am positive,” you nodded. You, Robin, and Nancy had taken Max and El to the theaters when the movie first came out, so you were happy to stare at your boyfriend through the beginning.

“How about dancing lessons for our next date?” you asked.

“Only if I can hold you like that,” he said, nodding to the screen. You watched the movie in silence for a few more minutes, settling further into Eddie’s chest. The softness of his sweater and the warmth of all of the blankets you could almost fall asleep. You might have if you didn’t feel Eddie’s heartbeat racing against you.

“What’s up?” you asked. “You’re practically vibrating.”

“I don’t know, I feel nervous. Like our first date,” he shrugged. You looked up at him and laughed. On your first date, you were both too scared to even hold hands, and now you were draped across his lap, his fingers raking through your hair. He didn’t even kiss you until your third date, when you had to ask him to.

“This is better,” you decided. “I don’t have to guess what you’re thinking and I don’t have to worry about if I’m going to have a good time with you.”

“So you’re saying we’re boring and predictable,” he teased. The rhythm you and Eddie had found yourselves stuck in wasn’t easy to find. You had to coordinate your schedules around work, Hellfire, and your friends. You loved the predictability of Thursday night meatloaf with Uncle Wayne and Sunday morning bagels at your house.

“Basically,” you joked. “And you look really handsome in that sweater,” you knew when you bought it that the green would bring out his eyes.

“A good change from the sweatpants, huh?” he grinned.

“Well, those are good, too. Easy access,” you winked. He let out a loud laugh and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head.

Little more conversation was had throughout the movie. The silence that you used to sit in wondering what the other was feeling was now one of the things you loved the most. When you shifted side to side he knew to pause the movie so you could run to the bathroom, and when he started to fiddle with his rings you tried to think of a question to redirect his nervous energy.

“Dance with me?” you asked, hopping up and holding your hands out to him. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. While the movie was playing a faster beat song, you swayed slowly back and forth.

“Thanks for saying yes to a date,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thanks for asking.”

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #st4 #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fluff

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apinchofm · 1 year

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Overbearing

TW: talk of miscarriage, difficult pregnancy

Kate is so tired of being pregnant.

Not in the sense that the baby was overdue - he was healthy and the doctor was incredibly optimistic.

No, she was tired of being pregnant because of how it had changed her husband. Anthony had a penchant for micromanaging, but he had learned not to do that at home or with his family.

However, they were standing in John Lewis, him weighing various strollers, terrified that he would kill their unborn child by buying the wrong one.

"Anthony, this one is really pretty and I'm really hungry, so can we-" Kate tried, indicating to the grey buggy. It folded, even came with a diaper bag.

But Anthony had to call over a poor employee who was talking home through the safety of each one.

...

Edwina and Daphne came over, bringing a few more things for their new nephew. Coming into the living room, they stepped over new bags and changing mats.

"Kate, are you tucked into the couch?" Edwina asked, amused.

She was true, stuffed into the couch, wrapped in a large fluffy white blanket, with a large bottle of water on the side table.

"I was cold." Kate said, miffed, "Do you have it?"

Daphne nodded, pulling the brown paper bag from her handbag, "Two boxes of chicken nuggets and large fries." Kate took it eagerly, digging in.

"Anthony won't let me eat anything unhealthy!" She complained through a mouthful of food, "I just want processed food!"

Edwina gently stroked her sister's hair, a habit she had begun as a child, "I mean, maybe he just wants you comfortable. You do tend to

She glared up at her sister, "How dare you take his side?"

"Well, our mother had difficult pregnancies and births." Daphne offered, "Hyacinth was especially terrifying. It put Eloise off children permanently." She still remembered all the pain she was in.

....

When Anthony came home that evening, Kate was sitting on their bed, happily eating a burger and fries, a large milkshake on the nightstand.

"Edwina?" Her sister would do anything - she snuck doughnuts in last time.

"And Daphne. They love me more." Kate said, pointedly eating a fry., "And I know you worry about me. Because of your mum and Hyacinth."

"You know, Mary miscarried after Appa died."

Anthony stiffened. He didn't like talking about the aftermath of his father's death - it was still something he held back, and she respected that because of her own experience with grief.

Silently, Kate shuffled closer to him, gently rubbing his shoulder.

He looked at her, surprised. He and Mary were quite close. He always supposed that after her husband died, she really didn't want any more children - after all, she always joked that Kate and Edwina were basically four children each.

"It was a few days afterwards, and it devastated her. She had to be in hospital for a few days mainly for her mental health," Kate continued, "It put me off kids. Even Edwina, who adores babies is scared. But it wasn't until I started talking about it, in therapy, with Mary and Edwina that I felt comfortable. And then I met you."

"I just... I don't want you to be in the same pain my mother was in." Anthony finally said, turning to her and she nodded in understanding.

"Well, stopping me from eating what I want and wrapping me in cling film won't do that. It just makes me want to run away back home." Kate told him and he chuckled. She offered him a chip and he took it.

"I will try to be less overbearing." Anthony promised, "But we should really start baby-proofing because I was reading that-"

"Oh my god!" Kate sighed.

"It can go by really quickly! We may forget!"

#bridgerton fic #kathony #kate x anthony #pregnancy fic #one shot #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #fluff #edwina sharma #daphne bridgerton

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ridestomars · 2 years

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Scream I can’t believe you posted about alt!reader x Eddie as I was thinking about sending an ask about them, great minds omg

I was just thinking of their potential dynamic. He annoys the shit out of her but in a sweet affectionate way, sprinkles in flirty lines in between his roasts for sure. Alt!reader would roll her eyes at him and act as though those flirty lines and his strategy isn’t affecting her (it is, it’s successful she adores but won’t tell him that)

I also imagine Eddie getting her lunch, to the point that he knows her exact order off the top of his head, how she likes her burger, how she like a small cherry coke, how she likes to dip fries into her milkshake (which he thinks is odd, she flips him off as she does so) and how she likes to smush her burger down to eat. (Just some examples, the point is he notices and remembers the little things).

One day he comes by and she hands him the extra sandwich she made for lunch for him. And he’s so shocked and confused? You made this sandwich for me? (Something tells me it’s not something he’s used to) And she’s like you always buy food that’s not the healthiest, so you even eat vegetables, that ones for you…to eat. I just think Eddie’s love language is doing things for people. Food is also the best love language

💭 liv's thoughts: this is longer than i thought it would be lmao. TW: mentions of food and bad alimentary habits. not proofread, as always.

you know, i believe that eddie loves attention, better yet, thrives off it. he enjoys having all the eyes set on him while he narrates the new and awesome campaign he's been planning for months; or how dustin always seems to look at him like he's the wisest person he has ever met, even though eddie finishes every motivational pep talk with a rock sign and "rock on, dude!". but the guys from hellfire aren't like the rest of hawkins' population, and he knows that the eyes his fellow clubmates make for him aren't the same as the town's citizens. outside of his club, he's just hawkins' freak. nothing else.

but for you, he is the cutest guy that you ever laid your eyes upon, even though he could be insufferable at times. eddie always thinks he's dreaming whenever he catches you looking his way, with your gaze full of admiration, much like the kids from his club, but with something else that he hasn't been able to put his finger on. not yet. only to think that you slightly glance at him whenever he walks in the record shop is enough to make his day... and, hell, when you do as much as greet him? yeah, you just made his whole week. he loves every single interaction you're willing to give him, honestly. but he can't deny the way his heart flutters when you take notice of his new iron maiden shirt, or when you compliment how sparkly the scrunchie he's using to tie his hair is. and yet, he goes wild for the little petty arguments you have over music (and whatever else, really); oh man, he loooves when he annoys you enough to make that furrow in your brow appear. the highlight of his day, really.

and even though he might be a dumbass sometimes, at the end of the day he is a sweet dumbass. the best kind there is. and that's simply because he is the type of person where if you do as much as comment that you enjoy something, he'll get it for you as soon as possible. you know, the type of guy that stocks half a cabinet full of your favorite type of chips because one day he thinks he heard you say that you really liked salt chips. and then boom! now you have salt chips for the rest of your life. like, for example, that time when you told him that you really wanted some pop rocks since you haven't had them since middle school. an innocent comment, just something you absentmindedly said while organizing some peter gabriel records. but boy, oh boy, the next day, eddie came with a bag full of every flavor of pop rocks available in the entirety of hawkins. because, you know, "they were on sale! and i didn't remember which one i liked best so i just... bought them all. want one?" as he's already slipping the whole bag in your direction, not leaving a single one for him.

but i got to say that eddie's eating habits aren't healthy in the slightest. i truly believe that his idea of a good fulfilling lunch is frozen hamburgers and a tall glass of coke. i mean, we can't really expect much from someone who lives off of pretzel anything. so i don't think he was expecting you to slip him a sandwich right before your lunch break and ask him to eat with you – because usually, he'd just pretend he's distracted by the music magazines you sell at the store while you eat quietly behind the counter. but the main reason for the overwhelming sense of surprise that took over him is that this is probably the nicest thing anybody's ever done for him. and eddie eats the whole thing with the biggest smile on his face, not even minding the mustard and the weird green leaves you put in. because he's just so happy!!!

i truly feel like you changed his eating habits from that day on. and even changed a few your own habits as well, since now you always make sure to leave the house with three sandwiches – because eddie eats two. <3

small note: anon, i just wanted to leave you a little note because i don't think you can understand how happy this ask made me. i was really not in the mood for writing but i was so happy that you completely understood the dynamic i was going for!! and i knew i had to write this for you – so i hope you enjoy it as much as i did! thank you so much, baby!

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED!

eddie masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve, nancy and eddie.

#this got too emotional 🤨#sorry if i scared u off anon #i’m just in a weird mood lately #liv answers anon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x alt!reader #eddie x alt!reader #liv talks about eddie #eddie <3

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the1975attheirverybest · 11 months

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Concept idea. The boys, basically everyone that is part of the 1975 family ,goes to the zoo. The reader is friends with them and is dating Matty as well. How do you think this trip would go?

It would ABSOLUTE CHAOS!!! Hann starts out looking after his baby boy but ends up having to supervise Matty. Cuz Matty wants snacks. The bathroom. A slushie. Throws human food to the monkeys. Wants to give the lion some beef jerky. He ends up eventually, picking up Adam’s kid and letting him do all the things that Adam and Carly are too afraid to let him do. Like stick his fingers into the animals cages. Bang on the glass so the sleeping animals would wake up and he can see them properly. Letting him feed the giraffe and scream and giggle when he sees it’s mouth open.

Charli and George are busy being hot and wayyy too into each other. They’re in their own lil bubble talking about ranking the animals from most likely to survive an asteroid or whatever, and occasionally watching Adam’s kid squeal with joy when Matty lets him do something cheeky, snd thinking that they’d like one of their own one day. Ross is somehow the one with the map like “okay the peacock is up next if we go this way. But guys, the lady at the help desk said the panda sleeps early so we should probably move fast if we wanna see it.”

Everyone’s trying to listen to Ross but Matty and Adam’s kid are holding everyone up. Matty’s always looking for his gf like “babe, come see this!” And it’s just a gorilla taking a shit. He does his little boyish giggle at every small thing. Especially when Adam’s kid is laughing. Matty finds the things that amuse kids very amusing. So he’s mostly laughing at the kid’s laughter but it’s the most adorable thing ever and makes her think that if they had kids, he’d be the best dad ever.

Jamie is peak photographer. You know the friend who’s always taking pics “for the memories.” That they’re too busy filming and photographing everything to actually have the experience? And he’s constantly making everyone squeeze together so he can take group pictures.

Carly and Adam keep handing their kid things to eat. Like little zip lock bags of animal crackers or kid’s breakfast bars or cheese puffs. but of course Matty eats half of everything because “well he didn’t want it so he handed it to me.” And it’s like, no Matty with kids, you have to keep encouraging them to eat! Especially in a new and stimulating environment. But he’s just like “okay but what brand are the cheese puffs cuz they’re actually quite good.” When Carly isn’t listening, Adam is like “yeah, I eat them sometimes when I’m looking for a late night snack.” And then start betting on which animals would try them if they threw some into the cage.

Every time they come across a food stand or some merch or whatever, Matty wants to buy his gf something. “Baby, look, you’d look cute in this alligator hat,” or “you wanna get this giraffe mug?” She ends up caving and getting a corny t shirt with a dad-joke or pun about animals on it. She and Matty get the same matching shirt. She also ends up helping Matty get Adam’s kid to sit still and get a butterfly painted on his face. Matty gets one on his hand cuz the kid wanted them to have matching butterflies. Jamie, of course, has filmed the entire painting experience. Adam and Carly and giving their kid the sweetest encouragements and compliments. “You look so beautiful. You wanna see the real butterflies? They might think you’re one of them. Baby hold still let me take a picture. No it’s fine. You can drink water it won’t ruin your butterfly face.”

By the time they get to the other side of the zoo, it’s 45 minutes from closing time and they get burgers and fries and huddle over a teeny tiny table and eat. Everyone has their food in their laps and everything is a mess and they’re all sweaty and exhausted but just happy to all be together and still do stuff as a group even as each of their lives has grown and the group has double in size cuz everyone has their partner or kid or something with them.

#matty concepts

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palemoonskin · 2 years

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If you're still taking requests, can I please request headcanons for Joker, Ryuji, and Ann having a female S/O who's a supermodel but faces some ridicule and pushback because she's a dark-skinned black woman?

Aaaah, what a nice request! I had a lot of fun doing it. I hope you like it! ;n; Always open to criticism uwu (I'm so scared it could suck ahahaha help)

Headcanons, sfw, fem reader, romance, fluffy, mentions of racism

Joker

While he didn't become your boyfriend because of your looks, he's still amazed by how pretty you are. There aren't many black people in japan, even less models; but after meeting you he started to wonder why.

He doesn't really care about fashion or modeling, but would support you nonetheless. If he has the time, he will always accompany you, support you in any way possible.

He would definitely have a few fashion magazines with you in it in his room.

He would soon grow addicted to the contrast of his pale fingers on your pretty dark skin. He can lay with you in his arms for hours, just looking at it.

He would have no problem with carrying your bags when shopping, but he isn't that much of a help when it comes to the outfits itself; he thinks you're pretty in all of them.

He's very attentive. He would quickly notice the difference between your career way and Ann's. You seem way more worn out, mentally exhausted than her. Morgana told him it was simply because of Lady Ann's general sunny-shiny attitude, but he wouldn't buy that.

So one day, he would decide to ask you about it. You would sit at big bang burger together. He would watch the passengers pass by and it would take a moment for him to find the right words. Fortunately, he is a very direct and upfront guy.

„… Honey?," in the literal softest way you can imagine, „Is everything alright at work?"

And you would tell him. His usual stoic and unreadable expression would change into a worried face. Understandable, you are his love, after all. He would let you vent all you want.

„Is there anything I can do to help you?" while he puts his fingers on yours, gently caressing your hand.

And whatever it was, moral support, just a shoulder to cry on, more, less; he would do it.

If he was ever with you while someone said anything inappropriate towards you, he would straight up confront them. He knows he has scary eyes, a weird, maybe even dangerous aura (to people who don't know he's an adorable dork). He wouldn't use violence, never, but he would make sure they felt terrible after it. He would try his best to talk some brain into them, making them apologize to you. You know... Leader of the phantom thieves charisma.

„To me, you're the most beautiful and talented girl I've ever met. They're jealous."

„… You're sooo cheesy."

„Only for you."

Ryuji

Ryuji would love to show you off whenever possible. Everyone knows you're his girlfriend. Literally everyone. The rest of the thieves know your surname, your birthday, your favorite color and what you like to eat for breakfast.

It would be a God damn miracle if you didn't find out about his second life in the first month. He talks too much. Is way too excited.

Ryuji wouldn't be interested in shopping clothes with you. He doesn't care about fashion and would rather do some other fun activities with you! Preferably something where he has an excuse to touch you or can show himself off. He's not visiting the gym for nothing. Hah.

He would be obsessed with your hair. Prepare for cuddle sessions with him just stroking your hair, letting your curls plop, kissing them. Your hair is so soft and pretty and he can't get enough of it.

He doesn't feel comfortable with the atmosphere of your workplace, but he would always pick you up after a shooting, asking about your day, maybe even wanting to see a few photos.

Would love to hit the gym together! It would totally end up in a little, funny challenge of who has better cardio. After that, you both would grab something nice to eat.

Ryuji would be the most oblivious to the situation. You would have to actually tell him first before he gets it. He isn't a bad guy, but maybe just a little bit… dumb.

He would get angry. So, so angry. You would be the one who had to calm him down. He doesn't get it. Why would anyone treat you different, worse, just because you didn't look like the other models in Japan?!

He will never understand how anyone could look at you and not immediately swoon.

If there was a rude comment towards you when he was with you, it would end in a fight. If you don't stop him, that is.

He would also be in a lot of your comment sections in social media. No one is allowed to badmouth his girl.

Ann

Ann would be so happy to have a girlfriend with the same passion! Not even a bit of envy or had feelings; she's just proud.

She would love to help you with your daily make up! Finding new colors that fit your skin color and show off your pretty eyes and your plumb lips. She would definitely like to put a bit of glitter on your cheeks and absolute DIE at the sight of you. Also, white eyeliner and mascara looks so nice on you.

“You look like a literal angel! I want to shower your pretty face in kisses!"

And she would.

Ann knows everything about fashion and you both would go shopping so often. She would request outfits for you she herself can't really wear; she's too pale. She loves how soft brown and beige colors look on you, how white clothes just seem to shine on you, but even more how gorgeous you look in flashy colors. She had no idea that neon colored clothing could actually look good on someone!

Prepare for a lot of selfies.

Ann would love to do some sports with you and she would also LOVE to do your hair. If you teach her how to treat your cute curls.

At first, she wouldn't notice. Because she never thought about it; she isn't black, after all. But soon she would notice it. The magazines, the online criticism… it breaks her heart to see how hard working you are, how talented, just for people to reduce you to your skin color. She doesn't get it. You're doing such a good job; maybe even a better job than her.

After a bit of thinking, she would realise how she used to see more models who looked like you back in Finland. But you were the first one she saw in Japan.

Ann wants to talk to you about it, doesn't really know how, though. She would invite you for a sleepover at the weekend, snacks, music, doing each others make up, watching chick flicks and romance movies. She tries to be as sensitive as possible, because she noticed how it seemed to take a toll on your mental health.

Ann would tell her manager, show them pictures of you, practically BEGGING for her studio to make a feature with you. „She's so talented! She's so nice! She does a really good job, but people can't seem to appreciate it!"

She could go on for days. Weeks, if she had to. For you, everything. And it would work, sooner or later. You would have a shooting with her, featured in a well known and popular magazine. But that isn't enough for her. Just a bit more. She is active on social media and would use her gigantic fanbase to get appreciation for you. A few jobs. Connections. You're so pretty, you're doing such a good job, you only deserve the best.

If there ever was someone who treated you bad because of your skin color, she would try to help you ignore it and next day talk to the other phantom thieves. There had to be something they were able to do.

If you like what I write, please consider liking this post, or maybe even reblogging it! <3

#sacredwarrior88 #request #persona 5 #headcanon #imagine #ann takamaki #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #X reader #P5 #Joker

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virgorisingmusic · 7 months

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#5: you did what you wanted to do

How do I know if I like these colours? I can like colours and not want to wear them. If I shop in a rush, I’ll end up buying clothes I don’t actually like very much. Am I enjoying this person or do I like that they’re enjoying me? Am I enjoying these fries? I would prefer them with ketchup. The crispy ones taste best. I don’t like Burger King.

I like beige, brown, black, white, muted green, and grey-blue. I think I expect to be affected by colours the same way I’m affected by music and writing. I love Subway but the thought of them making eggs and breakfast food makes me sick. I don’t have to do things I don’t want to do. Sometimes I do. I don’t like waiting for my sister in the airport and watching her come down the escalator and waiting for her luggage on the carousel because it’s always the last bag to come around. I don’t want to think about why I don’t enjoy it, but I just know I’d rather wait for her in the car. It’s unpleasant to think about why I don’t like certain things. Yorkshire is my favourite English accent because of Sean Bean. I’ve always thought Cillian Murphy was very beautiful. As of recently, I love sea foam green.

I know what I like - I think doubting what I like and trying to analyse why I like and dislike things is partly an issue with my own intuition and sense of self. I’m barely the person I’m going to be. I’d be nearly empty if I was a glass of water.

I met my brother (whom I had never met before) at work the other day. I didn’t get the advice of friends before I opened my mouth. I sold him a card and said, “Your total is $8.96, and I think I’m your sister!”

It didn’t go the way I had planned and I ended up feeling really horrible for around a week afterwards. Throughout my childhood, I had spent a lot of time imagining the day I’d meet one of my three other half-siblings, and I forgot it could go a way I didn’t favour. How do you separate desire from expectation?

I shouldn’t have said anything.

Only expecting what you desire seems nice and empowering; however, it seems the more I want something, the universe conspires to keep it from me. I’m teased by confidence and punished by our funny little world.

“This is going to work out for me,” turns into, “I should’ve known.”

“It didn’t work out because I never deserved it.”

Figuring out how to trick the world is funny. Oh, I absolutely do NOT want to win the Lotto 649 Gold Ball Jackpot… It would SUCK if this artist I love listened to and adored my song and asked my band to go on tour with them…

But there are people on the opposite end of this theory who say you have to act like you already have what you want in order to get what you want. This makes me wish I was a magic girl - 22 and magic. Sometimes I think 20-year-old girls are magical. I felt magical for one day when I was young, actually. I had just discovered Google and I went on a website (kind of like this one, if it wasn’t actually this one) that had a bunch of spells, and I picked one that was supposed to allow me to hear my cat’s thoughts. I looked at Levi’s in his sweet green eyes and said some words. When it didn’t work, I thought I just had to wait a bit for the spell to kick in. Sometimes when bad things happen, I think about that day and wonder if those words ended up eternally cursing me, but I know sometimes things just don’t work out because I don’t truly want or need the things I say I want. I don’t need to know my brother. I don’t want to know him. I hope I never see him again, actually. I understand that may be confusing to some people, but I already have a brother and sister whom I love very much, and I don’t ever think about how they’re not my father’s children.

When I told my mom I said something stupid to my father’s only son, she said,

“You did what you wanted to do at that moment.”

I didn’t have time to overthink or analyse the pros and cons in my journal. I did what I wanted to do, and doing what I want to do has been a massive theme in my life since that day. I’m trying harder to defend my intuition by letting it lead me through situations like that one. I still feel I shouldn’t have said anything; it was uncomfortable and awkward for both of us. But now I can say I’ve met him and I never have to anticipate meeting him ever again. I joked that my workplace lost a customer that day.

What doubly upset me about the situation was that I made someone uncomfortable. I did what I wanted, but it was at the expense of someone else’s comfort. I just had to know, though! You’re buying a card at a gift shop and your long-lost sibling is your cashier. You're selling a card at a gift shop and your long-lost sibling is your customer. I've watched so many Hallmarks that my life is slowly becoming one.

I don't really care anymore, but I can't help but think: if we had a different backdrop behind that major life event, would it have turned out differently? Someone's workplace isn't the right setting for a messy family to reunite, but I couldn't not say something. It's just unfortunate that huge, life-altering events don't wait for perfect moments. They come as they come.

…

My sister got engaged this week and her wedding colours are going to be white and sea foam green.

Emily

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lostsymbol-does-stuff · 10 months

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Things I’ve learned while working at a Renaissance Faire:

- Some people are very stingy about their cheeseburgers.

So, my parents had a stall at a renaissance faire. Which faire? Nun ya. And they were food vendors and so I helped em out and they paid me about 50 bucks a day.

So on the last day, we sold out of cheese. Yes, just the cheese. So we had hamburgers. One woman walks up and says “I’d like a cheeseburger, no onions, no lettuce.” Now, dear reader, the health department in the state we were set up in, would not allow us to add toppings. So it was a plain hamburger or cheeseburger, but we did have an assortment of condiments.

I inform this woman that we don’t have cheese, but we can do a hamburger. She scoffs and says “Ok, well, I’ll have a hamburger then.”

It is important to note that we were very, *very* busy. The line was very long, my dear father was working his ass off to keep up with the orders.

This woman looks over at this long line of people waiting for their hamburgers, cheeseburgers, and barbecue chicken wraps. And she sees, two burgers with cheese on them.

She then turns to me and says in the most stiff voice, “You say there isn’t any more cheese, but I’m looking at it right there.” To which I THINK, but do NOT say, ma’am I can’t just give you someone else’s cheeseburger.

I respond with a shy smile, “well that’s the last of it,” and she scoffs and rolls her eyes. And that’s the end of her and I don’t think I’m going to forget that encounter.

- Renaissance people are the nicest people.

Yes, in the previous bullet point I was complaint about one person. But that was an outlier. People were so kind to me and my parents, tipped us very well, and were just very nice in general. It was a great time.

- Vendors look out for other vendors. Always.

My parent’s food stand was in between two food trucks. The one to our left was a hot dog truck that sold lemonade for 8 bucks. Mind you, it was just lemon juice (like from a bottle), sugar, and water. But, it was hot and no one cared and they made bank. Every time I went over there to try and buy some food, they *refused* to let me pay. They literally put their hand over the tip jar so I couldn’t even tip, and when I did sneak it in there, they would fish it out and give it to their son and tell him to give it back. He did, he was very nice. The adults running the truck always called me “Dear”.

The food truck to our right was like a grilled cheese place. They also didn’t let me pay, but I was able to tip. They were very nice to me. They called me “my love”.

There was a mini donut stand in front of us, and they had really bad coffee but it was a good kick in the metaphysical balls to get me going at 7:30 in the morning. And they offered us free donuts (the first one is free but then you have to pay for the second one, but they heavily discounted all of our purchases. I visited them every morning). The stand had a little statue of a gnome with its pants down mooning customers, and when my mom said it was adorable and she needed it, the man behind the counter replied, “Well, he’s our boss so I don’t think I can just hand him to you,”. They also called me “Hon” or “Sweetheart”.

- Just talk to the vendors. Ask questions about what they’re selling. Start a conversation.

Is this scary? Yes. Is this scary when the vendor is dressed as a pink fairy covered in glitter and is selling dice? Yes, but less so. The vendors I got to talk to were fascinating people and were so nice. They complimented my boots and my Kirby bag with all my stupid little pins and keychains. Literally the nicest people.

I ended up being given a free fan by the vendor because he thought I was a nice person and a good teenager, because even my mom vouched for me. He also said we could just take the bigger fan and test it out for the day and if we wanted it we could pay for it but if we didn’t we could return it. I promptly went back to our stand, asked my dad politely if I could rob him of $25, and returned to the fan vendor and paid him. He was really nice.

- You don’t have to dress up!!!!

Does dressing up make it a bit more fun? Maybe! But when it’s regularly 85° with no clouds in sight, no one is going to judge you for coming in clothes that maybe aren’t so fancy but will keep you cool or aren’t heavy. Literally no one.

Now, if you want to dress up and choose to do so, amazing!! I loved seeing all the costumes!!

- If you’re having fun and are nice to people around you, you’ll have fun and be able to meet so many cool people.

I think that speaks for itself but yeah. Just a general rule.

- Buy the authentic Hungarian chimney cakes filled with ice cream.

The three Hungarian women behind the counter are very nice and will tell you about the options and what it is. Wait in the damn line, it’s worth it. I talked to an elder punk person and complimented them on their bag (it had tons and tons of quotes and pins and pictures. Coolest thing I’ve seen), and I found out that they were thinking about doing customs! But they didn’t end up doing it, because finding blank canvas bags are surprisingly difficult, and also they would feel bad for having to charge so much. I told them good luck, and I encouraged them to try it anyway and tell me if they found a good canvas bag somewhere.

- Renaissance faires are for everyone.

The faire I was at was so subtlety inclusive. It was amazing. I saw several furries walking around, the grounds were accessible to wheel chair users, there was a shuttle to and from, the bathrooms didn’t have a “ladies” and “men”, it was just “bathrooms with urinals” and “bathrooms without urinals” and no one battered an eye.

- The kilt guy seller is actually amazing even though he’s really loud and you can hear him literally everywhere. And also don’t take it to heart when he says you can’t pet his service dog. I was able to, but it was after most patrons left. The dog was very fluffy and nice.

Moral of the story, GO TO RENAISSANCE FAIRES. TAKE A CHANCE.

#renaissance #renaissance faire #story time #things ive learned

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bowieandqueen11 · 3 years

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Halloween Costume Shopping With Alexei Headcanons

Request: Hi, I miss Alexei from Stranger Things sm and I have an idea, shopping for Halloween costumes with Alexei (fem reader) Thanks ♥️

I hope this is okay my lovely! It’s so nice to finally go full blown into the Halloween spirit!

(Gif credit goes to: @random-imagines-blog. I do not own Stranger Things or its characters, all rights go to creators.)

Okay, so we all know that when Alexei isn’t being forced to open portals between worlds and unleash terrifying monsters upon the unsuspecting residents of small town Hawkins, then he is a huge excitable golden Labrador of a man who just CANNOT keep still dearie me.

Actually getting Alexei into the Starcourt Mall both undetected and just because he is so giddy. It’s a fine battle between kind of wrapping him around your arms and trying to lift the cable knit-green jumper he was wearing up enough around his head so only the tips of his glasses’ frames creep out, and trying to drag him by the scruff of his collar away from all the flashing lights and neon colours of the food court.

Every time he would do a little jump of excitement and grab onto your shoulders, dropping his cover and making you blush and groan in embarrassment as people gave you strange looks, you couldn’t help the way your heart did a little flip. He just looked too damn adorable, the way he would glance over at you with a huge smile and excitement in his eyes, wanting you to be a part of every new neon thing that had caught his eye.

His English still wasn’t perfect, but dragging you over to every ice cream stall or slushy machine was just his sweet way of trying to share his own form of love with you.

He was getting better though - you has been coming over to Murray’s bunker as often as you could after work, just to sit crossed legged on the sofa facing Alexei. His knees would bounce against your own, eyes wide and glazed with astonishment as he would lean forward, clinging onto every English word you would try to teach him.

His eyes would follow every movement of your lips, and when he falls asleep on the couch later, he finds himself staring off into the ceiling and mouthing every single word you had said to him, tracing his lips in wonder.

Without trying to manically control the literal toddler, who would grip onto your fingers with a big beaming grin and try to drag you off into the distance with a final flash of flopping curls, you were already carrying a bag full of candy in your other arm. As soon as you had parked Murray’s car in the parking lot, Alexei had literally not waited for the vehicle to stop before his long legs had hitched themselves over the window and had run off into the horizon.

You had finally found him in the nearest candy store, hunched over by the pick’n’mix. He was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, eyes shifting around at the irritated looking shop clerk as he shovelled sweets from the little cubby holes into his mouth.

He had refused to leave until you had bought him pretty much a bag of everything the store had. Even then he had still shoved some more jelly worms into his mouth to ‘save for later’ as he had tried to tell you through a mouthful, and through you dragging him by the hair back into the mall’s courtyard.

Although a fake witch had gone off in one of the shops and he had jumped into your arms Scooby Doo style. It took a little coaxing, and the promise that you would buy him a slushy and a burger for dinner before his fingers finally unclenched from behind your back and he would stop hiding his head, glasses askew against your shoulder blade.

When you finally get him into the shop, off he goes - giggling and flying under a full row of rails like a bull and nearly knocking every single costume flying into your face.

Just when you think you’ve finally lost him for good, a hand reaches out from between a velvet cape and a fake habit costume, fingers beckoning you towards the darkness. Finally you give in, letting the longer fingers wrap around your own and fling you, chuckling, into a little secret triangular space of floor hidden among the clothing rails.

Alexei squats there, silently giggling as he shows you the outfit he has chosen from himself - a full blown mad scientist outfit, complete with long cream lab coat, crazy wig and even a little fake conical flask to boot.

‘Don’t you think that’s a little bit on the nose?’, you query, nearly falling onto the man and balancing yourself on his knee.

‘No, it will be on my back.’

The cheek-

You can see him bite his bottom lip to try and stifle his laugh, giving in eventually when you hit his shoulder and fall into him, giggling yourself.

Your forehead accidentally brushes against his own, and you go to pull away with a gasp but his thumbs cup your cheek and pull you back to him before you can.

The two of you just sit there, giggling and glancing at each other for a while, each trying to pretend their heart wasn’t thudding like a hurricane against their chest every time their breath crossed each others’ cheek.

Eventually you manage to persuade him into trying on a pair of jeans and red gilet, shoving him towards the scarlet curtain of the changing room that lay near the back of the shop, thankfully far away from the front window. You had this huge irrational fear that you would turn around and see a very fuming Murray staring at you from behind the glass.

You had only meant to take him out for ten minutes, yet here you both were two hours later. Oops.

He calls you in to help zip up the jacket, and before you can even tease him for having clumsy fingers, the curtain is pulled open and Alexei’s form looms over you. The breath is drawn from your chest and pulled away as he grabs onto your face and pulls you up towards his face, fringe tickling your forehead as he kisses you for the first time, pouring heart and soul into you until his breath is your own.

In the end, the two of you manage to leave without any outfits at all, but somehow with a relationship which you both felt was a suitable substitute.

#stranger things #alexei #alexei imagine #alexei stranger things #alexei smirnoff imagine #alexei smirnoff #alec utgoff #stranger things imagine #alexei x reader #alexei headcanons #halloween #alexei fluff

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minteyeddevil · 3 years

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do you know that moment when you suddenly remember embarassing things you did? so when my brain did that, i accidentally make some random noises. and it makes me being made fun of. so could you make the demon bros+undateables reacts to FM!MC accidentally make random noises? like- "eep" "wtf" "oh sorry i just remember stupid things i did haha" "???" sorry if this is too much for you, and thank youu!

(Yo I do this a lot too lmao xD so I feel you anon, though lemme fight the people who make fun of you >:()

Lucifer:

The first time he heard MC make a random noise out of no where, he stopped and almost did a double take

She went 'ah fuck' once, stopped, turned on her heel for a moment, as if doing a weird 'robot' dance, went 'ah fuck!' a tad louder and ran the opposite direction of where Lucifer was standing

It didn't quite sound like proper words, though he made out what she was saying; it was more a mumble under her breath and to no one in particular except herself

He made an attempt to follow her to see what was wrong, and found her digging in her school bag in the main hall; he asked her what exactly she was doing

"Forgot to grab my charger for my phone, phone was dying, ha," she answered, making him raise an eyebrow at her earlier antics

Humans really were a peculiar species

Mammon:

He and MC were hanging together in the common area, he sitting on the floor while she was laying flat on the couch

They were both playing games on their D.D.D.s, when MC let out a loud "SCREEEE" sound, making him jump in his spot

"Wha!? What happened!?" Mammon hollered back, looking up at MC, confused by her strange noise

"Finally beat that stupid level! Here, look!" She held up her phone triumphantly, showing him the 'Win!' screen

He blinked a few times at the screen, than looked back at her for a second, "Uh, cool, congrats! Though, did ya need to sound like a dyin' animal just now?"

Leviathan:

If anyone understands making random ass noises all the time, it's going to be him

He and MC basically make up their own language of strange noises that they make at each other, especially when around his brothers

She'll go 'lel' and he'll go 'lawl' and just bust out laughing when his brothers just look at them like they are crazy

They especially will 'whoop' and holler with each other when playing games together, because how could gamers not communicate through weird sounds they make

They even text each other the sounds, and when doing so in the group chats just makes the chat explode with his brothers losing their minds lol

Satan:

MC walked up to Satan once, leaned over him while he was sitting and reading his book, and closed her mouth on his shoulder

She made a loud "NOM" noise when doing so, making him close his book and look directly at her

"Must you always make such strange noises when coming near me?" he asked, sighing when she simply answered with another 'nom' noise, and bit his shoulder again

She also enjoys walking up behind him and going "Nya~", making him freeze and turn on her like she just smacked him on the backside

She drives this poor demon crazy with her cat and 'nom' noises lol

Asmodeus:

He was caught off guard by MC making the loudest "Squee!" noise when they were out shopping together

She ran up to a particular plush set outside of a shop they were walking by, and wrapped it in a bear hug

She continued to coo and squeal at it, pressing it's nose to hers and being down right adorable he felt he would melt right in his spot

"Would you like me to buy that for you, my dear?" he offered, eliciting another high squeak from her

He finds her little noise to be complete adorable and does whatever he can to make her make them more for him

Beelzebub:

When they were sharing lunch together, MC made the randomest "Grrrrrawr!" noise when biting into her burger

Beel almost choked on his at the sound, looking at her both slightly confused but laughing at the sudden noise

"You okay MC? Did you bite yourself or something?" he asks, showing his genuine concern; but she simply laughs and shrugs, admitting she just likes making random noises like that

He tilts his head a bit in thought, than kind of shrugs and gives her a nod, before making a loud growling sound of his own when taking another bite of his burger

She bursts out laughing so hard she almost falls to the floor, his large hand coming up to keep her in her seat

Belphegor:

He decided that MC's room was going to be his nap spot for the day, so he waltzes right in, and lays out on her bed, while she does homework at her desk

He however, does not get much sleep, since MC is sitting there, making loud "Wah" noises repeatedly to herself

"Why are you making that sound?" he asks, not really hiding his annoyance in his voice as he pulls his pillow over his head

"Helps me 'wah' concentrate 'wah'," she replies, continuing to make said noise

After about an hour of enduring the noise making, he gives up and gets off her bed, thumps her across the head with his pillow, and storms out of her room lol

Diavolo:

Fascinated by the random sounds she makes, all of them

The first time he heard MC make a random noise, she was walking around with him and randomly went "Nyoom!" while running her hand along the banister of the stairway

Now he will mimic the sounds that she makes as well, and it drives both Lucifer and Barbatos absolutely bonkers when he does it

He even writes the noises out through text when messaging them, with the help of MC teaching him how to do so

Needless to say, MC is in a whole lot of trouble with Lucifer over this lol

Barbatos:

He found himself staring oddly at MC the first time she made a 'nom' sound when eating one of his baked goods

She constantly would go 'mmmm' as well, making him confused at whether she was enjoying the food or not

When she walked up to him and made the 'nom nom nom' sound at what he was preparing, he finally stopped her and asked her to explain the weird noises she was making

She apologized, explaining she liked making weird noises, and honestly the 'nom'ing noise was meant as a compliment; it meant she found everything he made really good!

Took him a while to believe her, but he would eventually come to smile whenever she would make that noise around him again

Simeon:

*confused angel noises*

He saw MC one day walking around at school, stop in her tracks, and back up, making a 'Beep beep beep' sound

She than happily walked on her way, seeming to hum to herself as she did so, leaving the angel rather confused in his spot

He wasn't sure if he should ask her what that was about, until he noticed that she would do it again quite often, and seem to laugh to herself when doing so

When he brought it up to her, she was incredibly embarrassed, unaware that he had seen her doing that; she explained it was just a fun noise she would do because she was bored, and it was entertaining

She almost died the one time she caught him copying her, making the 'beep beep beep' sound and walking backwards in the hallway; it was a good laugh between the two of them

Solomon:

Another one who seems to speak the random sounds language along with MC

They communicate through random 'pips' and 'plups' when in class together, giggling like idiots when other students look at them confused

MC will run up to him in the hallway randomly, blow him a raspberry, and run off while he just laughs his ass off at them

Of course, they do the same thing through text messages, especially if they are absolutely bored and want to just mess with each other

Sometimes they pull the brothers into it, Levi having a ball with them while the others just rage in the thread

#obey me #shall we date obey me #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #diavolo #barbatos #simeon #solomon #headcanon #request #fem!mc

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stray-cat-with-internet-access · 15 days

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When I get paid I won't say anything but there will be signs

#look at him buying a burger with his bag on I adore him #enzo vogrincic #society of the snow #la sociedad de la nieve #uruguay #loewe

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liesoverthec · 3 years

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OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 2

Hi y’all I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reblogged the last details post - I sort of just thought people would like it and it would die, so to see it travel and hopefully reach more writers was so great so thank you again!

Details under the cut since I went a little crazy 😅 and if this is your first time seeing this, the first part, and any future parts, can be found under this tag here!

Quick note before I get to the details - always, ALWAYS take details from dialogue or plot over details from the set or props if they contradict each other. The writers have the ultimate say over what happens on the show/for the characters, so whatever they say goes, even if it goes against something props has already laid down (eg, Chim’s birthday, sorry Libra crew. He’s an Aries or a Pisces). So keep that in mind for the future in case some of these details I have which are from props/set are changed in the future, or if you’ve noticed something yourself!

Also if you have questions, I am MORE than happy to answer them, although if you leave them in the tags on this post I’m probably gonna lose them, so if it’s something you’d genuinely like an answer to, drop it in my inbox! Besides my standard “ask” tags, I’m also tagging asks about canon details with this tag here. Every time I make a big post like this, I’m going to link all the asks I’ve gotten since the last post, but if you’re looking for more info in the mean time, that’s the other spot to look!

Buck has a grill on his patio.

Eddie doesn’t hang Christopher’s art on the fridge - instead it is either hung on the corkboard in Chris’ room to the left of the door, or Eddie puts it in an actual frame and hangs it using a hammer/nails in Christopher’s room. All the Diaz family has on their fridge is a bunch of bendy people magnets. (I absolutely ADORE him putting all this effort into treating Christopher’s art like it’s something you’d buy from a professional artist).

Info on everyone’s ages can be found here. (Little more discussion of Chim’s situation here).

Albert has a bachelor’s degree! I don’t know in what though, except that it’s some field for which is a Master’s is useful.

Athena was in a sorority in college, Delta Sigma Theta. Their website describes them as “ ...a sisterhood comprised primarily of Black, college-educated women ... [that] considers the issues impacting the Black community and boldly confronts the challenges of African Americans and, hence, all Americans ”, which I love for Athena, and feel is very in-character for her at that time in her life!

Chim is an aviators dude. When he wears sunglasses, they’re always aviators.

Athena also wears nothing but aviators.

Bobby wears square aviators.

Eddie, on the other hand, always wears Wayfarers.

Buck either doesn’t really like sunglasses or he constantly forgets he owns them, since we’ve only seen him wear them once in 60 eps, in a move I’m pretty sure was ONLY for dramatic effect.

Hen’s sunglasses change style over the seasons like her regular glasses do, but she tends to like browline sunglasses.

Info on Christopher’s school can be found here!

There are two colors of dispatch polo, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhythm or reason for who wears what. Maroon - Maddie and Linda. Blue - Josh and May. Jamal has actually worn both maroon and blue, so it doesn’t seem to be TOTALLY set in stone although I’ve never seen anyone else switch. Sue is too badass to wear a dispatch shirt.

Both Bobby and Eddie drive 4 door pickups. Bobby’s is navy. Eddie specifically has a black, 2020 GMC Denali 1500 pickup truck (in case you want to specifically look up what the inside of it looks like or what features it has 😂)

Info on the 118’s medical certifications can be found here.

Correction to Eddie’s living situation from last post: no next door neighbors, but instead UPSTAIRS neighbors. (Pointed out by Abigail in this ask). Also since someone else was wondering the notes of the last post - no, there is absolutely no discussion on the show of whether or not Eddie rents the apartment or owns it. But based on the fact that it’s 1) LA and 2) an apartment, my guess would be he rents it.

When Maddie isn’t feeling like herself, she tends to straighten her hair rather than curl it. It seems to be more when she’s uncertain about her place in her own and other people’s lives, rather than just when she’s simply worried - eg it’s straight in 2B, when she’s uncertain if she wants to continue working as a dispatcher/is unsure about her relationship with Chim.

For work, Chim, Eddie and Buck all use black duffel bags with a LAFD patch on the top. Hen uses several different cute bags, and Bobby seems to have a plain black duffel bag.

Watches - Bobby, Athena, Chim, Hen and Buck all wear their watch on their left wrist (but Athena ONLY wears hers for work, she takes it off at home.) Eddie wears his on his right wrist, and Maddie doesn’t wear one.

Chim (and Maddie by default) literally still have the exact same couch as in the pilot. (Which means that Chim has cuddled Tatiana on that couch, AND Albert has had sex on it. TIME TO GET A NEW ONE, BUCKLEY-HANS 😂)

The 118 has five different rigs - the engine (E118), the ladder truck (T118), two ambulances and the captain’s truck. 95% of the time, when the team is chilling in the cab of a rig and chatting (eg the ‘stuck under a live telephone pole’ scene in Jinx), they’re in the engine, not the truck. (Which I personally learned recently are NOT interchangeable terms!)

Athena and Michael got married when Athena was 37.

If you’d like to give Maddie a full name beyond “Maddie”, you should use Madeline. (I know, I know, in 4x04 she says Maddie is the name on her birth certificate, and that you should never use props details if they contradict script details, but I always thought that was a super weird exchange in 4x04 which could be explained by Maddie getting a nickname since she was born when Margaret and Phillip, you know, actually loved their kids and showed it, so of course Buck doesn’t get one, and in 4x04, Maddie was trying to avoid the entire issue of why she got one and Buck didn’t. But! Do what you want, and use Madeline as the full version of Maddie if you’d like, since that’s what’s on the BOLO in 2x13 😂)

Athena’s call sign is 727 L30, but she doesn’t have a specific squad car - the number changes throughout the series.

Chim really likes chewing gum, but he’s the only one out of the entire family!

The station has an Xbox One S, and it’s white.

In the real LAFD, there are stations 1 through 114. To avoid confusion while filming on the streets (I’m assuming), our fictional LAFD never uses the number of a real station. So if you want another station for a fic, and you want something that would be real in OUR universe, use the numbers 115 and above. They’ve gone as high as 221 in our universe.

Battalions - station 118 is in Battalion 7, which is also not a battalion in real Los Angeles. The 118 has interacted w/ Battalion 1, which is a real battalion, but other ‘non-real which makes them more likely for our universe’ battalions include numbers: 3, 8, 13, 16, 19 and above.

S1 Buck knew the term Jedi, but based on context, didn’t understand AT ALL the context provided by Star Wars, so there’s another edge of his pop culture limits for you.

Chim is the most tech-savvy out of everyone, hands down.

Athena has a VERY active Twitter account.

Abuela’s house number is 8902. I don’t have a street name for you unfortunately though. :/

Athena’s favorite flowers are white roses. None of the other women are really flower people.

Michael likes to wear purple.

When they’re at a call, Buck does pretty much all of the stuff with the hammer and the saw. Eddie does all the work needed with the drill.

Harry goes to Meadowbrook Elementary.

Buck lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building, across the hall from Apt. 416. The lovely @lovelessmotel found this listing for what is more or less the apartment. What happened was: the set crew rented this apartment for the one episode at the end of s2 when Buck moved in, and then over the summer before s3 built their own set of it, and changed some things - eg giving him an island, and moving the sink to a second counter against the far wall, you can see the changes here in this amazing gif set by the awesome Austen, but the listing should let you click around a little more upstairs and figure out dimensions better than what the show provides!

When Athena and Hen go out to eat together, it’s always fast food burgers and fries.

Waffles are Athena’s favorite food, and tiramisu is her favorite dessert.

Every takeout we’ve seen Buck eat has always been in a Chinese food takeout container, and we know he likes Thai food the best. EXCEPT! The one time we see him eat takeout with Eddie and Christopher, they have pizza. So take from that what you will......

Eddie has a cell phone and a landline.

Chim is a shameless multiple texter.

Chim and Bobby sleep closest to the door in their respective bedrooms (both right side of the bed if you are standing at the foot, facing the headboard), and Athena and Maddie sleep furthest away from the door (left side).

Some canon last names for other firefighters at the station in case you wanna add more people to a fic - Mitchell, Sanchez, Serrano (woman), Porter, Meyers (woman), Maxwell, Voyta

Hen and Karen really love decorating their house with dark/red wood.

Karen is Mommy and Hen is Mama.

Bobby has a brother, and a grandmother, and that’s literally ALL we know about his family outside of Marcy and the kids.

Evidence points to Eddie being the oldest child in his family.

Karen has multiple brothers (no sisters), but no idea how many - just that one of them is named Trey, and one of them lives in LA and has kids. They might be the same brother and they might not be.

Both Hen and Athena are only children.

Athena has been on the police force for 30 years.

Christopher and Denny are the same age (born in 2011), and Harry is two years older than them.

Michael lives in apartment 308.

The bank in this universe is CalAm.

Hen and Karen have a picture of Denny, May and Harry on their fireplace mantel.

Eddie having a black thumb + a lot of plants in his living room = him buying fake plants bc he likes the aesthetic ™ or someone (cough Carla cough) is taking care of them for him.

The COVID timeline in OG’s universe is fucked up compared to the real world’s, so it shouldn’t be used as a way to measure time! They just throw it in wherever it makes sense for the story they want to tell (eg the vaccines in s4 ep 8), since s3 was both done before COVID hit but also airing while it was happening. It makes absolutely no sense for May to graduate in March nor for Chris to be going to what is specifically labeled summer camp, and the vaccine plotline was INCREDIBLY early, even for real life, so don’t use anything from that as a measure of time. I’ve found except in specific examples, eg the two tsunami episodes, it’s very safe to say every episode covers a week - fall holidays on the show line up with their real life counterparts, indicating about the same amount of time is passing for us and them.

On that note - Jee-Yun was born in late January, early February 2021. (Conceived in Pinned, which was end of March/beginning of April, meaning Maddie was around a month along at May’s graduation in May ➡ 42 weeks + 3 days from then = late Jan/early Feb. Which unfortunately means we most likely won’t see her birthday celebrated on screen. If we assume she was conceived on the date Pinned aired, aka the very sexy hotel scene, then January 21st or 22nd would be Jee’s birthday, depending on if she was born after midnight or not.

Buck has had at least one other Jeep between the one Maddie gave him, and the one he has now, which means that when he needs a new car, he is purposefully choosing Jeeps.

I hope this was all as interesting/enjoyable to you as it was to me! And just to repeat - I love answering questions so pls let me know if you have any at all ❤

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Tagging: @buckbuckley

#911 fox #911 canon character details #athena grant #bobby nash #chimney han #hen wilson #maddie buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz #bathena #madney #henren #buddie #userac #hey yall if anyone else wants to be added to these tags let me know #im happy to do so #I feel like I have v little for Bobby here sorry :/#I’ll work on getting lots for him next time

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

Hayloft p.4

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, death, abuse, and sexual assault (depictions of none, though), alcoholism/ drunkenness, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of infidelity, murder

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Pretty lightly edited, just a warning

Read the Previous Chapters!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“Hey, hun, what can I getcha?” You leaned into your popped hip, pen and notepad in hand.

A man you hadn’t met before, clearly someone just passing through town, was sitting across the diner bar in a light blue button-up and suspenders. He was fairly clean cut save for the day-old scruff across his face. He studied the menu intensely before setting it down and looking up at you with a sweet-as-pie smile. “Can I please have coffee with some cream and the grits?” He asked with a southern drawl.

You scribbled down his order on the notepad, “That all?”

“Mhm, I think so. Thanks doll.” He slid the menu towards you before reaching for a newspaper that had been left on the counter beside him by the last patron. You turned around to pin the man’s order on the little turnstile for the chef when the little bell on the door rang.

Tucking your notepad back into the apron tied around your waist, you grabbed the pot of coffee from the counter and poured the man a cup of the rich black liquid. Next, you prepared a little ceramic cup of cream and walked back to set them on the counter in front of him. His polite thanks were only the background when you saw Arvin walk behind the man and shoot you a smile before settling down in a seat at the bar only a few seats away.

You walked over to him and leaned on the counter with a smile, “Well, hey there stranger. You on lunch already?”

Arvin nodded, looking to you hopefully, “Yeah ‘n I was hopin’ you might be too so I could grab a bite to eat with my favorite girl.”

“Shh!” You hushed him with exasperated wide eyes, like it should have been obvious that he needed to keep his voice down, because in your mind it was. You nodded your head to the other patrons in the diner. “Y’know word travels fast in little towns like this ‘n I don’t need my daddy findin’ out ‘bout us,” you whispered to Arvin who sighed in annoyed understanding. You knew he wasn’t annoyed at you but the situation was less than ideal.

He tapped his fingers on the counter and his knees bounced under the bar, “So is that a no for lunch?”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the clock that hung on the wall. It was only eleven in the morning but maybe you could ask Charlene if she could cover so you could take an early lunch. “Let me double check real quick.” You held up a finger to excuse yourself into the back to find your coworker.

No more than ten minutes later, you and Arvin walked out to his car with two take-out boxes of burgers you had managed to swipe from the kitchen in hand. He slid into the driver’s seat while you planted yourself beside him in the passenger’s. You handed him one of the boxes of food before opening your own and

digging into the small handful of fries. “So how is your day going so far?”

Arvin took a large bite of his burger, covering his mouth with his hand has he tried to speak and chew at the same time, “Ain’t too bad. I got an engine to rebuild for an old Ford when I get back but nothin’ too terrible. How ‘bout you?”

“Ready to go home already,” you chuckled, popping a fry in your mouth, “But it ain’t too bad here either. Just would like to not be here.”

Arvin laughed a little beside you, “I know how that feels. Thanks for the burgers by the way. I appreciate it. I don’t want you gettin’ in no trouble for stealin’ food.”

You shrugged off his concern, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. If people don’t eat it, it just goes in the trash anyways. I ain’t gonna get in any trouble.”

He let out a heavy breath, resigning to your insistence, which he really just found an adorable confident stubbornness. A comfortable silence fell over the unmoving car as the two of you ate your lunches in the parking lot. When you finished chewing your bite, you looked over at Arvin, “How long you been livin’ with us?”

Arvin looked up at the brick wall straight ahead in thought, “Maybe five months now. Longer than I meant to-"

"I didn't mean it like that! I was just wonderin'...." you got awkwardly quiet for a moment, "Havin' you 'round has been the best five months in a really really long time."

"For me too. When I came into town, I thought I'd be livin' in my car. Didn't know how lucky I'd be gettin' to live with the most beautiful girl in the world." His hand reached over to your thigh, squeezing lightly.

Even after all of his sweet affections and compliments, they never failed to make your cheeks ache from trying not to blush and smile like a schoolgirl. “You really think flattery will get you somewhere?” you giggled teasingly, turning towards him and nudging his leg with your hand.

“Well it got me in your house so…” He teased back, something that he had been doing more often in the last few weeks. Arvin had never been the most humorous of people, aside from the occasional chuckle or hidden smile. That had been changing since the two of you had gotten closer though.

“Uh, no! It might get you kicked outta my house though if my daddy ever finds out.” It started as chuckle but the words faded into concerned worry as you realized how true they could really be.

Arvin sensed the shift, “You really think your daddy would kick me out if he found out ‘bout us?”

You nodded, “Without a doubt. Would probably throw me out too.” You shifted so you were sitting on your bent leg, suddenly uncomfortable.

He began cautiously, “I mean… would that really be such a bad thing?”

You whipped your head to look at him, “I ain’t got nowhere else to live right now. I been savin’ up for a year to move out but it ain’t enough to buy a place of my own yet.”

“How much you got?”

That number was in your head immediately, one that you kept a running total of with every paycheck. “$4,317.” It wasn’t enough, though, and you knew it. Even the old run down houses around town cost $12,000, which meant you weren’t even halfway to the fixer-uppers, not that you minded buying a fixer upper. “I don’t need a mansion or nothin’ but it ain’t nearly enough for even something small.”

Arvin chewed his lip, thinking about the box of cash he’d been stashing away with each of his paychecks as well. He knew exactly what it was like in your position, struggling to save up the money to get on your own feet. He hated relying on others and, even though he really liked you, he hated depending on your and your father for shelter. “You ain’t gonna be stuck in this ol’ town forever,” he promised you and it came out just like that. A promise. “You’re too good for this place.”

Another smile forced its way onto your face at his words of hope, “I’ll get outta here eventually…”

Suddenly, a familiar male voice yelled your name and you flinched. You turned towards the voice to see your boss, Harold, standing at the backdoor of the diner with his hands on his hips. He gave you a stern look and tapped the watch on his wrist before pointing at you then jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

“Shit! I totally lost track of time!” You scrambled to gather up the trash from lunch and stuffed it into the paper bag you’d brought it out in. “I’m sorry, I have to run!”

Arvin had nearly jumped out of his skin when your name had been yelled, the only person he’d ever heard calling you that way being your father. He crumbled up the paper wrapper for his burger and stuffed it in the paper bag for you. “‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your boss.”

“Nah, he’s fine,” you waved off the worry dismissively, “He acts all tough but he ain’t nothin’ but a softy.” You opened up the door and began to slide out when you stopped and took a quick glance around. Nobody was in the parking lot, or really anywhere in sight for that matter. In an impulsive swift action, you grabbed Arvin by the collar of his greasy shirt and pulled his lips to yours quickly before pushing him before anyone could see.

He looked stunned, big brown eyes wide and shocked by your courageous kiss. Your heart raced and your cheeks flushed with the exhilaration of actually sneaking a kiss to Arvin in public. It was a dangerous move but your dad was at work and there was nobody else around to see. You tried to hide your excited smile by chewing your bottom lip but it didn’t work. “Thanks for lunch, Arv.”

“Uh - y-yeah. Thank you for the burger.” Arvin stumbled over his words while you slid out of the car and closed the door behind you, leaving the poor boy struggling to make his brain catch up to reality.

“See you at home!” You waved one last time before turning. Arvin watched as you jogged back to the entrance of the diner, your little dress bouncing with every movement. You turned to give him one last glance before you disappeared behind the door.

Work had passed rather uneventfully for you. You put in the last few hours of your shift, went to the grocery store, and then headed home to start on dinner.

Arvin, on the other hand, the rest of his day at work had shaken the good feeling he’d had since his lunch break with you. He had found himself with a wrench in hand, trying to bolt back in the engine he’d been rebuilding for the last few hours. Grease smeared across his shirt, pants, and face despite how hard he tried to keep his dirty hands from ruining his clothes. Even if they were work clothes, he didn’t have that many sets of outfits nor the money to go out and buy more.

“My cousin lives o’er there with his wife. Said the sheriff up and disappeared for a while but they found him dead in the woods.”

Arvin’s head nearly hit the hood of the car that was propped up when he heard those words. He looked over his shoulder to see Davis and Fred, two of the other guys that worked at the mechanics shop, talking over two cans of beer.

“You hear anythin’ ‘bout that, Arvin?” Davis asked, sipping his can.

Arvin’s heart twisted in panic but he shook his head like hadn’t heard what they were talking about, “Hear ‘bout what?”

“Few months back, the sheriff in my cousin’s hometown turned up dead. Someone shot ‘im in the woods outside o’ some small town nearby. His name was like Lodeck or Bodecker or somethin’ like that.” Davis explained the story to both of the guys.

“Eh, pro’lly had it comin’,” Your dad came entered from the storage room with a handful of bolts, “I know I’ve met some sheriffs that deserved a bullet between the eyes.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “Yeah well you’re an angry drunk so I’m sure you’d say that ‘bout anyone who took a drink from you. I’m sure this guy wasn’t that bad. What kinda sick fuck you gotta be to shoot a sheriff? This ain’t no wild west movie where you go gunnin’ down the law.”

“Nah, I heard he was a no good son o’ a bitch. Guess his sister and her husband got murdered the day before. Found tons of pictures o’ them kissin’ on some dead guys. Some real sick shit, Fred. Sheriff might have been in on it too. Regardless, my cousin said he ran into ‘im one time with his wife and the sheriff really was a bastard,'' Davis shrugged off Fred’s comment, refuting the tragedy Fred was trying to make Bodecker’s death by tarnishing his name.

Arvin’s heart was racing and he began to feel dizzy. The images of those few days had haunted him since they had happened but he had found himself thinking about it less and less as the days passed.

“Arvin?”

Arvin shook his head out of the clouds and snapped back into reality, “What?”

“You came into town ‘round the same time all this happened. Did you hear anythin’ about it?” Fred questioned, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans.

The young man just shook his head, “Nah, I ain’t heard nothin’ ‘bout it till now. I heard ‘bout the sister though. Sounds like she and her boyfriend were no good.”

“You know what I think?” Your dad began, picking up a wrench and pointing it in Arvin’s direction, “I think our man Arvin here did the sheriff in!”

Arvin stiffened up, “What? Why would you think that?”

“You come strollin’ along through town with nothin’ but a backpack and no backstory ‘bout the same time four people turn up murdered. Mighty suspicious.” Arvin tried his hardest to stand tall and not allow his fear to show but the tension in his jaw was bordering of painful now.

Davis swatted at your dad, “C’mon, leave the boy alone. There’s gotta be thousands of people in that area that coulda murdered them. Can’t imagine Arvin doin’ such a thing.”

Arvin was grateful for Davis’s trust. If only he deserved it.

“I’m only jokin’! Y’all a bunch of whiny little girls, can’t take a fuckin’ joke.” Your dad grumbled to himself, swatting his hand towards his coworkers.

“Ah, shut up.” Fred stood up from the table he’d been sitting at and laid back down on the dolley before sliding under the jacked up Chevy he had been tasked with. “Ain’t nobody ‘round here takes you seriously.”

Arvin watched as your dad walked past Fred, kicking him in the leg and earning a loud exclamation of annoyance, but it was as if he were disconnected from the whole scene. He had tried so hard to forget what had happened back in Knockemstiff and Coal Creek, though it seemed damn near impossible considering it had uprooted his entire life. This tiny town a few hours away was his safe haven, his new beginning. He never would have imagined that anyone this far away would have heard about the murders.

Hearing Davis and Fred bring up Bodecker’s name made Arvin’s blood turn to ice in his veins. What kinda sick fuck you gotta be to shoot a sheriff? Fred’s words played over and over in Arvin’s head. This was just what he was worried about. This was why he ran. Nobody would believe Bodecker was trying to kill him first. Self defense didn’t mean shit when it was against the law. The same with Reverend Teagarden. A man of the word? Arvin didn’t stand a chance if anyone found out what he’d done.

“Hey son,” Davis’s soft voice made Arvin nearly jump out of his skin, “Don’t take nothin’ that ol’ man says to heart. I’m sure you know since you been livin’ with him that he’s just a cranky ol’ drunk who don’t know when to shut up. You’re a good kid, Arvin. Ain’t none of us actually think you did it.”

Arvin looked down at where Davis’s hand rested on his shoulder, the same way his dad used to touch his shoulder when he was reassuring him. He forced a small appreciative nod and a strained appearance of being unbothered, “It’s alright, Davis. I know he’s just kiddin’ ‘round. I ‘ppreciate it though.”

Your father arrived at home before Arvin, much to your dismay. Elvis Presley’s Blue Hawaii album was spinning on the record player when he came into the kitchen, kicking his boots off by the door.

“Hey, daddy! How was work?” You asked, mashing a bowl of potatoes for dinner.

He made a line directly to the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the tab off with no effort, “It was alright. Damn Gilligan blew out the transmission on his truck so I been stuck fixin’ that up all day. Lookin’ forward to this right here.” Your father lifted up the beer bottle and sipped it with satisfaction. Yeah, I’m sure you were, you thought, rolling your eyes with your back turned to your dad.

“Well, if you wanna get cleaned up, dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes. More than enough time for a shower,” you offered with a cheerful voice. Lunch with Arvin today had made your day good in a way that was hard to ruin.

“Yeah, I might go do that. What’s for dinner?” Your father walked over and peeked over your shoulder to see what you had cooking on the stove.

“Mashed potatoes, green beans, and chicken.” You cut in a few slices of butter and added them to the bowl of mashed potatoes, sprinkling some salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste.

Expecting some words of discouragement like you usually earned from your father, he just nodded contently and disappeared out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. You turned to watch him walk away, your mouth fallen open in pleased surprise at the fact that you just had a semi-pleasant interaction with your father for the first time in several weeks. You turned back to mixing in the now melted butter into the mashed potatoes when the front door opened yet again.

You looked back to see Arvin walking in through the living room, “Hey, Arv!”

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and judging by the way his eyes shot up to you, as if he hadn’t expected your greeting, he had been staring at the ground when he walked in. “Hi,” he answered low and short with no emotion one way or the other.

Your brows furrowed, “Everythin’ alright?” Leaving the food on the counter and wiping your hands on your apron, you walked out into the living room towards him.

Arvin visibly took a step back and his eyes widened a little, his shoulders squaring up, “Yeah, ‘m good. Just wanna take a shower.”

Before you could get the words out, he had already begun walking away. “My dad’s already in the bathroom,” you called out after him, finally getting him to stop.

Arvin didn’t turn back to you though, only half glanced over his shoulder, “Oh, alright.” He turned back to continue his walk back to his room.

“Dinner will be ready soon!” You attempted to add, only earning a small thanks in response and the sound of Arvin’s door closing. “O-oh… okay.” You stood alone in the living room, the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and Elvis Presley’s voice filling the room but not loud enough to drown out your concern.

Dinner went by just as uncomfortably. You poked at your mashed potatoes, keeping your gaze stuck down at the food on your plate except for when you glanced over at Arvin who seemed to be actively looking anywhere except for you. This only made you roll your eyes out of frustration and stare back down at your food.

Your dad talked about his day, mostly grumbled complaints, “I don’t get nearly ‘nough respect ‘round here. Damn Fred and Davis callin’ me a drunk. What? A man can’t enjoy a damn beer without being called a drunk! Damn prudes.” When you didn’t respond, he reached over and tapped your arm, “Hey? You even listenin’?”

“Hm?” You tried to make yourself focus on what he was saying this time, “Sorry, long day. What happened?”

“See? I ain’t get no respect at work and I can’t even get no respect at my own damn house from my own damn daughter!” He grumbled, the feet of the wooden chair scraping against the ground as he stood up forcefully, swaying a little side to side but bracing himself on the wall to walk out of the room.

You didn’t even possess the mental capacity to care about his little tantrum. Your mind was swimming with confusion and, honestly, anger, at Arvin’s little unexplained silent treatment. “Okay, what’s wrong?” You asked, leaning towards Arvin.

“Nothin’.” He answered simply, taking a sip of his water. His voice was low and he still refused to make eye contact, despite nothin’ being wrong.

“That’s a lie. Everythin’ was fine this mornin’ and now you’re suddenly not talkin’ to me. Won’t even look at me! What the hell, Arvin? Did I say somethin’ wrong?” Thinking back, there wasn’t anything you had said earlier that you could imagine warranting such a negative response from Arvin so your confusion and concern had quickly turned to frustration.

Arvin shook his head, “No, no, you ain’t did nothin’ wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You practically begged him to tell you. You hated being upset at him when clearly something was bothering him but this felt like he was just playing some broody guessing game with you, something you got enough of from your dad.

Stress shone through Arvin’s eyes and he met your gaze finally, if only for a second, before looking away again. You could see there was a flicker of something you hadn’t seen in him before but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Whatever it was, it was really bothering him and you felt guilty for being upset. You just couldn’t understand why you suddenly were being ignored for something that apparently had nothing to do with you.

“I can’t tell you.”

Arvin’s admittal just made you more upset. “So you’re not mad at me but you’re ignoring me and can’t tell me why?”

Arvin hadn’t seen you look at him this way. At your father, yes, but he was unaccustomed to that raised eyebrow and frustratedly desperate crack in your voice being directed towards him. He hated it. He hated knowing that he was causing you to feel upset and helpless when he was supposed to be your escape from those exact feelings.

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth. You’d think he was a monster. You’d hate him. He’d lose the one good thing he had in his life because-

Arvin shook his head, “‘M sorry.” He looked anywhere but at you because he couldn’t stand to see the way your face fell, though he could practically feel your heart fall from across the table. He didn’t need to see it. He knew.

“Fine.” You stood up and grabbed your plate, scraping the rest in the garbage and setting the plate in the sink. Your appetite was gone and your patience had snapped, not that you had been the most patient thus far anyways.

Arvin watched as you stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed your coat off the coat rack by the front door, and walked out of the house. His head hit his hands. No matter how hard he tried to protect those he cared about, he only seemed to hurt them more.

You hadn’t expected Arvin to find you here so when the door opened to the old barn, you turned around in surprise. You were curled up in your coat, sitting on an old wooden crate that had been untouched in this unused barn for God knows how long. A large window looked out over the large field that had once been the family farm but was now practically a glorified dirt lot. Your coat was wrapped tightly around your body, held in place with one hand while you held a lit cigarette with the other.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Arvin took a few steps in, his hands shoved guiltily in the pocket of his denim jacket.

You blew out a large plume of smoke that you had been holding in and looked away, “I don’t too often.”

Arvin closed the barn door behind him as he approached you and you had to fight the urge to get up and leave but you knew that made you no less immature than the way you felt he was acting.

“‘M sorry. I really am.”

You took another drag and turned to him, the moonlight illuminating his features - somehow so boy-like but so rugged - and it was hard to stay mad at him. “I am too. I don’t mean to be dramatic but I just… I don’t understand, Arv. If somethin’s wrong, you can tell me. This whole silent treatment BS with zero explanation doesn’t cut it.”

Arvin let out a heavy breath. While doing the dishes from dinner for you after you stormed off, he had had time to contemplate what to do. And he had decided. “If I tell you, it’s gonna change how you look at me.”

Your head tilted up at his cryptic opener but you said nothing, only urged him to continue with your eyes.

With a deep shaky inhale, he started his story, “I ain’t a bad man but I’ve done some bad things. Things that I thought I could run away from. I been livin’ a lie for a long time, actin’ like I ain’t hurt nobody, but it ain’t true.” Arvin paused for a moment to gauge your reaction and all he saw was fear in your eyes, just as he had feared.

A million thoughts of terrible things people were capable of ran through your head as you tried to figure out which one Arvin could possibly be guilty of, though they all felt so out of character for him. Was it murder? Assault? Rape? Thievery? The man you had come to care for so deeply now swam in a murky pool of doubt and distrust. Arvin saw all this and more in your deep, worried eyes.

“What did you do?” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be, cracking with fear. Until today, you hadn’t imagined Arvin capable of doing anything that could real harm to anyone, maybe aside from a stupid fight in high school or something along those lines, but you could see it in his eyes that whatever it was he was trying to confess to really was that bad.

Arvin lost his ability to speak for a moment. He had resolved to tell you everything before even coming out here to talk to you but the fear shining in your eyes already had his heart breaking. It was as if every new line of moonlight reflecting off the growing whites of your eyes was a new stain that he managed to tarnish your view of him with. Arvin had to look away because he couldn’t bear to look at you when he finally admitted his crimes, couldn’t stand to watch your face contort in fear when you realized what a monster he was.

“Y-you remember that preacher I told you ‘bout? The one that hurt my sister?”

You nodded, “Y-yeah…”

Arvin swallowed hard and he gripped his thigh tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Well few weeks after we buried Lenora, a police officer came up ‘n told me the coroner had found out she was havin’ a baby. None of us knew before. I don’t know how but I just knew it was that no good preacher. I didn’t have any proof though so I started followin’ ‘im ‘n found out he was worse than I thought. He was no good to his wife ‘n I saw him out takin' advantage of another girl in town who was even younger than my Lenora was. He was doin’ nothin’ but hurtin’ people ‘n I… I killed im.”

Your mouth fell open, “You- You killed him?”

Arvin looked down at his feet, “I shot him.”

It was silent as you processed the information. This preacher sounded like a terrible man, abusing young girls and leading one to commit suicide. The infidelity to his wife was a moot point against his other indiscretions and even that was unacceptable. It honestly sounded like Arvin had done a service to the world, taking this monster out of it, but it was still difficult to look at him the same after knowing that he had actually shot someone.

When you didn’t respond, Arvin had decided to continue, not thinking he could cause much more damage, “I ran. Left a note for my grandma and uncle and disappeared. I tried hitchhiking my way out of town when I got picked by this couple. They seemed nice ‘nough at first but the husband, he started actin’ real weird. They pulled us way off the road. Said he wanted to take some pictures but then I saw him pull out a gun and then he tried pullin’ me outta the car. I-I panicked and I kicked the door into him ‘n I shot ‘im before he could get me.”

Arvin’s voice was cracking as tears began to fall down his face. It was one thing to replay the memories in his own head but it was another thing entirely to actually confess his sins to someone he cared so deeply about, knowing the truth would most likely hurt you. “The wife, she pulled out a gun and pointed it at me ‘n I pointed mine at her. I begged her to put the gun down. I-I didn’t wanna shoot her. I really didn’t. I was so tired of killin’ but then she apologized ‘n I knew she was gonna pull the trigger. We both shot at the same time. I got no clue how she didn’t shoot me. I fell out the car without a scratch but I when I got up, I realized I got her through the neck 'n she was gone. I panicked ‘n searched the car. Found all these pictures of her all naked and huggin’ up on some naked dead guy ‘n I knew… I knew I was gonna be next.”

Your brain sprinted a mile a minute to try and keep up with the trauma Arvin was confessing and you didn’t know whether to hug him and let him cry on you or run as far away as possible.

“Then-”

“There’s more?” You wanted to beg him to stop talking, to stop telling you about the blood on his hands, to stop telling you about all the suffering he had been through. You sounded shocked and heartbroken and yet none of these tragedies were yours.

Arvin hiccuped and sniffled in a failed attempt to hide a sob. Red had taken over his features, both physically and metaphorically. Obviously distraught by his past and now your reaction, he felt like he was beginning to spiral down that hole of darkness that he had tried so hard to claw his way out of. There were nothing but snakes down there, ready to bite him and poison his mind with the words he had fought so desperately to keep out. Murderer. Stalker. Liar. Sinner. All of these and so many more.

Yet, he nodded, feeling as if he’d still be lying if he didn’t finish telling you everything. When he nodded, you made a small squeak of disbelief.

“I-I ran,” He sniffled out, “I hitchhiked my way back to my old hometown. I didn’t know why at first but I just needed to go home. Felt like maybe I could fix what had been broken there. Went there to find it all burnt down but then this sheriff came lookin’ after me. Turns out he was that lady’s brother - the one who shot at me and had the pictures of the cut up dead guys. He was all angry and wanted to kill me for shootin’ his sister. I tried… I tried to tell ‘im that she was no good and that she was gonna kill me but he didn’t wanna listen. He was shootin’ at me and… and… I ain’t had no choice.”

It was silent, aside from the ambient bugs chirping outside. You had tried so hard to focus on Arvin’s face but you had long since zoned out visually, only able to focus on the words he was saying. How could he have gone through all of this? How could your wonderful, amazing, beautiful Arvin Russell have survived so much suffering and been forced to murder people? Murder.

“Please say somethin’.”

Your lips quivered as your vision came back into view and all you saw was a tearful, fearful, remorseful boy before you on the brink of falling apart. Arvin’s hair was messy from having run his hands through it, his eyes were red and puffy from the tears, his breathing was shaky from remembering. There were no words.

You threw your arms around his neck and held him tightly to you. You didn’t know what else to do. How does someone respond to information like this? There was so much trust that Arvin needed to put in you to tell you - you couldn’t freak out.

“You don’t hate me?” His hands flew to your arms, prying them off his neck so he could see your face.

Your head shook, “How could I hate you for what you did?”

“I murdered four people.”

“You took out a disgusting predator who practically killed your sister and was harming who knows how many other girls. Then you killed a couple of murderers who pulled guns on you first in self defense. And then, yet again, you were put in a life or death situation with a sheriff who was shootin’ at you for killin’ his murderin’ sister. Three of those were self defense and I’d dare say that first one was a public service. You have nothin’ to be sorry for. You have nothin’ to regret. You did what you had to do to survive.” You squeezed Arvin’s hands tightly, running your soft thumbs over the lightly calloused skin of his knuckles.

Arvin looked down at your hands on his, hands that were so much smaller than his own but right now felt so encompassing and comforting, as if they wrapped his own in a blanket of protection. He couldn’t believe you were okay with this. He was barely okay with it. “I don’t regret it but I didn’t wanna have to do it. If I coulda let that lady go, if she only woulda listened to me ‘n put the gun down I wouldn’t o’ had to pull the trigger. I coulda let the cops deal with it. Same with the sheriff. If only he woulda listened… I only wanted to shoot the preacher. I was okay with havin’ that on my conscience. But I had no idea how outta control that day was gonna get. All those cold dead eyes starin’ up at you, watchin’ the life drain from someone’s face ‘n knowin’ you’re the one who caused that... Even if they were real fucked up people, it ain’t a sight that’s easy to see.”

“I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like, Arvin.” Your hand slid up his arm to rest on his bicep and you leaned your forehead onto his shoulder. His arm snaked around your body and held you close but cautious, like he was scared if he held you too tightly that you’d be scared he’d hurt you too. Of course, you weren’t. The thought did cross your mind that perhaps it was unwise to trust a man who just admitted to killing four people but that wasn’t Arvin and you knew it. “You may have killed people but that does not make you a killer. You’re just someone who was put in some really hard situations and had to make some tough choices.”

You pulled back and put your hand on his cheek, slightly scratchy from not shaving that day, and you spoke gently, “You are wonderful, Arvin. You are caring and hard working and loyal and willing to stand up for what is right. You are everything good in this world-”

“I hurt people-”

“You protect people,” you corrected, “‘N if some bad people had to get hurt to keep the good ones safe, well maybe they shouldn’t have been such bad people.”

Arvin could have melted into a puddle at your feet, and likely would have if you hadn’t been holding him. Never had he expected to tell anyone his terrible deeds and in every imagined scenario in which he did, it had never ended well. He had imagined you running for the hills, screaming at him to get out, maybe even threatening him physically out of fear that he’d hurt you now (which he’d never dream of doing).

But you didn’t do any of that. Gentleness and understanding were far from the reaction he’d expected or even felt like he deserved but nevertheless here you were holding him and reassuring him that he wasn’t the monster he’d called himself for so many months.

“I love you.”

His admission surprised you but Arvin felt fully confident in his words. He had never known what love felt like - romantic love at least - but this was damn near the closest thing he could imagine to it. You occupied his thoughts every waking moment, your face and your voice swimming around his imagination in a beautiful ocean of warmth and kindness and goodness that he would gladly drown in. You were strong and responsible and understanding and oh so beautiful. Much like him, you’d been handed a shit hand by life and struggled each day to make the best of it. Arvin cared about you so much it scared him because he had not felt this compulsion towards anyone since Lenora had passed. After losing everything he’d ever loved, he was scared that if he admitted that he loved you, life would take you away from him as well. If there was one thing that you did, though, it was take away Arvin’s fear.

“I love you too, Arvin.” He pulled your body flush against his when you responded, a heavy sigh of relief leaving his chest. Much like Arvin, you hadn’t known what real love felt like. You’d even started believing that maybe you weren’t meant for such a luxury.

Now you and Arvin felt like the richest people in the world, despite having almost nothing to your names. As long as you were in each others’ arms, you had everything. You were each others’ trust, honesty, comfort, compassion, and protection.

_______

Taglist:

@peterswebshooters

@thisisparadisemylove

@justapurrcat

@tomsirishgirlx

@peterswebshooters

@femmme-xxx-fatale

@kittyformannn

@aidinniram

@minejungwoo

@mathletemadison

#arvin #arvin russell #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel imagines #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x you #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #the devil all the time #tdatt smut #tdatt fanfiction #tdatt imagine #tdatt x reader #hayloft

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat.

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him.

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way.

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument.

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it.

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie.

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie.

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever.

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck.

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place.

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone.

You fight.

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you.

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing. And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you.

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.

#ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #yandere x reader #afterwitch headcanons #afterwitch writes #I'm not sure what to callt this because it's not a normal fic but it's not headcanons either #just #word vomit about ransom after i watched this movie every day for a week straight

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anxiousgaypanicking · 3 years

Text

What You Need (Intrulogical)

Two days without eating and three without sleeping sounded like the normal schedule for college student Logan Berry. He's in class all day and works all night just to barely pay off his rent every month. Constant bills leave little room for bare necessities, and it's clear that his current lifestyle is very damaging. While looking for solutions, he comes across one that seems... mediocre at best, but he's desperate. What is this solution? A sugar daddy.

Taglist: @witchesgetstitchesblog @book-limerence @romans-dull-creativity

This is part four.

Masterlist

"What foods do you like to eat?"

Logan shrugs, responding with "I don't have much of an opinion on food," as he lets Remus search the expanse of his living room. They had moved out there with the promise they'd be undisturbed and could watch a movie or something, and Remus was currently looking for the remote to his giant, flat-screen television.

To Logan, it was no surprise that Remus couldn't find it, considering the overly decorated, and incredibly large room; it was stocked with art, an absurd amount of furniture, and weird décor that ranged from vases to marble statues.

Although, Logan's opinion on the hoard of decoration may be biased, considering he was raised in a minimalist household.

And now lived a literal minimalist life, considering the fact he only had about twenty-ish possessions to his name; his clothes included.

"Well, what do you eat?" Remus then rephrases, hoping to at least get something valuable out of Logan. Something that'd give him more insight as to what foods Logan liked.

"Uh... there's this burger joint about ten minutes from my house," Logan answers. "If I have the money I'll buy a burger from there. Sometimes two, but that's only on special occasions."

Remus frowns as he listens to his answer, before sighing dramatically. "Now, that simply won't do!" Remus picks up his phone - Logan's eye was caught by the sparkly green case and high quality screen, and realizes the type of phone was similar to the one Janus owned - and clicks on an app, before handing the phone to Logan.

"Here's a variety of high quality take out places!" Remus exclaims. "It'll be delivered here quickly, mostly because I tip well and they all know me." He winks, and nudges Logan's arm, who's staring wide-eyed at all the choices presented to him, before he goes back to searching the expanse of the room for the remote.

He's never been offered such a variety, and he gulps as he inspects the prices of each individual meal, and even the sides.

No, he couldn't. This was all way too expensive! He wouldn't be able to afford any of this-

"Hey, Logan, you're looking a bit worried," Remus says, with a raised eyebrow, although there's a grin plastered to his face. "No need to fret, my newfound prince of panic-" Logan's brows furrow at the nickname. He didn't panic anywhere near enough to be dubbed such a thing, but he supposes he'll let Remus do what he wants. "-I'll pay for everything on the menu!"

"But-"

"We've discussed that I can pay you in other ways," Remus says, shutting Logan up before he can say anything about this ordeal. "And you deserve to be paid for sucking me off. Especially because you did it so well." He winks, and Logan rolls his eyes, although his face is flushed.

He quits complaining, for now, though, and instead looks through everything on the menu. He lands on the cheapest thing - a bowl of chili - and hands the phone back to Remus.

"That looks good," he says, and Remus hums, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, chili always seemed to remind me of human stew," Remus comments. "Like... stew made from human parts. Just the colour and the variety of texture."

Logan doesn't seem fazed at all, as he responds "absurd. Human's would have a wildly different taste and texture. Resources state that human meat tastes more reminiscent of pork, instead of beef, therefore comparing it to chili would be inaccurate."

Remus stares at him, a mixture of surprise and adoration on his face. "Huh," is all that he says, as if in minor disbelief. Logan raises an eyebrow, confused as to what he was so stunned by, before Remus finally says "not many people know that. Although, I wasn't referring to the taste. The colour is what really reminds me of it. That deep red, you know?"

"Human blood would be darker when gathered into a bowl," Logan states, matter-of-factly. He then changes the subject, deciding he was more curious as to what Remus would eat from such a place. "What are you going to order?" he inquires, watching as Remus stops his search momentarily in order to scan the menu.

"Probably some steak..." Remus says, after a moment, continuing with "although, they have good filet mignon, too. Maybe I'll spoil myself a bit and get both."

Logan couldn't imagine doing such a thing; would Remus even eat both? Logan knew that if he happened to be presented with two meals, he'd try to make the food stretch over a week, or maybe even two, so that he could save some of his money to pay rent, and maybe even spoil himself and order a ride to school or something.

Logan doesn't respond, and Remus doesn't seem to be expecting a response, as he places the order with a hum, and then tosses his phone to the side. He moves his search to the couch, and upon pulling up a throw pillow, he finds the remote and his face lights up in a pleased smile.

He collapses on the couch himself moments later, and then without hesitation he turns to Logan. His hands grab Logan's waist and hoist the man into his lap. Remus's chest presses against his back, and an arm is wrapped securely around Logan's hips, keeping him pressed tight against Remus.

Remus's breath fans against his neck as the man obliviously clicks on the television, scrolling through the multitude of apps he'd subscribed to in order to find one that would carry a decent amount of movies for the two of them to watch.

"What movies do you like?" Remus asks, his chin coming to rest on Logan's shoulder. "Any particular genre? Horror, comedy, romance?" His face scrunches up when he says 'romance,' and noticing it out of the corner of his eye, Logan quietly snickers.

"Documentaries, preferably," he then answers, honestly. "I haven't watched any in a while, though." He hasn't had the time to do so, considering he lived on a strict schedule that required sticking to, but even if he had more free time, he didn't have the money to pay for something else to run up his electricity bill, or the channels that he'd have to pay for in order for some menial entertainment regardless.

It just wasn't worth it.

Remus hums as he sifts through documentaries, before finding one about a certain serial killer. "What about this?" he asks, hoping it'd be something that could interest them both. "It talks in detail about his murders, and pays genuine respect to the victims, too."

"You've seen it before?"

Remus shrugs, stating "I have a lot of free time. It's not like there's much to do around here, anyway."

Logan turns his head to stare at Remus for a moment. His expression is somewhat puzzled, and somewhat cold, as he's reminded that Remus is absurdly rich (although it's not necessarily easy to forget). It's almost as if he's evaluating Remus, and Remus is oblivious to it, just looking between the television and Logan with a happy smile.

Must be nice to not have to work, or go through school, or to spend all of your time doing something. He couldn't imagine not being busy, and he shifts his position slightly on Remus's lap as he's reminded that right now he isn't busy. He knows he will be in an hour or so, and that thought tires him more than he remembered it doing in the past, but Remus didn't have to do anything for himself.

Born into money, had people to clean for him; he didn't even have to make his own food. He was either out of school or didn't continue into college, so he didn't have the stress of achieving things academically weighing him down either...

"Hellooooo," Remus sings, bringing the remote up in order to lightly tap it against Logan's head, effectively drawing Logan out of his head. "You never answered me. What are you thinking about, huh? Is it... sex?"

"It's not sex," Logan replies, with a roll of his eyes. "And it's not important, either. In regards to your question, it looks fine. We can watch this."

"Shame," Remus comments, as he clicks play on the documentary. "I'm always thinking about sex, especially because you look pathetically hot when you're being fucked by me. The amount of things I've thought about doing to you in the short time I've known you is nearly enough to drive to drive me mad-"

A rattle at the door is what cuts Remus off, much to Logan's relief. Blood had begun to rush to his face at Remus's words, and he couldn't help wondering what Remus had imagined doing to him, but he dares not ask out of fear of figuratively dying of embarrassment.

Remus himself looks confused, pausing the documentary despite the fact nothing important had really started to play, and turns to the door with a raised eyebrow. After a moment, though, the door swings open revealing a man in a red jacket holding multiple bags. There's another man with him, this one dressed up formally, also carrying bags, as if they were some sort of servant.

"Take those up to my room for me," the man in red orders, before dumping all the bags he was currently holding onto the other, stretching moments after. "Those too, please. Thanks!"

Oh, so he was a servant.

Logan watches the formally dressed man walk off, before he hears Remus state "I thought you weren't supposed to be home until around ten." At most, Remus sounds a bit annoyed, but otherwise it's a genuine question.

As the man in red walks closer, Logan gets a better look at his face.

He looked... identical to Remus. It was the exact same face, without a mustache, and as Logan's eyes trailed down the figure, he could see that the two had near matching body types as well, although this one definitely had a bit more muscle to him.

He ends up staring right back at Logan, before he answers "my baby cancelled on me, so I took a shopping trip instead. I was still out for a few hours." He scans Logan the same way Logan did to him, before clearing his throat. "Who's this?" he asks, approaching the couch and sitting near Logan moments later, leaning closer to him. The man's curious green eyes seemed to be studying Logan in less of a logical manner, and more of a romantic one.

"This is Logan," Remus says, smiling from where his chin is resting on Logan's shoulder. "He's my sugar baby."

Remus then shifts his position slightly and holds Logan a tad tighter, as Roman grabs Logan's chin without a second thought and effortlessly tilts Logan's head side to side.

"Logan, this is Roman. He's my brother, as I assume you've already figured out," Remus then says, eyeing Roman closely as he looks over Logan's face.

Finding his voice, Logan clears his throat and states "I didn't know he was your twin," before he gently tugs his face away from Roman's hand. Roman very clearly pouts at the action, seemingly enjoying being able to move and stare at Logan's face as he pleased. The expression radiated a feeling of entitlement that made Logan both curious and spiteful.

"Unfortunately," Roman utters, but Remus hears and snickers as he shifts his position on the couch in order to kick Roman's thigh, which earns a pout in response.

He scoots closer regardless, though, almost as curious about Logan as Logan was about him. Remus doesn't keep Roman from trailing his pinky and middle finger over Logan's neck, and ends up pulling down the turtleneck to reveal a bunch of clear hickeys.

"Looks like you get enough use out of him," Roman comments, playfully. Despite the sexual meaning of his words, he sounds surprisingly lighthearted.

Remus, on the other hand, drops his voice low, as he states "it's hard to resist using someone as pretty as him," which flusters Logan more than it should. He glances away, but Roman's fingers find his chin again, and move Logan's face back towards his, seemingly wanting to stare into Logan's eyes.

"I can see that," Roman hums, leaning a bit closer, before his eyes flicker towards his brothers. "I'm having trouble resisting him too. The plight I'm currently in is nothing less than heart-wrenching." His words are spoken dramatically, as if Roman was reciting them from a play, but Logan feels Remus's nails dig into his sides, awfully reminiscent of the hold Remus would have on him during sex.

"Back off, Roman," Remus grits, glaring at his brother. "You didn't let me play with your baby; you don't get to play with mine."

"But that was different!"

Remus rolls his eyes. "If anything, this situation is different. Logan's never even met you before! Besides, I don't want to scare him away just yet. I still have a lot to introduce him to."

Logan hardly has the time to ponder what implications that statement has, before Roman juts in with "really? Knowing you I would have figured you would have gotten..." Roman's face flushes, much to Logan's surprise, as he continues "interesting with him by now." Interesting? All the descriptive words to choose from, and somehow Logan felt as if that described the least.

'Interesting' had a plethora of meanings. It had both good and bad connotations. The amount of things that could fall under the category of 'interesting' is almost overwhelming.

Remus scoffs. "Do you really think that lowly of me? Honestly, Roman, I may suck, but it's primarily dick." His joke makes Roman roll his eyes, but it surprisingly makes Logan's shoulders relax. He didn't know what to think of this situation; the attention from Roman was making him blush, but Remus's hold on him was primarily overtaking his mind, but the two brothers seemed to be engaged in a conversation that Logan couldn't determine as lighthearted or serious.

Curse his lack of social skills; he should really learn how to read situations better.

"I wouldn't start him off with things that are so rough. I got to train his pretty body first..." Remus's flirtatious tone is back in a matter of seconds, and the hands that were previously holding tight to Logan's waist now ease up considerably, and instead Logan feels them slip just barely under his shirt.

His fingertips tease the skin above the waist of Logan's jeans, and Logan semi-wishes he'd tucked his shirt in after getting dressed.

He's not uncomfortable with the touch, though. More so.... embarrassed that Remus is still doing such a thing, even in front of his brother. Even if the action wasn't inherently sexual in itself, Logan still wasn't touched like this normally, and it felt amplified to him. Intimate, in the sense that it was supposed to be personal, but a part of him liked the fact Remus was so casual with touching him whenever.

Admittedly, he quite liked the affection he'd received during their few meetups, and now wasn't any different.

"You should let me help," Roman says, with a pout. "After all, I was left alone today. It's a nice act of kindness."

"You forget who I am," Remus replies, with a shrug. "Now go choke on the makeup you bought and leave us be. We're in the middle of something." Remus is intent on kicking Roman out, clearly wanting his alone time with Logan. After promising him such, Logan assumed Remus was just trying to hold true to his words, but it's not like Remus could have anticipated Roman's meetup would be cancelled.

Roman pouts, but sighs regardless. "Fine, just don't have sex in here, please. I don't want to smell sweat while trying to enjoy my shows." His face is scrunched up at the thought, and Logan realizes that both of the twins are quite animated with their expressions.

It's a clear sign about their inner feelings; Logan couldn't imagine being so expressive; The amount of vulnerability that comes with expressing was scary.

Roman stands up, and blows a kiss towards Logan that Logan can't help but blush and look away at, before he walks off, pulling out his phone as he does so. Logan can hear his loud voice echoing as he presumably calls someone, before it eventually fades away, leaving him and Remus alone again.

"I'd say sorry for him, but I'm pretty sure he was getting me back for flirting with his client," Remus states, completely serious with his words. "He usually leaves me be, mostly because he doesn't like to be seen with me. Especially out in public."

Logan stays silent, but internally he tries to picture Roman and Remus side by side. Roman was in the red, sleeveless turtleneck he'd walked in with, and the tight white jeans that showed off his leg muscles, and Logan couldn't help picturing Remus in the attire he'd first met the man in. Side by side, Roman did, in fact, look rich. On the other hand, Remus looked basically homeless. There was clear juxtaposition between the two, and Logan happened to like that a lot as well.

To each their own type of style, though, and Logan honestly liked the way Remus dressed.

Remus then turns back to the television, unpausing the show and diverting all of his attention back to that. He shifts their position once more, laying back on the couch and bringing Logan to lay against his chest; their legs were entwined, while Remus's arms wrapped around Logan fully. One rested casually on his ass, while the other slipped up the back of his shirt, gently rubbing the skin and occasionally dragging his nails ever-so-lightly down Logan's spine, earning shudders from the man that Remus would smile at.

However, the predictability of his actions and the surprisingly gentle nature of them seemed to relax Logan, and before he could stop himself, his eyes were drooping.

The documentary was interesting, but he couldn't focus on it. He was reminded of how tired he was once his eyes stayed closed for a few seconds, because when he tried to re-open them, it took a lot of effort. The slight ache in his eyes almost seemed to be them begging to be closed again - begging for Logan to get some much needed rest.

He closes them again, with a relaxed sigh, head pressed to Remus's chest. He hears Remus's steady heartbeat, and it only serves to lull him further into sleep.

He doesn't realize he actually passed out until he's gently being shaken awake about a half an hour or so later. The smell of food wafts through the air, and Logan almost starts drooling at how delicious it smelled.

He blearily blinks opens his eyes, wanting to search for the source of said smells, only to find that everything's blurry. He goes to question as to why he can't see, before Remus is helping him sit up and then carefully sliding Logan's glasses back onto his face.

"I took them off when I realized you were asleep," Remus explains, noticing Logan's confused look. "I didn't want you to be uncomfortable, or accidentally break them by moving. Roman did that once and he was blinded for like two weeks because he refused to admit to our parents that he'd broken them, even though they could have ordered him a new pair that would have arrived in a matter of hours."

Huh, rich privilege must be nice.

"Our food just got here," Remus then states, motioning to the bags filled with cheap Styrofoam containers. "I had one of the butlers bring it in for us so I didn't have to move you."

"Thanks," Logan mumbles, covering his mouth as he yawns before he maneuvers himself off of Remus's lap. He notices Remus's bottom lip jut out in a pout, but the man doesn't say anything.

Remus moves to grab the bag of food, carefully pulling out containers and setting them on the table. He sets Logan's cylindrical container, presumably full of chili, in front of him, and moments later tosses a plastic spoon and a couple napkins near it too. While he pulls everything out, he jokingly says "If the documentary was boring you, you could have just said so." He's grinning, and he shoots Logan a playful smirk.

Logan can tell by the tone of his voice that Remus is teasing him, but he still feels the need to correct him. "I didn't find the documentary boring," Logan says, staring at the objects Remus pulls out of the bag. He wants to grab his chili, but he doesn't want to seem... ill-mannered.

He's also still trying to wake himself up fully, despite the overwhelming urge to lay back against Remus and fall asleep once again, and doesn't want to risk accidentally making a mess over Remus's furniture. "I was just tired. I enjoyed the parts I watched, though," Logan then continues, watching as Remus grabs one of the other to-go boxes, and opens it, revealing a steak, fries, and even a side of cooked vegetables.

Logan's stomach grumbles at the mere sight, and he flushes in embarrassment as he looks away.

He didn't watch much of the show, truth be told, but he always enjoyed a good documentary. He momentarily considers asking Remus if they could watch it again sometime, so he can fully watch and process everything that was happening in it, but he doesn't want to bore Remus by having him watch the same thing yet again, or practically invite himself over to Remus's house.

However, Remus appears to be reading his mind. As he cuts up his steak, he says "you didn't sleep through that much of it. Just a lot of the exposition. We can always watch it some other time, preferably when you're a bit more awake." Remus is snickering quietly to himself as he stabs a piece of his steak with his fork.

He finally glances back at Logan, and his smile temporarily falls from his face, as he instead raises an eyebrow and glances between Logan and his food on the table.

Admittedly, Remus didn't think the chili would be enough to completely fill Logan up, but Logan hadn't even reached for it yet. Surely he must be hungry; even if he'd eaten this morning, which Remus should have probably asked about, it's been hours since then.

"Logan?" Remus asks, and Logan, who was previously resting his head in his hands, snaps up, almost as if he was jolting awake.

Remus quickly takes a bite of his steak, before setting the fork down and turning to face Logan entirely. "Are you still tired?" he asks, mouth still full. At least he resumes chewing with his mouth closed after speaking.

Logan shakes his head, although he covers another yawn.

"You haven't started eating yet," Remus points out, and Logan narrows his eyes as he stares ahead at the table, before shaking his head slightly. He then scoots forward, until he's sliding off the couch.

Once seated on the floor, he grabs the container of chili and pops open the lid, grabbing the plastic spoon moments later. The smell of that makes his stomach grumble again, so he hardly hesitates before digging his spoon into the food and wolfing down a few bites in a matter of seconds.

He's momentarily distracted, though, as he watches Remus slide off the couch and next to him out of the corner of his eye.

Logan quickly wipes his mouth before glancing over at Remus. "What are you doing?" he asks, curious as to why Remus had seated himself on the floor when he could have instead had the entire couch to himself.

"What are you doing," Remus counters, in a playful tone. "You're allowed to eat on the couch, you know."

"I didn't want to risk spilling any food on it," Logan responds, stirring his spoon around in his chili. "Especially since I'm still in the process of waking myself up."

Remus hums in response, before Logan continues, saying "you could have stayed on the couch, though." He would say that he's sure Remus would be more responsible with his food than Logan would, but glancing over at Remus's face made quite the opposite statement.

Juice from the steak was practically dripping down his chin, and he had already managed to stain the shirt he wore.

At least he didn't have to worry about buying a new one; Logan could only imagine how many sets of clothes Remus already had strung up in his closet.

"I'd rather sit next to you," Remus sings, before taking another bite of his steak. He's smiling as he chews, and Logan doesn't respond, not quite knowing how to match the excited energy.

Logan doesn't see what difference it makes whether Remus sits on the couch or next to him, but Remus seems happy, and Logan decides he's too hungry to really care about Remus's reasoning for doing the things he does. Instead, Logan turns his attention back to his chili, eating rather fast out of habit.

The container of chili is quite small, but that was sort of the point. Logan wanted something cheap, as that's just what he was used to getting, but by the time he finishes it, he's still hungry for more.

As he sets the now-empty container down on the table, he sets his other arm over his stomach, hoping to suppress any other crude noises that his stomach might make that would give away the fact he isn't entirely satisfied.

He's still in the mindset to not ask for more, automatically assuming he doesn't have the ability to pay for more, even though Remus paid for everything.

A couple minutes go by, the silence only being cut through by Remus's occasional chewing, before suddenly Logan's being nudged. He glances Remus's direction, and sees Remus cutting off a piece of his steak, before he holds his fork out to Logan, with a piece of steak stabbed on the end of it.

Logan stares at it for a minute, before glancing up at Remus with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't understand," he states, and watches as Remus rolls his eyes, before hurriedly chewing and swallowing the food in his mouth.

He clears his throat after it's down, before stating "eat it."

"What?" Logan asks, hoping for a bit more clarification. Without hesitation, Remus jabs Logan in the face with the piece of steak, smearing juice over his cheek and making Logan recoil with surprise.

"Eat it," Remus repeats, tilting his head to the side slightly, as he wiggles his fork in a potential attempt to seduce Logan into eating the piece of meat. "I bought two whole meals for myself, and there's no way that small bowl of chili filled your cute little body up. Eat some of mine."

"But- but you bought it for yourself," Logan counters, puzzled as to why Remus would want to share his food - the food that he bought for himself and has been eating.

"Then I can share it with whoever I want," comes Remus's confident reply. "And I want to share it with you. You'll be a good boy and eat it for me, won't you?"

Will he? A blush rises to Logan's cheeks at Remus's words, and it was a silly thing to get overly flustered by, especially since Remus was using the affectionate term to try and persuade Logan to eat some of the steak he'd bought for himself, but he couldn't help the way his body reacted.

Swallowing the spit in his mouth, Logan leans forward and bites the steak, sliding it off the fork and into his mouth, before he looks down and chews it, his face getting hotter by the second.

By the time he swallows it, another piece jabs at his cheek, and it becomes increasingly clear that Remus plans to feed quite a bit of this to Logan.

Piece after piece, Logan's fed steak, fries, and even some of the vegetables that Remus has, and once Remus gets bored of that, he opens his container containing the filet mignon, and cuts into that next, before offering the first piece to Logan.

The food is unlike anything Logan can recall eating throughout his entire life. The last time he had a home-cooked meal already seemed so distant, but high-quality restaurant food was something he'd hardly experienced throughout his life at all.

He was never given the luxury of eating juicy steaks and drinking fancy wine; his parents worked a lot so often Logan was left to scrounge up whatever he could around the house.

The money they made was spent on giving him a good education through private schools, for fixing up the house they lived in, and for the ever persistent bills.

He momentarily wonders how they were doing now that they stopped paying for his schooling. Has their financial situation gotten better? Logan could only hope so; he was reminded that it'd been forever since he'd even last spoken to them. Maybe he'd consider giving them a call sometime soon.

He's pulled out of his thoughts as he hears Remus snicker and say "that's the last of it. We sure finished those up quick." His intonation is playful, but as Logan's eyes flicker over the now-empty containers, he's surprised by how much he and Remus have eaten.

More specifically, him, considering he'd ingested his entire bowl of chili, and was probably also fed half of the food Remus had originally gotten for himself.

And yet, he feels weirdly good. Satiated.

"I'm glad you were here to help me eat the rest," Remus continues, as he grabs Logan and pulls the man into his lap. "Truth be told, I got two meals on purpose. I was looking for an excuse to get you to eat more," he then admits, hands groping over Logan's upper thighs and hips. Logan knows there isn't much fat to squeeze, and Remus almost seems to be pouting over that fact, but he's not surprised that this was Remus's true intention the whole time.

Surprisingly, Logan actually finds it kind of amusing.

"Plus, now we've finished just in time for me to take you to the lame second job you still have because you like to deprive me," Remus adds, with his bottom lip jutted out. He sounded like he was whining.

Logan eyes snap open though, and he hurries to grab his phone so he can check the time. "Oh, God," he mutters under his breath, sighing as he rubs his eyes beneath his glasses. "I forgot about work."

Luckily, he wasn't late, but they needed to leave now.

"We have to go," Logan states, standing up. "Apologies for leaving this mess behind." He brushes himself off as he stares at the containers left on Remus's coffee table.

Remus just waves his hand dismissively, however, stating "it's fine; the maids will take care of it." He seems casual about leaving messes, and Logan supposes it's because he'd never had to pick up after himself before.

Remus stands up after him, and wraps an arm around Logan's waist, leading him to the front door. He asks Logan for the address, as he waves over a man outside, who Logan believes to be the chauffeur. Remus then relays the information Logan gave to him to the man, and then he opens one of the limo doors near the back.

Logan climbs in, thanking Remus as he does so, and Remus enters after him, shutting the door behind him.

Just like on the way to Remus's.... mansion, Remus pulls Logan into his lap, seemingly determining himself to be a safer seat than the actual seats. That, or he really liked holding Logan for some reason. Logan honestly couldn't guess why Remus would enjoy doing such a thing, so he assumed the former, even if that was illogical.

"I still don't understand why you haven't quit yet," Remus says, as he brings his mouth to Logan's neck, placing kisses over the expanse of skin he could reach, before huffing through his nose and pulling Logan's turtleneck down a bit, in order to expose more. "Most babies quit the moment they get a daddy."

The word 'daddy' makes Logan shiver uncomfortably, but he shakes it off, instead saying "I guess I just don't want to quit." He doesn't; he still needs the income. He doesn't know how reliable a service being a sugar baby is yet, either.

Sure, he'd made quite a bit from the couple instances he and Remus had been sexual together, and maybe Remus had splurged on food for him tonight, but Logan was still reasonably worried that that money wouldn't last him forever.

Bills were constant, materials for school were always needed, and he knew that if he let himself get lazy and comfortable, he'd be metaphorically smacked in the face with debt and hunger sooner than he could even predict.

And if he quit, he wasn't sure he could land another job that was close enough to his apartment after Remus ultimately decided to get rid of him. That's what usually happens to sugar babies, right? Logan should honestly do more research on them; he did basically jump into this headfirst.

He can feel Remus's pout against his skin, right before Remus starts mindlessly sucking marks into the already purple area.

He makes a few, teeth lightly grazing the skin as he does so, before he pulls away again.

"I don't understand you," Remus says, sounding completely serious, although his mouth is quirked up in a grin that reads the exact opposite. "Everyone else I've been with quit almost on the spot. Everyone Roman's ever been with, too."

"How many people have you guys been with?" Logan asks, shifting nervously on Remus's lap. He doesn't know why that question makes his stomach churn uneasily. Of course he couldn't expect Remus to have never been with other clients before, but it still feels like something Logan is scared to know the answer to.

Remus shrugs. "I can't speak on behalf of my brother, but I've only been with three. One fresh out of high school, who was less of a sugar baby and more of a boyfriend that I tended to spoil. Another that came right after I started being a sugar daddy; they were around for a couple months before they ended up leaving for a different sugar daddy, and then the one before you stayed around for about half a year. He was pretty chill, but he ended up doing the same thing as the last one."

"Why would clients just... move on like that?"

Remus is silent for a few moments, before he answers "some will pay more with you having to do less, and others just see better opportunities. Or hotter men. The two actual clients I've been with have liked me because I'm young, but once I start wanting to do more, they usually move on."

Logan purses his lips, going silent himself, before he quietly says "do you force them to do more?"

His question earns a pained look in Remus's eyes, but physically, Remus just shakes his head. "Of course I don't. I told you from the beginning that I value your consent. I won't make anyone do things they don't want to." Remus proceeds to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck as he snickers slightly, adding "I think it was just the nature of the ideas I proposed that scared them off. People accept this job thinking it'll be all vanilla, but I propose a collar and a leash once and suddenly they're out the door."

"Oh."

Logan can't respond with much else than that, instead distracted by Remus's words. He was reassured by the truthful tone of Remus's statements, and the actions Remus had exhibited previously that backs up those words, but... a collar and a leash? Logan's hand involuntarily comes up to his neck, and he hears Remus chuckle quietly.

It draws Logan's attention back to him, and he sees Remus grinning at him with half-lidded eyes that let Logan know Remus can tell what he's thinking.

"Don't tell me you're into that," Remus says, voice low, and Logan swallows the spit in his mouth.

"I wouldn't know," the younger man responds, avoiding Remus's eyes. "Obviously."

He was a virgin until he met Remus, and he doesn't have any other sexual partner, so if Remus hasn't tried it out on him, then obviously Logan wouldn't know.

The thought of wearing a collar, however, flustered him for a reason Logan couldn't comprehend.

"I guess we'll have to find out, then," Remus says, moving away from Logan's neck, as one of his hands slides up Logan's shirt, and the other runs over Logan's clothed legs, squeezing and groping his upper thighs. "I'll get you a high-quality collar that'll choke your pretty neck just right."

Sliding his hand out from Logan's shirt, he instead brings it up to Logan's neck, very lightly grabbing it.

"Logan, be serious with me real quick," Remus then states, his change in tone drawing Logan's attention back towards him. Confirming he has Logan's full attention, Remus continues. "Can I choke you?"

"I- I don't know," Logan stammers out. He doesn't know how that would feel, or if he'd like it. Remus doesn't look too pleased with that answer, though.

"Logan," he begins, voice soft, but stern. "I need a clear yes, or a clear no, okay?"

Logan nods, his own hand coming to rest atop Remus's around his throat. He had to think about this; did he trust Remus with so much power? With the ability to cut off Logan's ability to breathe indefinitely?

Unfortunately, yes. He does.

"Yeah," Logan answers, after a moment. "Yeah, you can." He still seems somewhat unsure, so Remus leans up slightly in order to kiss him, which Logan can't help leaning into.

"Okay," Remus breathes, when he pulls away. "If you're uncomfortable, don't like it, or want to back out, tap my hand three times, okay?"

Logan nods again, verbally repeating "okay," before he watches Remus relax, and a smirk reappear on his face. Remus's confidence reassures Logan, and he relaxes moments later. Seeing the anxiety melt from Logan's shoulders, Remus pulls Logan in for another kiss, this time pulling him in by his throat, and as they kiss, Remus's hand slowly tightens around Logan's throat.

Logan can't help gasping as Remus's fingers squeeze his throat, and Remus takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Logan's mouth.

As Logan attempts to rock his hips against Remus's thigh, his eyes basically roll back into his head. Arousal is practically coursing through his veins at the power Remus holds with his hand on his throat, and Logan adores it.

Remus eases up the pressure all too soon, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he grins at Logan's flushed face and spit-soaked lips.

"Imagine-" Remus starts, allowing Logan to take a few deep breaths before his hand is squeezing Logan's throat again, Logan's head falling back in a choked off moan, and Remus can only stare with half lidded eyes as he continues, "-a collar wrapped around your neck like this. Choking you constantly."

And a constant reminder that Logan was owned, just like a dog is owned. The thought sends blood straight to his cock, and he tries to grind against Remus's leg again, this time Remus noticing the action.

"You like that thought? What about a leash hooked to it, and me dragging you around like my cute little pet. I'd make you crawl, and if you hesitated, you'd get pulled along anyway."

Remus's hand grasps tighter around his throat, and drool is actively dripping down Logan's chin. His free hand works quickly to undo Logan's pants, wanting to play with him before they arrive at Logan's work.

In Logan's mind, work had already been discarded in favor of sex, and as soon as Remus frees his cock he's choking out incoherent begs. Remus eases up on his throat just enough for Logan to suck in another breath, before he's working to get his own cock out.

He pulls Logan closer, before he grabs both their cocks with one hand. He doesn't hesitate to start stroking them together, Logan's hands finding his shoulders as Remus's hand tightens on his throat yet again. Pathetic moans spill from his mouth, sounding gargled as he chokes on his spit, and he loves it.

He's figuratively stuck between reality and fantasy - a new place for him to be - feeling the very real touches of Remus's hands around his throat, choking him expertly and stroking him all the same, and he doesn't hold back from rutting his cock against Remus's which earns low moans from the man. But on the other hand, he can't help but do exactly what Remus said to, and imagine a collar choking him as he's dragged around Remus's mansion, stared at by his staff, and forced to crawl all the while.

"Re- Rem-" Logan stutters out, raspy due to the little air he could suck in, and Remus eases up pressure again allowing Logan another breath of air. "Remus- close, please," he then whines, rocking his hips again, desperate for any sort of release. His body was still sensitive from earlier, and Remus laughs lightly at how quickly he got close.

"Already, baby?" Remus coos, teasing as ever. He pulls Logan in by his throat for yet another kiss, rougher this time, biting at Logan's lips as Logan gasps and lets out short pants and whines against Remus's.

The car pulls to a stop, and Remus pulls away with a curse. He lets go of Logan's throat, and Logan in turn bends over fully, resting his head against Remus's shoulder as Remus strokes them both faster.

"Please, please," Logan cries, nails digging into Remus's back as he continues to rock his cock against Remus's, almost pleading with the pleasure he's providing in hopes Remus will let him come.

He doesn't know why he's asking, or why he wants Remus's approval before doing so, but when Remus eventually grits out "come, now," Logan can't help but obey.

Luckily, his come splatters over Remus's hand and his clothes, and manages to miss dirtying Logan up at all, and after he comes Remus pushes him back slightly so he can quickly finish himself off, making himself into more of a mess.

Logan's panting heavily, and Remus is drawing in deep breaths of his own, before there comes a knock on the car door from the outside.

Remus snickers, as Logan flushes, and works to quickly get his cock back into his pants. "At least he knocked," Remus jokes, before pressing a kiss to the underside of Logan's jaw. "You can open it!" he then shouts, presumably to the chauffeur. The door cracks open, despite the fact Remus is very much covered in their come and his limp cock is still out, seemingly having no shame whatsoever regarding the sexual nature of the situation.

He uses his clean hand to guide Logan's turned head back towards him, so he can pull him in for one last final kiss. "You don't have to go," Remus reminds him, voice quiet, as he pulls his wallet out of his pants. With one hand, he maneuvers it open, and pulls out a wad of cash, hardly caring about the amount. Logan gulps as he takes it, before he splits up the cash, folds it, and stuffs each half into each of his back pockets, not having any other suitable place to put it.

He feels a ball of anxiety knotting in his gut as Remus speaks. "You can skip," Remus says, almost as if he's pleading.

"Remus-" Logan attempts to interject, sliding fully off Remus's lap and shuffling while bent over towards the open door.

"Maybe they won't even fire you!" Remus continues, sounding increasingly desperate, and Logan sighs as he steps fully out of the car.

Awkwardly glancing away, Logan folds his arms over his chest. After a few seconds, he takes a breath, and looks back at Remus. "You have my number," he states, taking a step backwards, and one step closer to his workplace. "Bye, Remus."

And with that, the chauffeur closes the door, and Logan gulps as he stares at the ground, watching as the wheels slowly roll along the road, and the limo speeds away.

#cw food #food cw #tw food #food tw #intrulogical smut #intrulogical #intrulogical sugar daddy au #sanders sides smut #sanders sides fic #not safe for sanders #ts remus #ts logan #agp fic

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